June ended quickly. The sun blazed like fire, and the summer cicadas chased after people relentlessly, their cries growing louder and shriller with each passing day.

The students were in the middle of enthusiastic debates about where to travel after finals — whether to learn skiing or rock climbing to fill out the summer — when the news Old Liu brought them detonated like a bomb and scattered their plans to pieces.

After meetings involving representatives from all parties, the school had reached a unanimous decision: incoming Year 3 students would be required to attend one month of supplementary classes during the summer holiday. The moment the news broke, an uproar swept through the student body, and complaints took over every corner of the school.

“What the hell — why does everything start from our year? This is brutal,” Qiu Minghua wailed dramatically.

“Whoever wants to go can go. I’ve already decided I’m studying abroad after graduation — I’ll just get my mom to get a medical report and use it to apply for leave,” one girl announced.

Zheng Zhaoxing gave a cold laugh. “You think those people didn’t see that coming? If your grade points aren’t maxed, do you think they’d give you a glowing graduation record? Though — if you’re planning on going to one of those questionable overseas schools, then by all means, forget I said anything.”

Well, no one had his kind of freedom — once he graduated and didn’t feel like studying, his old man would support him in that, and drifting around abroad was perfectly fine too.

Whatever he wanted to do, it really was just a matter of saying the word.

Complaining aside, the fact of summer classes was set in stone, and no one could change it. These kids had been immersed since childhood in an environment where maximizing gains was the name of the game. They sobered up fast, and they accepted reality fast.

There were just over twenty days left before finals — another reshuffling of Class A and Class F students, another chance for the standings to be redrawn. The students in the middle of the rankings, neither high enough nor low enough, were the most on edge.

Because of the stunt the Class A girls had pulled earlier, and Lin Weixia’s beautiful counterattack on behalf of the Class F students, this exam was finally the Class F students’ chance to turn the tide.

With finals approaching, the students at the top of Class A had grown increasingly unruffled. They put on an air of we were simply born with better minds, and even our walking pace is faster than your running — an unmistakable air of superiority.

Now even the act of burying their heads in review notes and meeting the Class A girls’ mocking gazes made the Class F students feel a creeping shame.

The tension between Class A and Class F only continued to fester.

One evening at dinner, her aunt was chatting casually over the meal when she recalled something and said:

“Weixia, I went to the parent-teacher meeting last time and heard your school divides students into Class A and Class F rankings. Honestly, I think it’s a good thing — competition creates drive.”

Lin Weixia ladled a bowl of soup and handed it to her: “Yes.”

“I heard your finals are coming up soon? You need to buckle down. The money I’ve been saving for you is waiting to send you to university.” Her aunt’s tone carried a quiet seriousness.

Lin Weixia looked up from her meal, paused for a moment, and nodded: “Thank you, Auntie. I’ll do my best.”

Throughout this exchange, Gao Hang kept his head down and ate his food without daring to say a single word. His older sister’s grades were so strong that he was terrified his aunt might, in the midst of all this, turn and direct some of it his way.

His aunt shot an exasperated look at Gao Hang, who was eating with the desperation of a starving ghost, then shoved the braised pork ribs in front of him over to Lin Weixia’s side with a decisive thud:

“Weixia, eat more.”

“Okay.”

For this round of finals, Lin Weixia was only two points away from officially entering the Class A ranking. Fang Mo said to her, her voice tinged with envy:

“Weixia, you’re about to get your beautiful red bow tie. How wonderful.”

Ning Chao had just woken from a nap. She yawned and chimed in: “Our girl is about to become Class A — I don’t deserve a seatmate this impressive.”

Lin Weixia was gnawing on the end of her pen, frowning at the last long question on the physics paper: “Go ahead and make fun of me — I might very well get buried alive by physics.”

Thankfully, she had Ban Sheng. Every time she asked him about a problem, the young master would be spinning a pen between his fingers, and he’d usually glance at the question just once before launching straight into an explanation.

