After lunch, walking back from the cafeteria to the classroom, the sky had turned heavy and dark — like the inside of an inkwell — and clouds churned freely above. Along the school’s main path, the palm trees stood their usual green, though small white magnolia petals had been scattered everywhere by the wind.

When Lin Weixia returned to the classroom with Liu Sijia, she sat down and noticed that the atmosphere of the class had shifted another degree. It was different from the cold, lifeless feeling she had sensed on her first day of school.

Now it seemed as though a layer of warmth had entered.

Like someone flicking a spark into a monochrome wasteland — just the moment it falls.

Instant ignition.

Lin Weixia heard a girl say “hey, can I borrow your lip balm?” Just as Fang Mo turned to lend her notebook, she asked casually:

“What’s going on with everyone?”

“Ban Sheng — he’s back in class, so of course they’re excited.” Fang Mo pointed discreetly.

Lin Weixia followed the gesture and looked. Through the window, Ban Sheng leaned against the wall with an effortlessly cool air, his neck long and slender, his wide, straight shoulders filling out his jacket — beneath which the hard, sharp lines of his frame were unmistakable. He had a Zorro lighter in one hand, and a blue-red flame “flicked” out from between his knuckles.

His manner was casual, his profile showing an almost unsettlingly fair complexion. He was half-listening to someone talking, the expression on his face suggesting he was only partly paying attention, the other hand scrolling his phone screen and glancing down at it from time to time.

The other boy said, “Did you watch last night’s game? When number 13 hit that fade-away jumper I cracked open an ice cold beer to celebrate.”

Lin Weixia’s eyesight was apparently sharp enough to make out, on the section of screen visible in those wide, pale hands, what appeared to be a planetary position calculator.

As if sensing something, Ban Sheng began to lift his gaze —

Lin Weixia looked away.

Fang Mo was still going on at length beside her, sighing: “How can a person be this extraordinary? His background and family are incredible, his grades are great — especially physics, which he always scores perfectly on. They say he wants to study astrophysics in the future. And apparently his mother is a dancer at the National Centre for the Performing Arts, which explains how her son came out with such striking looks.

“On top of being handsome, he’s intelligent and sharp. Other than being a bit cold in personality, there’s really nothing wrong with him at all. Whoever made him was exceptionally generous. Look at all the girls doing their makeup — there isn’t a single one who doesn’t have feelings for him. Though in all the time I’ve known him as a classmate, I’ve never seen him date anyone.

“But did you notice that black lily tattoo on his ankle? He’s apparently had it for a long time. Some people say he got it after a breakup; others have disputed that. All kinds of stories floating around.

“I remember when he started here, that tattoo caused a huge stir. The school ordered him to have it removed before coming back, and Ban Sheng refused. The school imposed a suspension. Eventually his parents stepped in and had a talk with the principal — apparently there was some particular circumstance behind it — and the principal in the end expressed understanding. The school then held a special assembly where Ban Sheng was educated before the entire student body and required to read aloud a written self-criticism. That’s the only way the matter was put to rest.

“Someone as exceptional as him — when it comes to choosing a girlfriend, he’d obviously choose from among the A-students. He’d never go for one of us F-students.” Fang Mo dropped her eraser into her pencil case and added a sigh for good measure.

Lin Weixia tidied her desk, only half listening, when — thwack — a green exercise book came sailing through the air and landed lightly on her desk.

Lin Weixia looked up. It was him.

He stood right in front of her, both hands in his pockets, meeting her gaze: “Try sending someone else next time.”

He was referring to Liu Sijia showing up at his door on behalf of Lin Weixia to collect the overdue assignments. Ban Sheng’s tone was not particularly serious — it was unclear whether he found it inappropriate to have someone else come on her behalf, or whether, as with his remark that night in the alley, he was tossing out a fresh invitation: come try yourself, see if you can win me over. His self-possessed ease felt like a signal aimed directly at Lin Weixia — come and try — identical to that night’s challenge.

She noticed a small lock of very short hair at his forehead, light and shadow settling across his prominent nose.

A momentary lapse in attention.

Ban Sheng’s presence was too overwhelming — from the instant he appeared he seemed to pull the air in the entire room toward himself, impossible to ignore, and so the ring of curious classmates drawn by the two of them expanded steadily.

