4 Asking for the Handsome Man's Contact Information (4)

The subway doors closed completely, yet your target remained standing exactly where he was.

Originally, he wasn’t supposed to get off at Haicheng East Road Station.

It turned out, to avoid you, he didn’t just deliberately get off in the next carriage—

He actually got off early!!!

What on earth did you do that made him get off ahead of time just to avoid you?!

He ate your baked pastry and didn’t even say thank you;

He got off without a word beforehand, which you could tolerate;

But to get off early just to dodge you?

You only asked him, “Can we exchange WeChat contacts?”—not “Can I sleep with you?”

Your heart trembled with anger and disbelief. You had even tried to be considerate, making it easier for him to decline by settling for just asking for WeChat.

Mark my words, today you will make him say his contact information out loud!

Who told you it wasn’t necessary? You insist on hearing it from his own mouth!

The subway glided steadily onward.

A few people got off at Haicheng East Road Station; the passengers no longer sat packed like sardines, pressed close side by side, but naturally dispersed.

Your seat felt roomier.

Opposite you, two seats had even clearly emptied.

Yet your target still stood.

You had assumed the carriage’s full seating was to justify his standing, so you could spot him at a glance.

Now it seemed you had been presumptuous.

The words “Be Brave” on his shirt;

The half-eaten pastry burning in your gut;

Your certainty about where he would get off—

All were assumptions.

Your thoughts took a slight turn, but only one.

Calming yourself, you observed everything with a composed gaze.

The next station arrived under your steady watch.

The subway doors opened; people rose in twos and threes, headed toward the exit, and stepped off.

The doors closed again.

Throughout, your target remained standing exactly where he was.

Your detached perspective made you notice something you’d seen but never cared about before:

He wasn’t playing on his phone—not once did you see him take out a phone.

That meant two possibilities: either he had a phone on him, or he didn’t have one at all.

If the former, you looked around: except for you and him, everyone else was glued to their phones, heads bowed.

You were watching him;

What he was looking at, you had no idea.

If so, he was probably more individualistic than you imagined.

If the latter, he was simpler—but you faced a troublesome problem: all your previous attempts assumed he had a phone.

If he didn’t carry one, not only had your earlier efforts been misdirected, but common ice-breakers like asking for the time or borrowing a phone were now impossible.

The choices before you suddenly became clear.

First, you had to confirm whether he carried a phone.

This time, your intent was firm; you hesitated no longer.

You stood and walked over to him.

You took out your phone and checked the latest comments on the posts you had scoured across the internet about him.

Doing this right under his nose gave you an unexplainable thrill.

After reading the newest comment, which still held no clues about his identity, you locked your phone.

You looked up and waved at him through the reflection; to your surprise, he looked back.

You smiled warmly, like an outgoing aunt from Northeast China in a short video, and asked, “Why aren’t you scrolling on your phone?”

He replied, “The human brain likes novelty. When it encounters something new, it releases dopamine. Dopamine makes people feel happy.”

You were a bit bewildered—why was he suddenly talking about the human brain?

He continued seriously after a pause, “Whenever you open a new video or…,” here he hesitated, “come across a new comment, the brain releases dopamine, which brings joy and makes you want to open the next one. Long-term phone scrolling causes continuous dopamine release, which disrupts the brain’s normal function. At the same time, the brain has an anti-addiction system that weakens the dopamine stimulation from repetitive behaviors. The combined effect is that scrolling becomes boring but hard to stop.”

“So, in layman’s terms, you’re addicted.” His black-and-white eyes stared at you inscrutably.

This long scientific explanation made you momentarily forget your original purpose.

You suspected he had noticed your subtle movements beside him and was teasing you.

Yet you also feared you were overthinking—it might just be a genuine attempt to educate you.

You smiled and nodded, then asked, “So, do you have your phone with you today?”

This time, he was clearly caught off guard.

You suspected your “so” caused his logical mind to glitch.

You inexplicably liked his stunned expression.

“I do.” He answered, still looking at your face, not quickly averting his eyes as before.

Clearly, he was waiting for your explanation or the next related question.

Satisfied with the answer, you left without lingering.

You felt triumphant, letting him remain puzzled.

You returned to your seat, and he resumed his standing position.

You instinctively pondered whether he was teasing you with his earlier words, but you didn’t take out your phone again.

After four stops, the announcement for the upcoming Zoo Station sounded, and you noticed him moving.

