He Youyuan couldn’t figure it out — why could Li Kuiyi attend Qi Yu’s birthday party, yet not his?

She’d said she was busy, and he could accept that. She didn’t want to tell him what exactly was going on, and he could accept that too. He’d nearly managed to talk himself into a better mood and was about to ask her whether she was free on Sunday — then she had to go and say something like whether or not she attended his birthday party was entirely her own choice.

She was right. It was her choice.

So she simply didn’t want to come to his birthday party — that was it, wasn’t it?

Fine. Not like anyone cared.

He Youyuan crumpled up his unfinished English weekly report and tossed it into the corner of the desk, then got up, grabbed some clean clothes, and went into the bathroom. After showering, his phone on the desk began blinking and buzzing without stop. He picked it up — Zhang Chuang had messaged him.

Zhang Chuang: What are you doing tomorrow?

Zhang Chuang: Eating at your place or somewhere else?

He Youyuan glanced at it without really reading it and replied with a lazy “sure.”

Zhang Chuang: ?

Zhang Chuang: coffee or tea you pick or sure?

He Youyuan: My place.

Zhang Chuang: You still remember what this lord likes to eat, right?

Zhang Chuang: Reminder — osmanthus-glazed ribs, crispy roasted pigeon, hand-torn lamb chops, and that abalone soup thing. Get all of it sorted.

He Youyuan: Like that’ll kill you.

Zhang Chuang: Even if it did, this lord would die happy!

Zhang Chuang: You think everyone’s like you — running a big restaurant at home but somehow obsessed with McDonald’s?

Zhang Chuang: Honestly bro, that’s just sad.

He Youyuan: What’s your problem with McDonald’s?

Zhang Chuang: Bro you really are something, I called you sad and you didn’t even push back — but you’re out here defending McDonald’s honour.

He Youyuan: ……

He Youyuan: Get lost.

Zhang Chuang: Same group as before?

He Youyuan: Yeah.

Zhang Chuang sent over a meme, the smug little expression practically materializing before his eyes: “What about You-Know-Who? You didn’t invite her?”

He Youyuan: We’re not that close.

They really weren’t. She hadn’t replied to his New Year’s greeting. She’d sat in his seat without a word of thanks. She wouldn’t get him water. And she didn’t want to come to his birthday party. Could that count as close?

The next morning He Youyuan carried that “not close” sentiment all the way to school with him. Before, whenever he arrived in the classroom, he’d always find some excuse to bother Li Kuiyi — ask her whether early reading was Chinese or English, or borrow her homework to copy. But today he had no desire to speak to her at all. He could only hope she wouldn’t come looking to talk to him either.

Things rarely go as hoped.

When early reading ended, Li Kuiyi turned around and said, “You still haven’t submitted your goal card.”

The goal card was something Chen Guoming had asked each class to collect after a sharing session. He’d said that goals weren’t something you should keep only to yourself — the year group would compile everyone’s goals into wall stickers and display them on the exterior wall of each classroom, so everyone could witness each other’s ambitions together.

He Youyuan didn’t even look at her. Cool and unhurried, he let out a yawn, flopped down onto his desk, and closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep.

Li Kuiyi knew perfectly well he was sulking about yesterday’s business, and she’d long since grown accustomed to his unreasonable moods. She didn’t bother with him. She glanced at the corner of his desk — the goal card the homeroom teacher had handed out on the first day of class was still stuck there. She could just copy down his target university and submit it on his behalf.

What she hadn’t expected was that his goal card had four bold, sprawling characters written in marker: Stop Sending Breakfast.

Li Kuiyi: “……”

She wanted very much to call him a narcissist — but she genuinely had heard Fang Zhixiao mention it before: someone delivered breakfast to He Youyuan like clockwork every single day, and it was all quite mysterious. A full semester had gone by and nobody had figured out who it was.

Li Kuiyi silently rolled her eyes in her heart: what on earth did he do to deserve it?

Someone really ought to drag that breakfast-deliverer over to take a good look — this so-called handsome guy was quite the piece of work.

Looking more closely, she noticed a small row of characters written in black ballpoint beneath the “Stop Sending Breakfast.” Li Kuiyi craned her neck to make them out, and finally read: Central Academy of Fine Arts.

Was the Central Academy of Fine Arts in Beijing? Li Kuiyi vaguely recalled there being an art academy in Hangzhou as well, one that might share a similar name… Well, it didn’t matter. Even if He Youyuan was also heading to Beijing, so what? Beijing was enormous — what could they possibly have in common there?

