Li Kuiyi did not attend that evening’s self-study session.
By the time she and Qi Yu left the zoo, it was nearly five o’clock in the afternoon. Evening self-study began at six-thirty, which should have left enough time — but as luck would have it, the roads were clogged with exam-transport buses making their return runs, one after another, now that the college entrance exams had ended. Li Kuiyi leaned against the bus window, earphones in, staring blankly at the “Ace the Exam” banner hanging from the bus beside them.
Ten more minutes passed. The bus still hadn’t moved an inch.
She let out a quiet sigh, took out her phone, paused the music playing in her ears, and said to Qi Yu beside her: “I’m not going to evening self-study tonight. There’s no way I’d make it on time. I’ll text my homeroom teacher and ask for leave.”
Qi Yu had been anxious about the traffic, his palms sweating, but hearing her say she wasn’t going to self-study, he was still surprised: “Ask for leave? On what grounds?”
“I’ll say I’m not feeling well.”
Li Kuiyi knew that in her homeroom teacher’s eyes, she was a model student with excellent grades. He wouldn’t question this excuse. No sooner said than done — she opened her phone, typed out a message, and sent it to Jiang Jianbin. When she was done, she held up her phone and waved it in front of Qi Yu.
Before Qi Yu could even consider whether this was the right thing to do, a reply came back.
“Alright. Rest well at home — your health is your greatest asset. [handshake][handshake]”
Having received approval, Li Kuiyi smiled, then lowered her head and sent a QQ message to Fang Zhixiao, telling her not to wait for her after school tonight. Qi Yu, meanwhile, was now in a dilemma of his own. He wasn’t sure whether he should also ask for leave — if he didn’t and still went to self-study, he would definitely be late, and being late meant demerits for the class’s conduct record. But if he asked for leave, he worried his parents might find out, which would be hard to explain, since he had told them he was spending the day studying at the city library.
What should he do?
He quietly glanced sideways at the girl beside him. Her profile, bathed in the soft amber of the evening glow, looked gentle and serene, her lashes fluttering occasionally, casting small shadows like wisps of cloud beneath her eyes.
She was so much more at ease than he was.
“If you’re not going to self-study, where will you go?” he asked suddenly, lowering his voice.
“Probably the city library — I can’t go straight home either, that would be hard to explain.” Li Kuiyi thought for a moment and continued, “But the library closes at nine, so I’ll just borrow a book and find a McDonald’s or KFC to sit in. That way I can take care of dinner at the same time.”
“Alright.” Qi Yu nodded, like someone who had made up his mind. Seeing his expression, Li Kuiyi asked: “Are you skipping self-study too?”
“Yeah, I won’t go.”
As he spoke, Qi Yu also pulled out his phone from his backpack and sent a leave request to Liu Xinzhao. Once the message was sent, he exhaled a long breath.
Li Kuiyi had an odd feeling of having led someone astray. Then her mind wandered further: the last time, she had merely invited Qi Yu to have a meal off campus, and his mother had already singled her out for criticism. This time around, she and he were actually skipping class together — if his mother ever found out, wouldn’t she tear her to pieces?
Ma’am, it was your son who chose to skip self-study himself. Don’t blame that on me.
Her thoughts drifting, Li Kuiyi’s mind somehow landed on that famous line from the dominant-CEO romance novels she and Fang Zhixiao used to read: “Here’s five million — stay away from my son!”
She couldn’t hold back a quiet laugh. Qi Yu turned to look at her, and a smile gradually spread across his own face: “You’re in a good mood?”
“Of course — no school tonight. That’s always a good thing.”
They were stuck on the bus for nearly an hour, and the sky outside the window grew gradually darker. Li Kuiyi and Qi Yu changed buses several times along the way. By the time they finally arrived at the city library, the sky was fully dark. Just as they stepped off the bus, they crossed paths with a group of students who had just finished the college entrance exam — they came roaring down the road on motorcycles, scattering a shower of shredded white paper across the asphalt behind them. But they had barely disappeared from view before a squad of traffic police appeared from behind, also on large motorcycles, clearly in pursuit.