He walked to the door and stood at the back of the queue to get off.

He glanced back, and your eyes met across the space.

You couldn’t read his expression, but you suspected he was reluctant to let go of the cause and effect behind your “so.”

The people ahead of him got off quickly, and he followed a step behind.

You checked your phone: 14:49. The sound of the subway doors closing came from nearby.

You recalled that when the round restarted, you glanced at the top right corner of your phone—it was 14:20.

Twenty-nine minutes had passed; no wonder the time limit for the task was set at thirty minutes.

You looked up again and saw the subway doors close fully.

Golden letters spelling “Game Over” shimmered in the void behind the doors.

You noticed a detail you’d missed before.

“Game Over” appeared after the subway doors closed, not the moment your target got off.

The closing doors signified another thing: you couldn’t rush off to chase him; contact was lost completely.

You remembered the task panel required the target to be “inside the subway station,” not just inside the subway car.

In other words, if during the first round you had seen him get off and immediately chased after him, the round might not have ended so abruptly.

Your vision blurred; when you opened your eyes, unsurprisingly, you were back inside the subway car.

Passengers on both sides were still engrossed in their phones; opposite you, your target stood with his back turned.

The pastry you had devoured last round was back in your hand, familiar with its two crescent bites.

It was still slightly warm.

Impressive—even the temperature was restored.

This time, you didn’t even bother to double-check—the game had reset again.

You regretted buying the pastries individually; if only you had chosen the 10-gram caviar worth 1,800 yuan from the video, you could have lost a hundred times and earned 178,200 yuan in-game.

As the saying goes, “Trash is just a resource put in the wrong place.”

Apparently, failure was too.

This time, you didn’t take out your phone.

You told yourself that avoiding your phone was to keep more options open this round.

You stared at his back, nibbling the pastry, and a perfect plan began to take shape in your mind.

The announcement for Haicheng East Road Station sounded for the third time.

You looked toward the door.

An aunt in a pink floral dress stood last in line, the final person to step off.

You silently counted, 18, and the subway doors slowly closed.

You closed your eyes and heard the subway start moving again.

You didn’t open them.

You decided to rest well, replenish your energy and strength.

The next round would be your battlefield.

You truly fell asleep.

In your dreams, you didn’t see when your target left, nor the dreaded “Game Over.”

You were awakened by a sudden weight and warmth in your hand.

Opening your eyes, you saw the pastry again—the one you had bitten twice.

Unsurprisingly, the game had reset once more, and you were now in the fourth round.

Everything before you was exactly as it had been in the third round.

You bit into the pastry, your face growing fierce.

You vowed silently to end this game in this round.

Otherwise, you’d have to eat a fifth pastry.

Though you didn’t feel overly full, you were close to being sick of it.

You finished the fourth pastry.

Soon, the familiar reminder of Haicheng East Road Station arrival sounded.

You stood and walked over to him again, repeating your earlier tactic by waving at him through the glass and successfully catching his gaze.

You looked up at him, your face polite but somewhat shy.

You appeared introverted but forced by circumstances to engage.

You whispered, “Excuse me, my phone died. May I borrow yours to make a call?”

He looked at you and didn’t look away for a while.

You guessed he was weighing the truthfulness of your words—after all, lending one’s phone now carried the risk of theft.

But faced with a woman who seemed much weaker than him, you guessed his youthful strength made him less wary.

He took his phone from the right pocket of his pants.

After four rounds, you finally saw the phone you’d longed to see.

He unlocked it with his fingerprint, brought up the call screen, and handed it to you, watching you carefully.

In front of him, you dialed your best friend’s number. As expected, your friend answered quickly.

With his phone pressed to your ear, you greeted your unknown friend and explained your phone had died and you needed a favor.

After saying this, you lifted your eyelids and glanced at him.

You heard the subway doors open behind you.

Then, deliberately lowering your voice, you said, “Um, my period suddenly started. Could you possibly…”

As expected, this well-mannered target turned his face away, no longer looking at you, stepping aside without a sound.

He gave you ample space to discuss private matters.

Seizing the moment, you turned away and continued speaking vaguely, keeping an eye on the aunt in the pink floral dress at the end of the line.

As she stepped over the threshold, you immediately began counting down in your mind:

18, 17, 16…

At the same time, you nodded along to your friend on the phone, murmuring, “Mm-hmm, mm-hmm.”

When the countdown reached five, you gripped the phone tightly and dashed toward the closing subway doors.