Jiang Yubai gave no response; even his breathing was silent. His fingers encircled her wrist, gradually tightening, like thorns entwining a rose.

Lin Zhixia shrank back half an inch: “Your strength is too great, you’re hurting me.”

Jiang Yubai immediately released her. His mischievous right hand had nowhere to rest and carelessly struck the piano keys, producing a moment of discordant sound. The intermingled piano notes broke the silent atmosphere, and he finally asked: “What song would you like to hear?”

“Please play ‘Eternal Moment’ for me,” Lin Zhixia specified.

But Jiang Yubai said, “I haven’t memorized the sheet music.”

Lin Zhixia hummed a small section for him and said, “It goes like this.”

Jiang Yubai pressed the keys, smoothly playing several fragments. Lin Zhixia exclaimed with delight: “Yes, yes, yes, have you found the feeling?”

The curtains were blown by a gentle breeze, light and shadow danced on the piano keys, and beautiful music flowed like water from his fingertips. She wholeheartedly felt his performance at that moment, each beat landing on the strings of her heart.

She seemed to experience subtle and ineffable emotions. She gradually moved closer to him: “You play with such feeling. I can hear it. I’m your kindred spirit.”

The music stopped.

Jiang Yubai asked ambiguously: “What did you hear?”

“You like this song!” Lin Zhixia insisted firmly.

Jiang Yubai felt somewhat defeated. Fortunately, since the age of nine, he had developed a tenacious spirit of “fighting despite repeated defeats.”

Jiang Yubai began to play “Scenes from Childhood.” This piece was composed by the German musician Schumann. Schumann deeply loved his wife, Clara; they were childhood sweethearts. Thus, Schumann created “Scenes from Childhood” to celebrate the beautiful memories with his wife.

After listening to several measures, Lin Zhixia applauded vigorously: “That sounds wonderful. You could perform with your uncle and record a classical music album.”

Jiang Yubai immediately abandoned his plan to express his feelings through music. He humbly closed the piano lid and invited her with implicit grace: “May I dance with you?”

Lin Zhixia unhesitatingly took his hand: “Let’s practice quickly.”

She pulled Jiang Yubai to the center of the music hall.

It was May, the end of spring and beginning of summer, and the temperature was relatively high. Lin Zhixia wore a long-sleeved dress with a thin layer of fabric clinging to her shoulders. When Jiang Yubai raised his hand to embrace her, it was as if he was touching her skin directly.

The body’s warmth penetrated through the dress straight to his palm. He withdrew his hand, stuffed it into his coat pocket, and stepped back twice before saying: “Give me a moment to prepare.”

Lin Zhixia asked suspiciously: “Does this require preparation?”

Jiang Yubai found an appropriate excuse: “The speakers aren’t on.” He pressed a button on the remote control, and melodious music came from the speakers.

Lin Zhixia stood in place, feeling playful. When he approached her again, she ran away. At first, he didn’t understand what game she was playing until she looked back at him with a smile. He immediately strode towards her, effortlessly catching her.

Jiang Yubai’s right arm encircled her waist, fitting perfectly like interlocking gears. He lowered his head to smell her fresh fragrance, his left hand unconsciously lifting her hair. That black, soft, long hair was smoother than the finest silk he had ever seen.

Lin Zhixia believed he was about to practice the waltz with her.

She took the initiative to grip his left hand: “Alright, let’s dance.”

Jiang Yubai wasn’t very skilled at dancing. He and Lin Zhixia practiced once a week for over a month. Rather than saying he was looking forward to the graduation ball, it would be more accurate to say he hoped to be alone with her.

Lin Zhixia, however, was very serious. She followed the rhythm of the music and adapted to Jiang Yubai’s pace. They became increasingly coordinated, and Lin Zhixia sincerely praised: “You learn things so quickly.”

“You learn even faster,” Jiang Yubai said truthfully.

Lin Zhixia smiled with satisfaction: “Over the past month, I’ve come to see you every week, spending at least half a day with you, but only one-tenth of that time has been used for dance practice… The rest of the time, we’ve been chatting, playing with cats, solving math problems.”

Jiang Yubai stepped forward, forcing Lin Zhixia to retreat until she leaned against a wall. Jiang Yubai leaned in close to her: “I thought you enjoyed those activities.”

Lin Zhixia suddenly wanted to escape again. She forced herself not to gaze into his eyes, her heartbeat pounding loudly in her mind, completely drowning out the gentle music entering her ears. She clearly understood that the source of all these wonderful feelings was Jiang Yubai. She decided to use the “scientific experiment” method to prove her hypothesis.

She released Jiang Yubai’s hand, placed her hands on his shoulders, and nestled into his embrace like a koala clinging to a tree trunk. He remained motionless, allowing her to cling to him, while she took a deep breath and said in a relaxed tone: “Today, I want to play a game with you.”

“What game?” Jiang Yubai asked patiently.

Lin Zhixia set up a storyline: “Let’s play ‘Cinderella.’ You’re the prince, and I’m Cinderella’s sister.”

Lin Zhixia had read countless romantic classics from around the world, ancient and modern, and could recite most of them by heart. Long ago, she discovered a pattern—even the most intelligent and perceptive protagonist couldn’t avoid feeling jealous and petty when first falling in love. The reason she wanted to play Cinderella’s sister was to test her mindset through this opportunity.