Li Kuiyi picked up one of the scraps of paper from the ground. It was, as she’d suspected, a torn-up exam paper.
“Finishing the college entrance exam seems to make people go completely irrational with excitement,” Qi Yu said, watching the receding trail of motorcycles with a vacant expression.
“They really have lost all reason,” Li Kuiyi agreed, nodding. “And besides, those papers could be sold for scrap. Why would you tear them up?”
Qi Yu: “…”
Seeing that he looked like he didn’t quite believe it, Li Kuiyi said with conviction: “It’s true. My younger uncle finished the college entrance exam a couple of years ago, and he sold all his old textbooks and test papers together for over a hundred yuan.”
Qi Yu looked at her with a smile but said nothing. He was only thinking — would his own youth truly begin at the moment the college entrance exam ended?
That’s too sentimental, he thought, and shook his head again to clear the idea away.
Maybe he shouldn’t be so pessimistic. At least right now, at a time when they should have been in school studying, he and Li Kuiyi were wandering through the night-lit city — and that alone had given the orderly, routine life he had always led a faint, intoxicating flavor of freedom.
The two of them entered the library and each found a book. But they didn’t make it to closing time. Just past eight, Li Kuiyi’s stomach began to growl, and she whispered: “Should we go eat?”
Qi Yu naturally said yes.
They stepped outside the library with their borrowed books. A sparse scattering of stars hung in the sky above. Li Kuiyi looked up at them for a moment, then asked: “What do you feel like eating?”
“Didn’t you say McDonald’s or KFC?”
“I only mentioned those because you can sit there for a long time. If you want something different, we can do that too.”
Qi Yu touched his nose: “Let’s stick with that, then.”
“Alright… McDonald’s?”
For no particular reason, the mention of McDonald’s made Li Kuiyi think of He Youyuan. Sometimes it was like that — you had no particular feelings about something, but then because of some strange, roundabout reason, it suddenly became special.
“Sure.”
Qi Yu paused, studying Li Kuiyi’s face carefully. “Actually,” he said, “He Youyuan really loves McDonald’s.”
“I know.” Li Kuiyi’s expression didn’t change, but she offered an explanation: “At the English speech competition, one of the judges asked him what his favorite food was. He said McDonald’s, because everyone in his family is a terrible cook.”
“That can’t be right.” Qi Yu seemed genuinely puzzled. “His family owns a restaurant. And his maternal grandfather was a highly respected chef before he retired. How could their cooking be bad?”
Now it was Li Kuiyi’s turn to be astonished. She stared at Qi Yu, incredulous: “Wait, really?”
She had suspected He Youyuan liked her, but had never been able to figure out why. Now she was beginning to understand. He Youyuan was probably just that kind of person — the type whose family owned a restaurant, yet who preferred McDonald’s; the type who had a crowd of girls chasing after him, yet preferred the one who argued with him.
Quite the rebel, aren’t you, little He.
Qi Yu avoided her gaze and said: “It’s true. We actually just passed his family’s restaurant on the bus earlier — the one called ‘The First Table.'”
Li Kuiyi didn’t have a clear memory of it, but her eyelid gave an involuntary little flutter.
His nickname is “Prince,” he lives at “Scholar’s Mansion,” and the family restaurant is called “The First Table”… He Youyuan, your whole family is hilariously over-the-top.
When they arrived at McDonald’s, Li Kuiyi ordered a burger, a pair of grilled wings, and a soft-serve cone. Qi Yu ordered a burger and a few sides. He was apparently hungry — he ate quickly, and by the time Li Kuiyi was only halfway through her meal, he had finished everything. Then he sat quietly, not picking up his book, not looking at his phone, as if his mind had gone blank.
Li Kuiyi stole two glances at him and picked up her own pace.
She was deep in concentration, biting into her burger, when something was suddenly placed in front of her.
A small elephant plush toy — no bigger than the palm of a hand.
Li Kuiyi’s cheeks were still slightly puffed from chewing as she looked over at Qi Yu with confusion.
Qi Yu’s face had gone red. He wasn’t meeting her eyes. Quietly, he said: “I bought it at the souvenir shop in the zoo. You can clip it onto a keychain.”