His thinking was clear and precise, his mind swift. No matter how complex the problem, Ban Sheng worked through it with effortless ease — using minimal force to move something heavy, like turning a giant with four ounces.

For this exam, Lin Weixia had put in serious preparation over a long stretch of time. On the eve of the test, she was at Ban Sheng’s house. He helped her review the last of the key topics.

When they finished, he tossed his pen aside and leaned back entirely, stretching his neck slowly until the joints cracked — click, click.

He got up and went to the refrigerator for two cold drinks, including a can of iced cola. Ban Sheng helped her open the can — click — bubbles surged out.

“Thanks.” Lin Weixia accepted it.

Ban Sheng picked up his drink in one hand, then single-handedly swung a chair over, flipped it around, and sat straddling it backwards. He reached over and swiped the pen from Lin Weixia’s hand, then said with that easy, swaggering air of his:

“This time you’re aiming for top three. What are you going to give me in return for all this free labor?”

Lin Weixia immediately praised him: “Ban Sheng is the most generous person in all the world.”

“Ha.”

July arrived quickly, and the exams officially began. Lin Weixia felt she had prepared reasonably well for this one — and if she was honest with herself, she could not help but hope for a good result.

No one was truly immune to that. When you had put in the effort, you wanted something to show for it.

She wanted to see how far she could go.

The exams took two days. Lin Weixia and Ban Sheng were not in the same examination room, but the two of them went in and came out together. They did not do anything in particular — just exchanged a few simple words — and it looked simultaneously high-profile and effortlessly understated.

The other students had stopped doing what they used to do — shooting whispered comments at the two of them every time they appeared together, or following it up with pointed mockery. They seemed to have simply accepted this as fact.

The last subject of the exam was integrated science, scheduled for the afternoon. Ban Sheng happened to have something to take care of and sent her a message telling her to head in first. The sun was merciless. Lin Weixia held up her green examination bag over her head like a shield and joined the flow of students into the school.

Walking along the path through the fragrant garden, she kept fanning the back of her neck with one hand when a figure came hurrying toward her from not far away. As the person drew close enough to make out, Lin Weixia realized it was Jiang Helu.

The two of them had briefly crossed paths while working on a class bulletin board.

Lin Weixia’s impression of her was of someone who studied hard and had a cool, serious personality.

The reason Lin Weixia remembered her at all was that Fang Mo had been mentioning her name frequently lately — she was a new friend of Fang Mo’s. The two of them had been growing quite close. Fang Mo had said Jiang Helu was actually quite interesting, and that the two of them had cried together over the same comic.

“Is something wrong?” Lin Weixia asked.

Jiang Helu’s expression was agitated, her voice carrying a slight tremor: “Fang Mo has been taken away by them.”

“Taken away? Slow down and tell me exactly what happened.” Lin Weixia’s voice was calm and steady.

Jiang Helu raked a hand roughly through her short hair, brow deeply furrowed: “We were heading to the convenience store near the cafeteria to buy pencil leads, and on the way there, Fang Mo was pulled off by Liu Sijia and her group.”

Lin Weixia’s heart gave a sharp, heavy lurch. “Did you see which direction they went?”

“Toward Qingyuan Road — then they turned left.”

Lin Weixia placed a hand on Jiang Helu’s arm and said with quiet appeal: “Could I trouble you to take me there?”

Jiang Helu glanced at the time on her wrist, hesitated briefly: “Alright, but we need to be quick — the exam is about to start.”

Under the blazing midday sun, the two girls walked beneath the cover of tree shadows, passing through Qingyuan Road to reach the abandoned school building at the back of the campus. A faint smell of ink drifted from not far away — it was the school’s small printing workshop, which reproduced study materials and practice papers for students.

The two of them stood before the rust-streaked metal gate. Lin Weixia pushed it open and walked inside. The light was dim, and a stale, rotting smell hit them immediately, enough to make anyone wrinkle their nose involuntarily.

“Fang Mo—” Lin Weixia walked a few steps in and called out tentatively.

No answer — only the hollow echo of empty space. The sharp smell made her sneeze.

