The gathering ended very late. On the way home, Ban Sheng drove her back while her aunt called several times in a row, her tone scolding yet laced with worry:

“Where did you go? It’s so late and you’re still not home.”

The black Maybach drove steadily forward, windows half-lowered; occasionally the white noise of waves crashing against rocks drifted in. Lin Weixia turned sideways in the seat, lowering her voice as she lied:

“I went out with Fang Mo. I’m already on my way home.”

While Lin Weixia was dealing with her aunt, out of the corner of her eye she caught Ban Sheng sitting beside her, smiling slightly — his gaze radiating an expression that said, Look at you, actually lying to your family.

“Really? You didn’t go out with some boy, did you? Let me tell you, the boys nowadays are incredibly shrewd. Be careful not to get tricked…” Ms. Lin fretted on the other end of the line.

A soft, derisive chuckle came from the seat beside her, as if to say — who exactly is playing whom here.

Lin Weixia’s heart tightened. She didn’t look at Ban Sheng, but she knew a teasing gaze had landed on her. Afraid her aunt might hear a male voice in the background, she instinctively covered the receiver and leaned her head out toward the edge of the car window to take the call.

Her aunt kept giving instructions for quite a while before finally hanging up. Fortunately, the car had been driving for over half an hour by then and they had arrived. The two of them stood at the entrance of Shuiwei Lane to say goodbye.

Lin Weixia was afraid her aunt would find out, so she didn’t let Ban Sheng come inside — she had him drop her off here, no further.

That whole evening, Ban Sheng had been unusually unlike himself.

In the car, he had spent the whole time winding her hair around his fingers to play with. And now, under the swaying lightbulb hanging by the roadside — moths circling in and out of its warm, dim yellow glow — his fingers, with their clearly visible tendons and slender length, lightly rested upon her delicate little finger, then slowly wound around it, and finally hooked together with hers.

Ban Sheng kept holding on, not letting her leave. Whenever their eyes met, it was impossible to tell whose gaze was the warmer and more fervent of the two.

“You understand me pretty well,” Ban Sheng said, looking at her.

He was referring to the six rapid-fire questions she’d answered about him that evening.

“Of course.” Lin Weixia’s usually composed tone carried a slight edge of pride.

As Lin Weixia spoke with him, she noticed a little silver streamer stuck to Ban Sheng’s face, right on his cheek — set against his cool, indifferent expression, it only added to his unruly, roguish charm.

“Lower your head a little,” Lin Weixia said, slipping her hand free.

Ban Sheng raised an eyebrow but lowered his neck. The figure before her drew closer. Lin Weixia tilted her head back to look at him, rising onto her tiptoes and reaching up to touch his face.

Because she had moved so close, Ban Sheng caught the sweet, clean fruit scent from her — his eyes drifted downward, landing on the girl’s rosy lips. His breathing became unsteady, his Adam’s apple sliding up and down with difficulty.

Her slender, fair fingertip gently brushed against his cheek, like someone tickling the very tip of his heart — the more it itched, the harder it was to bear.

“There.”

Lin Weixia was about to withdraw her hand when, without warning, it was seized mid-air by a pair of cold hands. The boy lowered his gaze to look at her, his eyes churning with some unnamed emotion.

“I’ve finally figured out what scent you have on you,” Ban Sheng said.

Lin Weixia blinked in surprise. “What?”

“White peach,” Ban Sheng said slowly.

Lin Weixia’s hand was still caught in midair. Understanding dawned on her, and she began to explain: “It’s probably because my family runs a fruit shop. The shelf closest to the register is the white peach display, so it’s probably…”

She was still in the middle of her earnest explanation when Ban Sheng suddenly cut her off, speaking directly:

“I want to kiss you.”

I’ve wanted to for a long time.

Ban Sheng’s eyes were deep black and bright. The moment their gazes met, Lin Weixia felt as though she were being drawn in by the small flame dancing in his eyes.

Her breath caught — his advance was too fierce, leaving her nowhere to retreat.

The boy, who stood with his neck perfectly straight, leaned toward her slowly. A cool, sharp scent reached her — breath intertwined, deep and slow, to keep her from losing focus.

Ban Sheng held her hand aloft, his thumb tracing her wrist in long, unhurried strokes — not too light, not too heavy — carrying with it a captivating desire, as though he intended to possess her entirely, heart and soul.