Li Kuiyi wrote down his goal and submitted it along with the others to the homeroom teacher.

Today was Saturday — the routine weekly test.

When the exam ended, everyone set down their pens and stretched in unison, rubbing their aching necks. It had been nearly ten straight days of classes since school resumed on the seventh, with no break in between — they were genuinely exhausted. And on the one day of rest they had, teachers from every subject came to crowd it out, pushing out piles of test papers. Someone stepped out to use the bathroom and returned to find their desk buried under white paper, while the class representatives had each claimed a small corner of the blackboard and were busily writing out assignment requirements.

Li Kuiyi noted down the homework and tucked the test papers into her folder, then stood to pack her bag. At that moment, someone kicked the back of her stool.

“I’m missing one sheet of my math test. Is it with you?”

He’d ignored her all day, and the first thing out of his mouth was this! Li Kuiyi suppressed the urge to snap at him and calmly asked, “How would your test paper end up with me?”

He Youyuan lifted his gaze to look at her. “Then why am I missing a sheet?”

“If you’re missing a sheet, go find the class representative. Why are you coming to me?”

He said nothing. After a moment, he spoke again — his eyes dark, his voice a little rough. “It’s definitely with you.”

“Believe whatever you want.” Li Kuiyi had no desire to keep engaging with him. She packed up her bag in a few quick movements and walked out of the classroom without a backward glance.

He Youyuan watched her leave in silence.

The truth was, he’d been quietly nursing a small hope all day — thinking she might suddenly turn around and tell him she was coming to his birthday party after all. But she hadn’t. Even by the time school let out, she still hadn’t. He’d even worked up the nerve to speak to her first, and she still gave no sign of remembering his birthday party at all.

He sat at his desk brooding for a while, then shoved his perfectly complete test papers haphazardly into his bag and got up to leave as well. Zhang Chuang, Qi Yu, Xia Leyi, and Zhou Ce were waiting for him downstairs, already deep in conversation. When they saw him come down, they complained all at once, demanding to know what had taken him so long.

Since he’d invited them to celebrate his birthday, He Youyuan didn’t want to dampen the mood. He pulled himself together and adopted his usual nonchalant air, saying he’d had a lot of homework to write down and it had taken a while.

“Give it a rest.” Zhou Ce gave him a sidelong look. “We just ran into Li Kuiyi. A top student really is something else — she recorded her homework way faster than you. You might want to do some reflecting.”

Qi Yu also glanced at him and said, “I thought she’d be coming today too.”

He Youyuan went quiet at that. Zhang Chuang, however, suddenly let out a sly chuckle: “How would she? They’re not even close.”

Whether that was true or not wasn’t for anyone else to judge — nobody responded, except Zhou Ce, who voiced his confusion: “Huh? Not close? I thought they were pretty close! Doesn’t this guy know where Li Kuiyi—”

The words “lives” never made it out of his mouth. He Youyuan grabbed him cleanly and tossed him over his shoulder, cutting the sentence short and settling an old score at the same time.

“Oh, so we’ve got a son throwing his own father now!” Zhou Ce scrambled up off the ground and started grappling with He Youyuan. Just then, Xia Leyi cut in with a curious tilt of her head: “Knows what about Li Kuiyi?”

The air went still. Zhou Ce’s hands froze mid-air.

Everyone present knew Xia Leyi had feelings for He Youyuan. The question was loaded with implication — it was far too pointed to be mere curiosity. Zhou Ce’s eyes darted from He Youyuan to Zhang Chuang to Qi Yu. Seeing that none of them were going to say anything, he chose to drop the matter entirely, arranging his face into a look of perfect innocence.

“OK,” Xia Leyi gave a small laugh. “I’m asking too much.”

With an atmosphere like this, what was there left not to understand? Even without knowing the specifics of whatever had happened between He Youyuan and Li Kuiyi, the reaction from the boys made it pretty clear — it was the kind of thing that carried a certain ambiguous charge.

Why Li Kuiyi, of all people? Xia Leyi was puzzled. She’d looked at her birth chart before — someone with Venus in Virgo had an almost fastidious emotional standard and shouldn’t be the type to get tangled up in ambiguity. Which left only one answer:

It must be He Youyuan who was chasing after her.