Lin Weixia’s attention caught for just a second, but before she could form a response, he had already gone. In the air behind him lingered the faintest trace of cool tobacco.

“What just happened? Ban Sheng actually spoke to you — and you didn’t say anything back? Who were you sending? Sending who?” Fang Mo pressed a hand to her own heart, feeling it had been beating too fast ever since the moment he had walked over.

“I forgot.” Lin Weixia bent her head and put the green exercise book away.

The next day, the typhoon had finally blown over. The sky cleared, and orange light poured down — warm in color, but in a coastal city like Nanjiang, it still carried a building heat.

Lin Weixia had not slept well. The neighbors had been fighting the night before; the woman had gotten so worked up she was threatening to take a knife to her husband. The walls didn’t insulate much sound, and in Shuiwei, the buildings were packed so close together that with only a security mesh between them, the woman’s sobbing and the man’s shouting mingled with the noise from the elevated highway above.

She heard every word of it clearly, was jolted awake repeatedly throughout the night, and was exhausted by morning.

She got out of bed in a scramble, shoved everything into her bag, and rushed out. As she was stepping out of the courtyard, the lush lemon tree in the yard suddenly dropped a small green fruit — thud — right onto Lin Weixia’s head.

The little lemon was almost ripe. Lin Weixia bit into it, chewing it at an unhurried pace.

Astringent and sour.

It would be nice if people could grow like fruit ripening naturally in the wild. Growing up too early isn’t all that good.

Lin Weixia rushed to the classroom and managed to slide into her seat just as the morning reading bell rang. Half an hour later, the school broadcast announced that students should gather on the sports field for morning assembly, and the classroom immediately broke into a lively clamor.

Boys rocked back and forth in their chairs, discussing the previous night’s game while flipping textbooks between their fingers — only for one to fly out and hit a girl on the head, provoking a chain of startled squeals.

The girls, by contrast, had become remarkably restrained — removing nail polish in mismatched colors, switching out lipstick for tinted lip balm, standing together in their uniforms chatting.

“Hey, where should we get shaved ice after school? Kejí Ice Room?”

“That works. I’ve been craving their French toast forever.”

“Or we could cross over to Zhonghuan this weekend for food? I’ve been wanting to go for ages.”

“Let’s do it.”

Lin Weixia packed up her books and was preparing to head out to line up when Fang Mo turned around with wide eyes: “Weixia, where’s your name badge?”

“Isn’t my name badge—” Lin Weixia turned and looked down at her chest at the same moment — her heart lurched. “Where is my name badge?”

She was certain she had pinned it on before leaving the house. Lin Weixia immediately bent down to rummage through her drawer, checking everywhere, even feeling through her pockets, but couldn’t find it anywhere.

Fang Mo was also helping look, her voice worried: “Weixia, think about where you might have left it — could it be outside somewhere? The student council is coming, and also—”

Lin Weixia pushed the books back into the drawer and walked briskly toward the classroom door.

“And your hair — it absolutely has to be tied up for morning assembly.” Lin Weixia was already moving too quickly to catch the words trailing behind her.

Lin Weixia jogged out to the corridor, searching the ground as she went — but no matter how long she looked, she couldn’t find it, and broke out in an anxious sweat. She was bent over searching carefully near the corner on the third floor landing when she suddenly glimpsed a dark shadow.

Her gaze lifted, following the pair of sneakers upward — soft trouser fabric wrapping long legs, Ban Sheng in the school uniform, yet carrying all his natural effortless rebelliousness.

Ban Sheng looked at her and asked: “Looking for your name badge?”

Lin Weixia nodded. Ban Sheng reached into his trouser pocket, opened his palm — in it lay a deep blue name badge bearing the Shengao school crest. She took it, carefully pinning it to her left chest with a breath of relief:

“Thank you for picking up my name badge—”

Ban Sheng stepped forward two paces. At that moment, the morning light in the corridor was falling perfectly — the color of a freshly peeled tangerine, cast against the wall.

Two shadows, one tall, one shorter, slowly drew together. The air temperature rose, degree by degree.

The cold, boy-scented air mingled with tobacco drifted in without a sound. Her chest tightened; on instinct she stepped back.

Ban Sheng dipped his neck toward her and smiled derisively: “I didn’t find this—”

“What?”