Lin Weixia felt her palm grow damp with sweat. Her heartbeat accelerated. Her whole body felt scorched by fire — a thread of nervousness, and of hesitation. She felt her legs growing unsteady. She took two steps back and hit the wall; its surface was cool.

At that very moment, a beam of white, harsh light shot straight at the two of them. Lin Weixia instinctively raised her hand to shield her eyes.

Ban Sheng’s brow furrowed. He released the hand he’d been holding, lifted his eyelids, and let his gaze sweep coldly toward the source.

Gao Hang stood about three meters away. He was wearing a pair of baggy shorts and had shuffled out in a pair of flip-flops. He was biting a popsicle that had gone slack in his open, stunned mouth, water dripping from it without pause.

In his right hand he held a flashlight aimed squarely at them, the beam of harsh light cutting between the two of them as if to separate them.

Ban Sheng spoke:

“Are you going to turn that off?”

“Oh, oh, right—” Gao Hang snapped back to reality, fumbling frantically to click off the flashlight. Embarrassed yet frightened, he laughed nervously to himself. Of all the people to run into, why did it have to be me bumping into my future brother-in-law’s territory?

At this moment, Ban Sheng’s expression had gone black enough to kill.

Lin Weixia tugged at Ban Sheng’s sleeve and said in a low voice, “Don’t scare him.”

With Lin Weixia having spoken, Ban Sheng’s air of aggression pulled back — at least somewhat.

“What are you doing out here?” Lin Weixia said, smoothing things over.

Gao Hang let out a sigh of relief and scratched his head. “Mom kept going on about why you weren’t home yet. I was heading out to take out the trash and figured I’d walk you back while it’s so dark out.”

“Alright, I’ll head in then,” Lin Weixia said, addressing Ban Sheng.

Ban Sheng’s voice came low and quiet: “Mm.”

The break ended quickly, and the new semester of Year Twelve officially began. Students were both excited and a little tense. With the grade ranking system abolished, the priority access for elective courses had disappeared along with it. Everyone was free to choose whatever classes they liked. Fang Mo finally got her wish and signed up for the indoor gymnastics course she’d been hoping for.

The group of A-students still quietly held their ground, but among the F-students, some had begun refusing to take the bait.

When a person focuses only on their own affairs, they stop fearing any voice around them.

October arrived quickly, and with it came something everyone had been looking forward to: the annual sports meet.

This sports meet had been anticipated for so long that some students had even taken it upon themselves to post daily weather updates on the school forum.

Classmate Xiaoming: 【Tomorrow’s forecast: light rain. Rain AGAIN. Guess it’s not happening.】

Zhang AAA: 【Bro, just stop checking. It hurts to read. Every single time the sports meet rolls around, the school gets rained on. This has to be the ninth unsolved mystery of this campus.】

Someone replied: 【If there’s no sports meet I will die with my eyes open.】

A string of laughing replies followed.

Thankfully, the sports meet — delayed again and again by the weather — was finally scheduled for two weeks out.

The moment the date was set, everyone cheered. The sports committee representative set off on their mission to convince classmates to sign up for events.

But at Shengao, what everyone was really looking forward to was the break the sports meet offered — not the sports meet itself. The students here, shaped by the intense and cutthroat competitive environment, had mostly developed an attitude of cool detachment and self-interest.

For every student the sports committee representative approached, the answer was essentially a refusal. The reasons given were either that they were preparing for competitions or that they were busy with study abroad applications.

Everyone was rushing headlong toward the future. Nobody seemed to have any attachment to high school life.

The sports committee representative, at his wit’s end, happened to pass by Ban Sheng and tentatively asked whether he’d be participating. Ban Sheng gave him one line:

“Do you think that’s even possible?”

Lin Weixia happened to be nearby at the time, but she said nothing. She never interfered with Ban Sheng.

What she hadn’t expected was that the homeroom teacher would come to her. When Lin Weixia stood in the office, her expression blank, Teacher Liu unscrewed his thermos and took a sip of tea, still chewing on the tea leaves:

“Lin Weixia, for this sports meet — organizing everyone to sign up — I’m planning to put you in charge of it together with the sports committee representative.”

