The strong academic energy that swept through Class Eighteen hadn’t gone to waste.

The mid-term exam saw the class’s overall results make a qualitative leap — the class average even slightly edged out some of the top-track classes.

For the first time, not a single Class Eighteen student appeared on the list of the year’s bottom one hundred.

Old Yu had specifically printed out the current bottom-hundred list from the grade rankings, posted it on the blackboard at the back of Class Eighteen’s classroom, and personally written a line beside it —

May the students henceforth never again fall among the low.

The list was put up by Old Yu himself. Lin Tao happened to be in the classroom at the time. After reading Old Yu’s note, she turned to Jiang Yan. “Do you think if this list ever got out, it would get the people on it coming to assassinate the person who posted it?”

Jiang Yan, recently obsessed with a block-stacking game, had his phone out at every break stacking blocks. He didn’t look up, just laughed. “They’d probably never make it past the school gates.”

“……”

Old Yu had all kinds of eccentric ideas, always acting on impulse. The list thing was mostly treated as entertainment — not many people took it seriously.

When students from other classes found out about the list and came by to stir things up, they didn’t make much of it either. At most, a few tough-talk threats about beating up Old Yu.

But it was all just jokes. Nobody meant it.

Tuesday afternoon — English class.

Their class had been given a new English teacher this semester — a beautiful, elegant young woman. Her surname was Chen, given name Wenjing. Privately, the boys in the class referred to her as “Goddess Chen.”

Lin Tao liked this teacher too. Maybe because she was younger, the classroom atmosphere was very relaxed. Every so often, she’d toss out a few well-known internet jokes she’d adapted into English. Those who understood immediately burst out laughing; those who didn’t grabbed those who did and demanded an explanation — and then laughed along too.

After enough of that, some of the students who always missed the punchlines started to think they should actually try learning some English — couldn’t keep missing the joke every time, that was embarrassing.

Today’s class was an in-class test.

English was Lin Tao’s strong suit. She finished without much time spent and set down her pen, only to notice Jiang Yan was still playing his block-stacking game. Not a single answer filled in on his answer sheet.

“Aren’t you going to answer the questions?” Lin Tao leaned over. “This obsession of yours with that game has gotten a bit out of hand.”

Jiang Yan had just finished a round — the screen showing a cascade of broken blocks.

He pocketed his phone, picked up a pen from the desk. “Writing now. I have a sense of timing.”

“Everyone else writes first and then plays.” Lin Tao scratched her chin and smiled. “The school tyrant truly is one of a kind — plays first, then writes.”

“……” Jiang Yan looked at her briefly and said nothing.

The classroom began to fill with the soft sounds of rustling movement.

Back-row students tossed paper notes with abandon. Some had even put their heads down to sleep. The test spanned two class periods with a ten-minute break in between.

By the break, the English teacher left the classroom. Without the previous quiet, the class grew livelier. Footsteps sounded constantly in the hallway outside.

One of the boys in the back stretched his head out to talk to someone in the corridor.

Out of nowhere, a boy appeared at the door. “Hey! Did you know?! Your class’s Old Yu got beaten up — he’s in the medical room right now!”

The boy had a fairly loud voice. With the classroom no longer completely quiet, basically everyone who was awake heard it.

Those who weren’t awake got shaken awake by those who were. “Wake up! Old Yu got beaten up!”

“……”

Xu Yichuan, sitting near the window, asked, “Is that true?”

“Of course it’s true! If you don’t believe me, go to the medical room and see for yourself.” The boy planted his hands on his hips. “His head got cracked open with a rock.”

“Damn!” Class Eighteen’s students couldn’t sit still after that. They were all rolling up their sleeves. “Which class’s people had the guts to do this? Are they trying to get themselves killed?”

Everyone erupted in heated discussion.

Jiang Yan, as class representative, finally felt the moment had come to fulfil his duties. He stood up and held back the boys who were ready to start something. “You all stay here and finish your test. I’ll go to the medical room and find out what happened.”

One of the boys wanted to go along. Jiang Yan looked at him and the boy instantly deflated.

Jiang Yan grabbed his phone off the desk and quietly told Lin Tao, “I’m going to check it out. Message me on WeChat.”

“Okay.”

Jiang Yan left the classroom.

The whole thing had come out of nowhere. Nobody expected that a teacher with such a pleasant personality and easy manner could have someone raise a hand against him.

