Having made her decision, Sheng Xia struck while the iron was hot and began working on her book.

Two to three hours per piece was just the writing time – the preliminary work required extensive research and reading. So Sheng Xia could no longer work on practice papers when she got home in the evening. She immersed herself completely in classical poetry, sometimes sleeping at one, at two, her dreams filled with ancient poets and lyricists.

This left only lunchtime as a complete and focused period.

Every day, Sheng Xia would hurriedly finish lunch and, instead of returning to the dormitory, go back to the classroom to work on practice papers. Before afternoon classes, she would nap on her desk for fifteen minutes. Whatever she couldn’t finish, she’d continue after dinner.

This week it was her turn to sit in a separate row – no one to disturb her, clear-minded and independent.

She only got four or five hours of sleep each day. Her jasmine tea was replaced with white tea, then green tea – Sheng Xia didn’t care what it was as long as it kept her alert.

Though physically somewhat fatigued, she was mentally energized as if she’d been injected with adrenaline, not feeling tired at all.

During the New Year’s Day holiday plus one evening study session, Sheng Xia wrote three appreciation pieces and completed one comprehensive science practice paper.

What was New Year’s Eve? She didn’t know.

She had crossed into the new year with Li Qingzhao.

While immersed in seasonal melancholy in poetry, she maintained high spirits in reality. The slowed rhythm of composing poetry late at night was compensated by formulas and equations during the day. Sheng Xia felt that before becoming a “polymath” excelling in both liberal arts and sciences, she would first become “split-personality” failing at both.

During breaks, she browsed social media, something she hadn’t particularly liked before but had recently taken to for some reason.

The New Year’s Eve moments were exceptionally lively, especially from her old Second High classmates – some setting off fireworks at Binjiang, some gathering at barbecue stalls, some even amid bright lights and wine.

Then Sheng Xia came across Hou Junqi’s post.

The text was simple: Happy New Year.

The accompanying photo was quite artistic – centered on a hand holding a glass of… well, a yellow drink with foam. He seemed to be sitting when taking the photo. In the background was a pool table, and though blurred, Sheng Xia could make out Zhang Shu’s figure bent over the table with his hoodie sleeves rolled up.

Recently immersed in his notes, constantly marveling at how a top student was forged, Sheng Xia had almost forgotten that her deskmate was no obedient kid, but rather a “multi-talented” delinquent scholar.

At a time like this, he could still play so hard.

What a player.

Sheng Xia quickly posted her status while it was still relevant, then closed her phone to focus on writing.

…

In Hou Junqi’s basement.

“Bang” – a ball sank.

Zhang Shu finished his shot and put down the cue. “Next.”

Han Xiao eagerly ran over to rack the balls, broke, and started a game of 8-ball with Liu Hui’an.

Zhang Shu slouched onto the sofa, pulled out his phone, and turned it sideways to start a game, looking rather disinterested.

Seeing this, Wu Pengcheng called out, “Let’s duo, Shu!”

“Mm, okay.” Zhang Shu’s tone lacked enthusiasm.

“Hey? Someone posted a status,” Hou Junqi was browsing his phone and suddenly read with great interest: “‘Peng of the Northern Sea, Phoenix of the Morning Sun, once again taking up books and sword on the vast road. Next year on this day I’ll ascend the blue clouds, laughing at the busy candidates below’… what does that mean?”

The game had just matched, and Wu Pengcheng came over. “What are you muttering about?”

“A status update.” Hou Junqi said mysteriously.

Zhang Shu’s eyebrows twitched.

Among the people Hou Junqi knew, probably only one person would post something like that…

He switched out of the game screen and opened QQ. Wu Pengcheng had entered the game alone, only to find Zhang Shu hadn’t joined at all. He started howling: “Shu, hurry up and confirm! What are you doing!”

Zhang Shu ignored him and clicked on the social feed.

He didn’t have many friends, so right below Sheng Xia’s status was Hou Junqi’s rather “decadent” photo.

Damn, he’d even caught him in the shot.

Zhang Shu raised an eyebrow – when she posted this status, was she praising herself for quietly forging ahead with her studies while simultaneously mocking him for eating, drinking, and having fun?

He suddenly smiled – what a cultured person, how cute, even her mockery was so refined.

Wu Pengcheng caught Zhang Shu’s smile and rubbed his arms. “What are you doing, looking all lovestruck?”

Hou Junqi said meaningfully: “Hehe, isn’t figuring out what a beauty is thinking more interesting than figuring out games?”