Lin Weixia blinked, belatedly responding: “Teacher, my organizational skills still leave something to be desired. I can recommend a more suitable person for you.”

“Where do they leave something to be desired? I heard it was you who made it happen when the senior-junior mentorship program was dissolved last time. I’ve always thought of you as a girl who stays calm under pressure and has her own ideas. Since you arrived, the students in our class have changed — at least somewhat. Here’s the thing about this time…” Teacher Liu said earnestly.

Something in Teacher Liu’s words struck a chord in Lin Weixia. In the end, she nodded and agreed. As Lin Weixia was leaving the office, Teacher Liu called out to her:

“Ban Sheng — academically, that student has never given me a moment’s worry, but his personality is a little too aloof. He’s always been something of a lone wolf in the class. I’ve never managed to get through to his family on the phone. This sports meet — do your best to persuade him to participate, too. It’s good to integrate into the group.”

“I’ll do my best,” Lin Weixia replied.

Though it was Lin Weixia who came to make the attempt, when she tried to talk Ban Sheng into it, he didn’t even look up. He answered at a leisurely pace:

“Not interested. If you offer yourself in exchange, I’ll consider it.”

At the time, Ban Sheng was working on a physics problem — doing something perfectly serious — and yet the words that came out of his mouth were impossibly lewd.

Lin Weixia reached out and ran her fingers along the short hair at the base of Ban Sheng’s neck near his nape, her fingertips grazing gently, as she said:

“Are you asking me to hit you?”

The soft sensation at the back of his neck registered — Ban Sheng’s hand tightened hard around his pen, his body going rigid. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse and barely controlled:

“You looking to die?”

She caught the surging emotion in Ban Sheng’s eyes and her heart lurched — frightened, she quickly pulled her hand back and fled.

When Lin Weixia brought the sign-up form over to the sports committee representative, the latter, upon learning she’d come to share the burden, nearly burst into tears of relief right then and there.

“I’ve done my best. Individual events — I talked everyone into it for a long time, and most slots are filled. But there are still a few left,” said the sports committee representative, showing her his form.

Lin Weixia took it and looked it over. “For the remaining ones, let’s just sign ourselves up.”

“That’s fine. The problem is the team events — tug-of-war, relay race — no one signed up. It’s been driving me crazy,” the representative pointed out.

Her eyes scanned down to the sign-up columns for the team events: completely blank.

At Shengao, this wasn’t surprising. The sense of collective honor meant little to these students — it couldn’t compare to competing for individual glory.

The A-students who still stubbornly held their prejudices against F-students were even less willing to lower themselves to compete alongside them.

During evening study hall, Lin Weixia and the sports committee representative walked up to the podium. The representative stood up there, stumbling over his words about the sports meet and urging everyone to sign up enthusiastically.

No one spoke. The classroom fell completely silent.

Raising her dark-lashed eyes, Lin Weixia looked out from the vantage point of the podium at the rows of shoulder blades hunched over desks — everyone absorbed in their own affairs.

Here and there, one or two girls clustered together, exchanging laughs, faces perfectly indifferent.

“Everyone — what I’m about to say might sound preachy and overly inspirational. Feel free to just half-listen.”

“The sky after eighteen is vast and high and wide — something everyone longs for.”

“But I think seventeen — seventeen is what truly deserves to be called paradise. Inside paradise, we are the rulers of our own world. Nothing can make us bow.”

“Don’t let seventeen leave you with regrets.”

Lin Weixia finished speaking these words slowly, and the classroom fell suddenly quiet — even the scattered laughter died away. Sixteen felt too young; they existed somewhere between after-seventeen and eighteen, beginning to resemble adults, with their own thoughts and worries, craving to be different from everyone else.

At seventeen, embracing this world is reckless and fervent. There are endless troubles: you desperately want the acne on your face to disappear already; why does the teacher always run over time; why is math so hard; you don’t want to study. You fight with your best friend and feel like the world is ending, and you absolutely refuse to be the first one to go make up with her. Today you exchanged one extra sentence with the boy you like — and even though he was annoyingly mouthy when you argued, you still feel a little happy. Why do adults insist on interfering with what you study in the future; all that nagging and scolding is truly infuriating; sometimes you fantasize about running away from home one day just to see if they’ll regret it.

