Zhang Shu seemed furious, looking like he wanted to strangle her, yet remained silent—or rather, had nothing to say.

Sheng Xia felt she could hardly breathe. Suddenly, he grabbed his essay from his desk and slapped it onto hers with a “pah!” sound. “What’s my name?”

“Zhang… Shu ah…” Was he mad?

“Which ‘SHU’?”

Sheng Xia: …?

Her eyes glanced at his essay, where the character “数” in “Zhang Shu” had been circled in red pen, with Fu Jie’s note beside it: “Your deskmate is cute ^-^”

The two characters “Zhang Shu” were clearly in Sheng Xia’s handwriting.

Could it be not this “数”? Then… “竖”? “束”? “述”? There were so many characters with this pronunciation suitable for names.

She had been careless. Preconceptions were dangerous.

“I’m sorry,” writing someone’s name wrong was indeed impolite. Sheng Xia apologized sincerely, biting her inner lip, somewhat at a loss. “So… which ‘SHU’ is it?”

Those eyes of hers, when nervous, looked as if they had suffered some great grievance, as though they could well up with tears at any moment.

How dare she act so innocent? She’d been in this class for over half a month and could write Hou Junqi’s “qi” correctly despite it having dozens of homophonic characters, yet she didn’t know which “SHU” was his.

Zhang Shu looked away, grabbed Sheng Xia’s wrist, and accurately pulled out a marker from her “Disney Princess” crystal pen holder. He wrote the character “澍” stroke by stroke on her forearm.

The cool pen tip sliding across her skin sent electrical currents throughout her body.

Sheng Xia felt the wrist he held rapidly warming, the heat slowly spreading to her ears and cheeks.

She wondered if he could feel her pulse where he held her wrist—it was beating violently and rapidly.

She tried to pull her hand back, but he was firm, and when he pulled back, she ended up even closer to him.

Zhang Shu finished writing, and lifted the delicate wrist to examine it satisfactorily, “This ‘澍’, understand? Don’t wipe it off, look at it several times before bed, bow to it when you wake up, morning and evening reverence—guarantee you’ll never write it wrong in this lifetime.”

Sheng Xia mumbled: “That idiom isn’t used that way… ‘morning and evening reverence’ means attending to one’s parents at night before bed and greeting them in the morning, it’s an ancient term for serving parents.”

Was that the point she should be focusing on?

Zhang Shu: “Wu ji ba yu.”

Sheng Xia: “What?”

Zhang Shu: “…Praising you for being clever and cultured, everything you said is correct.”

Sheng Xia lowered her head: …surely that’s not what he meant.

Zhang Shu fell silent too; why did she have such a distressed expression again? He had already been polite enough to swallow the “Why don’t you treat me like your father” comment.

Sheng Xia wasn’t foolish enough to continue the topic. Perhaps imagining worse possibilities, this blunder wasn’t too bad for her. She calmed down a bit and looked at the character on her arm.

So he used this “澍”—quite rare.

澍: timely rain, heavenly sweet dew, a metaphor for grace and blessing.

To his parents, he must be a precious gift; they must love him very much.

Sheng Xia didn’t realize her essay hadn’t been returned until halfway through evening study. It wasn’t until Xin Xiaohe came over during break, with a teasing expression and tone, saying: “Super ‘nice’~”

Sheng Xia was still confused when Xin Xiaohe pointed to the display board at the back of the classroom, “Your essay is posted on the model essay wall!”

During break time, several people gathered around the model essay wall, whispering, with some frequently turning to look at Sheng Xia.

Sheng Xia didn’t understand but had no intention of joining the crowd. Had she just gotten another perfect score?

Xin Xiaohe sat in Zhang Shu’s seat, hugging Sheng Xia’s arm, “I’m so bored over there by myself, I hope this week passes quickly!”

“Yes, hope it passes quickly…”

It was indeed more comfortable having a girl as a deskmate.

Xin Xiaohe released Sheng Xia and idly surveyed Zhang Shu’s desk, “Why doesn’t he have any other study materials?”

Indeed he didn’t. Sheng Xia noticed that besides completing nightly homework, he rarely did any extra exercises, which differed from her image of a top student.

Sheng Xia said: “Maybe the school-issued materials are enough.”

Xin Xiaohe nodded, “Zhang Shu never does things by the book.” Just then she noticed the character on Sheng Xia’s arm, “Damn, what’s this?”

Sheng Xia frowned, rubbing her thumb over it to no effect, “I thought his name used the ‘数’ character for ‘count’, wrote his name wrong, this… is the result of him not doing things by the book.”