Wu Pengcheng caught on quickly – who else had such influence? Of course, it was Sheng Xia. Now he also abandoned the game and earnestly asked: “So what does that line mean?”

“Don’t know.” Hou Junqi shook his head.

Then they saw Zhang Shu comment on Sheng Xia’s status –

[So you’re studying secretly to dazzle whose eyes?]

Huh? Was that what it meant?

Why did this comment feel so… sticky?

“Shu, what’s going on between you two?” Wu Pengcheng asked.

After all, the memory of that day – Sheng Xia’s father’s dazzling resume, her father chatting casually with Lu Youze – was still vivid.

Zhang Shu’s voice remained flat: “Nothing’s going on. Just studying hard and making progress every day.”

Hou Junqi rolled his eyes – stop pretending, the recent low pressure was nearly suffocating him.

“Studying hard and making progress every day,” Hou Junqi said sarcastically. “How many nights did you stay up to prepare those tenth and eleventh-grade papers for Sheng Xia? Typing them out character by character from old papers! You don’t know about the math and physics diagrams – he had to go to an advertising shop first to draw them with a digital tablet, then did all the problems himself and wrote detailed solutions that looked like expert analyses in the Five Three practice books. Damn, I’m impressed – if I were a girl, I’d give myself to you right then and there!”

At the pool table, Liu Hui’an and Han Xiao heard this and clicked their tongues in amazement. “Awesome!”

Hou Junqi continued: “It’s hilarious – he even sold a copy to Chen Mengyao for a hundred yuan, then used that hundred to buy a little deer for Sheng Xia. What a guy.”

“With all these twists and turns – weren’t you the one who said life is short and you wouldn’t play the romantic, preferring to go on a pilgrimage instead? I’d say this isn’t any easier than a pilgrimage, eh Shu?”

Wu Pengcheng hit the key point: “Don’t get too caught up. Life is still long ahead, no need to hang yourself so early. If you let go now and don’t torture yourself… with her parents’ background, her family… it’s not the same social class…”

Everyone understood, but no one dared mention it. After learning Sheng Mingfeng’s identity that day, Liu Hui’an also inquired about his wife – impressive indeed. What ordinary people knew was that Nan Li’s earliest shopping mall belonged to the Zou family. Those who knew more understood that the Zou family was a century-old merchant family that dealt in both business and culture. Being wealthy was one thing, but they also had noble connections.

In short, it all seemed very distant.

At this age, what’s the rush? It was just a youthful attraction. They’d go their separate ways after the college entrance exam. There was no future in this relationship – might as well keep it casual. Looking back later, you might just curse yourself for being stupid.

Wu Pengcheng made his point and stopped. The guys exchanged glances.

Zhang Shu just listened, saying nothing, showing no expression, and browsing his phone.

Wu Pengcheng leaned over to look – goodness, on the screen was a photo from the school sports meet.

It was originally a group photo, but someone had cropped it to just himself and Sheng Xia, with enough space between them to fit another person.

Had to admit, they did look good together.

Well, all those words were wasted – this brother didn’t look like he was planning to let go.

There were only a few balls left on the table, all tough ones. Liu Hui’an circled the table for ages, unable to figure out how to make the shot.

Zhang Shu suddenly threw his phone aside and leaned back on the sofa, cursing: “Fuck!”

A violent outburst.

Everyone looked at him, only to see him staring dejectedly at the ceiling, muttering to himself: “Still want to have her.”

A resigned tone.

Have. Have what, have whom?

It was self-evident.

Zhang Shu suddenly stood up, walked to the table, and snatched the cue from Liu Hui’an’s hands. He stared at the red ball that seemed impossible to pot, raised the cue high, and jabbed – the white ball jumped, clearing the blocking eight ball to knock the red ball into the pocket.

A perfect jump shot.

“Great shot!”

“Beautiful!”

Zhang Shu’s gaze was somewhat unfocused. He seemed to sigh, or perhaps just exhaled, speaking in a flat tone as if only to himself: “Social class is meant to be crossed.”

He understood everything clearly, but whenever those eyes looked at him, he just wanted to be good to her.

He hadn’t even started yet – what was there to let go of?

Since that’s how it was, he’d go all in and see.

…

Not long after New Year’s Day, it was time for Sheng Xia to remove her cast.

Xin Xiaohe was even more excited than her, clamoring to doodle on the cast.

“Can’t miss such a ceremonious occasion!”

Sheng Xia good-naturedly propped up her leg, letting her draw.

“What should I write…” Xin Xiaohe pondered, already starting to write. The black marker left her bold handwriting: [East Zhou University, here I come!]

