That day, Jiang Du wasn’t the only one who fainted. After nearly three hours on their feet, a boy in Class Twelve reportedly keeled over too, straight as a plank. In teachers’ mouths, this only confirmed how physically weak young people were these days.

But having the audacity to bypass the teachers, abandon the prepared speech, and improvise on the spot — that was uniquely Wei Qingyue.

And now there was truly not a soul who didn’t know his name.

As for whether he got a talking-to from the teachers afterward — no one knew. But by high school logic, a top student committing a minor, harmless infraction wasn’t something any teacher would actually pursue. What’s more, in the eyes of Mei High’s first-years, Wei Qingyue had suddenly become a symbol of personality and defiance. At this age, everyone wanted to stand out as unique — and when someone dared to do what everyone else only wished they could, he became an idol.

On top of which, Wei Qingyue already carried the aura of a top student.

The weather forecast said clear skies for the entire week. Not just no rain — not even a wisp of cloud.

Under a relentless sun, with cicadas screaming nonstop, faces shining with oil and fringes clinging to foreheads in damp clumps — everyone had to wash their hair every single day. The drill instructor was strict and fond of surprise checks, suddenly kicking the back of your knees from behind to see whether you were really standing straight. Unluckily, out of every ten he tested, nine would give a little wobble and almost buckle.

Anyone who got kicked would first startle, then silently curse the instructor in their heart.

Everyone’s face went a deep, sunburnt red-brown. If you spotted another class already resting in the shade of the trees, the envy was practically blinding.

Jiang Du sat by herself on the sideline in her training uniform. Because of her health, she couldn’t participate — but she insisted on staying on the sports field until they were dismissed and refused to leave early.

“God, I’m melting. I’m genuinely afraid I might drop dead.” Wang Jingjing ran over to sit next to Jiang Du during a break. She’d barely touched the ground before Lin Haiyang appeared with several bottles of water, offering one to Jiang Du first, then to Wang Jingjing.

“So generous of you.” Wang Jingjing twisted the cap and poured it straight down her throat.

“Just sharing what others gave. No trouble at all.” Lin Haiyang jutted his chin toward the southern end of the field, indicating they should look. A girl with slightly darker skin, a slightly prominent upper lip, but beautifully bright eyes was distributing water to everyone.

That was Zhang Xiaoqiang.

Wang Jingjing remembered — when that name was called out during self-introductions, the whole class laughed. Zhang Xiaoqiang was not tall, but had exceptionally white teeth. Faced with everyone’s laughter, she hadn’t looked flustered or offended in the slightest. She had walked to the blackboard, written three elegant chalk characters, and told them all: “The ‘Qiang’ in my name means ‘rose.’ Please don’t get the wrong idea.” She was the top scorer in Class Two, with an entrance exam score second only to Wei Qingyue. With that single gesture — paired with her self-assured, bright smile — the room suddenly felt as though the laughter had been their own ignorance.

Teacher Xu had already appointed her as Study Committee Member.

But at this moment, Zhang Xiaoqiang had assumed the manner of a class president, calmly and efficiently looking after all the students.

Wang Jingjing clicked her tongue appreciatively: “Did she pay for all the water herself?”

“She did. Zhang Xiaoqiang is generous — my roommate knows her. Her family is well-off. Her father is an official, her mother a university professor — prominent people.” Lin Haiyang seemed to know something about everything, as if he had insiders in every corner. He talked about it all with cheerful relish.

Wang Jingjing found this tone deeply contemptible and curled her lip: “You’re a grown boy — you’re quite a gossip, aren’t you? And a bit of a snob, too. Are you boys sitting around discussing girls’ family backgrounds? What business is it of yours? You’re all just trying to get on Zhang Xiaoqiang’s good side, aren’t you?”

“Hey, why are you getting worked up? Zhang Xiaoqiang does have good family circumstances. Are you jealous?”

The two launched into a volley of arguments. Wang Jingjing tore into Lin Haiyang thoroughly; he didn’t get angry — just laughed — which only made Wang Jingjing’s blood boil further. She called him a little weasel.

