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Fang Zhixiao told Li Kuiyi to wait for her — she was on her way, and they could have lunch together. Li Kuiyi thought it over and agreed.
It was just past nine o’clock now. The sun was beginning to show its teeth, and already some of the more sun-conscious girls had opened their parasols. Li Kuiyi disliked the heat as well, so she retreated into the gymnasium and stayed put.
That was where the new student registration was being held. Air conditioning was running inside, and there were plenty of chairs to rest in — so many people, like her, had come, done what they needed to do, and then simply refused to leave. A crowd of restless teenagers crammed together in one place are incapable of staying quiet: some shrieked with excitement upon running into old classmates; others launched into heated debates about which leading man the female protagonist of this summer’s big drama series truly loved. The gymnasium was a riot, like eight hundred ducks penned in the same enclosure. In the center of the hall, twenty tables had been set out, each with a class banner beside it, and the Year Ten form teachers sat behind their respective tables to receive the new intake.
Class One’s form teacher was a young woman. She had a gentle, refined manner that Li Kuiyi liked at first glance. When Li Kuiyi came to sign in, the teacher tilted her head back with a bright smile: “Oh — so you’re our little top scorer.”
Li Kuiyi couldn’t help the faint flush that crept across her cheeks.
After signing in, she went to sit in the spectator seats nearby and couldn’t resist sending Fang Zhixiao a boast.
Li Kuiyi: My form teacher seems really nice!
Fang Zhixiao: Doesn’t matter. My class has a good-looking guy.
Li Kuiyi looked in the direction of Class Twelve’s banner and began typing rapidly: “Your form teacher is a middle-aged man. He’s wearing a polo shirt — the kind you hate most — slightly balding, with the beer belly you hate most too.”
Fang Zhixiao: Doesn’t matter. My class has a good-looking guy.
Li Kuiyi: …Hmph.
She set down her phone. At a loss for entertainment, she soon found herself a new pastime. Before coming to the gymnasium, she’d photographed the Class One roll sheet — so whenever a new Class One student came to sign in, she would study their appearance and manner and try to guess their name.
The girl with straight-cut bangs, a hairband, and large eyes — she guessed her name was Pan Junmeng. The boy who was skinny as a reed yet carried himself with a studious air — she guessed his name was Zhou Fanghua. Then came a strikingly beautiful girl in a floral dress — pearl-white ground with scattered pale purple blossoms, and on her feet, strappy sandals that caught the light. Her long hair was worn loose, slightly wavy. Li Kuiyi noticed that the moment she stepped into the gymnasium, countless pairs of eyes turned her way, and even the noise dimmed slightly.
Instinct told Li Kuiyi: that one is Xia Leyi.
The name Xia Leyi appeared third on the class roll. But Li Kuiyi had encountered this name not only on the Class One list — she had also seen it on the exam results announcement posted by No. 1’s official website.
Xia Leyi. Class Four, Year Nine. Ninth in the city.
The beautiful girl didn’t linger in the gymnasium. After signing in and collecting her new student handbook, she took a phone call and left in a hurry. It was right around this moment that He Youyuan and the other two arrived at the gymnasium entrance and crossed paths with her.
They clearly knew each other. Li Kuiyi watched as they exchanged greetings, and then the girl pulled He Youyuan aside to speak with him privately for a few moments. Though she couldn’t hear what was being said, she could see He Youyuan’s expression — the kind that invited a slap: eyebrows raised, lips curving into a half-smile that didn’t quite commit, the bandage still on his left cheekbone, making him look carelessly insolent.
This person, in truth, was strikingly handsome — the sort of good-looking that announced itself. His brows and eyes carried a gleam of sharpness. It was precisely because of this that Li Kuiyi couldn’t make sense of so many things he did — like asking, out of nowhere, “What are you laughing at?” Or declaring, with great self-satisfaction, “Nothing good ever comes of people who do holiday prep.”
Unreasonable, and childish.
Li Kuiyi dropped her gaze and typed a few words to Fang Zhixiao: “Don’t get your hopes up too high about the good-looking guy.”
Fang Zhixiao: I’m already on my way! Very high hopes!
Li Kuiyi: …Suit yourself.
By the time she looked up again, the beautiful girl had gone. He Youyuan and the other two were walking toward Class Twelve’s sign-in table. The girls nearby had started whispering among themselves, voices low and buzzing with excitement over the new arrival.
At an age when most people still had dark circles under their eyes, wore drab school uniforms, and hadn’t the faintest idea how to make themselves presentable, striking good looks were undeniably a rare commodity. When faced with such a thing, the ones who chased it or loudly declared their admiration were few — most simply admired it quietly from a distance, content to exchange a couple of words if the chance arose.
He Youyuan finished at Class Twelve, and the three of them went together to Class Nine. These three really are inseparable, Li Kuiyi thought. By rights, shouldn’t they each go to their own class? Did they really need to accompany each other for even this?
At last they came to Class One.
After Qi Yu signed in and exchanged a few words with the form teacher, he looked up. His gaze settled on Li Kuiyi with an easy, familiar air, as if they’d known each other for years, and he raised a hand: “Hey.”
Li Kuiyi was caught slightly off guard. She returned it politely: “Hey.”
He Youyuan, only now, noticed that the “Li Kui” he’d gotten the name wrong for was sitting right there on the spectator seats not far away. She was wearing a ginger-yellow T-shirt today, which made her complexion look particularly fair. A small brown elephant was embroidered on the upper left chest of the shirt, and the hem was neatly tucked into her light-wash jeans. If you didn’t look at her face, the outfit was almost endearing.
Of all the places to run into each other. Prickly-faced pineapple.
He Youyuan tugged the corner of his mouth into a perfunctory expression, gave off every indication of “are we even acquainted with her?”, and turned his face away with cool indifference.
But Li Kuiyi had noticed something: He Youyuan was holding a small handbook in his hand. That hand was slender and lean, the tendons faintly visible beneath the skin, carrying a certain sharpness to its lines — and yet his pinky finger was ever so slightly raised, like a proud little peacock.
A line flashed through her mind immediately: People who raise their pinky finger — nothing good ever comes of them.
She’d even used He Youyuan’s tone for it. Cool. Disdainful.
Li Kuiyi couldn’t hold it in. A muffled laugh escaped her.
He Youyuan thought he must be hearing things, because he could have sworn he heard her laugh again. He turned around in an irritated huff — and found that she was indeed laughing, and the amusement was entirely evident: her clear, bright eyes curved slightly, and the upward tilt of her lips held something teasing, something that made it perfectly obvious she was up to no good.
He felt a sudden jolt of unease. He started wondering if he’d put his shirt on inside out, or if he’d forgotten to wipe his mouth after drinking milk that morning. He even began to suspect he’d forgotten to do up his zipper.
No — he wasn’t wearing trousers with a zipper today.
Then what on earth was she laughing at?
For the first time, He Youyuan had the distinct and unsettling sense of being looked down on from a great height.