For a long time after that, Zhu Yunque made no effort to draw attention to Lu Rangchen.

At least, that was how it appeared to everyone else.

She continued as before, quietly playing the role of the obedient, well-behaved student — seeming to have no interest in anything beyond her studies. Even when she ran into Lu Rangchen on campus, she would only, under Xu Linda’s enthusiastic nudging, glance up calmly for a single moment before looking away, undisturbed.

As if, deep down, she had a natural indifference to that kind of dazzlingly conspicuous young man — the sort the world seemed to revolve around.

Even Xu Linda was curious, saying she had no idea what kind of boy Zhu Yunque would end up liking.

But that was only what it looked like on the surface.

Only Zhu Yunque herself knew that almost every morning at exercises, she would use the brief turning motion of a stretching movement to casually sweep her peripheral vision in a particular direction.

Less than a second. Then, without a trace, she would draw her gaze back.

Over time, that fleeting instant became the most secret, most shameful thing the seventeen-year-old Zhu Yunque had ever hidden — growing into something enormous in some corner of her heart, yet never spoken aloud to anyone.

She never dared to hope that anything would come of it, between her and Lu Rangchen.

They belonged, from the very beginning, to two different worlds.

There was no reason to bend herself low enough to reach someone so far beyond her grasp.

And yet, fate seemed to relish the surprise it had arranged for her.

One morning at the end of June.

Zhu Yunque was waiting as usual at the bus stop.

She had stayed up late working through two practice sheets in a subject she wasn’t strong in — mathematics — and when she woke early that morning her head had been heavy and her mind thick with fog. Without meaning to, she had leaned back against the bench and fallen asleep.

The Number 65 bus arrived at the stop not long after, but Zhu Yunque, hovering at the edge of consciousness, had no idea.

Then her arm was gently nudged. A magnetic, clear male voice fell over her from above: “The bus is here.”

A faint trace of dark agarwood drifted to her nose.

Zhu Yunque’s lashes stirred faintly.

At the same time, the sound of the bus’s horn and the squeak of it pulling to the curb filled her ears.

The two sounds wove together. Zhu Yunque’s brow furrowed slightly, and she rose from the light edge of sleep.

The moment she opened her eyes, golden sunlight poured down over the bold, eye-catching figure ahead, surrounding him in brilliance — a glow that felt almost unreal, like something from a dream.

Lu Rangchen was in the same blue-and-white school uniform, his grey backpack slung loosely over one shoulder, his manner lazy and clean-edged. He moved with the flow of people onto the bus, tapped his card, and walked toward the back.

Beyond the bright, mirror-like glass of the bus window, his profile appeared cold and sharp as though carved. White earphones in his ears, he seemed to withdraw himself into a world no one could touch.

In an instant, Zhu Yunque’s mind was upended.

Her feet barely felt the ground as she drifted onto the bus in a haze, tapped her transit card.

The early bus was packed.

His figure, unsurprisingly, was swallowed up by the press of people.

Her heart was racing almost beyond bearing. Grasping the pole with her slender arm, lips pressed until they tinged faintly pink, she strained on tiptoe, searching through the gaps in the crowd — and only in those narrow gaps could she make out his silhouette, head bent over his phone.

At last, the bus reached the Nanchen Third High stop.

Lu Rangchen stepped off first, disappearing into the flow of students arriving early for school.

Zhu Yunque had lost all her nerve long before then.

Even though she walked behind him along the same path through the school gates, she could not summon a single gram of courage to step forward and say thank you.

Zhu Ping’an arrived home in the middle of the night.

By that hour, everyone in the household was asleep. He moved carefully and quietly, exchanged a few words with Deng Jiali in the living room, and only then went to the bedroom.

Zhu Yunque heard the sounds through her sleep, shifted in the dark, and after a moment sank back into a deep sleep.

Early the next morning, she was woken by the sound of a baby crying. Along with that, the sounds of Deng Jiali cooking breakfast, and the conversation of the adults in the flat.

Zhu Yunque got up slowly with her face still bare, collected her toiletries, and went to the bathroom — only to find the door closed.

Deng Jiali caught sight of her and quickly called out, “Deng Jiaqiang, hurry up — Yunque needs to get ready for school!”

From inside the bathroom, Deng Jiaqiang answered impatiently.