At that thought, Xia Leyi clenched her teeth and cursed under her breath: “Pathetic.”

Birthdays came around every year — there really wasn’t much novelty to them anymore, and even the company was always the same familiar faces. They ate at his family’s restaurant, cut the cake, then He Youyuan took everyone to an arcade and played until they were all thoroughly worn out before heading home.

He was exhausted, but once he lay down, sleep wouldn’t come.

His mind was a restless tangle, too many things pulling at him, and in the end he couldn’t even be sure who he was really thinking about. It might have been Qi Yu — the black thermos Li Kuiyi had given him was sitting in the side pocket of his school bag, bobbing in and out of sight, and hanging from his keychain was a tiny Santa Claus figurine, the very one Li Kuiyi had been holding on Christmas Eve. It might have been Xia Leyi — her feelings weren’t something He Youyuan was unaware of, but since she’d never confessed outright, he had no opening to turn her down. It might have been Li Kuiyi — He Youyuan still couldn’t understand why she never bothered to coax him, when he always went out of his way to coax her after he’d upset her. She gave Qi Yu gifts, she gave Qi Yu all sorts of things, and yet she wouldn’t spare him so much as a kind word…

Forget it. It wasn’t like he was discovering this for the first time — she’d always treated people differently.

He Youyuan pulled the blanket up over his head, lay perfectly flat, and pretended to be a corpse. Dead people didn’t lie awake and overthink things.

The new week began with rain. Winter rain always had a bleak, desolate quality to it; even the sky outside seemed to grow heavier, draped in thick, dark cloud, so that even in the middle of the day the classroom needed its lights on, otherwise the blackboard was impossible to read.

Li Kuiyi didn’t particularly like rainy days — in her memory, the walk to school on rainy mornings was treacherous, step by uncertain step, and one careless moment of stepping on a loose paving stone would send a splash of water all the way up her trouser leg. But somehow, sitting now in this warm, well-lit classroom, watching the rain tap quietly against the window outside, she felt a rare and complete sense of peace.

She gazed at the rain for a while, until the bell rang for class. She turned to face front, and in doing so caught an absent glance at the person sitting behind her. He looked very tired — slumped over his desk with his school jacket tucked under his head as a pillow. Asleep, he looked considerably more docile than he did awake. His glasses were off, and his long, dense eyelashes lay quietly at rest.

He appeared not to have heard the class bell.

Li Kuiyi hesitated, then, remembering she was class president, she curled her fingers and knocked lightly on his desk, saying softly, “Class has started.”

He jolted awake immediately. He lifted his eyes from the crook of his arm and stared at her for a few blank seconds. Perhaps it was because of the rain outside, but Li Kuiyi thought his eyes looked almost damp.

Wednesday was the solar term Rainwater, and the sky cleared up as if by some miracle. The weather seemed to warm all at once too — the sun was no longer a pale, featureless blur but something newly alive, like a young hedgehog with a corona of harmless spines fanning out in every direction.

Li Kuiyi had barely stepped into the classroom when she saw He Youyuan’s desk piled high with gifts, the wrapping so beautiful it nearly hurt the eyes.

A few early arrivals were already gossiping, saying they’d always thought a desk stuffed full of gifts was the sort of thing that only happened in novels and dramas — turns out it really did happen in real life. Li Kuiyi silently agreed. She’d heard Fang Zhixiao talk about how popular He Youyuan was, and had found it hard to believe — seeing it with her own eyes now, she finally did.

She walked to her seat and sat down. Then, to her surprise, she pulled a gift box out from inside her own desk.

Li Kuiyi: “……”

Someone put it in the wrong place!

Li Kuiyi returned the gift to He Youyuan’s desk. When she looked up, she found her classmates all staring at her with peculiar expressions, as if to say: Who knew, class president — so you’re one of them too?

Absolutely not!

She waved her hands quickly and explained: “That wasn’t from me. Someone put it in the wrong place — it ended up in my desk by mistake.”

The class gave a collective “oh,” seeming to find the misunderstanding rather amusing, and broke into laughter.

Just then, He Youyuan walked in.

Since it wasn’t quite appropriate to gossip right in front of him, everyone settled back into their seats and opened their textbooks for morning reading. Li Kuiyi glanced at him and admitted to herself that he really was quite handsome — tall, long-legged, with striking features.

A pity, though. No one was without their flaws. His temper was genuinely terrible — just because she hadn’t gone to his birthday party, he’d refused to speak to her for several days running.

