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Fang Zhixiao kept constant, vigilant watch over Li Kuiyi’s “romantic” progress.

She didn’t care whether this “romance” had even gotten off the ground. For someone like Li Kuiyi, the fact that she had proactively sought out a boy’s contact information was already a world-shattering event in and of itself.

You had to understand: in Fang Zhixiao’s heart, Li Kuiyi was her original untouchable goddess — the unreachable flower on the mountaintop.

Back in middle school, the two of them had been assigned to the same dormitory room. Half a month passed, and Fang Zhixiao hadn’t once dared to initiate a conversation with Li Kuiyi. At first, she didn’t understand it — they were the same age; who exactly were you pulling that cold face for?

But the trouble was, Fang Zhixiao appeared to have a masochistic streak in her. The more someone ignored her, the more fascinated she became.

So she threw herself wholeheartedly onto the path of winning over the untouchable goddess.

Li Kuiyi, for all her unremarkable appearance, had hidden depths. She seemed to operate by some unique inner code — if she didn’t step out toward you, there was no way for anyone to step in toward her. Fang Zhixiao tried and failed, failed and tried again — until one day, a heaven-sent opportunity finally arrived: Li Kuiyi got her first period.

They hadn’t had health class yet. She looked completely at a loss, ears flushing red, wearing the phrase “utterly helpless” openly across her face for the very first time.

As the more “experienced” one, Fang Zhixiao fussed over her like a mother hen, teaching her to use sanitary pads, and reminding her in painstaking detail: don’t eat anything cold, don’t eat anything spicy, don’t do any strenuous exercise…

Fang Zhixiao only learned later that Li Kuiyi had been raised by her grandmother, who didn’t pay much attention to such things, so no one had ever taught her.

When it was over, Li Kuiyi treated Fang Zhixiao to shaved ice. Red fruit syrup smeared all over Fang Zhixiao’s mouth, teeth chattering, as she asked: “Are we best friends now?”

Li Kuiyi looked away: “About 50% best friends, I’d say.”

Hmph. What a prickly little thing.

So what on earth had that He Youyuan done to deserve Li Kuiyi proactively adding him as a friend? He had a decent enough face, and that was about it.

There had to be something more going on here. If there wasn’t, Fang Zhixiao would swallow a needle.

“There really is no progress.” After evening self-study let out, Li Kuiyi said helplessly, clutching the straps of her school bag. “He still hasn’t accepted my friend request.”

Fang Zhixiao’s gossip trail had run cold; she gnashed her teeth. “Awful guy — acting all high and mighty, is he.”

Fine, so the request wasn’t going through. Li Kuiyi wasn’t that desperate about it: “Forget about him. There’s a weekly exam this Saturday, isn’t there? Do you need me to help you study? Want to sleep over tonight?”

The school ran five days of class per week, with Saturday devoted to exams and Sunday daytime off — though evening self-study still ran as usual. First semester of Year One, all subjects — both science and humanities — were being studied together, and a single day wasn’t enough to test everything, so the exams rotated. The first week covered Chinese, math, English, and the science subjects combined.

A full day was still too tight, so the weekly exams were about half the length of a proper exam — but the difficulty level wasn’t trifling.

Fang Zhixiao felt little enthusiasm. School had barely started; she didn’t want to push herself too hard just yet: “We’ll see. I’ll come to you for tutoring if I start falling behind.”

“Alright.”

After saying goodbye at the school gates, Fang Zhixiao rode off on her electric scooter at breakneck speed, vanishing into the night in no time at all. Li Kuiyi lived in the opposite direction and chose to walk.

Strangely enough, Li Kuiyi hated running more than anything, but she loved walking.

Especially on summer evenings — a cool breeze drifting in, the city’s neon lights and the night sky complementing each other in just the right way, neither too noisy nor too quiet. Walking along the streets at a time like this, letting herself dissolve into the vast, dim dusk and the sparse clusters of passersby, she could feel her own presence as something faint and uncertain — as if she existed in two worlds at once.

Only tonight was running a bit late. Since school had officially started, evening self-study had expanded to four periods, and they weren’t dismissed until 10:20 p.m.

