Ban Sheng had assumed that a girl like Lin Weixia — who looked soft on the outside but had plenty of backbone — would meet his gaze with those beautiful eyes and refuse to give an inch.

But the sorrow in her eyes receded cleanly, leaving them utterly clear. She showed no anger. She looked directly at him:

“I’m begging you.”

Ban Sheng was momentarily stunned. He opened his hand. Lin Weixia took the pendant and put it in her pocket, then brushed past him. Long after she had gone, a faint, fruity fragrance lingered at the tip of his nose.

In the physics lab class, the teacher asked students to find their own partners and form small groups. Lin Weixia instinctively looked for Liu Sijia, but saw her saying something to the people around Ban Sheng — and in the end, she got what she wanted and ended up standing beside him.

Lin Weixia withdrew her gaze from the two of them and focused on the class.

After school that afternoon, students left the classroom in small groups, chatting as they headed to dinner. The wind was warm, and the brilliant red evening clouds spread dramatically across the horizon. Passing the sports field, one could hear occasional bursts of cheering from the basketball courts.

Lin Weixia and Liu Sijia ate dinner and returned to the classroom. Lin Weixia pulled out her homework from her drawer and began working. Liu Sijia sat at Fang Mo’s seat, peeling back the foil seal of a yogurt cup.

“Weixia, you know I was in the same group as Ban Sheng for the physics lab this afternoon, right? The sheer intellectual gap was crushing.”

“His mind really does work fast — his thinking is so clear, and he knows everything. Working alongside him is basically just sitting back while he does everything. And let me tell you, he also…”

Lin Weixia lowered her eyes to the English exercise in front of her: the word “shark” as a noun meant a shark, but its extended meaning was a seasoned expert — a veteran. Her eyelashes gave a small flutter. She put down her pen and reached into her pocket to feel the amber leaf pendant, which still held the warmth of his hand.

She suddenly spoke, interrupting Liu Sijia mid-chatter: “Sijia, I’ve heard that Ban Sheng rarely joins group activities and that every Friday he’s supposedly playing basketball with his friends in Court No. 3. But he actually goes to Court No. 6.”

Liu Sijia’s upward-tilted fox-like eyes lit up instantly, and she arched an eyebrow: “Really? But how do you know?”

Lin Weixia gave the faintest of smiles: “I’m an F-tier student — the other girls told me.”

“Alright. When it works out, I’ll treat you to ice cream — the most expensive kind.” Liu Sijia draped an arm over her shoulder.

That easy atmosphere didn’t last long. Ning Chao walked in with his school uniform slung over one arm, took a wide stride back to his seat, casually flicked away a cigarette butt, and started bossing Liu Sijia around:

“Hey, you. Move — you’re blocking my view of the blackboard.”

Liu Sijia crossed her arms and gave a cold laugh: “Could your studies afford to fall any further behind than they already are?”

She didn’t know what she had ever done to make Ning Chao despise her so much — he picked a fight with her every single time they met. But Liu Sijia had no need for the approval of a useless delinquent like him.

Ning Chao gave a smile, sat down, and proceeded to stack books between them until the pile was tall enough that he couldn’t see her face anymore — looking entirely like someone who had decided it was beneath him to quarrel with a woman.

That evening, after Lin Weixia came home and showered, she sat at her desk with her long black hair still slightly damp. She picked up the leaf pendant in her hands, looked at it reluctantly for a moment, then carefully placed it in the open drawer.

Lin Weixia picked up her phone, opened WeChat, and found the profile with the dark avatar — she wanted to look at Ban Sheng’s Moments feed. She herself had no Moments; she had closed off that feature a long time ago. She had never cared about what others posted or what kind of lives they led, and at the same time, there was nothing about her own life she felt like displaying.

She tapped open the profile of the account named “ban.” Beneath the black avatar was a personal status line:

— to reach the unreachable star

Lin Weixia paused. She felt that Ban Sheng was a complicated and contradictory person. Most of the time, he presented an indifference to everything — excessively rational, veering on coldness.

Yet he would occasionally reveal a streak of pure romanticism and arrogance.

Like this audacious, beautiful status line before her: to reach the unreachable star.

Ban Sheng had posted one update a week ago — just a single image with no caption. Lin Weixia tapped it to enlarge it. Coconut milk pudding. On a porcelain plate sat a grid of coconut milk pudding, translucent and delicate, dusted with shredded coconut, looking very appetizing.

Qiu Minghua had commented below: Good?

Ban: Alright.

Qiu Minghua: What kind of alright?

Ban: The kind where I wouldn’t say no to a second round.

Qiu Minghua: [thumbs up][thumbs up][thumbs up][thumbs up] The connoisseur has logged on.

Now understanding, Lin Weixia passed the information about Ban Sheng’s fondness for coconut milk pudding to Liu Sijia, who quickly replied: [Got it. This beauty is going to start learning to make coconut milk pudding for Ban Sheng over the next couple of days.]

