After the Hundred-Day Pledge ceremony, the urgency of the college entrance exam became increasingly concrete.

It felt like entering the final treacherous pass of a mountain climb, with dawn approaching.

Chun Zao found time at noon to go to the print shop at the school gate and have a Weiming Lake scenery photo printed, making it into a wordless motivational poster. She used washi tape to secure the four corners and stuck it on the wall above her desk, facing her directly. When tired from studying, she’d look up to rest her eyes and boost her spirits, using it for self-motivation.

Besides the place her heart yearned for, Yuan Ye had also become one of her driving forces.

His grades in all subjects were flawless; Chun Zao’s were not. Mathematics was her weakness.

For instance, in the second mock exam, her math performance wasn’t ideal.

Chun Chuzhen understood that at crucial moments one shouldn’t pressure children, so she uncharacteristically didn’t criticize her daughter’s grades. But Chun Zao still felt frustrated, walking home from evening study hall for two consecutive days feeling dejected and often spacing out to review those wrong problems.

“What are you thinking about?” The boy inserted a straw into a strawberry milkshake and handed it over.

Chun Zao took it and sipped: “Thinking about the wrong problems on the math test. Shouldn’t have gotten them wrong…”

Yuan Ye glanced at her: “This exam was difficult to begin with.”

Chun Zao muttered unhappily: “But didn’t you still get a perfect score? Easy for you to say.”

Yuan Ye was stumped and stopped talking—the more he said, the more mistakes he’d make.

Chun Zao noticed and looked up: “Sorry, I’m being emotional, taking my anger out on someone better than me when I’m the one who’s not good enough.”

Yuan Ye exhaled and smiled: “Someone better than you? Am I your opponent or your boyfriend?”

Chun Zao bit the straw, thinking for a few seconds: “You’re my math idol.”

“…” Yuan Ye was pleased, his lips curving upward: “You’re not bad either. How many in your class scored above 120?”

Chun Zao: “Four.”

Yuan Ye: “Ten in our class scored above 140. I’m just one-tenth of that. Looking at it this way, you seem a bit better than I.”

“What level is your class?”

“Aren’t we both experimental classes for liberal arts and sciences? Don’t discriminate between subjects.”

But Class One… was the undisputed Tsinghua-Peking University class.

And she wasn’t in it.

She didn’t yet have enough confidence and advantage to secure admission to a top-2 university with certainty.

Making someone she liked settle for less would probably hurt more than cutting her with a knife.

She didn’t want that kind of relationship.

And she wasn’t without that capability.

Harboring such thoughts, Chun Zao practiced problems until 2 AM before finally resting.

The next evening during math self-study, the teacher brought several copied math mock exam papers to class, distributing them to each group for circulation. He said these were Yuan Ye’s perfect score papers from Class One—very neat, clear, and organized. Everyone should look at and learn from his problem-solving approach for inspiration.

As soon as he finished speaking, many people focused on Chun Zao’s seat with gossipy expressions.

She immediately ducked behind her book, ears slightly red, pressing her pen cap and pretending to disappear.

When the papers reached her hands, Chun Zao took out her own for comparison, analyzing each problem seriously. When her gaze fixed on the second-to-last major problem, on the final numerical result of E(X) expectation, she frowned slightly, then relaxed with her apple muscles lifting.

After class, one copy was thoughtfully left for Chun Zao by the class representative.

Chun Zao gladly accepted it, placing it together with her notes and carefully putting it back in her bag.

On the way home, Chun Zao mentioned this: “I saw your test paper today.”

Yuan Ye had expected this: “How was it?”

Chun Zao seemed to understand but not quite: “Pretty good, just one part I don’t understand.”

Yuan Ye turned to look at her: “Which part?”

Chun Zao said: “E(X) equals 6, but why did you write that kind of 6 with a circle around it—like a label?”

Yuan Ye looked at her sideways: “Do you not know, or are you pretending not to know?”

Chun Zao paused: “I think I know, but I’m not sure if what I’m thinking is right.”

Yuan Ye: “Tell me.”