The class buzzed with speculation.

The medical room was behind the Year Three teaching block.

When Jiang Yan arrived, not only was Old Yu there, but so were Lao Yang and Blackie. And standing to one side were two boys in Year One uniforms.

“Mr. Yu.” Jiang Yan knocked on the door frame.

Everyone in the room looked over.

“Why are you here?” Blackie stepped aside to make room.

Jiang Yan walked in a few steps and stood to one side. “Someone said Mr. Yu was injured. The class was worried about how he was doing, so I came to check.”

Old Yu, in the middle of getting his wound treated, smiled. “It’s nothing serious — just knocked myself by accident.”

Jiang Yan gave an “ah,” glanced at the two boys standing to the side, and said nothing else, just stayed put.

Once Old Yu’s wound was dealt with, Blackie took the two boys off to the academic affairs office. Lao Yang left ahead of them too — he had a class coming up.

The previously somewhat cramped medical room suddenly felt spacious.

Jiang Yan sat on the empty cot across from Old Yu. His long legs stretched out casually in front of him. He and Old Yu stared at each other for a moment before he spoke. “I heard someone say you were beaten by students. Were those two just now the ones?”

Old Yu waved a hand. “Can’t call it beaten — it was an accident. I caught them skipping class and climbing the wall back in. Coming down, they knocked into me by accident.”

“It’s just my age showing. Couldn’t stand steady.”

Old Yu was straight-talking by nature. He said what was on his mind and treated all students the same, no matter the offense — always putting reasoning and education first.

Jiang Yan could tell he wasn’t telling the full truth, but didn’t press. “Rest well then, Mr. Yu. I need to get back and reassure everyone.”

“Wait a moment.” Old Yu got up and went to the sink beside him to rinse his hands. “I’ve got a rare chance to corner you. Let’s talk.”

“Talk about what?” Jiang Yan, recalling the things that had followed previous “let’s talk” conversations with Old Yu, couldn’t help but crease his brow. “You should rest, Mr. Yu. Whatever it is, we can talk once you’re better.”

He stood up, about to leave.

Old Yu shook the water droplets from his hands and stepped in front of him. “Just a casual chat — won’t take much of your time.”

Jiang Yan could only sit back down.

Old Yu had the good sense of someone who knew he was unwell, and pulled back the blanket on the cot, half-reclining with his back against the headboard. He lay down inside. “Actually, nothing big.”

“Hmm.” Jiang Yan stared at the cracks in the floor tiles. “Just like always — nothing that isn’t out of the ordinary.”

“You child.” Old Yu pulled the blanket up over himself and crossed his hands on top of it. “I just wanted to ask — the kids you hang around with, are there others besides you?”

“What?” Jiang Yan stared at him in bewilderment.

Old Yu looked at him. For a moment he couldn’t figure out how to word it, but what had happened at the basketball court had given him too much of a shock.

If he didn’t clear this up, there’d be a knot in his heart he couldn’t undo.

After some hesitation, Old Yu chose to be direct. “Besides you liking boys — are there others who do too?”

“……” Jiang Yan parsed his words and it took a full ten-plus seconds before he understood. “………………”

“Hmm? Any?” Old Yu leaned in a little closer. “I don’t mean anything by it — just asking. After all, I’m still a homeroom teacher. It’s my job to care about you all.”

If Old Yu hadn’t brought this up out of nowhere today, Jiang Yan would have nearly forgotten that in Old Yu’s mind, he was a certified young man who liked other young men.

He genuinely couldn’t figure it out.

What on earth had he done to come across as someone who liked other boys?

Wasn’t the school forum post about the school tyrant’s secret admiration stated clearly enough for anyone to read?

At this point Jiang Yan just felt a pounding in his temples. He pressed a finger to his temple, swallowed back whatever deeply improper things he wanted to say, and said in a measured voice, “Old Yu — I think I should come clean with you about something.”

“Hmm?” Old Yu looked at him. “Go ahead.”

“The truth is.” Jiang Yan sat with it for a moment. “I’m in a relationship.”

“……Oh?”

Old Yu hadn’t finished forming the thought about which boy he was with when Jiang Yan looked at him and said, “Not with a boy, either.”

“?”

“It’s with my deskmate — Lin Tao.” Jiang Yan pressed his lips together. “The forum post was real, not made up. I never admitted it at the time to avoid getting caught dating.”