Xin Xiaohe was both annoyed and amused, complaining: “Seriously, is he the emperor or something?”

Sheng Xia pressed her lips together, silently expressing helplessness.

“Want to get late-night snacks?” Xin Xiaohe invited again.

Sheng Xia patted her stomach: “I probably don’t have room, I ate so much at dinner…”

“Is the lunch-boarding food good? I’m thinking about ordering it too, but I heard it’s 100 yuan per day?”

“Don’t know how much, the expensive part is probably the midday accommodation. The food is very good, just…” Sheng Xia paused.

“Just what?”

Sheng Xia: “Just that the owner likes making Cola chicken wings.”

“Cola chicken wings are delicious! I love them so much, wish the cafeteria would serve them too…”

“I like them too,” Sheng Xia said, “but we’ve had them for a week…”

Xin Xiaohe: “Didn’t they say the menu wouldn’t repeat?”

“Yeah, not sure, seems someone complained…”

Xin Xiaohe knocked on the desk: “Why don’t you ask this rule-breaker? Isn’t the lunch boarding run by his relative?”

Sheng Xia: “Is that so?” She seemed to recall hearing the aunt and owner mention “A-Shu” on her first day.

“Yes indeed.”

“Better not…”

“Then keep eating chicken wings.”

“Mm-hmm…”

“Hehe.”

“Haha.”

The two girls lay on the desk chattering, not noticing the tall young man leaning against the seat behind, casually scrolling through his phone while listening.

As class time approached, Xin Xiaohe prepared to return to her seat but turned and was startled by the person behind her.

“Are you a ghost?!” Xin Xiaohe patted her chest.

Zhang Shu: “Was the ghost’s seat comfortable?”

Xin Xiaohe: “Heh, only because sitting next to a fairy gives me some fairy aura, why else would I come?”

Zhang Shu gave a short laugh.

Was putting one down while praising another okay…

Fairy this, fairy aura that…

Sheng Xia felt extremely awkward and couldn’t just sit there, so she took her cup to get water.

The crowd at the back had thinned. Sheng Xia casually passed by, taking the opportunity to look at the model essays.

Her essay was posted in the center position, marked with a prominent 50 points—a perfect score.

In the bottom right corner was Fu Jie’s flowing hundred-character comment.

And her evaluation of Zhang Shu’s comment.

Below is Zhang Shu’s “Super awesome!!” Fu Jie had drawn two red lines and written in red pen: Indeed super “nice” ^-^.

That emoji had a real soul.

When Sheng Xia silently read the line “Presentation awesome, writing awesome, argumentation awesome, logic awesome, super awesome” again, she unconsciously replaced them all with “nice,” especially “super nice” with its rising tone at the end. The difference in pronunciation somehow seemed to carry a special feeling.

Sheng Xia couldn’t find the right adjective and quietly returned to her seat.

The girl went and returned, Zhang Shu looked at her water cup that was already full and smiled silently.

Not long after the second evening study session bell rang, Sheng Xia’s window became lively again, this time with one, two, three, or four heads crouching outside.

Sheng Xia had experience now and knew they were looking for Zhang Shu. Seeing his back turned to her, she was about to call him but remembered he didn’t allow that, so she could only raise her hand to tap his arm.

Zhang Shu turned his head, his gaze falling on her slender white fingers, then moving up to the “澍” character on her forearm, black on white—no, black on fair skin, particularly eye-catching.

“Someone’s looking for you…” Sheng Xia reminded him.

Only then did Zhang Shu look up.

Han Xiao, Zhou Yingxiang, Liu Hui’an, and Wu Pengcheng—whom he’d been close with before class assignments in their first year—were crouching outside the window.

Sheng Xia opened the window for them, noticing their gazes all falling on her. She lowered her head and continued her homework without meeting their eyes.

“Coming, Shu-ge?” Han Xiao asked, then patted Hou Junqi in front, “Hou-ge, let’s go?”

Hou Junqi looked at Zhang Shu.

Zhang Shu’s gaze swept across the blackboard, then flipped through his math exercise book before responding: “20 minutes.”

Zhou Yingxiang popped his head up, “Write it tomorrow, Shu. Chen Mengyao is waiting outside?”

Zhang Shu gave him a bland look, “Make it 30 minutes then.”

“No, no,” Han Xiao knew what Zhang Shu was like—the more you tried to pressure or persuade him, the more he would resist. Better to compromise. “We’ll wait at the north gate, 20 minutes?”

Zhang Shu: “In the time you’ve wasted talking, I could have finished one problem.”

Han Xiao: “Alright, alright, we’re going. We’ll wait for you.”

