The National Day holiday ended, and the two of us took the high-speed train back to Beijing.

On the way, Song Liang wore earphones, listening to Xiaoyun's voice, with a crazy smile on his lips.

He also held up his phone, tirelessly taking pictures of the scenery outside the window and sending them out.

I impatiently reached out to take off his earphones, receiving a cold and puzzled look.

I asked, "Song Liang, are you planning to ignore me the whole way?"

He frowned, "What are you talking about? What did I do to upset you? Just say it."

I suddenly felt wronged, "Since we got on the train, you've been listening to Xiaoyun's voice the whole time, when do I get a chance to talk to you?"

Song Liang paused, his lips curling up.

He reached out his large hand and tousled my hair:

"Oh, you're twenty-three years old, and you're still jealous of a little girl?

"You're so cute, baby."

I became even angrier, speaking seriously:

"Song Liang, I don't like the way you're talking, I'm not jealous of a little girl.

"I just feel that, as a future uncle, you're being a bit too attentive."

Song Liang put down his phone, rubbed his forehead, and leaned back against the seat.

"Fine, it's my fault...

"I was originally listening to you, trying to take care of your cousin's child as much as possible, after all, they're not easy, but since you've changed your mind now..."

He made a gesture of surrender, "I won't reply to her messages anymore, okay? Just don't say I lack compassion."

He was eloquent, his logic flawless.

It made me feel petty and indecisive.

I felt extremely stifled, so I turned my head to look out the window.

The high-speed train entered a tunnel, and the window suddenly darkened.

On the window, the person beside me was clearly reflected.

Although Song Liang said he wouldn't reply anymore, his eyes were fixed on the phone screen, as if he was about to open the chat window in the next second.

He was lying.