Upon hearing that, Old Yu went quiet.

Just as Jiang Yan was expecting him to get upset or do something — Old Yu suddenly looked up again, and said something shocking. “And does classmate Lin Tao know that you also like boys?”

“……”

Oh god.

That afternoon, Jiang Yan spent over half an hour explaining his sexual orientation to Old Yu — but no matter what he said, he couldn’t budge Old Yu’s perception of him.

By the end, Jiang Yan didn’t know what else to say.

It was Old Yu who finally got around to saying something sensible. “Interfering in other people’s love lives is not something I do. But you should both be mindful — feelings are real at any age, but don’t use that to excuse not taking them seriously. Every relationship is worth treating with care.”

Seeing Old Yu this earnest was rare enough that Jiang Yan hadn’t quite caught up to it.

“Did you hear me?” Old Yu called out.

“Understood. Thank you, Mr. Yu.”

Old Yu smiled. “Right — head back. And don’t go around talking about today. Tell the class I tripped.”

“Got it.”

Back in the classroom, Jiang Yan followed Old Yu’s instructions and said little. Class Eighteen’s students — some believed it, some didn’t.

No matter how they tried to keep it quiet, news of Old Yu’s injury soon spread, with wildly varying versions — some said it was the students on the bottom-hundred list, others said he’d just fallen. Nobody agreed on anything.

Jiang Yan didn’t bother keeping track of any of this.

Lin Tao, on the other hand, was quite curious about what had really happened. She pestered Jiang Yan until she got the truth — and in the process, also found out that Old Yu knew about the two of them dating.

“……Old Yu didn’t say anything, did he?”

Jiang Yan looked at her for a moment. “What do you think he’d say?”

“That we can’t be together?” Lin Tao let her imagination run. “That he’s going to separate our seats so we can’t sit together anymore? Call our parents? Put us on a school-wide notice?”

Then she dismissed it herself, “Probably not, right? Old Yu doesn’t seem like that kind of person.”

“Right.” Jiang Yan gave a short acknowledgment. “Not only that — he told us to keep things going properly, not to do anything reckless, and then asked me—”

He stopped.

Lin Tao leaned in a little. “Asked you what?”

“Asked me.” Jiang Yan thought back to the scene and felt a fresh surge of headache — but then again, everything that had led to it had started with the person in front of him. He couldn’t help grinding his back teeth. “Whether you knew about me liking boys.”

“……”

“Huh?” Lin Tao looked at him, and appeared to be having trouble formulating a response, going quiet for a few seconds.

Actually — when Lao Yang had caught sight of that forum post, Lin Tao, beyond finding it a bit of a muddle, hadn’t really thought anyone would read something strange into it.

But she’d forgotten — Old Yu was different. His way of thinking couldn’t be compared to a normal person’s.

Jiang Yan had plenty of unresolved irritation over this incident and had no energy to spend more breath on it.

Lin Tao came back to herself, moving from stunned disbelief to calm acceptance. She leaned over to console him. “How about I go to Old Yu and explain things on your behalf?”

“……” Jiang Yan was rotating his pen, half an arm resting on his answer sheet. He tilted his head and met her gaze. “I humbly thank you.”

Lin Tao couldn’t hold back — she snorted — and then trailed her fingers up his arm lightly. “Oh, come on — how can you be like this?”

It turned out the coin necklace was inconvenient to wear on the wrist during the game, so Jiang Yan had recently moved the pendant to his left wrist. Lin Tao had been trailing her fingers along his arm, and they naturally hooked around the cord. “But seriously — tell me honestly. Old Yu didn’t actually say anything about the two of us being together?”

Jiang Yan had already started working on his answer sheet, pen moving, his gaze sweeping over the questions and quickly marking the right answers. “What did you expect him to say?”

“Wishing us a hundred years of happiness and many children soon?”

“……” Jiang Yan set down his pen and looked at her with a smile. “Don’t you think that might be asking a bit much of him?”

“Get lost.”

She pulled her hand back, and on the way, gave his wrist a hard pinch — full force, all ten points.

Jiang Yan wasn’t completely impervious. He gave a faint hiss, looked up to meet Lin Tao’s imperious gaze, gave a helpless laugh, and — without a word — picked his pen back up and continued writing.

The girlfriend he’d chosen for himself — nothing he could do. Just had to spoil her.