Zhu Yunque caught the faint smell of cigarette smoke. She wrinkled her brow without thinking.

After a tense two seconds, she turned and took her toiletries to the kitchen to manage as best she could.

Before long, Zhu Ping’an came back from outside with fresh soy milk he’d bought, and by that point Zhu Yunque had returned to her room, dressed and ready.

Knowing she was awake, Zhu Ping’an knocked on her door right away.

Today was Tuesday — no required school uniform. For once, Zhu Yunque had put on a soft pink dress, her half-length hair at shoulder level hanging loose. She looked more delicate and gentle than usual.

Zhu Ping’an smiled. “That dress looks lovely.”

Zhu Yunque picked up her shopping bag without a word and said in a flat voice, “Mum bought it.”

Then she brushed past him and walked straight to the front door.

Zhu Ping’an was startled. “Where are you going? You haven’t eaten yet.”

Zhu Yunque braced her hand on the door frame to change her shoes. “No time. I’ll be late.”

She dropped those words and pushed the door open, leaving no space for anyone to respond.

Zhu Ping’an could only follow her, hurrying downstairs to walk with her to school.

Zhu Yunque didn’t refuse.

He was going over to meet the teacher anyway — sooner or later made no difference, and at least it spared her the bus.

The two of them walked through Smoke-Willow Lane together. Zhu Ping’an made a special stop to buy her the chocolate-filled bread and milk she liked.

Zhu Yunque sat in the taxi and ate slowly, unhurried, watching the street scenery passing outside the window.

Along the way, Zhu Ping’an tried to make conversation with her a few times, asking questions about her studies — whether the material had gotten too hard for her to keep up, or whether something had happened at school to affect her.

Zhu Yunque said nothing for a while, then finally gave him a brief look and said, “School is fine. Nobody’s affecting me.”

Zhu Ping’an looked directly at her. “Nothing’s affecting you, then where’s your school bag?”

Zhu Yunque: “…”

She had no desire to speak with him any further, and turned back to eat her bread.

The taxi dropped them off at the school. Zhu Yunque quickened her pace ahead. Zhu Ping’an finished paying and caught up to her, pressing a hundred-yuan note into her hand.

Zhu Yunque glanced at it. “I have money. Auntie gave me some yesterday.”

“Take it anyway,” said Zhu Ping’an. “Buy yourself whatever you like to eat. Dad isn’t home much — I can’t look after you properly.”

He paused, then gave an awkward little smile. “Just don’t tell Auntie.”

She wasn’t sure if it was from eating the bread too fast, but Zhu Yunque’s stomach suddenly felt uncomfortable. She took the money with a slight frown and, brushing past Zhu Ping’an, walked quickly into the school grounds with the crowd.

The hour wasn’t early. Zhu Yunque had barely sat down before the morning study bell rang.

Perhaps because Zhu Ping’an had come to speak with the teacher, Zheng Guoxiong didn’t stay up at the podium watching this time. He gave a few instructions, told the class monitor to keep order, and left.

A soft rustle of movement went through the classroom.

Xu Linda leaned over and whispered, “Your guardian came?”

Zhu Yunque took out the practice sheets she hadn’t been able to bring home and uncapped her pen to start working. “Yes.”

She paused, then turned to look at Xu Linda. “Did you finish your homework? Let me copy.”

Xu Linda’s eyes went wide. She was the one who usually copied from Zhu Yunque — this was the first time Zhu Yunque had ever asked her for anything.

She handed over her own messily-done sheets and asked, puzzled, “What were you up to last night? You haven’t done a single question.”

Zhu Yunque’s expression remained the same as always — perfectly flat. “Gaoge locked me out last night. I couldn’t get my things.”

The words, soft and unhurried, spread outward from their quiet center like ripples on still water.

Xu Linda’s eyes snapped wide open.

Almost instantly, the classroom fell silent.

Glances came sweeping in from every direction — surprise, curiosity, disbelief.

Zhu Yunque lifted her eyes slightly, and saw the spine of the girl sitting in front of her — Gaoge — visibly stiffen.

The thirty-minute morning study period flew by in a rush of frantically completed sheets.

When the bell rang, the class representative began collecting the papers.

Zhu Yunque submitted hers, then set the pink shopping bag on Gaoge’s desk.