Everyone is searching for their own paradise, wanting to escape into it — craving freedom, wanting to be master of everything.

Though sentimental, and occasionally cowardly and aching, the slightest thing feels earth-shattering, the sense of being misunderstood is constant — yet still they hold onto hope:

To be one of a kind. To be able to shine.

Because — seventeen is the most brilliant diamond in the garden of paradise.

Liu Xiping stood in the hallway clutching his thermos, a look of quiet warmth on his face. He had intended to come in and give his usual speech about not wasting their youth — to say that he was 37 this year, that this class was among the more special groups of Year Twelve students he had taught, and that he was growing alongside them.

“Join the sports meet together. Whether this moment in your full, vivid seventeen ends up being an ordinary chapter or an extraordinary one — don’t let it leave any regrets.” Liu Xiping chose not to come inside. He stood at the doorway and said those words instead.

Voices rose in the classroom. Opinions were divided — some had been moved and were eager to try; others remained dismissive, silently wondering who Lin Weixia thought she was, standing up there pointing and directing.

“I kind of want to sign up, honestly. Three years at Shengao and I’ve barely participated in any group activities. This is our last sports meet.”

“Have you forgotten you were planning to use the sports meet to prepare for the competition?”

“Truthfully, I want to join. She got through to me.”

In the midst of all this chatter, the atmosphere had loosened somewhat — but still no one had spoken up. It was like a frozen lake: beneath the ice, something had begun to melt, to stir.

But someone needed to make the first cut.

A slow, unhurried, deep voice drifted forward:

“I’m signing up.”

Everyone turned to look at the last row. Ban Sheng had stepped forward. Was it because he feared no one would sign up and didn’t want Lin Weixia to be left standing awkwardly on the podium — or was it because he genuinely wanted to participate?

No one knew his motives or his thoughts.

But the breach had been opened.

With a sharp crack, Ning Chao slapped his desk loudly enough to make the whole class whip their heads to the back again, all eyes landing on him.

“Well said — I am the ruler of my own world! Sign me up for the relay race and the tug-of-war — put it all on me.”

“Follow me, everyone. I’ll carry you to victory,” Ning Chao announced, his tone wildly self-assured.

The moment he finished, the whole class erupted into laughter and the atmosphere lightened — but somehow, coming from Ning Chao, none of it felt awkward. Because he was genuinely excellent at sports. His running was among the fastest in the school. There was a raw, pure wildness about him.

When he’d first entered high school, the homeroom teacher had suggested he pursue the sports specialist track — put in some effort on academics, and he could get into a four-year university.

But Ning Chao had always been a problem child. “Not interested,” “the family’s open-air restaurant is waiting for me to take over after graduation” — he’d used every kind of excuse to turn Teacher Liu down.

Li Shengran let out a cold snort. Then, amid all the noisy debate, a female voice cut through the classroom, bringing it to a brief standstill:

“I’m signing up too.”

It was Liu Sijia — sitting there with her arms folded, expression composed. Her decision to do so was both baffling and intriguing to everyone around her.

“Then I’ll sign up too, I suppose,” Li Shengran said, tilting her chin up, though her tone wasn’t quite natural.

“Sign me up too,” said Fang Jiabei, her voice timid.

“Count me in.”

“I’ll join too.”

……

In the midst of the warm, lively discussion, there came a thunderous bang — Zheng Zhaoxing kicked his desk clean over. With a crash, books, papers, and pens tumbled to the floor.

Zheng Zhaoxing’s expression was dark, saturated with a dangerous air. He glared around the classroom and cursed under his breath, then walked straight out without looking back — not caring in the slightest that evening study hall was still in session.

The school track in the late afternoon was always busy: girls jogging while memorizing lessons, athletes training on their own. The evening sky blazed a glorious color, spreading across the horizon. From the open-air basketball court, cheers rang out every now and then.

Liu Sijia stood just outside the ring of onlookers, hands clasped behind her back. Her features were refined and cool — but beneath her serene expression, the fingers hidden behind her back twisted together unconsciously, her nails pressing white from the force.

Suddenly, someone let out a startled cry. Liu Sijia followed the sound and looked over — Ning Chao had leapt with full force and caught the backboard, executing a three-point shot. The lines of his flexed arm radiated a raw, untamed energy.