Fine by her. At least it was peaceful.

Still thinking this, Li Kuiyi opened her bag to take out her notebook for review, when her hand stilled. Inside the very bottom of her bag sat a kraft-paper-wrapped gift box, looking quietly guilty.

That’s right — Li Kuiyi had gotten He Youyuan a birthday gift.

After all, he had given up his seat for her. She owed him some thanks. And knowing his temperament, there was no telling when he’d be in a bad mood and decide to take the seat back — just the way he’d removed her rubbish from his bin. Trading a gift for a seat seemed like a reasonable arrangement.

The problem was: how was she supposed to give it to him?

She’d originally planned to just hand it over plainly and openly, but after witnessing her classmates’ reactions this morning, she was afraid of setting off another misunderstanding.

She’d keep him back after school then, Li Kuiyi decided.

When the final bell rang, she stayed in her seat and waited a bit, hoping the classroom would thin out a little before she called out to him. But by the time a few of the nearby students had filed out, she looked back and found He Youyuan was already gone as well — his desk cleared of gifts too.

Alright then. Li Kuiyi let out a quiet sigh.

She didn’t linger any further. She shouldered her bag and left the classroom.

As it happened, when she reached the security booth at the school gate, she spotted He Youyuan again. He was half leaning into the booth window, apparently talking to the guard inside. Fang Zhixiao, beside her, tapped her on the arm. “Look, look — He Youyuan must be dropping off those gifts at the lost-and-found again.”

So that was how he handled his gifts.

After parting with Fang Zhixiao at the school gate, Li Kuiyi stepped to the side of the road and waited. After a while, she saw He Youyuan heading her way — head down, scrolling through his phone, probably replying to messages. He hadn’t seen her.

She followed him for a stretch. His stride was long and she had to move quickly to keep up. They went on like that all the way to the entrance of Zhuangyuan Mansion, and when she saw there was no one around, she finally called out to him.

“He Youyuan.”

He stopped mid-step and turned. When he saw it was her, he blinked with a slight start.

Li Kuiyi walked up to him, reached into her bag, and held out the gift. “Happy birthday.”

He seemed not quite to have processed it yet. He didn’t reach out to take it; his gaze stayed on her face. After a long beat, he finally lowered his eyes to look at the gift box in her hands.

Li Kuiyi held the gift a little closer toward him.

He Youyuan’s throat bobbed. He looked at her once more, deeply, then slowly reached out and took the gift.

The gift was given. Li Kuiyi was about to say goodbye, but thinking back on what he’d just done a moment ago, she looked at him again and said honestly: “I don’t want to force you. If you don’t want the gift, you can give it back to me — I won’t mind. But if you throw it away or hand it to the school lost-and-found, that’s a waste, as far as I’m concerned.”

What kind of logic was that? She’d finally gone to all the trouble of giving him a gift, and now she wanted it back.

He Youyuan stared at her with an aggrieved pout, his voice low. “I want it.”

“Alright.” Li Kuiyi nodded. “Go home then. I’m heading back too.”

She turned to leave. But then he suddenly spoke: “Can I open it?”

Li Kuiyi turned back. “Go ahead.”

She was mildly puzzled, though — he was nearly home. Why open it outside? Was he really that eager?

Having gotten her permission, He Youyuan lowered his head and began unwrapping the gift. He did it with extraordinary care, peeling the kraft paper apart along each seam, millimetre by millimetre. Li Kuiyi watched him take so long with it and very nearly couldn’t stand it — just rip it off, what’s all this embroidery-level delicacy for?

She was growing antsy enough to step in and help, when he finally managed to peel the kraft paper off in one complete piece.

Inside was a palm-sized box. He Youyuan opened it.

“Glasses?” He seemed uncertain what he was looking at.

“Basketball sports glasses,” Li Kuiyi said. “Playing basketball with regular glasses on is really dangerous. You can wear these next time — they’re impact-resistant and non-slip. Much safer. I had the lenses made to match your prescription. I don’t know if you’ll like the frame style, but in my opinion it’s the best-looking one available.”

He Youyuan took the glasses out of the box and turned them over, examining them from one side then the other. Without his noticing, the corners of his mouth had curved upward. He genuinely couldn’t make sense of Li Kuiyi — why would she give him such a thoughtful birthday gift? Better than anything she’d given Qi Yu. The thermos and the Santa figurine were ordinary presents, not tailored to anyone in particular. But these glasses were different — she’d given him these because she knew he loved basketball and didn’t want him to get hurt.