Two days into the attempt, Liu Sijia had already sustained casualties — several blisters had risen on her pale, smooth fingers from a hot pan. When Lin Weixia changed the dressing, Liu Sijia hissed in pain.

“The first guy I’ve ever let into my kitchen, and it’s him.”

“He really is so hard to pursue.” Liu Sijia sighed.

Lin Weixia carefully sealed the wounds with bandages and teased gently: “But you’re completely taken with him, and that’s just how it is.”

A bad boy like Ban Sheng would naturally appeal to most girls. But that was just how feelings went — the person who cared more was always the one who stood to lose.

After finishing the dressings, Lin Weixia wrapped the cotton swabs and scraps in paper and dropped them in the trash. She turned around to find Liu Sijia looking downcast, and smiled as she reached out to tap her on the forehead:

“Isn’t he into astronomy? The other day I was browsing online and happened to see that there’s going to be a galactic arch on Friday night — the Milky Way arcing from south to north, rising slowly up from the horizon.”

“Really? Even the heavens are on my side. I’ll go find him after school on Friday — maybe we can watch the stars together.” Liu Sijia’s expression brightened as she took out her phone to look up the celestial event Lin Weixia had described.

Lin Weixia was still holding her hand and noticed the scar on her palm. It had faded considerably, but was still there — a mark on skin as tender as water, ugly as a caterpillar.

Lin Weixia’s eyelashes trembled softly.

Liu Sijia pulled her hand back and patted her on the head with a laugh: “It’s fine — who’s going to stare at my palm all day?”

Lin Weixia looked up at Liu Sijia and said softly: “Sijia, I hope you get what you wish for.”

On Friday, the first period was gym class. Lin Weixia was still collecting Chinese homework and found a few students hadn’t handed it in yet, so she was going through them one by one. Near the end, one name remained on the green sticky note: Ban Sheng.

Lin Weixia looked over. Ban Sheng was sitting on his desk, one foot resting casually on the rung of his chair, talking to someone. The line of his exposed collarbone shifted up and down with his words, exuding a quality of unruly ease.

Lin Weixia walked over. The others, seeing the two had something to discuss, promptly grabbed their balls and headed to the court.

“You didn’t hand in your homework.” Lin Weixia said.

Ban Sheng’s desk was in disarray — several pages of scratch paper were spread out, covered in astronomical calculation formulas she couldn’t understand. A thick stack of books had a small globe placed in front of it.

He reached sideways across the mess and found his exercise book, handing it over. Lin Weixia extended her hand to take it, but it didn’t budge. She looked up — a pair of dark, narrow eyes were watching her.

“When are you coming to my place?”

Lin Weixia looked away from his gaze. Ban Sheng probably didn’t know yet that Liu Sijia planned to wait for him after school today. She lowered her head: “We’ll talk about it later. I’m quite busy this week.”

The resistance at the other end of the exercise book suddenly released. The shadow withdrew. Lin Weixia raised her eyes and found two strawberry gummy candies had slid over along the surface of the exercise book.

Ban Sheng had one hand in his pocket, school uniform draped over his arm, and passed her with a brush of his shoulder, dropping a casually offhanded remark:

“The shopkeeper threw them in with my purchase.”

During gym class, Qiu Minghua was leaning against the sports field wall with Ban Sheng when he suddenly remembered something and nudged him: “Ban-brother, do you still have those sweets? Give me one.”

Ban Sheng straightened up from the wall and sent the basketball sailing with one hand, his voice low and flat:

“Gone. Fed them to a butterfly.”

“Oh, butterflies eat sweets?”

The entire weekend passed without Liu Sijia contacting her at all. Lin Weixia didn’t know whether things had gone well or badly. When she arrived at school and saw Liu Sijia, her expression was neither particularly happy nor particularly dejected.

There was instead a new flicker of unease on her face.

“How did it go?” Lin Weixia asked.

Liu Sijia touched up her lipstick in front of the mirror, seeming on the verge of saying something but holding back: “I’ll tell you when the time comes.”

Seeing her like that, Lin Weixia said nothing more and simply replied, “Alright.”

The new week, it was Lin Weixia’s turn to do the class bulletin board. She was working on it with another girl in the class, who happened to be the last-ranked A-tier student — one more high-scoring exam from Lin Weixia and that girl would fall back into the F-tier.

That girl had been using every spare moment to study, and treated Lin Weixia with indifference, dumping the entire bulletin board project onto her shoulders alone.

Lin Weixia had no choice but to work on it alone in her free time. After finishing the drawings, she also had to write the text. After the evening self-study period, Lin Weixia planned to fill in the blank sections with poetry.

She took the materials from under the podium and set to work at the blackboard alone. Time drifted by without notice. Lin Weixia shook out her aching arm and happened to glance at the clock on the wall — she was startled to find it had gotten so late. The classroom was completely empty.

The lights in the building across were still on, with just a few students drifting out of classrooms. Lin Weixia tidied her tools, washed her hands, and walked out of the classroom. Just as she was about to leave, she suddenly heard a melodious cello coming from somewhere overhead.

