The break had just ended, and most people clearly hadn’t adjusted back to student life yet. So much so that when it was time to hand in the first English assignment, the whole class groaned in despair.

The reason everyone was so terrified was mainly because the English teacher, who also happened to be their homeroom teacher, had left an extremely deep impression on them from the very first class. This woman wore a fitted blazer suit with an A-line skirt that hugged her figure, her hair pinned up without a strand out of place.

She’d started by giving them a scare with an entirely English-language class, then laid down the law at the class meeting. “I know most of you come from well-off families, but the fact that I’m standing here teaching you isn’t because I have no background of my own either. As long as you listen honestly and complete the assignments I give you seriously, nothing will happen to you. Don’t even think about going up against me, because my methods of punishing students are quite direct — you’ll go straight down to the field and run until I say stop. Even if the principal comes to beg for you, it won’t help.”

This cold, merciless declaration left the whole class speechless for a long while. The Iron Lady (the English teacher) didn’t joke around with students at all. She even personally hand-picked the group leaders, all girls, jokingly nicknamed the “Maiden Army.”

There was a thirty-minute long break between classes. Feng Ning, as one of the main forces of the Maiden Army, had no choice but to start collecting homework from the front of the room. If someone hadn’t finished, a look was all it took, and she’d generously hand over her own to copy from. She wasn’t in a rush either, waiting leisurely for them to finish copying before sauntering to the next row.

When she got to Zhao Binlin’s row, both he and Jiang Wen were writing furiously.

“Here.” She habitually pulled out a notebook and tossed it onto his desk. “Here, hurry up.”

Jiang Wen flipped through a few pages of his book, glancing over without any change of expression. “I’m not copying.”

Feng Ning was mildly surprised. She made a small sound of acknowledgment and stepped aside. “Then write it yourself, I’ll go collect from the back first.”

After a while, she came back around. Her voice rang out casually. “Your second paragraph has the tense wrong, and the plurals too.”

Jiang Wen’s pen paused, hovering over the paper for a moment. Zhao Binlin, meanwhile, jumped right in, overly eager. “Oh Teacher Feng, would you check mine too?”

Feng Ning gave a mock-disdainful smile. “You? I’ll consider it if you pay tuition.”

They chatted happily. Jiang Wen was twirling his pen with his right hand when the cap fell to the floor. He set his pen down with a snap and bent to pick it up, his peripheral vision catching a shadow on the ground — he paused.

He instinctively looked up at her, and for one second, everything seemed to go silent, as if a mute button had been pressed.

The scene played out soundlessly, her shadow slanting into a line. Feng Ning stood with a stack of homework in her arms, the light behind her intertwining with her silhouette, her gaze calm and steady, looking at him — not too close, not too far.

From this angle, Jiang Wen had to look up at her. They were both still so young; as a teenager, he simply, instinctively, couldn’t help looking at her this way. He didn’t know yet then that this act — looking up at her — would come to define the rest of his life.

Far into the future, this would still be the only way he could look at her.

Ever since Zhao Binlin had heard a few of Feng Ning’s “legendary exploits” from Wang Shao, he’d developed intense curiosity about her. Having finally gotten the chance to talk with her, he couldn’t resist asking, “Is it true you cut your own hair in middle school?”

Feng Ning’s expression didn’t shift at all. She said calmly, “You know about that too?”

“Heard it from someone.”

“Oh? I’m that famous, huh.”

Zhao Binlin nodded, wanting to keep the conversation going, but caught a look from Jiang Wen and shrank back, falling silent on his own.

That evening, Feng Ning went to the classroom for self-study after showering. It was still early in the semester, far from midterms, and most people had little motivation to study. Only a scattered dozen or so sat in the classroom, fairly quiet.

She’d been studying for a while when, for some reason, commotion broke out up front, people getting rowdy.

Feng Ning was hunched over her desk, deep in a sea of problems, and after solving one, wiping away an error on her scratch paper, she looked up to see Zhao Binlin approaching with an elegant box in hand.