But Zhang Shu didn’t leave after 20 minutes. Instead, he leisurely packed his bag and left only when the second evening study session’s dismissal bell rang.

Hou Junqi in the front seat had turned back to look countless times.

Sheng Xia looked at his empty seat, feeling quite surprised. Was he playing hard to get, deliberately making the girl wait longer, or did he genuinely prioritize studying?

Just as Zhang Shu and Hou Junqi left the teaching building, they saw four people crouching by the roadside, cigarette sparks dotting the night.

Guarding the exit as if afraid he wouldn’t come.

Seeing the two approaches, they put out their cigarettes and stood up, “A-Shu!”

“What are we playing?” Zhang Shu asked.

“Anything works,” Zhou Yingxiang caught up, quite generously, “We’ve got enough people, how about Fight the Landlord?”

“Sure.”

As the group walked toward the north gate, Wu Pengcheng suddenly asked: “A-Shu, your deskmate is pretty cute, how come we’ve never seen her before?”

Zhang Shu raised an eyebrow: “Is she?”

Wu Pengcheng said: “Very pretty, are you blind?”

Liu Hui’an chimed in: “What’s the use of telling him? He only has eyes for Chen Mengyao.”

Wu Pengcheng, who was in Chen Mengyao’s class, somehow didn’t think much of her: “Chen Mengyao just knows how to dress up. Your deskmate has this ethereal quality. They’re different kinds of pretty.”

Hou Junqi seemed to strongly agree: “One’s like a worldly flower of wealth, the other’s like she doesn’t belong to the mortal world.”

Wu Pengcheng gave a thumbs up: “Nice, you’re cultured, that’s exactly what I meant.”

Zhang Shu remained noncommittal, saying lightly: “Just transferred in.”

Wu Pengcheng asked: “From where?”

Zhang Shu said: “No. 2 High School.”

Liu Hui’an said: “Being able to transfer in senior year, and from No. 2 High School no less—this girl’s family must be something.”

Liu Hui’an’s mother was an administrative staff at the Affiliated High School, so he had deeper insight into the school.

Hou Junqi became interested: “How so?”

Liu Hui’an pointed at Zhou Yingxiang: “Even our Xiang-ge could only get into the Yingjie Division, right? When have you ever seen anyone transfer into our school? People only transfer out.”

Zhou Yingxiang nodded and said: “True that. Getting into Yingjie Division took my old man pulling quite a few strings.”

The Yingjie Division was originally the repeat-year program of South University Affiliated High School. Despite its high tuition, not everyone could get in. It mainly accepted students from their school who failed the college entrance exam or students from other schools with decent scores who wanted to aim for top universities.

But in recent years, whether because the school was truly short on funds or for some other reason, the Yingjie Division had admitted a class of senior students from other schools, charging an additional guest student fee on top of the original tuition—a fee so high that ordinary families could only look on helplessly.

Even so, the demand exceeded supply, because Yingjie Division students were taught by Affiliated High School teachers, and the entire teaching system was that of the Affiliated High School.

It was essentially paying a premium to attend a year at Affiliated High.

Thinking about it this way, they had never seen anyone transfer into the regular division.

Zhang Shu knew Sheng Xia attended his sister’s lunch boarding program, which wasn’t cheap, and she had juice every day, sometimes two, and bought stationery without checking prices… He knew her family wasn’t struggling.

The girl always maintained a composed and quiet demeanor, extremely well-mannered, presumably from a strict family education.

“What’s with that character on the girl’s arm?” Liu Hui’an nudged Zhang Shu’s shoulder, “Marking your territory so soon? What about your Chen Mengyao?”

“Yeah, she even skipped tutoring to come celebrate your birthday?” Zhou Yingxiang eagerly joined the conversation—after all, he was the one who invited Chen Mengyao, better not back the wrong horse.

Zhang Shu suddenly stopped walking and questioned: “How exactly did you all decide I must be with Chen Mengyao?”

When he was in the music club, he and Chen Mengyao were close for a while. He didn’t mind some romantic rumors, but somehow they seemed to get more and more outrageous.

To this day, he couldn’t figure out where these rumors started. Few people came to gossip with him directly, and these things weren’t troublesome to him, so he just let it be, letting them think what they wanted.

Over time, not just strangers but even people close to him started believing it.

Wu Pengcheng asked: “Haven’t you been pursuing her since middle school? That’s like, true love conquers all, right bro?”

Zhang Shu nearly rolled his eyes, “I didn’t even know Chen Mengyao in middle school!”

Even Han Xiao, his middle school classmate, was shocked: “What?!”