The Old Yu incident blew over quickly. Aside from Jiang Yan and Lin Tao, no one ever learned how he’d really gotten hurt. Old Yu knew Jiang Yan’s temperament well enough — he knew he wouldn’t run his mouth. But he wasn’t sure whether Jiang Yan would go find trouble for those two boys, so he sought Jiang Yan out several times to remind him to let it go.

Jiang Yan had heard it so many times his ears were starting to grow calluses.

The last time Old Yu came to find him, Jiang Yan had reached his limit. “Old Yu — I’m genuinely very busy lately. I swear to you — I really am not going to go after those two boys.”

It was the start of summer. Old Yu had switched from chrysanthemum tea to lotus-leaf-and-lotus-seed water — cooling and calming. “I know, I know. I’m not here about that this time. I wanted to ask if you’d be interested in participating in a competition.”

That caught Jiang Yan’s attention. He relaxed his brow and pulled out the chair next to him to sit down. “What competition?”

“The physics and mathematics Linhe Cup hosted by Lake University.” Old Yu took an entry form from his desk. “The competition changed its format this year. The top three finishers can be nominated into a national team. There’s a chance to represent the country if things go well. I see that you participated in this competition back in middle school. Are you interested?”

“No.” Jiang Yan declined cleanly and without hesitation.

“……” Old Yu still wanted to push a little. “The top three get nominated into a national team training program. You really won’t think it over?”

Jiang Yan played with the small object on Old Yu’s desk, said flatly, “Old Yu — stop trying to convince me. My ambitions lie elsewhere. I won’t spend my time on this.”

Old Yu found himself interested. “So if your ambitions don’t lie there — then where do they lie?”

Jiang Yan sat with it for a moment, then met Old Yu’s bright, intent gaze — and couldn’t hold back. He smiled and gave a playful answer, “A good man’s ambition lies in all directions.”

“……”

Old Yu didn’t push further on the competition. And the question of where exactly Jiang Yan’s ambitions lay — he didn’t particularly want to ask.

Summer set in after that, and the days moved faster with each one that passed.

Outside the window, leaves spread thick and green. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the canopy and touched the ground below. Ivy climbed higher and higher, gradually covering the full face of the wall.

The summer cicadas never stopped. Temperatures rose. Heat pressed in from all sides, and even the air felt warm.

The Year Two and Year Three teaching blocks stood facing each other from a distance.

As the college entrance exams approached, the air around the Year Three teaching area grew tense. Lin Tao went along with the student council’s hygiene inspection team to the Year Three side once.

It wasn’t as terrifying as she’d imagined. Some had their heads down studying, some were face-down asleep on their desks, and some — incredibly — were on their phones.

The atmosphere wasn’t the frantic race against time that teachers described, but Lin Tao could still feel the weight pressing down on those students.

Some things were invisible and intangible — but that didn’t mean they could be ignored.

Passing one classroom, Lin Tao saw the blackboard at the back covered in sticky notes, each one written with a student’s dream university.

Above the blackboard was a line —

When you feel like giving up, think about what made you keep going until now.

Year Three life was bitter and flavorless — but when you looked back on it much later, it might turn out to be the most beautiful stretch of your entire life.

The college entrance exams came and went quickly. The whole school was given leave.

No. 10 High was one of the exam venues. Before students could leave, they had to clear out the classrooms, clean them up, and arrange the desks and chairs properly.

At dusk, the school grounds were bathed in the last light of evening. The sky was divided by clouds into patches, the setting sun drifting between cloud layers, radiating light in all directions.

Every group in Class Eighteen had been assigned different cleaning tasks. Lin Tao and Jiang Yan’s fourth group was responsible for cleaning the glass on the front and back windows of the classroom.

The classroom only had four windows.

Divided up, there were several people per window.

Lin Tao had already stepped up onto a bench when Jiang Yan — person and cloth together — lifted her right back off. “You stay down here.”

He reached over, grabbed a cloth from the side, and stepped up onto the bench.

Lin Tao didn’t move far away. She stood right beneath the window. “Classmate Jiang, this makes me feel guilty.”

Jiang Yan didn’t take her up on that. He wiped a small section of glass and only then looked down at her. “It’s dirty up here — move to the side a bit.”

Lin Tao gave an “oh” and shifted slightly.

Everyone around them was busily working. She couldn’t just stand there doing nothing, so she dragged over a bench and stood beside his position. “This is so awkward, just standing here.”