This completely baffled the people around them.

Everyone knew that Gaoge had made such a public display of giving a gift to Lu Rangchen — almost everyone had seen that shopping bag. And now it was being returned to her completely untouched, through Zhu Yunque of all people.

Xu Linda was especially stunned. She had already thought it was outrageous enough that Gaoge had locked Zhu Yunque out the night before — but this was another thing entirely.

Xu Linda, unable to contain her curiosity, kept pressing Zhu Yunque to tell her what had happened.

Before Zhu Yunque could speak, however, Gaoge came back.

When she saw the pink shopping bag on her desk, she looked completely shocked. Her deskmate, with great presence of mind, silently pointed toward Zhu Yunque, who was sitting quietly at her seat, working through more questions.

Gaoge looked at Zhu Yunque in disbelief. “What’s going on?”

That outburst successfully drew the attention of everyone in the vicinity.

Zhu Yunque didn’t even look up. “I ran into him on the way out last night. He asked me to return it to you.”

She said “him” rather than “Lu Rangchen” deliberately — she didn’t want to draw more attention to it, and she didn’t want anyone to think she had any particular connection to him.

To Gaoge, though, those words carried an entirely different meaning — as though Zhu Yunque and Lu Rangchen were close acquaintances, as though she were rubbing it in. But what stung even more was the deeper implication: he had felt nothing for Gaoge — he hadn’t even bothered to return the gift in person.

That humiliating moment, exposed openly in front of everyone by Zhu Yunque, felt like revenge.

Gaoge lost control of herself. Under the stares from all four sides of the room, she turned on Zhu Yunque without thinking. “Who do you think you are? What gave you the right to return it for him?”

Everyone knew Gaoge was proud and self-centered, but this — openly tearing into a classmate in front of everyone — was a first.

Xu Linda was baffled and exasperated. “Are you out of your mind, Gaoge? Zhu Yunque was just doing him a favor — what are you shouting at her for?”

Gaoge didn’t hear a word of it.

She stared at Zhu Yunque with a look of wounded fury.

People were glancing around at each other with mouths open. Then, in that moment, the normally quiet and composed Zhu Yunque raised her eyes.

Like a picture slowly unfurling in full.

Every flicker of expression on that fair, refined face was perfectly visible — her pride, her disdain, her coldness, and the sharp edge underneath all of it.

They held each other’s gaze for two seconds.

Gaoge’s expression wavered. Something in it loosened.

Zhu Yunque looked back at her — neither yielding nor provocative — for exactly those two seconds. Then she spoke.

“So — are you planning to bully me?”

The words fell, quiet as ever, yet they cut straight to the bone.

The atmosphere became so still you could hear a pin drop.

The entire classroom went silent.

Gaoge hadn’t expected that. She flushed red in an instant — panicked and flustered. “Who’s bullying you? Don’t make false accusations!”

The moment she finished shouting, the class bell rang.

First period was English, and that teacher had a legendary severity.

Gaoge didn’t dare act up. She spun around and sat down in a fury, dragging her chair legs forward with a loud scrape.

Zhu Yunque remained perfectly composed throughout.

She waited a few quiet seconds, then lowered her head, took out her English notebook, and prepared for class. For the rest of the entire morning, she did not say another word to Gaoge.

Word of the confrontation between Zhu Yunque and Gaoge spread quickly through the year group.

Xu Linda thought even less of Gaoge than before.

She ran into her twice in the girls’ bathroom during that period, and each time she rolled her eyes so hard they nearly went all the way back.

At noon, she and Zhu Yunque went to eat at a small restaurant outside the school. When they came back, they noticed that Gaoge’s eyes were red-rimmed, as if she had just been crying.

Their eyes met briefly, by accident.

Gaoge immediately looked away.

Xu Linda made a sound of contempt. “And she’s the one who gets to be upset.”

Usually, Gaoge would have snapped back instantly at that.

But right now her shoulders were slumped, the air gone out of her, like a peacock that had lost a fight.

Under the desk, Zhu Yunque quietly gave Xu Linda’s hand a gentle squeeze — she didn’t want her wading into trouble for her sake.

Just then, her phone rang.

It was her mother, Feng Yanlai.

Zhu Yunque’s eyes shifted faintly. She said quietly, “I’ll step out to take this,” and left the classroom.