Lin Weixia turned back, about to tell the person beside her that Fang Mo was not in here and they should keep looking. The rough wooden door scraped against the floor with a low, creaking groan.

The single shaft of white light from the entrance was about to disappear. The door was slowly being pulled shut, and through a narrowing crack, a girl stood outside, her expression steely as she pulled the door closed.

Lin Weixia broke into a run toward the door.

The girl was tall, her long wavy hair a warm tea-brown that gleamed beautifully. She was wearing Shengao’s school uniform, and the white mother-of-pearl bracelet on her pale wrist caught the sunlight so sharply it nearly cut into Lin Weixia’s eyes.

It was Liu Sijia.

Lin Weixia reached the door and reached for the handle. Click. The sound of a lock falling into place came from outside.

The room went immediately dark. The foul air made her mood feel even more tightly wound. She was not getting out — that much was clear. She fought hard to keep herself calm enough to think.

In a flash of realization, Lin Weixia thought of Jiang Helu. She was the last-ranked student in Class A. If Lin Weixia entered Class A ahead of her, Jiang Helu would drop down into Class F.

Liu Sijia was clever. She had used jealousy and resentment, and in doing so had effortlessly trapped Lin Weixia inside.

What Jiang Helu wanted was to hold her position.

Liu Sijia wanted far more. She wanted Lin Weixia to swallow this lesson and learn the pain of it. She wanted to remain first. She wanted the boy she liked to look her way.

Through the gap in the door, Lin Weixia could see the faint outline of Liu Sijia still standing outside. She spoke with measured calm:

“I really don’t know whether to call you kind or foolish — you walked right into this.”

Lin Weixia stood at the door, her eyes on Liu Sijia’s, and spoke slowly: “Sijia, let me out. This exam matters a great deal to me.”

Life was long, and unpredictable. So whatever happened to her, Lin Weixia had always chosen to face it with acceptance rather than question it.

Even though her aunt had never quite treated her like her own child, and sometimes favored Gao Hang. But her aunt had rescued her from the hands of a drunken father, raised her to adulthood, and given her a stable life. That was already more than enough.

When they were young and Gao Hang was being sent to learn cello, her aunt, worried he would be lonely, had asked Lin Weixia to accompany him. But “accompanying” was really just a reason — she had still gritted her teeth and hired the same cello teacher for Lin Weixia too.

During that time, her aunt had worked from before dawn until late at night just to pay for the two of them to take lessons. The neighbors laughed at her for it. Her aunt had spat back at them and raised her voice the way a woman from the streets does: “Pfft — does that make a daughter any less of a daughter?”

She was sometimes biased, sometimes petty, sometimes eager to take advantage of people — but she had never once stopped treating Lin Weixia as family.

Lin Weixia was deeply grateful.

Since her aunt had brought up this exam, Lin Weixia was going to give it everything she had. She needed to show her aunt that investing in her, raising her — had been worth it.

Through the narrow gap in the door, Lin Weixia looked toward Liu Sijia. She did not say anything more. She held her gaze long and quietly, the expression on her face deeply complex, yet entirely unreadable.

The last thing Lin Weixia saw of Liu Sijia through the gap before the door shut was the vivid red bow tie at her collar — the one that marked her as Class A — blazingly bright, standing out sharply, a red so coveted it seemed almost untouchable.

After she left, it wasn’t long before the exam bell rang. The noisy world outside fell into complete silence.

In the dim, faint light that filtered through the cracks, a pair of amber eyes opened and slowly swept across the space around her. It was an abandoned storage room, packed with old sports equipment — and there was even a bicycle missing one wheel propped against the pile.

Lin Weixia found a quiet corner and sat down, her back resting against the heap of equipment. The surroundings gave off the musty smell of old, neglected things — deeply unpleasant — and she had no choice but to force herself to get used to it.

This was a storage room converted from an abandoned tin shed. There was no ventilation, and the light barely reached inside. With summer at its height, Lin Weixia had only been sitting for a short while before a layer of sweat had formed on her forehead and neck.