You don’t also…
Li Kuiyi suddenly choked slightly on her burger, and just as quickly cut off that line of thought. She warned herself: you cannot go around suspecting everyone of liking you.
“Thank you,” she said, accepting the little elephant.
An awkward air settled over them. Neither Li Kuiyi nor Qi Yu had any experience with situations like this, and neither knew what to say. They sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
The following day, Li Kuiyi returned to school and stopped first at the first-floor teachers’ office — the pile of books she hadn’t been able to fit in her locker before the holiday had been left on Liu Xinzhao’s desk.
Liu Xinzhao’s tote bag was on her desk, but she herself was nowhere to be seen — she had probably already gone to class. Li Kuiyi felt a small wave of relief that she wasn’t there, because if she had been, she would surely have asked why Li Kuiyi hadn’t come to collect her books the previous night, which would have made it very easy for the fact of her and Qi Yu skipping self-study together to come to light.
She took a sticky note from the pad beside the desk and left Liu Xinzhao a message: Teacher Liu — I’ve taken my books. Thank you so much!
She pressed the note onto the most visible spot she could find, then gathered her books and left.
The moment she stepped into Classroom 17, Li Kuiyi felt an unfriendly gaze land on her. She looked up to find He Youyuan watching her from across the room, his eyes dark and unreadable. Even when their gazes met, he didn’t look away.
Strange. Ever since she had asked him whether he liked her, he had been dodging her eyes the moment they caught each other’s gaze.
He watched her step by step as she walked closer, and only when she arrived at her own seat did he coldly look away.
Utterly baffling, Li Kuiyi muttered inwardly.
But by the time the long morning break came, that person could no longer keep himself in check. After morning exercises, when the lines dispersed and Li Kuiyi was walking back to the classroom perfectly minding her own business, he shoved into her shoulder as he passed.
Based on past experience, Li Kuiyi knew: he was angry.
She didn’t want to think about why he was angry — she was only debating whether or not to make something of it.
Before she could come to any conclusion, He Youyuan, who had already walked past her, turned around and came back, planting himself in front of her. His face was set hard, his manner forceful: “Why didn’t you come last night?”
“I wasn’t feeling well,” Li Kuiyi said.
Hearing that, He Youyuan’s fierceness deflated by half on the spot, and his words came out in a stumble: “Then you… are you now…”
“I’m fine now.”
“Oh.” His gaze lingered on her face for a moment, and having apparently decided she really was fine, his arrogance came surging back. “Do you know why you weren’t feeling well?”
I don’t know, since I wasn’t actually feeling unwell — how would I know the reason?
But Li Kuiyi was curious what kind of clever insight He Youyuan might produce, so she asked: “Why?”
He let out a cold laugh, his dark eyes fixed squarely on her: “It was that hot yesterday, and instead of staying home like a sensible person, you went running around outside.”
“…”
He must have known she had gone to the zoo. Li Kuiyi couldn’t help furrowing her brow slightly — had Qi Yu told him?
She chose to ignore his nonsense, tossed out a “mind your own business,” and walked past him with her chin up. But he fell into step behind her and still wouldn’t drop the subject. This time, though, his hands were tucked in his pockets, his manner casual, his voice cool and indifferent: “Was the zoo nice?”
Li Kuiyi felt a headache coming on. Hadn’t he been barely giving her the time of day for quite a while now? Why had he started latching onto her again?
“It was nice,” she said dismissively.
“Nice?” He gave a derisive snort, as if he’d heard something laughable, and looked sidelong at her. “If it was so nice, you might as well go be a zookeeper and just live there.”
Li Kuiyi heard his sarcastic remark, stopped walking, gritted her teeth — and failed to hold it in: “Are you out of your mind?”
“Do you have a cure?” he shot back, completely unabashed.
…She gave up.
Continuing this conversation would only drive her to an early grave. Li Kuiyi turned on her heel and walked away.
They hadn’t even finished a full week of classes when the city’s high school entrance exam season arrived. The exam covered many subjects, so two and a half days of holiday were granted.
