In the first month of senior year, evening study hall dismissal time was pushed back by half an hour.

So Chun Zao adjusted her daily bathing time to before evening study hall.

In the brief forty-minute gap, she had to accomplish two major tasks: eating and bathing. So she either hastily wolfed down a few bites of food or always ran out of time to blow-dry her hair.

After rushing back to class, her shower was wasted, with water stains all over her shoulders.

After several frantic attempts to squeeze everything in, Chun Chuzhen suggested she get her hair cut short.

Chun Zao refused adamantly.

From kindergarten through elementary school graduation, she’d had a little dumpling head. Only after entering middle school did she have the chance to grow long hair. After finally growing it to chest length and being able to tie it into a lively ponytail, how could she bear to cut it off with one snip?

She even wanted to get a wool perm after the college entrance exam.

For this, the mother-daughter tug-of-war entered a white-hot phase. Chun Zao couldn’t help complaining to Yuan Ye before bed: I might have to go cut my hair.

Yuan Ye: Why?

Chun Zao pouted: My mom thinks my hair is too long and troublesome to wash, delaying eating and studying.

Yuan Ye: Don’t listen to her.

Chun Zao: But she nags in my ear every day, saying hair can grow again, that in university I can keep it as long as I want, even to my heels. But during the crucial period of senior year, I should save all time for schoolwork.

Yuan Ye asked: What do you think?

Chun Zao thought for a while: Of course, I don’t want to cut it, but it does take up time.

With studying being the priority now, she was also somewhat wavering: If I become short-haired, would you not like me as much?

Yuan Ye:?

The typing indicator in the chat interface kept showing.

Yuan Ye: No.

Yuan Ye: How about this—if you go get your hair cut short, I’ll shave my head bald.

Chun Zao frowned, imagining for a moment, but couldn’t visualize the scene no matter what.

Since she’d known of Yuan Ye’s existence, she’d never seen him with a buzz cut or crew cut. He’d get regular trims, maintaining appropriate high school grooming standards while not looking rigid. Combined with his lustrous, fluffy black hair, his tall, lean frame, and when the wind blew through his largely white school uniform, he had a bit of that torn-from-manga atmosphere, specifically campus manga.

She curved her lips: I can’t imagine you without hair at all, but it’s really funny. To defend your current perfect hairstyle, I must stick to my original intention, too.

Then, double-standardly said: After all, if you became bald, I might not like you anymore.

Yuan Ye: ???

Staring at those three question marks, Chun Zao’s smile deepened.

She turned over, feeling much more cheerful: Let’s see. Maybe when it gets cold and I don’t need to wash my hair every day, my mom won’t have so many complaints.

She ended the conversation on time: Ten minutes are up, I need to sleep. Good night.

Yuan Ye: Good night.

Yuan Ye didn’t fall asleep immediately.

Regarding Chun Zao’s troubles, he began planning and implementing the “Save the Long-Haired Princess” plan that very night.

He ordered a toolbox and high-power hair dryer online, researched hair dryer disassembly on the internet, and three days later at midnight, secretly snuck into the bathroom to tamper with that “perpetually gentle breeze” old hair dryer. He dismantled it, cut the internal wires and ground wire, connected the power, tested multiple times, and only after confirming it was 100% unusable with no risk of short-circuiting did he reassemble it to its original appearance.

Sure enough, the next day, before evening study hall, Yuan Ye, who was reading in his room, heard Chun Zao calling to her mother: “Mom, why won’t the hair dryer turn on?”

“What’s wrong?” Chun Chuzhen hurried over.

Chun Zao clicked the switch several times: “No response at all.”

Chun Chuzhen also tried, unplugged and plugged it back in several times, but after multiple attempts with no response, she gave up struggling: “Probably broken. We’ve used it for many years anyway. I’ll buy a new one later.”

Chun Zao made a sound of dismay, pointing to her still-dripping hair ends: “What about today?”

Chun Chuzhen muttered, “Air dry. So I told you to cut your hair early. Look, even the hair dryer is protesting—this is all heaven’s will.”

Chun Zao was speechless, her mother’s fallacious reasoning sticking in her throat.

She said nothing more, squeezing her wet hair ends with a towel as she walked outside. As soon as she stepped out, she saw Yuan Ye leaning against his doorframe, his lip curve barely perceptible.

He glanced at her meaningfully, then looked toward Chun Chuzhen who was heading to the kitchen: “Auntie.”

Chun Chuzhen stopped: “What’s wrong?”

Yuan Ye smiled: “I heard you saying the hair dryer broke.”

Chun Chuzhen sighed: “Yeah, I used it fine last night.”

