Absolutely, here's Episode 2 of Hidden Love crafted
The high-school-aged Sang Zhi waits for Duan Jiaxu at the bus stop as promised. When he calls, she jokingly curses him that he'll "never find a girlfriend" if he's late. To her surprise, he's already there and gently taps her cheek with a bottle of milk—teasing her for being ungrateful—and ushers her to a morning breakfast shop where homework gets done over a modest meal.
She flashes back to their middle-school deception—when he played her brother for the PTA meeting, rescuing her academically embarrassing moment.
After finishing her work, Duan Jiaxu asks if she's upset about his joking curse. They shift to small talk: she asks about his hometown; he shares he's from Yihe and won't be returning that summer. Then he shyly returns her forgotten composition—a heartfelt essay titled "Helping My Brother Move"—expressing that he'd secretly read it as a kind "compensation."
Later, at school, peer Fu Zhengchu loudly declares his interest in Sang Zhi, inviting her to his birthday. Her friend Yin Zhenru promises to make sure she attends—but then reminds her of her milk allergy when she spots the milk Duan Jiaxu bought her. She says she won't drink it.
At home, her mother worries about the milk, but Sang Zhi insists she just likes the bottle's design and plans to pour the milk out. In her room, she reads the essay: it humorously and warmly describes Sang Yan, then pivots to express gratitude for his roommate (Jiaxu), calling him "not old anymore" in an affectionate postscript: "He told me he was very happy to meet me again." Moved, she adds him on WeChat—and he accepts immediately.
Over the weekend, her parents attend a wedding, and Sang Yan is tasked to stay with Sang Zhi. She protests, but her father insists—threatening to cut Sang Yan's allowance if he bullies her. That prompt yields an employer hot-pot outing with Sang Yan and his friends. As they drive, Sang Zhi sees only Qian Fei—but soon, they pick Duan Jiaxu up. He catches her staring and teases her when she shyly greets him "Hello, brother." The others mockingly chime in, and Sang Zhi quietly calls Jiaxu "not a good guy" in rebuke.
During dinner, Sang Yan goes to park the car. Sang Zhi feels unwell and heads to the restroom—only to discover a bloodstain on her skirt. Duan Jiaxu notices and fetches supplies from a store. With Sang Yan's help, they buy sanitary pads and a dark skirt. A kind female staff member discreetly delivers them to Sang Zhi. When she emerges, Sang Yan covers for her absence, saying she was stubbornly playing a claw machine. At the table, Duan Jiaxu pours her warm water. Sang Yan considers her allergies when ordering, and with Qian Fei and Jiaxu's help they choose iced tea as the best match for hot pot.
Chapter 2 — Milk, Essays, and Silent Comfort
The dawn air was cool and quiet when Sang Zhi arrived at the bus stop that morning. The sky was pale, still holding onto slumber. Her heart fluttered with expectation—and a touch of nerves.
Five minutes passed. Then ten. She fidgeted, checking her phone, wondering if he'd really show up. When her phone vibrated, she snatched it, bracing herself.
"You're late."
A soft chuckle came through the line. Before she could protest, something cool and round tapped her cheek. The bottle of milk warmed her with its unexpected presence.
"You'll never find a girlfriend if you keep me waiting," Duan Jiaxu teased, voice smooth behind the sip he took.
Despite the joke, relief and something tender bloomed in Sang Zhi's chest—heart pounding like she'd caught a secret moment. They walked to the nearby breakfast shop: he got basics—a red bean bun and honey water for himself, and a delicate little cake for her. She hadn't even looked at his food, but he noticed anyway.
While words fluttered back and forth—him asking why she'd cursed him, her brushing it off—they found their seats. Her pencil scratched as she finished her homework, memories unspooling of the day he pretended to be her brother in middle school: how he defused the meeting with charm, how her face had burned when she'd called him "good-looking," how he'd brokered her teacher's praise with humility masked as protectiveness. She'd learned to follow his lead—silently in sync with his gentle coaxing.
"Are you mad?" he eventually asked.
Mad? How could displeasure exist in the warmth of his presence?
Instead, she asked impulsively, "Are you from Nanwu?"
He shook his head, just enough for her to see. "I'm from Yihe. And I'm not going home this summer."
He slid a piece of paper across the table—an apology wrapped in words, disguised as payback. It was her composition, pulled from his backpack. Her hands trembled as she read it: the essay traced mundane frustrations of moving her brother's useless boxes—then turned soft, earnest—grateful for the roommate who'd unwittingly become someone she admired; a brotherly figure who, "he told me he was very happy to meet me again."
She blinked back tears. The page felt alive, and when she added him on WeChat, he accepted before she could hesitate.
School corridors felt unfamiliar next: Fu Zhengchu's bold voice calling out, "I came here because of you!"—promising invitations and birthday cake. Yin Zhenru's sly reminder of the milk. Sang Zhi pressed the bottle to her chest, face tight with embarrassment. "I won't drink it," she lied, and pocketed it as if it were a secret trust.
At home, her mother raised an eyebrow at the milk bottle. Sang Zhi giggled, "I just like the design." She almost believed it herself. But in her room, the bottle was forgotten. It was the essay that consumed her heart, pulsing in every line.
That weekend, the house quieted as her parents went to a wedding. Sang Zhi slumped in her room, arms crossed, until her father's gruff voice echoed down the hallway: "Your brother's staying over. Behave." She puffed up, protest caught in her throat.
Unexpectedly, Sang Yan arrived—less dramatic than expected. Banter flew, then a car ride to hot pot—with only Qian Fei visible—until Sang Zhi tucked in her seatbones to hide the flush creeping up her neck, before Duan Jiaxu slid in beside her. Her hello came out rushed and awkward.
"Why the blush?" he asked quietly. She glared at him and muttered: "Not a good guy."
They laughed. And something small and slow unraveled in them.
Inside the restaurant, Sang Yan disappeared to park. Sang Zhi's stomach flipped. She ran to the restroom—and looked down in horror. A bloodstain bloomed across her skirt.
Her cheeks scorched at the sight. Panic rose. The silence around her felt loud.
A knock, then Duan Jiaxu's voice: "Wait there." When he didn't return, she shut her eyes, face hot, wishing to disappear.
After eternity, he reappeared—papers, pads, and a dark skirt in his hands. Alongside Sang Yan, they'd ventured into a convenience store. A kind woman guided them; Sang Zhi felt tears sting her again—this time, from the weight of care wrapped in simple actions. The replacement skirt and pads felt tender; someone thought of her when she couldn't speak.
They found her when she emerged. Sang Yan rescued her from embarrassment. She followed him back, heart pounding, and sat. Duan Jiaxu poured warm water for her without a word—an offering of comfort.
Sang Yan studied the menu, allergen-aware. Qian Fei and Jiaxu agreed iced tea was the only suitable partner for hot pot amid her sensitivities.
That night, Sang Zhi's world settled. Milk, essays, empathy, and small-but-sheltering touches had stitched around her like a quiet promise—something gentle unfolding against time and mist.
End of chapter 2