Two brand-new classmates, barely acquainted for two days — their friendship advanced by leaps and bounds through the medium of argument.

Jiang Du sat quietly with a small smile throughout, edging her seat slightly sideways in case Wang Jingjing took to chasing Lin Haiyang and caught her in the crossfire.

“Jiang Du, how are you feeling? You alright?” Zhang Xiaoqiang came over with a look of genuine concern — this was a task Teacher Xu had assigned her.

Jiang Du hated being singled out. Bad enough to have fainted at the ceremony already — some people in class had started calling her “Lin Daiyu” behind her back. The nickname rankled. As though being slightly fragile automatically entitled people to call you after a tragic heroine. If that was the standard, those three characters were being used far too cheaply.

She slid the newspaper she’d been sitting on to one side: “Zhang Xiaoqiang, would you like to sit for a bit? I’m fine.”

Zhang Xiaoqiang smiled gently and tucked another bottle of water into her hand: “If you feel at all unwell, say so right away. Don’t be a stranger.” There was something about this girl — a mature liveliness — that was difficult to pin down, because it wasn’t easy to reconcile both qualities so harmoniously in a high school student.

Jiang Du was about to say something more when she caught her breath. A not-entirely-unfamiliar figure was walking in her direction. The boy had taken his cap off, carrying it in one hand, tapping it idly against his leg with each step.

He was walking this way. Nearby, eyes had already turned.

“Is this your water?” Wei Qingyue was speaking to Zhang Xiaoqiang. His manner was mild and detached, though whenever he knitted his brows slightly as he spoke, there was always something about it that made people feel he was not to be trifled with. “Can I take one?”

He wasn’t talking to her. Jiang Du lowered her eyes, let her gaze drift carefully downward, and went completely still — gripping the water bottle in her hand, eyes fixed on the sand and dirt at her feet, as though something had nailed her in place.

She had no idea why her heartbeat had gone so fast. She felt a little scattered. But her ears were strangely sharp — she caught the smile in Zhang Xiaoqiang’s voice quite clearly.

“Of course, take as many as you like. You don’t need to be formal with me.”

“Thanks.” Wei Qingyue made a small gesture of acknowledgment. His gaze dropped briefly, glancing without interest at Jiang Du, then lifted — meeting Wang Jingjing’s eyes, which were already sparkling with barely-contained eagerness. Clearly, she was excitedly working up to how she might start talking to him.

Ridiculous.

Wei Qingyue felt a faint displeasure and withdrew his gaze. He turned and walked away.

“Wait, you know Wei Qingyue?” Wang Jingjing asked Zhang Xiaoqiang.

Zhang Xiaoqiang was entirely composed: “We know each other. We were in the same middle school. Sometimes I’d place first, sometimes he would — just my bad luck not to beat him on the high school entrance exam.” The quiet confidence of a top student slipped out naturally. It left Wang Jingjing nothing to do but sigh admiringly: “You’re both amazing!”

Before she could get out another word about Wei Qingyue, the whistle sounded. Wang Jingjing gave Jiang Du a quick pat: “Ugh, here we go again. I have to get back!”

Jiang Du felt the uncomfortable thudding in her chest. She waited until everyone had moved away. Only then, feeling safely hidden, did she quietly lift her gaze toward the distance — searching among the sea of identical green uniforms for that tall figure.

From this far away, no one could see whose eyes were looking for whom.

But she was hopeless — even from this distance, she truly couldn’t find him. Plenty of the boys in Class One were tall.

A vague discomfort had begun to stir — somewhere between her stomach and her abdomen, the feeling growing steadily more distinct. Jiang Du grabbed her cap and stood up, heading toward the restroom.

How unfortunate. Her cycle had been completely irregular since her first period, and here it was again, barely ten days later. Jiang Du came rushing out of the restroom in a flustered scramble, hands not even washed.

A figure blocked her path.

“Have we met before?” Wei Qingyue’s voice cut through the air with startling clarity. Jiang Du froze.