Jiang Yan glanced at her briefly but said nothing — his hands just moved faster.

Lin Tao was mostly just going through the motions, wiping here and there, while keeping up a conversation with him. “Do you have any plans for the summer?”

No. 10 High’s final exams were scheduled for the end of June — with the college entrance exams behind them, there was only about a month and a half left.

In previous summers, Lin Tao had spent her time at home playing games, or going to other cities with Meng Xin. Two months would pass like that.

“No idea.” Jiang Yan had no particular sense of what summer vacation meant — every year felt the same, going through the motions without much meaning. “Do you have any plans?”

“Me neither.” Lin Tao stopped what she was doing and tilted her head back to look up at him. “How about this summer, we organize a trip together — like that time in Hai City. A few of us go out.”

“Mm.” Jiang Yan looked down at her. “A trip is fine by me. But why do we have to bring other people?”

“……”

Lin Tao had nothing to say to that.

Jiang Yan lowered his head and folded the formless cloth into a neat square, then thought of something. “Speaking of which.”

“Hmm?”

“When’s your birthday?” Jiang Yan hopped down from between the two desks, standing in the gap. He rested a hand on the desk edge. “Are you celebrating with your parents?”

Lin Tao’s birthday was in August, right in the middle of the summer break.

Fang Yisong placed great importance on her birthday. Except for the years when they were away from Xi City, Lin Tao had always celebrated it at home.

“Yeah — probably still at home.” Lin Tao turned to face him. “Before I was seven, they were never in Xi City — every year my birthday was either moved earlier or pushed back. Now that they’re here, they’re probably going to make more of it.”

“What about during the day? Are you free?”

This was their first birthday since getting together. Jiang Yan genuinely wanted to have a meal with her and give her a proper birthday celebration.

Outside, the sky had turned entirely amber.

Golden, flowing light — warm and gentle.

Lin Tao looked at him, and smiled. “I am.”

The two exam days passed quickly.

When students returned to school, the Year Three students came back for the graduation ceremony. The base of the Year Three teaching block was a sea of white below.

Shredded pages of exam papers and textbooks were scattered everywhere.

Some people were shouting. Some were crying.

But whatever they felt — their high school years had come to an end.

With the college entrance exams over, the Year Two students were practically already in Year Three. Lin Tao could already feel the urgency from every subject teacher.

Old Yu, by contrast, remained the same as always — holding his tea cup, relaxed and unhurried, as though the class he was in charge of wasn’t a graduating class.

The wave of academic energy that had swept through Class Eighteen after the mid-terms hadn’t held.

The class drifted back to how it used to be.

Year Two had already started first-round college-exam review by mid-term. Lin Tao’s weaknesses in physics were becoming increasingly apparent.

Over several consecutive weekly tests, physics had barely scraped past the passing line.

Before the final exams, there was one more weekly test, and Lin Tao once again ended up right at the passing mark.

Lin Tao had never been particularly concerned about her grades — but after this string of failures, she couldn’t help feeling a bit dispirited. “Why is physics so hard?”

Xi City had gone fully into summer. The temperature had climbed, and the classroom’s air conditioning had been switched on long ago, running cold.

Jiang Yan was in a clean white T-shirt, the arm exposed below the sleeve cool to the touch. He said nothing upon hearing her, just looked down at her answer sheet.

Strangely enough, Lin Tao’s math wasn’t bad at all — in fact, it could be called exceptional. By rights, her logical thinking should be fine. But somehow, her physics grade simply would not climb.

Jiang Yan had been tutoring her all along. The effect wasn’t exactly good — but it wasn’t completely without result either. It just went up and down.

“I really have no idea what to do with you.” Jiang Yan pointed at one of the multiple-choice questions on the answer sheet. “This conservation of momentum question — I’ve gone over it with you at least six or seven times that I remember.”

“……”

Lin Tao had nothing to say in her defense.

The truth was, she did remember some of the questions. But the errors always crept in at the final step. In written problems or analysis questions, at least she could get partial credit for the process — but in multiple choice and fill-in-the-blank, where only the answer counted, she almost always lost points.

Like the question Jiang Yan had just mentioned: her process was right, but at the step where she substituted into the formula, she’d made an error, and the result came out wildly off.

In the science section, there were thirty-three multiple choice questions — four points each. Lin Tao could drop seven or eight of the physics multiple choice questions’ worth of points, plus the five fill-in-the-blank questions.