“Twelve yuan. Don’t forget to pay me back.” Ban Sheng held up two fingers, then straightened up, tucked his hand back in his pocket, and walked past her without looking back.

As they passed each other, the edge of his jacket sleeve brushed Lin Weixia’s — the warmth of it was scalding. The friction of fabric against fabric felt like a brief, live current — neither sharp nor faint — and then it was gone.

When Lin Weixia returned to the classroom, the students who had been clustered in noisy groups were gone — everyone was either standing beside or sitting at their own seats.

Fang Mo let out a long-held breath when she saw Lin Weixia come back with her name badge on. Lin Weixia walked over, and Fang Mo asked, “Aren’t you going downstairs yet?”

“In a moment. We’re waiting for the student council to finish inspection. And—” Fang Mo glanced at Lin Weixia’s long hair and added quickly, “Weixia, you can’t wear your hair down. Morning assembly is mandatory.”

The two were still murmuring to each other when the student council representatives had already entered the classroom to check for dress code violations. Fang Mo pulled something from her pocket with a smile: “It’s fine, I have a hair tie.”

Lin Weixia shook her head. Fang Mo panicked: “But you’ll lose points — your ranking is already behind, and you don’t know who’s doing the inspection today—”

“Lin Weixia!”

A sharp, high-pitched voice rang out from directly ahead. Lin Weixia looked up — three or four student council members were walking toward her, led by a girl with a high ponytail that showed off her full forehead. This was the very girl who had snapped at Lin Weixia on her first day, and had been among those crowding around Liu Sijia.

The girl walked up to her with an imperious bearing and commanded:

“Have you not memorized Shengao’s school regulations? You have one minute to tie your hair up.”

The atmosphere in the classroom tightened. Most of the students watched with the gleeful anticipation of spectators at a scene. And in fairness, looking around, every girl in the class had tied her hair up — some in youthful high double pigtails, others with their hair neatly pulled back.

Fang Mo discreetly held the hair tie out to her again. Lin Weixia pushed it back, and said with quiet composure:

“I’m sorry, it’s not convenient for me. I informed the teacher about my situation before I enrolled.”

The girl had not expected Lin Weixia to refuse. She crossed her arms, her posture radiating superiority: “Ha. Is this what F-students are like? Beyond caring — don’t mind losing more points? Or do you need me to donate you a hair tie?”

With that series of comments, the girl had swept every F-student in the class into her disdain — and yet essentially all of them bowed their heads, their expressions blank.

It was as if living in this environment had drained them of even the instinct to push back.

The standoff dragged on in a bizarre, taut silence. The girl was known to be the kind of domineering young lady who wasn’t worth provoking, and nobody wanted to invite trouble.

In the charged atmosphere, Ban Sheng slipped back into the classroom without anyone quite noticing when, and drifted back to his seat. He raised a hand slightly, and someone leaned in to whisper an update. After hearing it, he simply settled back against the wall, sipping his carton of milk at a leisurely pace, watching the scene across the room with the expression of someone entirely uninvested in the outcome.

“I have no way of knowing whether you spoke to any teacher about it. Today is my duty day — Shengao has rules for a reason, and you have to tie your hair up—”

The girl fixed her eyes on Lin Weixia and suddenly raised her hand, reaching to grab at Lin Weixia’s hair — and was stopped short by someone intercepting her.

Ning Chao had just stood up, and when he saw who it was he let out a sigh and sat back down. The words that woman used were ugly enough to make him want to punch someone — he had come very close.

“Who—” The girl whipped around, furious, already opening her mouth to shout — and when she saw clearly who had stopped her, the word “sick” died right there in her throat. Her expression collapsed into disbelief.

Liu Sijia, one hand in her pocket, had caught Li Shengran’s wrist with the other. She looked at her calmly, her voice low but carrying its own weight: “Shengran. That’s enough.”

“She said it’s not convenient for her.”

Being publicly put in her place left Li Shengran looking ugly. What made it worse was — weren’t they supposed to be the closest friends? Why was she taking an F-student’s side?

“Today is my duty day. She has to tie her hair up.” Li Shengran said stubbornly, repeating herself.

The patience drained from Liu Sijia’s face. She released Li Shengran’s wrist in a sharp motion, and Li Shengran stumbled, nearly losing her footing. Liu Sijia looked down at her without any mercy: “Give it up, Li Shengran. Don’t use your official duties as cover for your personal grudges.”