He lifted his eyes from the glasses and looked at her. In his gaze was a tenderness he himself was not aware of, moving slowly over every part of her face. As he looked, an unnamed emotion began to gather and rise in his chest, and his gaze gradually grew warmer, more intent. He thought he really was a wretched person — she had been so good to him, and he’d gotten angry at her, been harsh with her. He suddenly wanted to be close to her, to press himself near her, to offer her some kind of comfort.

He bent slightly at the waist, closing the distance between them, and looked into her eyes. In a low voice, he apologized.

“I’m sorry.”

Li Kuiyi’s temple gave a small twitch.

So she had just personally witnessed a grumpy little dog being smoothed down and becoming compliant?

All because of a birthday gift?

For someone so handsome, he was remarkably easy to win over — even though she hadn’t had the slightest intention of winning him over.

Now that she thought about it, her seat was probably safe. But as the saying goes, misfortune hides within fortune, and fortune hides within misfortune — was he going to start finding reasons to talk to her every single day again?

At that thought, Li Kuiyi’s face settled into an expression that wanted to smile but couldn’t quite manage it. “It’s alright…”

He Youyuan’s eyes lit up with a bright, sunny smile. He stared at her a little longer. Then, as though suddenly remembering something, he said: “Come with me.”

Li Kuiyi didn’t follow: “What?”

Without a word of explanation, he took hold of her wrist and set off briskly into the Zhuangyuan Mansion estate. Li Kuiyi still had no idea what he was up to. She struggled a little — and he broke into a jog, pulling her along at a run. They flew down the winding paths between buildings, the shrubs on either side rustling and sweeping at the hems of their clothes.

“He Youyuan…” she couldn’t help calling his name. He glanced back at her, eyes catching the light, bright and clear.

At the foot of one of the residential buildings, He Youyuan finally stopped. He released her wrist and said: “Wait here. I’ll be right back.” He started toward the entrance, then stopped again, turned, and added a warning: “Don’t go anywhere. Wait for me.”

He stepped into the stairwell, then turned his head once more: “Wait for me!”

Li Kuiyi had no idea what he was up to, so she simply waited at the foot of the building. She was beginning to regret giving him the birthday gift — it might have been better to just let him keep ignoring her. At least that way far fewer inexplicable things would happen to her.

Three or four minutes passed. From inside the building came a soft ding — the elevator. He Youyuan walked out holding something white.

As he got closer, Li Kuiyi saw that it was a piece of cake — cream cake.

A very large piece. If it were shaped like a fan, the central angle must have been at least 120 degrees, which meant He Youyuan had cut out roughly a third of his birthday cake for her. It couldn’t have fit on a regular plate; he’d put it on a fine bone china dish with a fluted edge.

You really are something else…

“My birthday cake. For you.” He Youyuan held it out, watching her with hopeful eyes.

“It’s too big,” Li Kuiyi said.

“Try your best.”

“I still won’t be able to finish it.”

He seemed absolutely set on making her eat the whole thing. He began throwing out suggestions at random: “Then take it home.”

“……”

Li Kuiyi couldn’t even begin to imagine herself walking home along the main road carrying a plate of cake.

She picked up the fork and broke off a small piece, lifted it to her mouth, then said, “I’ve had some. That’s enough.”

“No.” He refused immediately.

Li Kuiyi put on a show of irritation and gave him a look.

“You had one bite,” he said flatly.

“Exactly — I only touched it once, so the rest of you can still eat this. Your family is still waiting to celebrate your birthday, right? Go back up. I need to get home too.”

“Let me walk you—”

“No need,” Li Kuiyi interrupted. “Go upstairs and celebrate. Don’t miss the moment. And if you insist on walking me home, I’ll get angry, and I’ll never speak to you again — I mean it.”

She wasn’t sure whether that kind of threat would work on He Youyuan. She just instinctively felt it was the right approach.

He pressed his lips together in silence, looking like he was unhappy again.

Li Kuiyi timed it well and softened her voice, the tone completely different from moments before: “Then — once I get home, I’ll message you to let you know I arrived safely. How’s that?”

— Walking home alone, Li Kuiyi thought back on the scene just past and couldn’t help laughing aloud. A smack, then a sweet — apparently, dealing with He Youyuan really did require the technique of training a dog.