The objective section alone was basically a lost cause for her.

“It’s really not my fault.” Lin Tao was hot, and pressed her cheek to the desk. “Honestly.”

Jiang Yan gave a low laugh. “Not your fault — should I be blamed then?”

Lin Tao made a sound, sat up, and looked at him with great seriousness. “Actually — yes. A bit your fault.”

“……”

During the lunch break, it was too hot for the boys to go out and play ball either. They sat at the back of the classroom playing games on their phones, and the noise level was substantial.

Someone cursed loudly.

Lin Tao glanced back, then looked away again. She shifted toward Jiang Yan, her eyes holding a scattering of fine light, very bright.

“The famous philosopher Shaquille Hutcher Fusskey once said: in any household, there can only be one person who is good at academics.” She pressed very close, warm breath drifting around Jiang Yan’s ear. “You see, since you’re so good at physics — you must have stolen the share of physics talent that should have been mine.”

“……”

Lin Tao’s complete nonsense did not receive Jiang Yan’s endorsement. And in the end, Jiang Yan went and got her several more sets of physics practice papers.

After the final exams ended, No. 10 High’s planned supplementary class program for the incoming Year Three students was indefinitely postponed due to the unusually high temperatures in Xi City recently.

Jiang Yan had originally told Lin Tao before break that he planned to use the summer to help solidify her physics — but who would have thought that the second day of the break, Fang Yisong took Lin Tao off to Nan City to escape the heat.

She didn’t come back to Xi City until half a month later.

July in Xi City was scorching and relentless. The sun seemed to have an infinite store of heat. The midday streets shimmered with heat waves, trees on the roadside drooping and listless, even the wind that blew through carrying warmth.

Lin Tao, who had abandoned her boyfriend and gone off to enjoy herself, knew she was in the wrong. The very day she returned to Xi City, without even going home, she went straight to the internet café with her suitcase.

The internet café didn’t close for the summer.

Lin Tao pushed open the glass door and the air conditioning greeted her. In the daytime, the internet café wasn’t very busy — a few part-time staff members had nothing to do and were clustered together playing cards.

At the sound of the door opening, Xiao Qi — sitting closest to the entrance — peered out from behind the counter. “Hey — the boss’s girlfriend is here. Yan-bro’s upstairs.”

Lin Tao gave an “oh” and brought her suitcase in. “You all play — I’ll head up on my own.”

“Got it.”

Jiang Yan’s room was on the third floor.

Lin Tao left her suitcase downstairs at the front counter and headed up. On the second floor, she ran into Zhou Ming just coming down from the third floor.

Her eyes lit up. “Zhou Ming!”

Zhou Ming, who had been walking with his head down thinking, stopped in his tracks. His face broke into a smile. “Lin Tao-jie.”

Lin Tao took a couple of steps closer and saw the practice paper in his hand. “You were just in your Jiang Yan-bro’s room?”

“Yeah.” Zhou Ming held up the paper. “A few questions I couldn’t get.”

Lin Tao made an “ah” sound, tapped her chin a few times with her finger, and asked tentatively, “How has your Jiang Yan-bro been lately? What kind of mood?”

Zhou Ming, still a child, didn’t fully understand the layers behind Lin Tao’s question. He gave a very by-the-book answer: “Pretty good.”

Lin Tao couldn’t help smiling, reached out and ruffled his hair. “Never mind. You go do your thing. I’m going to go find your Jiang Yan-bro.”

“Oh, okay.” Zhou Ming took two steps down the stairs, then suddenly turned back. “Lin Tao-jie.”

“Hmm?” Lin Tao stopped and turned to look at him. “What is it?”

“Jiang Yan-bro said he missed you.”

Having said that, Zhou Ming turned and ran down the stairs without looking back.

Lin Tao hadn’t expected Jiang Yan to say something like this to Zhou Ming. She stood there for a few minutes, at a slight loss, before she remembered to keep walking up the stairs.

Jiang Yan’s room was at the far end of the corridor. Zhou Ming had probably forgotten to close the door all the way on his way out — it was left open a crack of about three fingers’ width.

Lin Tao stopped at the door. Cold air drifted out — cold and refreshing.

She quietly pushed the door open, not making a sound. The room got good sunlight, and it was bright inside. No sign of anyone.