Another round of packing followed. Li Kuiyi once again had a pile of books that wouldn’t fit in her locker. But this time she wasn’t stressed about it, because Liu Xinzhao had mentioned to her before that whenever exams came around and she had nowhere to put her books, she was welcome to leave them on her desk.
Li Kuiyi carried her books down to the first-floor teachers’ office and knocked at the door. Liu Xinzhao looked up from the assignments she was marking, saw it was her, and said with a smile: “Come in.”
As she stepped closer, Li Kuiyi saw that Liu Xinzhao was reviewing students’ weekly journals.
After changing tracks to the humanities, she had lost the habit of writing weekly journal entries — even though she had truly loved writing them before, the way a child can’t help but eat a piece of candy. She used to always finish each week’s journal ahead of time. To her, the journal wasn’t a tool for conversing with herself; it was the channel through which she communicated with Liu Xinzhao. And for that very reason, without Liu Xinzhao’s responses, writing journal entries held no meaning.
Seeing Li Kuiyi staring at the stack of journals on the desk, Liu Xinzhao glanced at her with an amused expression: “What — are your fingers itching to write again?”
At that, Li Kuiyi couldn’t help herself. She sniffled and asked: “May I keep writing journals for you?”
“Of course you can.” Liu Xinzhao said, “It’s been a while since I’ve read the Chinese class representative’s new thoughts. I’ve rather missed it.”
When Li Kuiyi emerged from the office, she was as happy as a little bird. Not just because Liu Xinzhao said she had missed her journals — also because Liu Xinzhao had still addressed her as “the Chinese class representative.” It felt as though she had suddenly learned that someone had kept a place reserved for her in their heart, just as that person held an irreplaceable place in hers.
So the affection she held for her most beloved teacher — it was reciprocated.
Feeling an unusual surge of energy despite her general lack of athletic inclinations, she gleefully hopped down the steps in front of the teaching building.
The moment her feet landed steadily on the ground, a languid voice drifted from behind her: “In such a good mood.”
Li Kuiyi turned her head. He Youyuan again.
Her joy immediately receded, and she gave him two wary glances — his behavior lately had been making her feel like something was off, though she couldn’t put her finger on what exactly. Maybe it was the way he kept turning up and saying things edged with sarcasm for no particular reason. Or maybe it was the way she could feel his burning gaze from behind.
He walked up to her, falling into step beside her as they headed toward the school gate together. After about twenty paces, he suddenly spoke: “Did you know there’s a new skating rink that just opened in Maohe Commercial Plaza?”
Li Kuiyi had never paid attention to such things: “I didn’t know.”
He Youyuan was clearly not concerned about whether she knew or not. He reached into his pocket and produced a few red vouchers, which he held out to her: “I happen to have some VIP coupons. During the opening period, you can skate for free. You could invite a friend and go together.”
Li Kuiyi had no idea what scheme he was cooking up this time. She waved them away: “I don’t know how to skate. Keep them for yourself.”
But without a word, he simply stuffed the coupons directly into the pocket of her school uniform.
Li Kuiyi didn’t stop him.
Fine. Let them be. The box of chocolates had been passed back and forth so many times before — and hadn’t it ended up in her hands anyway?
After pressing the coupons on her, He Youyuan said nothing more, simply walking quietly alongside her. Li Kuiyi, however, was tense, dreading another of his cryptic, pointed remarks that she wouldn’t be able to deflect. Once they left the school gate and reached a quiet spot near the Scholar’s Mansion residential area, she exhaled in relief, nearly bursting with the urge to say goodbye and be done with it — but at that very moment, he got there first: “Have you… thought about who you’d invite?”
No wonder he hadn’t said anything the whole way — he was giving her time to think, wasn’t he?
Li Kuiyi shook her head: “No. I don’t know how to skate, and neither do any of my friends.”
“Oh.” He Youyuan was quiet for a moment. “…I know how.”
And what does that have to do with me?
Li Kuiyi said nothing, just let out a matching “oh.”
Another long silence. The atmosphere made Li Kuiyi instinctively anxious. She was about to say “If there’s nothing else, I’ll be heading back” — when He Youyuan glanced around, then cast her an inconspicuous look and asked, entirely as if it were nothing: “So… would you want to go with me?”