Applause broke out from the crowd. Ning Chao was wearing a black jersey. He walked straight to the sideline and lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his eyes.

Liu Sijia hesitated, then still walked over. His companions spotted who was coming, clapped Ning Chao on the shoulder, and let out a low whistle:

“Oh ho — the Ice Queen herself has come looking for you.”

With that, they melted away. Liu Sijia came to stand before Ning Chao. Neither spoke first; Ning Chao was tilting his head back, gulping down ice water.

They ignored each other entirely.

“I need to talk to you about something,” Liu Sijia said.

Ning Chao finished off half the bottle of ice water, then took aim at a trash can not far away. Only then did he raise his eyes to look at her.

“Oh? And what might that be?”

The distant, overly-polite manner of his reply sparked a flare of irritation in Liu Sijia. “Do you have to be so formal with me?!” she snapped.

Ning Chao let out a cold laugh but said nothing.

“The sports meet is coming up soon. I wanted to ask you…” Liu Sijia’s mouth felt dry, her next words coming out with some awkwardness: “…could you teach me how to run?”

She had never been this nervous before — anticipating yet afraid. Liu Sijia didn’t even dare to meet his eyes, her gaze sliding away to look elsewhere.

“Are you sure you’ve come to the right person?” Ning Chao asked.

The atmosphere was like a lake’s surface, rippling outward in circle after circle. Liu Sijia thought of something — her shoulders dropped, and she no longer carried herself like a proud black swan.

Then, all at once, there was a rustle of movement. From behind her back, Liu Sijia produced a cup of iced milk tea and held it out to him. Her voice faltered for a moment: “I’m sorry for what happened before. I take back everything I said.”

“You can hit me back if you want,” Liu Sijia said, steeling herself.

The previously indifferent Ning Chao suddenly became interested. He asked: “Really? Let you have it — anywhere I like?”

“…?” Liu Sijia was about to object, then finally nodded, gritting her teeth. “Fine.”

“Alright then, close your eyes. Fair warning — I have a single crease across my palm, which means my strikes tend to hurt quite a bit.” Ning Chao said this with a straight face.

Then he lowered his head and began rotating his wrist, his knuckles clicking out a series of crisp tak, tak sounds. His expression was perfectly serious — not a trace of joking about it.

“Here it comes.”

Her heart hammered like a drum. Then — something rushed toward her with powerful force. Liu Sijia squeezed her eyes shut in fear; no matter how much she told herself to brace for it, her lashes trembled once, beyond her control.

The expected pain never arrived. Instead, a rush of air swept across her face — warm and searing. She opened her eyes. Ning Chao was standing in the sunlight.

He was luminous all over.

“Liu Sijia, I won’t force you to do anything. But the matter with Lin Weixia — you can’t keep running from it. The rest is for you to figure out yourself.” The boy’s eyes were deep black and clear.

Then Ning Chao turned his back to her — the line of his retreating figure undeniably cool — and tossed back one last sentence:

“Tomorrow afternoon at five. Meet me at the track after school.”

When it came to Lin Weixia, Liu Sijia had always wanted to do something — and had always been fleeing from it. Ning Chao’s words gave her the courage she needed.

Standing there, Liu Sijia felt something shift inside her heart.

On the other side of campus, Ban Sheng and Lin Weixia were taking a break in the corridor, getting some air. Ban Sheng leaned idly against the wall. Lin Weixia thought of something and asked:

“How’s your running?”

“Not bad. Yours?” Ban Sheng countered.

“Not great,” Lin Weixia admitted. She had signed herself up entirely out of a sense of obligation, to set an example.

“Well then, you’re in trouble,” Ban Sheng said, his tone entirely detached.

Lin Weixia smiled slightly, her voice calm. “But I have you, don’t I?”

She was half-joking, of course — affectionately hooking her finger around his and swaying it a little, then putting forward an idea: “You could run a bit faster, and then I can run a bit slower — would that work?”

As Lin Weixia was still speaking, her slender fingers were suddenly seized, forcefully and without ceremony. Ban Sheng lazily lowered his neck, and the moment their eyes met, her heart contracted sharply.

Ban Sheng’s eyes said you already know what I want. He looked at her:

“A kiss will do.”