Unbearably hot.

Lin Weixia sat there, hugging her knees quietly, lost in thought. After sitting so long that her legs had gone numb, she was about to stand and move around when her elbow accidentally knocked into the pile of equipment behind her.

A loud clatter rang out as several wooden boards came crashing down in succession, their corners slamming into her snow-white kneecap before tumbling to the ground.

Lin Weixia hissed sharply through her teeth in pain.

Her fair, smooth knee had already turned a vivid, raw red. She dragged herself on the injured leg to a spot closer to the wall and sat down again, keeping well away from the equipment this time.

Two hours passed. The exam ending bell rang. The school filled back up with noise, and it continued until the sky darkened. When night fell, the fear inside a person swelled.

The darkness of the night was deeply uncomfortable — light was almost impossible to find. Lin Weixia leaned her back against the wall, thirsty and miserable, her complexion growing pale. She closed her fingers tightly around something in her pocket, lowered her lashes, and seemed to be thinking about something far away.

The deeper one sank into darkness, the lower one’s spirit fell.

Bang — bang — bang. Sounds came in rapid succession. Lin Weixia used one elbow to brace herself against the wall and stood up, raising her eyes toward the entrance. With a loud crash, the door was kicked open with great force.

Light from outside flooded in all at once. Ban Sheng stood in the doorway — tall and upright — but the look on his face was dark and heavy, his entire presence radiating a cold, sharp intensity.

He raised his eyes and cast a glance at Lin Weixia in the corner, then tossed the wrench aside and walked toward her.

Ban Sheng crouched in front of Lin Weixia. His shadow fell over her completely, as though he had carved out a private shelter just for her.

His gaze swept across her face and then her injured knee. He did not say a word. Something was pressing down inside him, held in check.

“I looked for you for a long time. Then I got a text from an unknown number telling me you were here.” When he finally spoke, Ban Sheng’s voice was hoarse.

Lin Weixia’s eyes shifted slightly. She could guess who had sent it, and gave a faint smile: “Why didn’t she go through with it all the way?”

He reached out and lifted Lin Weixia up horizontally into his arms. Ban Sheng carried her as he walked out. The path lights glowed ahead of them, and Lin Weixia looked up and saw a shadow of something dark and cold settled in the depths of his black eyes.

“Put me down — my legs aren’t numb anymore, I can walk,” Lin Weixia said softly, then paused: “Besides, if the patrolling teachers see, it won’t look good.”

Ban Sheng had no choice but to set her down. He adjusted to supporting her arm instead, steadying her as he guided her forward. Standing at the school gate waiting for a car, Ban Sheng took out his phone and made a call.

“Who are you calling?” Lin Weixia’s instinct told her something was off.

Ban Sheng’s voice came out low and measured, threaded with something cold and lethal:

“Getting Liu Sijia to come out and deal with this.”

The shadow had been sitting in his eyes this whole time. If Ban Sheng unleashed this, everyone would burn. So she had to calm him down.

Lin Weixia tugged lightly at the hem of his shirt. He bent his head to look at her. Her voice was soft, and she spoke in a tone that sounded like she was negotiating:

“Can it wait until tomorrow? My knee hurts a little — I’d like to get the wound treated first.”

Ban Sheng looked at her injury and finally agreed.

He helped Lin Weixia stand by the road and flagged down a taxi. More than twenty minutes later, the car pulled up at the hospital. After they got out, he walked Lin Weixia inside, his hand steadying her shoulder as he guided her into a seat on one of the blue chairs.

Ban Sheng called over one of the medical staff. A nurse came quickly, carrying disinfectant and powder. Ban Sheng went to the payment counter to settle the fees.

The nurse twisted open the iodine bottle, dipped a cotton swab in the solution, and dabbed it along the wound on Lin Weixia’s knee — cool and slightly stinging. After disinfecting the wound, Lin Weixia noticed the nurse opening a jar that appeared to contain white powder. Her brow twitched, and she asked:

“Nurse, will this hurt?”