On the desk against the wall sat a stack of textbooks and practice papers, and a laptop. The laptop was running — Lin Tao walked closer, and then she could see it was playing a live stream of this year’s Linhe Cup physics and mathematics competition.

“……”

Oh well.

Lin Tao had been developing a headache at the mere sight of physics lately. She chose to be deliberately blind, pretending she hadn’t seen it — but just as she averted her eyes, her peripheral vision caught a familiar name on screen —

Xi City No. 10 High School — Du Wenbo.

Du Wenbo had been Lin Tao’s deskmate for a short time when she first transferred into Class Eighteen. They hadn’t been paired together for even a week, and the sum of all words they’d exchanged in that time probably didn’t exceed seven sentences.

The deepest impression Du Wenbo had left on Lin Tao was from the past winners’ list for the Linhe Cup competition that Jiang Yan had shown her once, when she’d challenged Jiang Yan’s grades.

She remembered one year’s second-place winner had been Du Wenbo.

Hadn’t realized he was competing this year too.

Lin Tao set her small everyday bag aside, pushed the desk chair out, and had barely sat down when she heard the bathroom door pull open from behind her.

She turned around.

Jiang Yan walked out.

The young man, as always, seemed to own no other colors — white T-shirt, black trousers, feet in slippers. His hair had grown a little longer, with some fringe falling across his brow.

Jiang Yan had stayed up all night. When Zhou Ming had come by earlier, he had only just woken up and was watching the live stream of the competition, still not quite recovered. His head was foggy.

When he looked up and saw Lin Tao sitting at the desk, he stopped in his tracks, staring.

Lin Tao turned slightly sideways. One arm propped on the desk as a headrest, the other giving a small, lazy wave. Her eyes curved upward in a smile. “Good afternoon, boyfriend.”

“……”

Jiang Yan came back to himself.

He realized the person sitting in front of him was no one else but his careless, irresponsible little girlfriend.

He didn’t walk toward her. He went to the edge of the bed instead, unplugged his charging phone.

Lin Tao watched his movement, deliberately ingratiating herself. “Boyfriend — I came straight from the airport to find you. Didn’t even go home.”

“Oh.” Jiang Yan looked at her, his brow expressionless. “Am I supposed to praise you for that?”

“……”

Lin Tao looked at his sulky posture and wanted to laugh but didn’t dare. “I ran into Zhou Ming on the staircase just now.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, showing no reaction, head down looking at his phone. “Why not mention you also ran into Xiao Liu and Xiao Qi downstairs?”

“Jiang Yan!” Lin Tao looked at him and called his name loudly. Then felt a pang of guilt and said in a softer voice, “Can you guess what Zhou Ming just told me?”

Jiang Yan looked up at her without speaking.

“He told me—” Lin Tao stood in front of him, knee almost touching his knee, watching him without blinking. “That you missed me.”

“……” Jiang Yan looked away. “You believe what a little kid says.”

“Then you didn’t miss me?” Lin Tao studied him carefully, even leaning her face closer on purpose. “You really didn’t miss me at all?”

Jiang Yan said nothing.

“Then I’m getting a raw deal.” Lin Tao straightened up, letting out a slightly wistful sigh. “I was thinking of you every single moment.”

Jiang Yan finally couldn’t hold back. A small laugh escaped.

“Ha!” Lin Tao’s eyes curved. She leaned right back in front of his face. “Not angry anymore?”

“Wasn’t angry.” Jiang Yan reached out and pulled her forward. Their foreheads touched gently, his breath warm between them. “Just teasing you.”

The two of them were very close.

Lin Tao could see him clearly now — the young man’s eyelashes thick and curling, his amber eyes looking as though they held water, soft and luminous. The small mole at the corner of his eye was like the finishing touch, rippling with subtle beauty.

Such beauty right in front of her.

Even as a girl, Lin Tao found herself a little undone. She lowered her head and pressed her lips to the corner of his eye.

Warm lips, touching down.

Lin Tao could clearly feel the person in front of her go rigid, and the arm around her tighten considerably.

“Getting bolder.” Jiang Yan didn’t move. His voice had dropped slightly.

Lin Tao had acted on impulse. Once she’d actually done it, she was a little at a loss herself. Hearing his words, she pulled back quickly. Her whole face heated all at once, flushing red.

Even her fingers were burning, curling inward.

Jiang Yan gave a low laugh and leaned in to catch her lips in his.

Hard teeth touching soft lips.