Oh, so you’ve been trying to ask me out all along.
The realization struck Li Kuiyi all at once. She now understood every last twist in the conversation, and gave a silent, exasperated sigh — He Youyuan, you really do like to set elaborate traps.
Looking at it this way, those vague, nagging premonitions she’d been carrying hadn’t been unfounded at all. He really had been quietly inching closer to her. But why? Wasn’t he worried she’d suspect again that he liked her?
Li Kuiyi felt a little disheartened: this trick works, alright — it just doesn’t last long enough.
But a refusal was still a refusal —
“I told you, I don’t know how.”
He Youyuan’s ears began to redden. He said haltingly: “I can teach you.”
Li Kuiyi looked at him steadily: “I don’t want to learn.”
He seemed unprepared for such directness, froze for two seconds, and then his expression went cold again — thin lips pressed into a straight line. After struggling with himself for a moment, he suddenly raised his voice and blurted out: “Can’t you want to learn!”
Li Kuiyi: “…”
Do you hear yourself right now?
“No,” she said, just as absolutely.
She had always responded to gentleness, never to pressure. He Youyuan being this forceful would only make her less inclined to go anywhere with him.
To her surprise, the skin beneath his eyes began to flush. He stared fixedly at her, and after a moment finally spoke, his voice hard and rigid: “Why do you turn me down every single time I invite you?”
Every single time? There have only been two times in total.
Li Kuiyi remained unmoved: “The first time — your birthday party. I didn’t have time. This time — the skating rink. I’m not interested.”
“Then what are you interested in?” His voice finally softened a fraction, and he quickly asked, “Want to see a movie? How to Train Your Dragon 2 is coming out soon — do you want to go?”
Li Kuiyi pressed her fingers into her palm and said nothing. She was thinking about how to tell him the truth.
Seeing her not respond, he assumed she didn’t like movies and pivoted: “What about the shopping street on the east side? There’s a lot of good food there…”
“He Youyuan.” She cut him off, her mood complicated, her voice gentle but measured: “The thing is, I don’t plan on going out to have fun with you — not skating, not movies, not anything else.”
He went completely still, as if someone had struck him over the head with a blunt object.
He had no experience asking girls out. He had spent a long time researching ideas before finally settling on a few places. He knew that if he invited her out, she would suspect again that he liked her — but he had decided to throw caution to the wind. Seeing Qi Yu invite her out, watching her wear a dress for the occasion, had made his chest sour and bubbling with something he couldn’t name. He wanted to go out with her too. He wanted her to wear a pretty dress in front of him. So he had decided nothing else mattered.
But she wouldn’t go.
And not because she disliked the places he’d chosen — she simply didn’t want to go out with him.
He just couldn’t understand why she could say yes to Qi Yu but only no to him.
He Youyuan’s chest heaved sharply. His knuckles went pale from clenching his fists, and he struggled to keep his voice from shaking as, after a long moment, he finally got the question out: “Then why is Qi Yu allowed!”
“That was an arrangement made long ago. I couldn’t go back on my word.”
“Long ago?” That clearly stung more than anything else had. “You could make plans with him long in advance, but with me, right now, it’s impossible?”
Li Kuiyi was completely exasperated now. She frowned, and her tone became a shade sharper: “My agreeing to go out with Qi Yu doesn’t mean I have to agree to go out with you. Why do you have to compare yourself to him?”
Why can’t I compare?
He Youyuan’s neck stiffened; his breathing grew heavy: “Do you like him?”
Li Kuiyi was genuinely angry now. She said, her voice sharp: “Whether I like him or not is none of your business! What gives you the right to interrogate me like this?”
He Youyuan’s eyes went abruptly, entirely red. His voice came out hoarse as he shouted: “Because I like you — is that good enough!”
The moment the words were out, he was overcome with shame and indignation — and grief — and he wheeled around, turning his back on her. But he couldn’t stand still, and he couldn’t bring himself to walk away. So all that energy had nowhere to go, and finally he squatted right down on the spot, simmering with frustration.