Behind the second teaching building, there was a small abandoned garden. On fine days, students often gathered there — to smoke and talk, or to lark about.

Perhaps because of a recent rain, there was no one there now. It was quiet and pleasantly cool.

Zhu Yunque sat in the gazebo and took Feng Yanlai’s call.

Feng Yanlai was nothing like Zhu Ping’an in temperament.

She was unhappy with the exam results, and her tone reflected it. “The teacher told your father, and your father told me — you haven’t been yourself lately, and your assignments have been sloppy. Tell me the truth: are you seeing someone?”

Parents of children this age tended to jump straight to that conclusion at the first sign of anything unusual.

Zhu Yunque held the phone tightly, without a trace of guilt. “No.”

“Then what is it? Can’t keep up?”

“That’s not it either.”

Seeing her holding something back, Feng Yanlai lost patience and exhaled. She made an effort to soften her tone. “Yunque, if there’s something wrong, you can tell Mum. Mum will help you figure it out.”

Zhu Yunque glanced sideways, and saw, as she had expected: on the shaded path not far ahead, a few young men were walking over, talking and laughing.

One of them stood very tall. White dress shirt, jeans. His sharp, handsome face was impossible to overlook. His voice, magnetic and resonant, carried the unpolished roughness of that age — husky, like a note that pulled at you, reverberating deep through the winding garden path.

Her heartbeat picked up, soundless and fast.

She looked away, lowering her gaze slightly, her attention scattering. “You’re not here. What would you do about it?”

At those words, Feng Yanlai understood most of it in an instant. “Is it Deng Jiali and that old woman giving you trouble?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

Zhu Yunque was quiet for a few seconds, then said slowly, “Auntie’s brother — he’s been living with us lately. Ye Tian said… he only got out of prison recently.”

At that, the air went tight.

Feng Yanlai fell suddenly silent. A few seconds later, she said in a cold, flat voice, “Understood.”

The call ended.

Zhu Yunque let out a slow breath.

When she looked up again, the group had drawn close to the gazebo.

It seemed they hadn’t expected anyone to be there. The boy in the front with the close-cropped hair paused. Right behind him, Lu Rangchen stopped too, hands in his pockets. His dark, deep eyes looked steadily toward her from a distance. Then his eyebrow lifted slightly.

Zhu Yunque’s gaze flickered.

He had recognized her.

That thought took hold of her — taut and apprehensive.

Zhu Yunque lowered her lashes. Almost against her will, she turned and stepped down from the other side of the gazebo.

She could have simply left.

But a moment later, she stopped. She turned back and looked toward the gazebo.

By now, the small old gazebo — worn but clean — had been claimed by several large-framed young men.

Lu Rangchen had one leg propped up and was leaning back in the spot closest to where she’d been sitting, a lollipop in his mouth, head bent over a book she didn’t recognize — his long, slender fingers moving with a kind of lazy, unhurried elegance, like a noble young man who had all the time in the world.

The boys beside him were laughing and talking about nothing in particular.

A lighter clicked on and off.

Zhu Yunque hesitated for a moment, then walked forward and stopped a few meters from the gazebo.

The pale pink shape at the edge of his vision caught his attention. Lu Rangchen’s fingers stilled. He turned his gaze instinctively to the side, and met the look that Zhu Yunque had directed toward him.

A pair of dark, lustrous eyes — without her glasses today. Clear all the way to the bottom.

Compared to that first time, she looked softer now, and more delicately, cleanly herself.

Lu Rangchen’s dark brows pressed together faintly. The look in his eyes toward her became unreadable, and then gradually searching.

Before he could say anything, the others noticed Zhu Yunque.

The eager and outspoken Deng Zhe stepped forward with a cheerful “hey,” grinning as he said, “Isn’t this the girl from Class B? What’s up — you need something?”

His loud voice rang out across the small garden.

It immediately created the kind of pressure that made it impossible to back down.

Zhu Yunque steadied herself, and almost without any other option, looked toward Lu Rangchen. Her lips moved.

“Money.”

A faint murmur. A certain fragile quality that was oddly endearing.

Lu Rangchen’s hand — mid-page-turn — went still. His eyelids lifted.

Zhu Yunque looked directly at him without looking away. “I still owe you a hundred yuan. I haven’t returned it yet.”