“Auntie, wait a moment.” The boy immediately turned, rummaging through boxes and drawers in his room to find a square white paper box, blew off the dust, then went to his desk to wipe it with tissues before bringing it out and handing it to Chun Chuzhen.

Chun Chuzhen took it, glanced down to see a large white hair dryer image on top, with a familiar brand logo.

She was surprised: “This is?”

Yuan Ye replied: “My family made me bring it when I moved here last year. I have short hair, never used it.”

He looked at Chun Zao, whose hair-rubbing motion had frozen: “Just sitting there unused, why don’t you and Chun Zao use it? You girls have long hair, definitely inconvenient without a hair dryer.”

Chun Chuzhen, who hadn’t been called a girl in nearly thirty years, beamed: “That’s too embarrassing, we can just buy a new one.”

Yuan Ye replied: “No need. You’ve been looking after me since I moved here, don’t know how to thank you. Please use the hair dryer.”

Chun Chuzhen stopped declining: “Alright, then I won’t be polite.”

After speaking, she called Chun Zao over, stuffing the large box into her hands: “Thank young Yuan properly.”

Chun Zao controlled her lip twitching, saying seriously, “Thank you.”

Yuan Ye hummed quietly: “No problem.”

Thanks to this brand-new super high-power negative ion hair dryer, Chun Zao experienced efficient ten-minute speed-drying for the first time.

During evening study hall, the more she thought about it, the more something seemed off. On the way home after class, she asked Yuan Ye: “Was this hair dryer one you weren’t using?”

Yuan Ye didn’t play mysterious: “Bought it a couple of days ago.”

Chun Zao clicked her tongue: “Then your act today of it being unused for a long time was?”

Yuan Ye said flatly: “Acting.”

Chun Zao was impressed, giving two thumbs up to praise this newly-crowned Oscar winner.

Reviewing for a couple seconds, she had another epiphany: “Don’t tell me breaking the old hair dryer was also your handiwork?”

Yuan Ye looked at her sideways: “Guess.”

Chun Zao pressed her lips: “I think there’s no need to guess.”

Yuan Ye chuckled without words, obviously acquiescing.

Mystery novel enthusiast Chun Zao pursued: “When was the crime committed?”

Yuan Ye brought his fist to his lips, deliberately yawning: “Last night, 3 to 4 AM.”

Chun Zao was alarmed: “Weren’t you afraid of electrocution or tripping the breaker?”

Yuan Ye was confident: “I was certain and measured.”

Sweet warmth stirred in her heart like sugar water. Chun Zao looked at him admiringly: “Okay, thank you.”—The afternoon was business politeness; this moment was genuine gratitude.

Yuan Ye lowered his eyes: “Just that?”

Chun Zao: “What else?”

Yuan Ye asked: “Why don’t you ask about my motive?”

Chun Zao replied: “Wasn’t it for my long hair defense battle?”

Yuan Ye extended his hand: “No.”

Chun Zao glanced at his open palm with distinct knuckles: “What do you mean?”

Yuan Ye: “Reward.”

Chun Zao was puzzled: “…I don’t have money or food on me right now. How about I treat you to something tomorrow?”

Yuan Ye stopped being mysterious, directly taking her hand and intertwining their fingers.

Chun Zao: “Hey.”

—Too high-profile. But she didn’t say it out loud, only instructed: “Only hold hands until the residential area entrance.”

“Okay…” The boy’s drawn-out laugh scattered in the night wind.

The last day of October was Yuan Ye’s birthday. Although he repeatedly emphasized not celebrating birthdays, Chun Zao still found time in her busy schedule to prepare a gift, just waiting for a chance to give it to him in person.

After meeting at the second streetlight, Yuan Ye saw her carrying her backpack in her hand. Just as he was about to take it, the girl pulled her arm back: “No need to burden you today.”

“Burden,” Yuan Ye repeated her words with a smile: “Is today some special day?”

Chun Zao was speechless.

He didn’t care about his birthday at all.

She deployed her prepared rainbow complement ammunition: “Eighteen years ago today, a little boy came into this world with a great face, a smart brain, and a kind heart.”

Yuan Ye realized: “Oh… today is October 31st?”

“Yes, how can you completely forget your birthday?”

Such a crucially important day, and he lived it so roughly and carelessly.

Fortunately, she was here to add some color to it.

Using golden brushstrokes.

The gold of laurel, the gold of the sun.

She unzipped her bag, carefully took something out, and placed it in Yuan Ye’s hands.

The boy held it up to look—it was a small bundle of laurel flowers, only palm-sized, with small, full blooms, broad green leaves, and simple thin branches, but exquisitely packaged. Wrapped in double layers of rice paper with soft-tip black pen calligraphy, classical and elegant, creating interesting contrast. If sold in flower shops, it would surely be popular.