She blinked in surprise. “Whoa, is it your birthday today?”

Zhao Binlin pulled off the ribbon tied in a bow. “Not really. Today’s my birthday on the lunar calendar, I don’t usually celebrate it, but my mom’s always fussing, insisted on getting me a cake.”

“Oh.” Feng Ning nodded, not particularly invested, going back to the next problem. “Happy birthday.”

Gradually more people gathered in the classroom, and it grew livelier.

A triangular slice of mousse cake sat on her desk. Feng Ning didn’t quite understand.

Zhao Binlin, forcing composure, said, “It’s for you.”

She didn’t stand on ceremony, took a small forkful and popped it in her mouth, making appreciative noises. “Thanks, boss.”

A few boys nearby, seeing Zhao Binlin weave through the rows of desks to personally deliver cake to a girl, hooted and hollered.

Zhao Binlin’s skin was on the darker, wheat-toned side, but it still couldn’t hide the faint flush creeping up his face. He muttered a curse under his breath, then couldn’t help grinning wide.

Everyone could sense it — Zhao Binlin had some wire crossed tonight, unusually lively, bouncing around, seemingly performing for someone’s benefit.

“You’re pretty worked up today?” Jiang Wen, sitting at his own desk, leaned against the edge and looked over at him, saying this one line.

Zhao Binlin looked flustered, as if caught out, shouting loudly about nothing in particular.

Jiang Wen, who didn’t usually like sweets, had been forced by the others into taking a huge bite, and it turned his stomach. “Anything to drink?”

A voice piped up from behind: “AD calcium milk, want some? I’ve got a bunch.” Feng Ning pulled out a bottle, unusually familiar, handing it over with the straw already attached. “Here, here.”

Jiang Wen paused for a moment, then reached back and took it.

But she didn’t let go. He tugged again, and it wouldn’t budge. He turned, annoyed. “What are you doing?”

Feng Ning laughed silently, deliberately teasing him. “Not much strength for a guy, huh?” She leaned in close, her breath brushing against his ear as she spoke.

Jiang Wen’s expression darkened, and he pulled a little harder. Back and forth they struggled, neither letting go.

This strange, ambiguous scene fell right into the eyes of the girl who had written the note. She tightened her grip on her pen, lowering her head.

Pei Shurou had just walked into the classroom when she saw Jiang Wen tugging at something with someone. She took a couple of steps closer, stopped, and froze for a moment.

It was a girl.

Jiang Wen never roughhoused with girls like that.

“A’Wen.” Pei Shurou called out.

Feng Ning, having had her fun, saw someone approaching and used the moment to pull her hand back.

“What are you two doing?” Pei Shurou’s skin was fair, her black hair falling past her waist with an innocent air, a smile on her face, her gaze circling twice over Feng Ning’s face before she asked him.

Jiang Wen quickly regained his composure too, offering no explanation, looking away casually. “The cake’s over there, help yourself.”

She pulled out a chair and sat down, pouting playfully. “Did you forget I’m dieting? Can’t eat at night.”

“Mm.”

“Where did you all have dinner? How’d you end up in the classroom for a birthday?”

Jiang Wen didn’t even look up, scrolling through news on his phone. “Ask Zhao Binlin.”

Pei Shurou stared at his profile, lost in thought, swallowing back the question she’d meant to ask.

Feng Ning could feel that assessing gaze on her. She kept eating her cake without pause, completely unbothered, entirely detached from the scene. Pei Shurou’s giggling rang sweetly, cloyingly, in her ears.

After a while, Zhao Binlin came back over to chat with her, scratching his head. “Feng Ning, you ate my cake, so you’d better remember my birthday present.”

“Deal.” Feng Ning agreed readily. “When’s your actual birthday? I’ll get you something special.”

“Really? Then I’ll start looking forward to it.” Zhao Binlin counted on his fingers, working out the date. “Next weekend, then.”

Chatting idly for a bit longer, Feng Ning suddenly said, “Since you treated me to cake today, I’ll tell you a secret hardly anyone knows.”