“A little — you’ll need to be brave.” The nurse smiled.

The powder had not even been applied yet, and Lin Weixia was already looking away, her nose scrunching up in distress, her breathing quickening. She didn’t dare look. The whole thing felt like some form of torture.

All at once, the light in front of her vanished. Darkness fell. A large, warm hand had covered her eyes. A faint smell of tobacco drifted over, and her head found itself resting naturally against him.

A feeling of quiet safety settled in.

She heard him give a low, unhurried laugh, his voice easy and soft:

“Nurse, could you blow on it as you apply the powder? My little one here is a bit of a tender soul.”

That actually made Lin Weixia’s face flush red instead. Her long lashes brushed back and forth against his cool palm. With that joke cutting through the tension, the pain from the wound faded quickly.

After the wound was treated, Ban Sheng hailed a taxi and took Lin Weixia home. The road into the Shuiwei Lane area happened to be under construction, and the car could not get through. The driver let them out at the junction about one and a half kilometers away.

Ban Sheng stood in front of Lin Weixia and said: “I’ll carry you.”

“Does that really seem like a good idea? There are so many people around.”

Lin Weixia felt it really wasn’t that serious an injury. More importantly, she had thin skin when it came to these things — she was grown, and the thought of being carried down a busy street made her feel mortified.

Ban Sheng glanced at the wound on her knee, worried that any movement might aggravate it. Without a second thought, he let out a quiet laugh, reached up, and pulled off his black baseball cap, plunking it down firmly on Lin Weixia’s head.

Lin Weixia stared up, startled — and found herself looking into a pair of dark, dark eyes. The still-warm cap settled over her head. Ban Sheng’s expression stayed exactly as it always was — that effortless composure — but his hands moved with just a touch of uncharacteristic clumsiness as he adjusted the fit. His cool fingertips grazed her skin as he tucked a strand of her hair back behind her ear.

Ban Sheng turned his back to her, crouched down, and in one smooth motion, lifted her onto his back. Lin Weixia’s two slender arms draped across his long neck. She leaned slowly forward against the broad back of the young man in front of her, and the tension she had been carrying finally, gradually eased.

Lin Weixia thought of something and hesitantly asked: “Was the class ranking system something you designed?”

Ban Sheng paused, and a faint, dry laugh escaped him: “Not me. It’s a game for the wealthy — what happens when capital accumulates to a certain point and the rich want something to play with.”

When she was home and had finished washing up, Lin Weixia lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Then she thought of something, sat up, and pulled open the drawer.

Inside lay the thing Liu Xiping had given her. Lin Weixia picked it up, looked at it for a moment, and then tucked it into her school bag.

The next morning came early. Ban Sheng sent his driver to come pick her up — after everything that had happened, he could not let Lin Weixia leave his sight for even a moment.

At Shengao, everything carried on as normal. No one knew what had happened the day before. Liu Xiping stood at the podium and loudly reprimanded Lin Weixia for missing the exam, declaring it was an act of irresponsibility toward her own future, and urging the rest of the class to take it as a cautionary example.

Jiang Helu, meanwhile, had taken the day off.

After class, out in the corridor, students were laughing and roughhousing. Liu Sijia and her group of girls were leaning against the railing, taking in some air. The moment they spotted Lin Weixia emerging from the direction of the faculty office, they nudged one another, exchanging knowing glances.

She’s coming.

They arranged themselves as though something good was about to happen.

“Oh — isn’t this our very own new Class A student, Lin Weixia?” one girl said, feigning exaggerated surprise.

“You forgot — she missed the exam yesterday. She’s probably dead last in the whole class now. Still Class F.” Another girl smiled and chimed in.

Liu Sijia had her hair tied up today, showing off her smooth forehead. Beneath her dark eyes, she had used a liner pencil to dot an artificial mole — making her face look even more strikingly cool and sharp, with an unmistakable edge of aggression.

The red lips curved into an arc. Liu Sijia looked down at Lin Weixia with an air of condescension and offered a consoling smile:

“Missing an exam — there’s always a next time.”