The streets were nearly empty of pedestrians now, cars few and far between. Only students leaving their evening classes zipped past on bicycles, their school uniforms and pants billowing with the rush of air, outlining the vigorous shapes of youth.

Li Kuiyi drifted home, reaching her door close to eleven o’clock. She bent down to change her shoes in the entryway when she suddenly noticed an unfamiliar pair of canvas sneakers on the floor — definitely not the kind of shoe a middle-aged man like Li Jianye would wear.

She looked up, thoughtfully, toward her younger brother’s room. Su Jianlin always slept in her brother’s room when he visited.

The door was shut tight. She didn’t know why, but knowing Su Jianlin might be inside made that door seem suddenly colder — as if it were keeping her at a thousand miles’ distance.

No light leaked from under the door. He must have already gone to sleep.

Su Jianlin lived with his grandmother, his second uncle, and second uncle’s family, in Wenxi County under the jurisdiction of Liuyuan City. When Li Kuiyi was three years old, Li Jianye and Xu Manhua had sent her to live in the county — they had wanted to have another child, a son, but family planning restrictions were strict at the time, so they told people outside that Li Kuiyi was a relative’s child being fostered with them.

Su Jianlin, on the other hand, was the one who was truly fostered with the Li family.

Their first meeting had been beneath a yellow fig tree at the entrance to their family home in the countryside. She was five; he was nine. Wind rustled through the leaves. The two of them looked at each other for a long time without saying a word.

She had assumed she would call him “brother.” But the adults said she should call him “little uncle.”

Su Jianlin was very quiet — even quieter than her. Whether eating, sleeping, or walking, everything he did was without a sound.

He excelled at his studies. The previous year, he had been accepted into Zhejiang University’s Chu Kochen Honors College — reportedly just a hair’s breadth away from Tsinghua or Peking University. She had once asked him: “Is Zhejiang University beautiful?” His answer, as always, was just two words: “It’s alright.”

Li Kuiyi quietly slipped into her own room.

The first thing she did was open the locked drawer and take out her phone to message Fang Zhixiao. Since school had officially started, Liu Xinzhao had expressly forbidden phones on campus. Li Kuiyi had no interest in defying school rules, so she kept her phone locked away and only checked her messages in the evenings after class.

Li Kuiyi: If you cared even one percent more about studying, you wouldn’t be missing out on your love life.

Fang Zhixiao: What do you mean?

Li Kuiyi: Figure it out yourself.

She went back to her main message screen and checked — He Youyuan still hadn’t accepted her friend request.

Was he really that angry at her?

Or was this just his nature — too proud and cool to bother adding anyone?

But he didn’t seem like that kind of person.

Fang Zhixiao quickly figured it out: Is Su Jianlin at your place?!

Li Kuiyi: There’s about an 80% chance.

Fang Zhixiao: What do you mean 80%? You didn’t see him?

Li Kuiyi: No — he’s probably already asleep, but the shoes at the door should be his. If you count the days, university must be starting up around now.

Fang Zhixiao: Sob sob sob, is it too late for me to come over right now?

Fang Zhixiao: It’s all your fault, it’s your fault. Last time I asked you to help me ask him something and you wouldn’t!

Li Kuiyi: He doesn’t really respond to me either.

Fang Zhixiao: I’m blaming you anyway — as punishment, you have to take a photo of him and send it to me.

Li Kuiyi: Can’t do that.

Asking him for a photo would be far too strange. Besides, she wasn’t even sure she’d see Su Jianlin — she had to leave the house by six in the morning, and he was probably still asleep by then.

Fang Zhixiao: Hmph, we’re no longer friends!

And yet she really did run into Su Jianlin.

At 5:40 in the morning, Li Kuiyi got up, washed up, and turned the handle of her bedroom door — and was immediately startled by the harsh white light blazing from the dining room. She steadied herself, and found Su Jianlin sitting at the dining table eating breakfast, a black rolling suitcase standing beside him.

Hearing her, he glanced back mildly: “I bought enough breakfast for five people.”