In the brush of lips and teeth, he let go of the arm around her and reached up to take hold of her curled, retracted hand. Cool, slender fingers worked slowly between hers, easing them open.

Fingers interlaced, feeling the scalding, incandescent warmth of her.

Jiang Yan kept the movement of his lips very gentle throughout.

But Lin Tao felt he must have been born in the year of the dog — he always liked to use his teeth to catch her lower lip, without ever pressing particularly hard, leaving the place where he’d caught her numb and tingling.

Breath entangled. Fingers tightening further.

Lin Tao’s mind went completely blank.

……

By the time the two of them broke apart, Lin Tao’s breath was noticeably short. She gulped in air, her fair face entirely flushed — even the tips of her ears pink.

Jiang Yan reached up and stroked along her back, his palm against her, giving a quiet laugh. “After all this time, you still haven’t learned how to breathe through it?”

Lin Tao couldn’t help rolling her eyes at him, her voice carrying an unwitting note of softness. “You think everyone is like you?”

“What about me?” Jiang Yan raised his hand and smoothed away the fine strands of hair sticking to the corner of her lips. His fingertip, whether intentional or not, just barely grazed the slightly swollen corner of her mouth.

Lin Tao’s back went rigid. She slapped his hand away. “You’re inhuman.”

Jiang Yan smiled, drawing out the words with meaning. “And this is what you call inhuman?”

“……”

After a while, Jiang Yan got up and went downstairs for water.

“Bring my suitcase up for me,” Lin Tao said, straightening out her clothes which had gotten slightly crumpled. “It’s down by the front counter.”

“Sure.”

Jiang Yan pulled open the door and stepped out.

The laptop was still playing the Linhe Cup live stream. Lin Tao got up and sat down at the desk, turned up the volume.

She didn’t know which stage the competition had reached. After switching through several camera cuts, she couldn’t find Du Wenbo again.

By the time Jiang Yan had carried the suitcase back up, she just sat herself cross-legged on the floor and listened to the broadcast sounds. She asked offhandedly, “Did you know Du Wenbo is competing in the Linhe Cup?”

“I know — Old Yu mentioned it.” Jiang Yan stood up and took the cushion from the sofa, handing it to her. “Sit on this — the floor’s cold.”

“Oh.” Lin Tao took it and put it under her. “I brought you a gift.”

She got to work on the suitcase and opened it — inside was an abundance of things, snacks and drinks and everything in between.

Jiang Yan sat beside her and watched her rummage through it all. Eventually, from the very bottom, she pulled out a bundle wrapped in brown paper.

The style and shape were oddly familiar.

Jiang Yan’s eyelid gave a small twitch. He had a feeling this was not going to be good.

Lin Tao wasn’t paying attention to him. She grabbed a pair of scissors from the drawer nearby, snipped off the outer cord, and in a few deft moves peeled off the brown paper wrapping, revealing what was inside—

XXXXXXX Calligraphy Copybook.

She offered it up like a treasure. “A master’s work from the region. Everyone who’s practiced from it says it’s great.”

“……”

“You don’t like it?”

Jiang Yan looked down at his girlfriend’s face — the expression of someone who had found something precious — and swallowed back the only an idiot would want this that had been about to leave his mouth.

He nodded. “I like it. Very much. Like it extraordinarily.”

“……You.” Lin Tao set the copybook to one side, laid out her reasoning calmly. “Double negatives make a positive — by the same logic, double positives make a negative.”

“……” Jiang Yan tried to clarify. “I didn’t give you two positives. I gave three — negation, then reaffirmation.”

Lin Tao waved a hand. “It’s fine — you don’t have to explain. I know you just don’t like this gift.”

At that, Jiang Yan opened his mouth, about to say something to explain himself, when Lin Tao looked up at him, and suddenly raised her voice, firm and uncompromising, “You can not like it — but that doesn’t matter!”

“……” Jiang Yan was so completely thrown by her that he froze for a full ten-odd seconds before coming back to himself. He picked up one of the copybooks and flipped through it idly. He said honestly, “Truth be told — I don’t like it that much.”

The moment the words were out, his leg received a slap.

Jiang Yan looked at the I-knew-it expression on Lin Tao’s face, and the corner of his mouth curved, almost imperceptibly.

“But it was given by my girlfriend. My girlfriend-filter is too thick. Not liking it much becomes liking it very much.”