Lin Weixia’s footsteps came to a halt. She turned and walked toward the lecture hall on the sixth floor. She climbed to the top floor, caught her breath, then leaned back against the wall and quietly listened to the music coming from inside the music room. She extended her hand and, without thinking, struck the pose of drawing a bow — held the position for a moment, then decided it looked ridiculous and let it drop.

After about a quarter of an hour, the door made a sound. Lin Weixia stood in the dim light and watched several graceful, elegant girls come out carrying their cellos, talking and laughing, their expressions youthful and carefree. A couple of them complained quietly that the music teacher’s assessment criteria were too difficult.

Once they were all gone, Lin Weixia shouldered her bag and went downstairs. She had barely been walking three minutes when — with a sharp snap — the school power went out, and the surroundings plunged into complete darkness.

Lin Weixia took out her phone from her pocket, only to find the battery had long since died and it had switched off. She had night blindness and couldn’t see in the dark. She slowly edged toward the wall and began making her way down the stairs carefully, step by step.

She had barely made it down a few stairs when her foot suddenly found nothing — her ankle twisted, her heart lurched, and she was on the verge of pitching forward — when in the midst of the chaos, one hand caught the strap of her backpack firmly, and her whole body stumbled backward into a warm, broad chest.

She caught the familiar scent of oud wood. Her heart contracted against her will, and she quickly straightened up and stepped away from him.

“Thank you,” Lin Weixia said, leaning against the wall. “You haven’t left yet?”

“Came back to get something.”

She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but Ban Sheng’s tone carried a certain coolness that she couldn’t quite name.

Ban Sheng descended two steps, his silver lighter in hand. He slid his thumb upward to flick open the case with a sharp click — an orange flame leapt from between his fingers and cast flickering light on a face that was casually indifferent and rakishly handsome.

He kept the lighter aloft as he walked forward. Lin Weixia followed alongside. They hadn’t gone far when Ban Sheng suddenly stopped. Lin Weixia looked up at him.

“If you don’t want to fall, stay close behind me.” Ban Sheng said.

The stairwell was dimly lit. Ban Sheng walked forward at his unhurried pace. Lin Weixia followed close behind, her slender white fingers gripping the hem of his black jacket. One in front, one behind — gradually, the silhouette in the flared skirt and the shadow in the black jacket drew close together.

His head and neck were straight, his shoulders broad. The clean line of his shoulder made his figure look even more upright. He seemed careless but had deliberately slowed his pace so Lin Weixia could keep up without stumbling.

The two began to talk in a loose, unhurried way.

The atmosphere was easier than before.

When they reached the flat landing of the third floor, Ban Sheng stopped. He changed the subject abruptly, his tone still that slow, unhurried cadence that gave nothing away:

“Liu Sijia came to wait for me at the basketball court last Friday.”

“She was dressed impressively — and she brought the coconut milk pudding I’ve been eating lately.”

“Liu Sijia really knows how to charm people. She came with a cup of sweet cold soup for every one of the guys I play with.”

Lin Weixia unconsciously released her grip on his sleeve and spoke:

“Sijia really likes you.”

“She’s a wonderful person.”

The words had barely left her mouth when Ban Sheng suddenly spun around, grabbed her pale wrist, and stepped forward, pressing her back against the wall corner. They were face-to-face again, breath mingling, as he looked down at her.

The security guard was doing rounds on the sports field. A beam of bright light swept over. Lin Weixia found it blinding and reflexively turned her face away. Without warning, Ban Sheng reached out and tilted her face back, his palm at her jaw, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“She confessed to me.”

The next second, the security guard’s white flashlight beam swept past, accompanied by a sharp shout: “Who’s there!”

Just as quickly, the light dimmed. The security guard picked up his torch and continued his rounds elsewhere — he hadn’t found the silent standoff unfolding in this shadowed corner of the building at all.

Neither of them moved. They were so close that they could feel each other’s warmth, and the faint rise and fall of the girl’s breathing. After dropping those words, Ban Sheng still hadn’t let go. Lin Weixia caught the faint scent of cigarette smoke from his hand.

Lin Weixia had spent the entire evening on the bulletin board, and came out without knowing there was yellow chalk dust on the tip of her nose. Ban Sheng looked at her, reached out, and rubbed it gently off that delicate, straight little nose.

He rubbed with a light, rough touch. The temperature rose in an unusual way. Lin Weixia’s heart gave a small tremble. She opened her raven-feather lashes and looked at him. She noticed Ban Sheng had single eyelids, but with very deep creases, making his eyes appear strikingly dark and bright.

And that small black mole sat on his cheek, close to the bridge of his nose.

Every glance cast a spell.

Ban Sheng’s hand still cupped her jaw. His gaze swept over this quiet, cool-seeming girl — his manner suggesting that one word from her and he would act on it. He asked her:

“Tell me — should I accept her confession?”