The reason Li Shengran had pushed this so relentlessly — beyond the habitual bullying that came as second nature to A-students — was that on that first day, Lin Weixia had nearly become Ban Sheng’s deskmate.

“What is she to you, that you’d take her side like this?” Li Shengran’s eyes filled with tears.

Liu Sijia’s thoughts drifted briefly to the typhoon evening of that weekend — those calm amber eyes — and then even further back to another rainy night. Something shifted in her chest.

“She’s my friend.”

Not a follower. Not a clique member. A genuine friend.

After the flag-raising ceremony, the formal part of morning assembly began. The discipline director on the stage spoke at length with great energy; below, the students in their uniform-clad rows wilted with drowsiness, nearly overcome by the heat.

Nanjiang’s climate was what it was — coastal, humid, sweltering. Even in late September, the spring uniform left a faint sheen of sweat beneath it.

Liu Sijia stood in the lineup with her back perfectly straight. The boys in the rows behind her, bored out of their minds, followed her every move. After a while Zheng Zhaoxing, talking under his breath to a companion, glanced at Liu Sijia every now and then, and from somewhere produced a cold drink which he passed forward hand to hand to Liu Sijia.

“Zhaoxing’s devotion is nothing if not focused,” someone said.

“Obviously. Look at who we’re talking about — Liu Sijia is gorgeous, great figure, the kind of girl you’d be proud to be seen with.”

Zheng Zhaoxing didn’t like hearing his idol talked about like this and was about to say something when the person beside him let out a low whistle. “Holy — is the new transfer student really that good-looking? She’s striking. How did I not notice her before?”

The group turned to look. Ban Sheng, who had been listening idly to the others talk, swallowed almost imperceptibly, and lifted his gaze across the yard.

Lin Weixia stood beside Liu Sijia — quite tall, with soft, jet-black hair falling to her waist. She wore the Shengao uniform, and beneath her plaid skirt her legs were straight and fair.

Someone behind Lin Weixia tapped her on the back, nudging her to pass the cold drink along to Liu Sijia.

In the moment Lin Weixia turned around, her face came into clear view.

She had a classic oval face, her complexion pale and smooth, her chin fine and delicately pointed. What made her more distinctive still was a small, red butterfly birthmark resting just below the outer corner of her left eye, on the cheekbone.

A birthmark on the face might seem odd on most people — but on Lin Weixia’s quiet, fine-featured face, it was perfectly, strangely harmonious. Her whole being gave off an atmosphere of quiet composure and cool restraint.

She had a beautiful pair of still, eyes — eyes that resembled those of an animal.

Only Ban Sheng couldn’t quite place, for the moment, which animal.

“That quality is extraordinary — she’s every bit a match for Queen Liu.”

The assessment wasn’t wrong — even Zheng Zhaoxing had been caught staring, and they’d missed most of the week, which was why they hadn’t noticed the transfer student until now. But in the next breath he spotted the color of her bow tie, and his tone took on a dismissive curl: “Tsk. F-student. Those are easy pickings, aren’t they.”

“Girls like that — throw some nice gifts at them and they’re yours.”

“True. Old Gu’s been feeling that itch — what if when assembly lets out, you go up to her and go, ‘Hey, watch where you’re walking’—”

“Walk right into my heart, why don’t you.”

“Ha, that actually works — get her in your hands in seconds, right?” Someone chimed in.

Assembly broke up as the heat intensified. The group of boys was still fantasizing about Lin Weixia’s fair, rounded calves, weaving Liu Sijia into their crude remarks as well.

Zheng Zhaoxing was joining in, laughing and adding his own comments, when he suddenly felt a hand land on his shoulder from behind. He turned — the others turned too.

He looked up into a pair of eyes.

In an instant, the group went silent. Ban Sheng’s arrival was like dropping an ice block into a pot of rapidly boiling water — the boiling point immediately gone, the heat fizzling out with a dull hiss.

The bravado vanished entirely.

Ban Sheng raised his chin slightly, one hand in his pocket, his gaze landing on them with precision. He spoke:

“Didn’t you say you wanted to eat together?”

“Consider this a privilege I’m bestowing on you.”