He read the flowing calligraphy on the back, elegant yet spirited:

“Commanding reputation among all flowers, fragrant and melodious, both pure and clean.”

“What need for pale blue and light red colors, naturally the finest among flowers.”

…

All were poems related to Osmanthus flowers.

All were unreserved praise.

Yuan Ye’s lashes fluttered, lips slightly curved: “Did you write this?”

Meeting the boy’s gaze, Chun Zao took credit: “Of course. To make it look better together, I specifically stayed up late practicing running script for several days.”

“Can’t chat with you for two more sentences at night, but practicing calligraphy is fine.”

Chun Zao said: “It’s all related to you anyway, is there a difference?” She muttered quietly: “Getting jealous of yourself… is it necessary?”

Yuan Ye had good hearing and immediately responded: “Very necessary.”

Chun Zao raised her voice: “Just say if you like it or not.”

Yuan Ye nodded: “I like it,” his tone intensifying: “Very much.”

He asked again: “Where did the osmanthus come from? You didn’t steal it from someone’s yard, did you?”

Chun Zao said while walking: “How could I?” She pointed to a courtyard, and as they approached, a subtle fragrance wafted over: “I’ve had my eye on this house for half a month. An old lady lives alone, with an osmanthus tree in her yard. Before evening study hall today, instead of going home for dinner, I asked if I could buy a branch of osmanthus from her. She said no money needed and picked the best blooming branch from the tree for me.”

Chun Zao rarely showed a cunning expression: “Do you know why I didn’t choose other flowers?”

Yuan Ye: “Plucking laurels?”

Chun Zao was delighted: “Wow, you understand?”

Yuan Ye smiled: “My Chinese isn’t bad.”

Chun Zao clapped her hands in front of her, teasing: “Right? This is my zero-cost good gift that I thought about for a long time.”

Yuan Ye didn’t respond, raising his hand to roughly tousle her hair. Sentiment was priceless—why spoil the mood with such words?

Chun Zao’s braid was messed up, her hands reaching back to fix it.

Just as she was about to retort, she saw the young man lower his eyes, gazing at the osmanthus branch in his hands, then used his other hand to break off a cluster of budding flower sprigs and handed it over: “Here.”

Chun Zao’s eyelids fluttered: “Hm?”

“Plucking laurels alone isn’t fun.”

Chun Zao smiled knowingly, took it, and brought it close to smell: “Don’t look at osmanthus flowers being tiny, they smell so sweet.”

Yuan Ye also smelled it, then glanced at the girl’s profile below: “Mm.”

After arriving home, he had to restrain himself greatly to avoid being overly emotional under Chun Chuzhen’s nose, even though he was already happy enough to want to run five laps around the school track.

He thought this was already the most perfect birthday since his mother’s passing, but didn’t expect the girl across the wall still had a trump card.

Near twelve o’clock, he received Chun Zao’s message: Come to the window quickly.

Yuan Ye got up from bed and quickly walked to the window.

At the opposite windowsill, the girl had already leaned out her head, stretching her arm to wave something in her hand at him.

Yuan Ye focused and discovered it was a heart-shaped golden sparkler, seemingly… the kind usually stuck in cakes.

The phone in his palm vibrated. He looked down and got the exact answer:

This is a sparkler candle I asked Tong Yue to help me buy from the dessert shop. Legend says the ancient Greek moon goddess Artemis helps every child who makes a wish on candles during their birthday. I need to light it before twelve o’clock, then you can start making your wish.]

But Yuan Ye felt that Artemis was right before his eyes, just two meters away.

The girl, silently yet enthusiastically waving the sparkler candle, looked merciful and beautiful, vibrant and lively, with extraordinary magic, sparkling and shining.

She had a heart of gold that could sweep away all loneliness, solitude, and ordinariness.

Yuan Ye opened his phone’s text display, changing the text: Received.

Chun Zao smiled, solemnly inserting the sparkler into the sunflower cluster, then striking a long match.

She shielded the dancing flame and lit it.

Crack.

Brilliant golden fireworks sparked and burst. In the night, they reflected the girl’s eyes into two pools of starry seas.

Quick! Make a wish!

—She mouthed the words dramatically.

Yuan Ye cooperatively clasped his hands together, devoutly closing his eyes.

When he opened them again, the surroundings returned to tranquility and darkness. The small flowers swayed in the wind, but the warmth of light and heat remained, lingering in their shared smiling gaze.

Yuan Ye looked down, wanting to ask, “Aren’t you curious what I wished for?” Just as he was about to type, he discovered two new lines had appeared in the chat box, just moments before, during those ten-plus seconds when he closed his eyes to make a wish for her:

“There will always be a heart in this world that shines for your birth,

Like mine.”