Sheng Xia: …

This drew everyone’s interest.

“Sheng Xia, I want to write too!”

“Me too!”

“Me me me!”

So Sheng Xia found herself surrounded by a circle of people queuing to doodle. She felt quite embarrassed – after all, they were holding her leg…

But her classmates didn’t mind, still discussing.

“Isn’t this more creative than writing on school uniforms?”

“Once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!”

Sheng Xia: …

But she was happy, watching everyone write down their college entrance exam wishes. She thought about trying to preserve the cast somehow after it was removed.

Fortunately, Sheng Xia had many markers in different colors. Soon, half the cast had barely any space left.

Zhang Shu and Hou Junqi arrived late, seeing the crowd and thinking something had happened.

Pushing through the crowd, they saw a girl crouching there twisting Sheng Xia’s leg, wanting to write on the side.

Hou Junqi said: “Interesting. Shu, write something too?”

Zhang Shu looked at the densely packed university names, not wanting to dampen his classmates’ enthusiasm, but glancing at Sheng Xia who was clearly tired yet still enjoying it, he said flatly: “Hurry up, class is about to start.”

“Brother Shu doesn’t need to write – he can get into wherever he wants!”

“So Shu, do you prefer River Qing University or Haiyan University?”

Everyone looked at Zhang Shu curiously.

Sheng Xia didn’t look at him, just perked up her ears to listen.

Zhang Shu didn’t answer, staring at the black head in the middle of the crowd, asking: “Why don’t you write something yourself?”

Sheng Xia hadn’t realized he was asking her, until a large hand ruffled her hair, making strands fly.

“Ooooh!”

“Enough enough!”

“Damn, I won’t ask anymore, I was asking for it…”

“Let’s scatter, everyone!”

Sheng Xia looked up, meeting a pair of eyes that could be called gentle.

The crowd dispersed like birds and beasts. Sheng Xia was stunned – what was he doing again?

She lowered her leg, muttering: “I can’t reach.”

“What do you want to write? I’ll write it for you?” Zhang Shu picked up the marker and crouched down.

She quickly pulled her leg under the desk. “I don’t want to write anything.”

“Is that so? Then I’ll write.” As he spoke, he pulled her leg out a bit and wrote “swoosh swoosh” on the blank space behind her knee.

She was sitting, he was crouching, his head completely buried at her side – this position… was too strange.

He finished writing and stared at it for two seconds, a satisfied smile on his lips. Then without saying much, he tossed the pen onto her desk and returned to his seat.

Sheng Xia looked down to see a sentence: [Life is mine to walk freely and independently]

…

On a bright sunny weekend, Sheng Xia had her cast removed. When the doctor’s electric saw started buzzing, Sheng Xia buried herself in Wang Lianhua’s arms, making Wang Lianhua laugh.

With the cast separated, revealing pale skin with bluish-purple patches, Sheng Xia was still shocked – it didn’t look like living flesh.

The doctor prescribed pain-relief patches and gave a bunch of precautions, and Sheng Xia was free to go.

Because she had exercised early, Sheng Xia felt no pain when standing, just lightness, afraid to shift her weight to the injured leg.

Back home, Wang Lianhua looked at the cast they’d brought back. “This is nice. We should seal it up sometime – it’ll be meaningful to take out at class reunions!”

Sheng Xia thought this was perfect.

“‘Let dreams be your horse, don’t waste youth’, mm not bad… ‘Life is mine to walk freely’…” Wang Lianhua read. “Who wrote this? So profound for someone so young.”

Sheng Xia: …

“‘Fortunate to know your peach blossom face, from now on the paths are full of warm spring…'” Wang Lianhua paused, clearly recognizing the handwriting. “You wrote this?”

Sheng Xia panicked inside.

She had written it last night, twisting her leg. Though the writing wasn’t as beautiful as usual, it was still quite distinctive.

So she could only nod: “Mm, wrote it for the classmates.”

Wang Lianhua’s gaze lingered briefly but ultimately said nothing.

Sheng Xia sighed in relief.

Perhaps because there were too many messy writings, her mother hadn’t noticed that this line had an addressee.

Sheng Xia had indeed quoted poetry for her classmates, but not for all of them.

In the upper right corner of this line was a name.

[Song Jiang:

Fortunate to know your peach blossom face, from now on the paths are full of warm spring.]

Whether or not they would be in the same city later, whether or not their paths would cross again in the future, she was very glad to have met such a dazzling person at the tail end of her youth.

So nice to have known you, Song Jiang.