The campus was quiet — everyone was out on the sports field for training. Sunlight filtered down through the leaves in scattered rings, landing on the boy’s face. She could see every detail with perfect clarity.

Jiang Du felt as though her mouth had gone stiff. She gave a mechanical nod.

“Don’t run your mouth.” Three words from Wei Qingyue.

It was an unpleasant thing to say. Jiang Du tightened her grip on her trousers, face flushing with indignation: “What?” The color rushed across her face — pale as near-transparency one moment, crimson the next.

She genuinely hadn’t understood the threat.

“Classmate — we crossed paths at the police station over the summer. Pretend you saw nothing. If you’re not an idiot, you should understand what I mean.” Wei Qingyue spoke with a natural edge in his voice — entirely at odds with what Jiang Du had imagined a top student to be like, and even further from the boy who had stood at the podium and given that speech.

She felt her throat tighten. Slightly at a loss, she looked down: “I haven’t said anything about you to anyone. I don’t even know you.”

Jiang Du thought Wei Qingyue might be about to hit her.

She was genuinely timid, and hated getting into trouble. Naturally, getting hit was also something she’d rather avoid.

Looking back on that accident over the summer, she still didn’t know where on earth she’d found the courage.

“Don’t know me?” Wei Qingyue gave an almost imperceptible smile. His self-assurance carried an edge of precocious sharpness: “You know my name.”

Jiang Du couldn’t deny it. She gave a small, quiet nod.

Wei Qingyue was nothing like any top student she’d imagined. His entire manner was that of a school tyrant — the kind who did nothing but fight and get summoned to the office with parents called in. Though if you looked more carefully at the boy’s features, there was a quality of emerging handsomeness about them, even a faint scholarly air. And yet his every movement was tightly wound and razor-edged.

Those eyes — the eyes she had occasionally recalled during the summer — were watching her now, cold and unwelcoming. Jiang Du, seized by nerves, had the sudden impulse to pretend to tie her shoelace.

She crouched down on instinct, murmuring vaguely: “Don’t worry. I’m not the type who goes around talking about other people.”

Her heart felt like it had shrunk to the size of a tiny apricot pit.

His shadow fell across her shoes. Jiang Du’s fingers passed in and out of it — in shade, then in sunlight — dark one moment, bright the next. When she suddenly stood up, the world in front of her genuinely, truly went black.

Almost by reflex, she grabbed Wei Qingyue’s arm.

He steadied her with an equally reflexive response, his tone chilly: “What is this? What do you think you’re doing? I haven’t touched you.”

It took Jiang Du several seconds for her vision to slowly clear, piece by piece.

Her complexion was not good. She looked at Wei Qingyue with dim, slightly glazed eyes. He frowned: “Are you sick?”

No matter how you heard it, it sounded like an insult.

Jiang Du very much wanted to explain that she was unwell — that her period had come — but naturally that was not something she could say out loud. And right now, whether it was appropriate to say it was beside the point, because a surge of something had suddenly risen from her stomach, shooting straight up her throat.

A second later, she vomited all over Wei Qingyue.

Jiang Du’s head exploded with a sound like a thunderclap. Now, she thought, Wei Qingyue was absolutely going to hit her.

Sure enough, Wei Qingyue’s expression went very dark. His face cold, he peeled off his jacket and stood in the white short-sleeved shirt beneath.

“Classmate — please wash this and return it to me.”

He handed the sour-smelling jacket to Jiang Du, stuffed it into her arms. Jiang Du was nearly in tears. She didn’t dare look at him, absolutely mortified, her brain running purely on autopilot:

“I’m so, so sorry — I really didn’t mean to…”

“Apologies don’t help. Just remember to wash my clothes.” Wei Qingyue had zero interest in hollow words. He glanced at her briefly, pointed: “The medical room is in that direction.”

He made no move whatsoever to walk her there. He said what he had to say and headed off in the direction of the main sports field.

Cicadas shrilled endlessly, loud enough to make the ears ring. Jiang Du stood there clutching the soiled jacket, rooted to the spot for a moment.