But Jiang Yubai didn’t cooperate: “Why are you Cinderella’s sister?”

“I want to experience the sister’s emotions,” Lin Zhixia lied. “Please show affection for Cinderella herself.”

The new game was too difficult.

Jiang Yubai directly refused: “I have no experience in this area. Please choose a different scenario.”

Lin Zhixia asked blankly: “What should we change to?”

Jiang Yubai casually said, “Sleeping Beauty?”

Lin Zhixia’s face turned red with embarrassment: “You, you, you, you…”

Only then did Jiang Yubai recall that “Sleeping Beauty” ends with the prince awakening the princess with a kiss. He immediately lost his ability to speak, stepped diagonally away, then turned around to stand alongside Lin Zhixia, both leaning against the wall.

The pressure Jiang Yubai had created completely disappeared, and Lin Zhixia’s mood became light and joyful once again.

She enthusiastically assumed the role of Cinderella’s sister, creating a line for herself: “I am Cinderella’s sister. Tonight, I attended a ball and met the prince at the palace…”

Jiang Yubai said coldly, “I won’t be the prince. I’ll be the guard.”

“Why?” Lin Zhixia asked him. “You’re a person with a crown.”

Jiang Yubai just looked at her: “You should remember, my crown was given by you.”

Lin Zhixia crossed her arms, gripping her sleeves tightly. There was no need to verify whether she would feel jealous of him. In that moment, she clearly understood her feelings through a moment of realization… She only discovered today, probably because her relationship with Jiang Yubai had always remained within the bounds of “best friends.”

After sorting out her thoughts, she walked toward the main door of the music hall.

Jiang Yubai hurriedly called out to her: “What’s wrong?”

Lin Zhixia answered: “I want to go back to school!”

Jiang Yubai asked again: “Do you have something urgent?”

“Yes,” Lin Zhixia explained to him. “It’s like this: my memory function is different from normal people. My brain stores many things that I can’t forget. Every so often, when I want to systematically summarize something, I need to find a quiet environment to think silently, like a monk meditating.”

Jiang Yubai had read various types of biographies about geniuses. He knew that geniuses always need space for solitude. He took Lin Zhixia back to her university and, as he did every time they parted, watched her silhouette disappear through the school gates.

*

Lin Zhixia returned to the dormitory, took out her strawberry pillow, and lay on her bed hugging it. Her roommate jokingly called her the “human strawberry spirit,” but she remained calm. Her soul sank into the ocean of memories, with every minute and second of the past appearing before her eyes. While analyzing her thoughts, she murmured: “So that’s how it is. I understand now…”

Deng Shasha was sitting on the upper bunk, eating fried chicken. She asked: “Summer Goddess, what are you talking about?”

Lin Zhixia said airily, “I understand myself better now. I previously misunderstood Kant’s philosophical theory; sensory objects are not merely phenomena…”

Deng Shasha couldn’t help but admire her.

However, Deng Shasha didn’t understand a word she said.

Deng Shasha didn’t plan to ask further. If she could understand Lin Zhixia, wouldn’t that make them the same type of person? Wouldn’t her university average be above 95? How could that be possible?

Deng Shasha was especially quiet, not making the slightest sound while eating fried chicken.

Lin Zhixia picked up her laptop and said goodbye: “I’m going to write code with the seniors. See you.”

Deng Shasha waved: “Goodbye! Come back early, don’t stay up late.”

Despite Deng Shasha’s caring reminder, Lin Zhixia had to stay up that night. They had made their source code public on GitHub (a code hosting website), so the software’s backend was attacked by anonymous hackers—this was an especially common occurrence on GitHub, where hackers often practice on GitHub software projects. Lin Zhixia’s carefully crafted backend server, unfortunately, became a small target for hackers.

Lin Zhixia lacked project experience and hadn’t considered everything thoroughly. The hackers found her vulnerabilities, launched successive attacks, and her backend collapsed instantly. She was stunned, while Luo Ying tried to comfort her: “Don’t worry, tomorrow we’ll find the teaching assistant, and graduate students from the Computer Science and Software Engineering departments…”

But Lin Zhixia said, “No, I can handle it.”

Her hands struck the keyboard as a burning flame of revenge ignited in her heart.

That night, she and Luo Ying stayed in the library until two in the morning. The next day, Lin Zhixia woke up early, tirelessly repairing her backend. Once she was fully engaged in work, no one could stop her.

After two full days of effort, the program was rescued. Lin Zhixia took a brief rest, then spent another month optimizing the software structure, seeking advice from experienced seniors everywhere. Finally, she traced the source of the hackers who attacked her and sent them a command line message composed of Chinese pinyin: “You’ve messed with me! Your hacking skills are nothing special!”

After completing all this, Lin Zhixia finally breathed a sigh of relief.

In early June, Lin Zhixia performed excellently as the main speaker in the defense for the “Software Engineering” course. Their group’s software demonstration amazed all the students, and the teacher repeatedly praised them.

Technical personnel from several Beijing internet companies were invited to attend the final defense of this course. Those technical personnel conversed for a while, then asked Lin Zhixia several questions. After Lin Zhixia answered methodically, they said they wanted to buy the copyright to Lin Zhixia’s software work.

Lin Zhixia hadn’t expected that the first group to make an offer would come from internet companies!

She straightforwardly asked: “How much can you offer me?”

The other party smiled and replied: “Starting at five figures.”