Chun Zao made a circle with her thumb and index finger: “Isn’t your code name a circle? Are you saying you’re awesome, making me laugh when I see it?”

Yuan Ye was speechless for two seconds: “Not at all.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s Yuan Ye giving Chun Zao a 6.”

“Huh…?” Chun Zao’s mouth curved upward for the first time since the second mock exam, rising too high to come down: “Is that it?”

“Yes.” The boy beside her eagerly took credit: “Happy now?”

His bright gaze could always shatter her defenses instantly. Chun Zao couldn’t help but smile: “How did you think of that?”

Yuan Ye said, “I originally asked the homeroom teacher if I could draw simple pictures, but he told me not to get too carried away in case other students imitated. This was the only way. I thought you’d understand, but you ended up thinking I was being funny.”

Chun Zao showed eight small pearl-like teeth: “Close enough, as long as the effect is the same.”

“True, after all, you’re the only person in the world who knows my code name.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Alright, Chun Zao believed him. After all, this was the first time she’d seen someone use “6” so cleverly.

At the end of April, all senior year students took unified graduation photos. After the formal group photo, the teacher left a little free time for the caged beasts who had studied hard for most of the year to get some air.

After all, once the college entrance exam was over, the place would be empty.

Such an opportunity would be hard to come by again in this lifetime.

The vast playground was scattered with groups like stars.

Tong Yue brought a large telephoto lens DSLR camera, acting like a professional enthusiast, serving as a free photographer for various classmates.

Everyone eagerly sought her out for photos.

Chun Zao didn’t like crowded scenes, so she waited on the side for her turn.

During this time, she frequently noticed Class One’s location—they were also taking photos on the playground. Yuan Ye naturally stood out, like a must-visit internet-famous spot, with people continuously seeking photos with him.

She was also interested, but at this moment, under everyone’s gaze, she felt timid about approaching rashly.

After all, compared to other students who also liked him, she had many more opportunities to interact with him.

But… wearing the unified graduation outfit, this might be the only time in her life.

Noticing her friend’s anxiety, Tong Yue squeezed out of the crowd and patted the dazed Chun Zao: “Hey, do you want to take a photo with Yuan Ye?”

Chun Zao looked into the distance, where the boy still seemed unable to break away, and couldn’t help hesitating: “Maybe in a bit…”

Tong Yue glanced at the time on her phone: “Time waits for no one. We have to return to class in five minutes.”

She asked: “Should I call him for you?”

Chun Zao grabbed her arm, stopping her: “No need.”

Tong Yue urged: “Then hurry up. Don’t wait until you want to take photos, but your camera is out of memory.”

Chun Zao took a light breath, no longer hesitating, and stepped toward Yuan Ye.

At the same moment, the boy said something to a nearby classmate, left the class crowd, and turned toward the direction his peripheral vision had noticed multiple times.

Their eyes met.

Both froze simultaneously, then smiled knowingly and quickened their pace.

He walked toward her, and she also walked toward him, meeting in the center of the green field.

In the latter half, Yuan Ye was almost running.

Cheers erupted from the students, with booing sounds growing stronger, as if witnessing a lawn wedding firsthand.

Even the teachers smiled and glanced their way.

Tong Yue immediately ran forward, transforming into a following photographer, aiming her lens at this fairy-tale couple.

“Look at me—” she raised her hand to signal.

The boy and girl stood side by side, with a small gap between them, reserved but not distant, because their smiles were so harmonious, almost copy-pasted, equally bright and equally vibrant.

“Stop acting like you don’t know each other! Get closer!” Tong Yue complained loudly.

Chun Zao moved slightly to the left, not much, avoiding their arms touching. Although before this, they’d had many more intimate contacts.

But in broad daylight, it was better to keep a low profile.

Yuan Ye didn’t want to be low-key. He extended one hand, wrapped it around the girl’s shoulder, and pulled her straight toward himself.

Chun Zao’s smile immediately became uncontrollable.

So did his.

Tong Yue made an OK gesture: “Nice—hold it—3—2—1—cheese—”

The moment she pressed the shutter, wind happened to come, grass rustling, camphor trees surging with green waves, the sky bright and clear.