“What?”

She said it slowly, drawing out her words, her tone clear and unhurried. “Did you know, rainy days don’t just cause more accidents — they also boost dopamine production. So the chances of falling in love at first sight on a rainy day are actually higher.”

Zhao Binlin looked doubtful. “Is that really a thing? So have you ever fallen in love at first sight on a rainy day?”

Jiang Wen abruptly stopped what he was doing.

Xi Gaoyuan was still rambling on excitedly, planning a winter trip to Hokkaido to see the snow. Pei Shurou, noticing his silence, asked, “What’s wrong, A’Wen?”

He seemed briefly dazed, but recovered in an instant, his expression as cold as ever. “Nothing.”

Under Zhao Binlin’s expectant gaze, Feng Ning grinned. “Can’t tell you that one.”

“Why not?”

“Because I only tell one secret per person.”

The next day there was a scheduled basketball match against class four. The moment the history teacher stepped out of the classroom door, the boys in the back row cheered, the room erupting into chaos as everyone rushed to change into jerseys.

PE class started with a four-hundred-meter warm-up lap around the field, after which the PE teacher gathered the boys from both classes to go over the scoring rules, finishing with, “Hope both classes play with real spirit. Remember, the match comes first, friendship second, okay?”

The cheer squad assembled quickly.

Shuang Yao was in class four, and she always took team competitions seriously. She dragged Feng Ning and Meng Taoyu along to grab a good spot. Under a parasol tree, it wasn’t long before two other girls came to stand nearby as well.

“Ugh, this damn weather, so hot, when’s the match even starting.” Tong Erdie, having just sent off her third admirer of the day, was in an especially foul mood. After a moment, she changed the subject. “Hey, Meng Taoyu, have you decided yet? Just go apologize to Cheng Jiajia already. She’s a young lady who’s used to being fawned over, what are you being so stubborn with her for?”

Meng Taoyu tensed, lowering her head with a soft hum of acknowledgment.

Tong Erdie, seemingly oblivious to the awkward mood, shot a glance at Feng Ning, saying in an affected tone, “She’s got her eye on Jiang Wen right now, so as long as you don’t step on Jiang Wen’s toes, she won’t come after you.” Then, as if suddenly remembering something, “Oh right, Feng Ning, I heard you like Jiang Wen too? Someone even saw you two in the classroom yesterday…”

Feng Ning squeezed Meng Taoyu’s hand hard under the shade, smiling at Tong Erdie with a touch of feigned bashfulness. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

“So it’s really true?!” another girl immediately jumped in. “Then I’d suggest you, uh, think it over, wake up a little.”

She’d almost said “wake the hell up.”

“What do you mean?”

“See those white buildings over there?”

Everyone turned their heads, following where Tong Erdie was pointing.

“—Named after his father.”

Someone in the crowd called for Jiang Wen to serve. At the center of the group, he wore a white jersey, leaning against the basketball hoop’s pole, tilting his head slightly to talk to someone, then tossed the ball into the air with casual ease.

The ball arced through the air, bounced off the ground, and landed precisely in the middle of the court.

Every gesture, no matter how casual, seemed made to bring the word “handsome” to mind. As the whistle blew, the girls in the crowd began shrieking and cheering.

Feng Ning took a small, deliberate breath and said with mock surprise, “Wow, so Jiang Wen’s family is really this rich?”

“Yep.” Tong Erdie suppressed the disdain in her eyes. “No offense, I just think, as students, studying should come first. Given his family background, I wouldn’t get too invested if I were you.”

Shuang Yao couldn’t hold it in and burst out laughing.

“Tsk.” Feng Ning slapped her thigh, excited. “Well isn’t that just perfect, then.”

Tong Erdie’s smile froze, not quite catching up. She turned her head, and with an entirely earnest expression, said, “You know, ever since I was little, my favorite story has always been Cinderella. Ah — I think I’ve finally found my prince.”

Author’s Note: Tong Erdie: A wonderful day, ruined the moment I met Feng Ning.