Indeed, the table was piled with food: steamed buns, fried dough sticks, scallion oil mixed noodles, soy milk — everything one could want.

Li Kuiyi let out a stunned little “oh” and asked: “Are you catching an early high-speed train?”

“Mm.”

“Oh.” Li Kuiyi scratched her hair. “I’ll go wash up first.”

She quickly retreated into the bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror — a few stubborn strands of hair sticking out defiantly, sleep-deprived eyes straining to stay open, a mosquito bite forming a red dot on her left cheek, shoulders slightly drawn in. She looked, in every possible way, tense.

Li Kuiyi, what exactly are you nervous about?

She slowly exhaled, and began her morning routine at an unhurried pace. A long while later, she finally walked out, feigning surprise as she glanced at the clock on the wall: “Oh — it’s already six. I’d better get going or I won’t have time to eat at home.”

Su Jianlin looked at her once and said nothing.

Li Kuiyi went back to her room for her school bag, then walked to the dining table as naturally as she could manage: “I’ll just take the scallion oil noodles.”

To keep the noodles from clumping, Su Jianlin had already mixed them for her, and had placed a fried egg on top.

“You’re eating on the go?” he asked.

“I can eat in the classroom.”

“Oh.”

Li Kuiyi picked up the container of noodles and smiled: “I’m off then. Have a safe trip.”

“Wait.” Su Jianlin suddenly spoke. He stood up, rummaged through the tote bag beside him, and held out a small box. “Your fifteenth birthday present.”

Li Kuiyi froze.

She looked up at him in surprise, but his expression remained as unchanged as ever — as though giving her a gift were the most ordinary thing in the world.

The first time Su Jianlin gave her a birthday gift was when she was thirteen. He had happened to see her ID number and asked: “Is August 17th your birthday?”

Li Kuiyi had never celebrated a birthday. She nodded and said: “Probably — I’m not sure the date is accurate.”

So on August 16th, thirteen-year-old Li Kuiyi received an MP4 player. He didn’t call it a birthday gift — only said he didn’t want to use it anymore and was passing it along to her.

On August 18th of the following year, Li Kuiyi received a pair of fluffy plush dolls — two adorable big-eyed spiders. Su Jianlin, again, didn’t call them a birthday gift — only said a classmate had given them to him, and he found them childish, so he was passing them on.

She had once asked him: “When is your birthday?”

He said: “I don’t know.”

“Your ID says…”

“That’s not accurate.” He cut her off.

This year’s gift arrived belatedly on September 6th — but he stated with certainty: This is your birthday present. Your fifteenth birthday present.

Li Kuiyi bit her lip and extended both hands to receive the small box, murmuring: “Thank you.”

“Mm.”

She didn’t take the gift back to her room. Instead, she tucked it straight into her school bag, looked up at him one more time, and said sincerely: “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

Li Kuiyi’s steps were quick — she didn’t even know what she was rushing toward. The early morning air carried a faint chill, flowing into her chest with each breath, like a breeze rising from a quiet valley, stirring gentle ripples across her heart.

After arriving at school, Li Kuiyi composed herself and, instead of heading to Class One’s classroom, went up to the third floor.

He Youyuan was sitting by the window of Class Twelve, leaning back against the desk behind him, leisurely drinking a carton of milk — when he suddenly caught sight of the sour-faced pineapple emerging from the far end of the corridor and walking straight toward him. He immediately choked on several mouthfuls.

Seriously? He just didn’t accept her friend request, and she’s already coming to confront him in person?

He watched helplessly as the sour-faced pineapple drew closer and closer, and felt an involuntary wave of nervousness. In a moment of panic, he quickly struck a senior-figure pose — the kind that said come at me, I’m not scared.

The sour-faced pineapple really did walk right up to him and knocked on the window glass.

He Youyuan’s throat bobbed. He forced himself to look calm, slid the window open, and fixed her with a contemptuous look: “What do you thi—”

Before he could finish, he watched the sour-faced pineapple shift her gaze away from him entirely and land on the girl diagonally in front of him: “Fang Zhixiao — Su Jianlin bought scallion oil noodles. Do you want some?”