The girl’s hair ends, the boy’s bangs, naturally swaying, and without exception, their eyes were like stars.

Just like youth, the youth that everyone possesses and has experienced,

It can be recorded, frozen in time, but can never be stopped from growing vibrantly and freely upward.

As the college entrance exam approached, the class began holding farewell ceremonies—spraying flowers and bouquets for various subject teachers, and a large red banner hanging on the back wall, all expressing great ambitions while also conveying the sadness of parting.

Girls cried in each other’s arms, and some boys had tears in their eyes, holding thick black markers and going from seat to seat, treating their school uniforms as autograph walls.

Chun Zao was more literary. She carefully prepared a journal with a sea-blue cloth cover as a commemorative album, asking classmates to leave messages on it.

After collecting signatures from her class, she ran to the equally crowded Class One and peered through the window.

A student by the window noticed and called back: “Yuan Ye, your wife is looking for—”

Yuan Ye was signing on a classmate’s back. Hearing this, he turned around, immediately capped his pen, tossed it to someone else, and quickly walked out of the classroom.

Chun Zao handed out the book in her hands.

Yuan Ye took it: “What’s this?”

Chun Zao lifted her chin: “My graduation commemorative album. Please leave a message.”

Yuan Ye was somewhat surprised: “Now?”

Chun Zao nodded: “Yes.”

“Don’t you want to think about it?”

“You have such a good brain, you still need to prepare?”

“Of course, this is for you.”

Chun Zao pouted: “I’ll give you thirty seconds. I can’t stay long.”

Yuan Ye was stunned, laughed, then helplessly leaned into the window and called a classmate’s name: “Hey, throw me a pen.”

The person chose a black gel pen and threw it over.

Yuan Ye caught it, placed the album diagonally on the windowsill, his brow slightly furrowed, then lowered his head to write with extra seriousness.

When Chun Zao tried to lean over to peek, he raised the other side to block her view.

Chun Zao was surprised: “What magical spell are you writing that I can’t even glance at?”

Yuan Ye’s lips curved slightly: “Not now.”

He seemed to be writing a name, his pen-holding posture becoming more relaxed. Finally, he neatly closed the page and handed it back.

Chun Zao was about to open it when he stopped her, acting mysteriously: “Look at it when you get back.”

The girl was stunned but agreed: “Okay.”

Curious by nature, she couldn’t stop herself from hurrying back to class, taking her seat, calming her heartbeat, and revealing the mystery in her desk.

It was like opening Pandora’s box, with intense light streaming out.

Chun Zao’s eyes trembled slightly.

Yuan Ye had indeed written a magical spell, completely unexpected, giving her goosebumps in tribute.

She sat frozen for a long time until her deskmate noticed something was wrong and asked with concern. Only then did she shake her head, saying nothing was wrong, while unconsciously curving her lips.

Yuan Ye had written: I will always stay with you until the sea turns blue.

How could he know?

Her life motto, the creed she held to, was her azure-blue, boundless hope.

That night, the evening before the college entrance exam, she opened QQ and asked the fellow warrior next door who was also about to go into battle:

—How did you know that phrase?

—Just how many times have you seen me?

Yuan Ye replied: To be honest, I’m from an alien galaxy, and you’re my tracking observation target on Earth.

Chun Zao played along with a smile: I believe it.

Yuan Ye: You believed it that easily?

Chun Zao had evidence: Your grades are so good, it’s like you have some alien advanced civilization in you.

One is making things up, the other is talking nonsense, unknowingly diluting the pre-exam tension and anxiety.

Chun Zao asked again: Why choose me as the target?

Yuan Ye: You’re the most vital one on this planet.

Chun Zao: Oh, I thought you’d say I was the most beautiful.

Yuan Ye immediately corrected: You’re the most beautiful and most vital one on this planet.

Chun Zao smiled, entering interview mode: Tomorrow, we’re taking the Earthlings’ college entrance exam. Do you have any goals or thoughts?

Yuan Ye: If you don’t mind.

Yuan Ye: As soon as the college entrance exam ends, I want to run toward you.