Scattered laughter rose and swelled around them, growing louder and louder. They were mocking the effort and preparation Lin Weixia had put in. Mocking her for overestimating herself.

They had been born with higher starting points. How could they possibly be overtaken so easily?

In the midst of that universal contempt, Lin Weixia spoke, her voice cool and unhurried:

“Is that so? And what if I told you I have no interest in playing by your rules?”

A stunned silence swept through the crowd. After all, since the day this ranking system had been established, no one had ever said no to it. Lin Weixia was the first person to say she was not playing.

The smiles on the girls’ faces stiffened. They did not understand what she meant. Liu Sijia was caught off guard for a moment, then said coldly:

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I have no interest in participating in this school’s ranking system. I don’t want to be Class A, and I don’t want to be Class F. I am just myself.” Lin Weixia let her bright eyes sweep across all of them in one slow arc, and continued:

“Two points short — is that it? I forgot to mention — last year I entered a poetry competition. After advancing through the rounds, I took first place in the grand final. Recently, my homeroom teacher informed me that the poem has been selected for inclusion in a poetry anthology published abroad, and the organization awarded me a commendation for it. Before the exam, the teacher had already given me the red bow tie.” Lin Weixia reached into her pocket and produced the bow tie.

Lin Weixia’s attitude was one of disdain. She was telling them that she had every right to be Class A — but she was done playing this game with them.

For a moment, the entire crowd erupted. Voices broke out from every direction, and students from inside the classroom came spilling out to watch. Some kept a spectator’s distance, waiting to see where this was heading. Others looked visibly excited, hoping to watch Lin Weixia and Liu Sijia tear into each other — because Liu Sijia represented Class A, and Class A had never once lost.

Liu Sijia’s expression shifted through several changes. Ban Sheng was leaning against the wall not far away, casually drinking his milk, taking in the entire scene. He did not step in to take Lin Weixia’s side. He knew she wanted to handle this herself.

Ban Sheng flicked a glance toward Lin Weixia from across the distance, then pulled out his phone and moved a short distance away to make a call.

“So what — you came here to show off?” Liu Sijia crossed her arms and gave a cold laugh.

Lin Weixia tossed the bow tie — that beautiful, coveted emblem that the Class F students had longed for and believed would elevate them above everyone else — straight at Liu Sijia. When she spoke, her voice was neither loud nor soft, yet every person present heard every word with perfect clarity:

“I don’t need this ranking to prove I am capable. Being Class A does not make you strong. It certainly does not give you the right to use it to bully others, to harbor prejudice against them, to treat it as proof that you can divide people into grades. Our backgrounds, our experiences — we didn’t choose those. Our minds — we didn’t choose those either. What we can choose is to seize the present moment, to make progress sincerely, to be satisfied with ourselves, to be proud of ourselves, to recognize our own worth. That is what makes a person strong.”

“Not the brief rush of dominance that comes from pushing others down and thinking that makes you a winner.”

“I will not be playing this game.” Lin Weixia looked directly at all of them.

At the same moment, the bow tie she had thrown landed on Liu Sijia — and fell to the ground with a soft sound, knocking Liu Sijia’s own bow tie sideways in the process.

Like a sign of things to come.

The whole crowd fell into sudden silence. The high school girls looked at one another, unable to produce a single word. None of them had anticipated that Lin Weixia would fight back — and fight back so brilliantly.

The atmosphere around them went strangely, completely quiet — so quiet it seemed as though you could hear the air itself moving. No one spoke. Then, from somewhere in the crowd, a voice said:

“Then just transfer schools. Why stay at Shengao.”

“To hell with this stupid ranking system.”

Those two small voices seemed to ignite something, and the discussions that followed grew louder and more varied. Arguments broke out. It was like fire held to a beehive — the wings beating faster and faster, the noise swelling beyond control.

For the first time, Liu Sijia’s usually composed expression showed signs of cracking under the pressure.

A storm was on its way.