After the monthly exam results came out, Chen Guoming was deeply gratified.

Li Kuiyi’s overall score surpassed the second-place student by more than twenty points — it wasn’t as if this had never happened before, and sometimes the gap between first and second was even wider. What made Chen Guoming particularly gratified was that he knew very well how exceptional Qi Yu was, and it was precisely because of that knowledge that those twenty-plus points felt all the more remarkable.

Qi Yu was already an existence without any real weak points, yet Li Kuiyi could still outscore him by ten or so points in Chinese language, and by two or three points in every subject except mathematics and history.

What did this mean?

It meant that 100,000 yuan had not been spent in vain!

In recent years, Yi High’s rate of students admitted to first-tier and key universities had been steadily approaching Shi High’s, but the number of students gaining admission to Peking University or Tsinghua University, and the number of students winning the city’s top exam ranking, still lagged behind. This was precisely why Yi High was so determined to poach the best students — after all, it directly affected the school’s reputation and prestige among parents.

To this end, Chen Guoming had specifically sought out Liu Xinzhao for a conversation. The gist was that she should keep a close eye on the state of the top-performing students in the class — whether they were studying with undivided focus — and pay particular attention to Li Kuiyi, because the girl seemed a little dangerous. She dared to clash with teachers, she wrote letters to the principal, all that unnecessary mischief was bound to affect her studies…

After hearing this, Liu Xinzhao couldn’t help but recall the weekly journal entry Li Kuiyi had written after apologizing to the physical education teacher — in it, the girl had said that thinking causes pain.

Liu Xinzhao had come through her own student years; she understood that being prone to melancholy was a common affliction at this age. But did the “sorrow” of youth always have to be the kind manufactured for the sake of writing something moving? Not necessarily. Children had their own unique ways of perceiving the world, their own thoughts about all manner of things — and sometimes their thinking was richer, and more frequent, than that of many mediocre adults.

And so she wrote back: “Thinking causes us pain, causes us to struggle, yet it is also the most important reason we stand apart from the countless masses of ‘them.’ That is why I have never stopped, and I hope you won’t either.”

Those words must have encouraged the girl somewhat, because the next time Liu Xinzhao collected the journals, she found that Li Kuiyi had drawn a little smiley face beneath her comment — and after that, Li Kuiyi began writing about some of her more peculiar thoughts in her journal entries. One of them made a lasting impression on Liu Xinzhao: Li Kuiyi wrote that while working through a history exam, she had come across a question referencing Hu Shi’s theory that parents hold no debt to their children. The idea struck her as remarkable, so she went and dug up materials on the subject and wrote a short essay: “A Preliminary Discussion on the Development of the ‘Parents Owe No Debt’ Theory.”

It was written with considerable restraint, in the manner of a fledgling researcher tentatively approaching an idea — examining, from an objective standpoint, the historical context and developmental arc of a particular viewpoint and school of thought across different periods. Yet Liu Xinzhao was perceptive enough to catch a glint of sharpness and feeling that had leaked through unintentionally between the lines — the girl was evidently sympathetic to this “parents owe no debt” notion, perhaps even somewhat radical in her agreement.

Liu Xinzhao gave nothing away and simply praised her effusively, saying her little essay looked quite impressively put together, that she should keep working hard and boldly charge into academic circles in the future.

As for the matter of her parents — it was far too early to draw any conclusions. Liu Xinzhao decided to observe a while longer, and after the mid-term exams, she would arrange to meet the parents face to face during the parent-teacher conference.

Li Kuiyi herself had no idea she’d exposed anything. She simply felt that Liu Xinzhao was genuinely an excellent Chinese language teacher — not only were her lessons brilliant, but she seemed to truly understand her, and she kept finding new ways to compliment her. It was as if every small corner of her inner pride had been filled to the brim.

Chen Guoming had been treating her well lately too. Every time she greeted him, the creases at the corners of his eyes would crinkle into a bloom, while his mouth never ceased reminding her: “Don’t get complacent. Keep at it — three years is still a long time.”

Li Kuiyi would nod obediently and say, “I’ll keep working hard.”

Look at that — what a wonderful child. Chen Guoming grew more and more gratified with each passing day.

Then, a few days later, he went out to the sports field to inspect the students doing their morning run. The run had barely finished when Li Kuiyi grabbed hold of a rubbish bin, right in front of him, and let out a loud retch.

Chen Guoming was alarmed and hurried over to check on her.

The poor girl was heaving miserably, the corners of her eyes glistening, still gasping for breath. After drinking some water and rinsing her mouth, she managed to say bravely: “Teacher, I’m fine — this is just an old problem of mine. I always feel like throwing up after running. It’s really not serious.”

What do you mean, not serious!

Chen Guoming was annoyed. “Your body is your most important asset. The morning run is supposed to help you strengthen your body — if it’s doing the opposite and ruining your health instead, then it’s completely defeating the purpose!”

He thought back to how, on the very second day of the mandatory morning run, she had written a letter to the principal. He also thought about Li Kuiyi’s middle school exam results — the subject she’d lost the most marks in was indeed physical education. So that was it! What a misunderstanding. The girl wasn’t some troublemaker who refused to run; she genuinely couldn’t run.

At that moment, Zhou Fanghua, who was supporting Li Kuiyi, timidly added: “Every time she finishes the run, she needs a long time to recover. Sometimes it affects her in class too…”

Affecting her studies — this was a serious matter!

Chen Guoming furrowed his brow and waved a decisive hand: “Starting tomorrow, you don’t need to come down for the morning run!”

Li Kuiyi stared blankly. “Ah?”

“That’s settled for now. As for the longer-term arrangement, the school will decide later!”

Li Kuiyi watched Chen Guoming’s retreating figure, her expression still dazed — but inside, she was already blooming with delight. As the saying goes, when poor, look after only yourself; when prosperous, benefit the world at large. She had originally wanted to “benefit the world at large,” but since the “revolution” hadn’t succeeded, she could only…

She patted Zhou Fanghua on the back and said softly, “Lunch is on me today.”

“Ah? Why?” Zhou Fanghua didn’t understand.

Li Kuiyi: “…”

She had assumed Zhou Fanghua had seen through her little scheme, and had deliberately said that one line in front of Chen Guoming to help her along!

It turned out she had meant every word from the heart.

By comparison, that made her seem terribly wicked.

But there was nothing to be done — she simply could not accept running five laps every day for three years. She would rather be put out of her misery. She had been planning this since before the monthly exams, and she had made sure to do it when Chen Guoming was most fond of her.

In any case, it harmed no one but benefited herself. She saw no reason to feel guilty about it.

After school, Li Kuiyi told the whole story to Fang Zhixiao.

Fang Zhixiao said, “Pfft, I already heard about it, and I’d already guessed it would happen — didn’t you pull the same trick in middle school?”

Li Kuiyi exclaimed dramatically, “Wow, no wonder your name is Fang Zhixiao — you truly know everything!”

Fang Zhixiao gave a proud little “hmph.” “Is there anything about you I don’t know?” Then, as if something had occurred to her, she turned serious. “Tonight I’ll sleep over at your place. There’s something very important I need to tell you.”

“What is it?” Li Kuiyi looked at her, a little anxious.

“I’ll tell you once we get home.”

Back home, inside Li Kuiyi’s small bedroom, Fang Zhixiao lowered her voice and ordered, “Go get your family’s scissors.”

Scissors?

“What are you going to do?”

“Tsk, it’s not like I’m going to kill you.”

Li Kuiyi obediently found the scissors and handed them over. Fang Zhixiao pushed her down into a chair and gave a mischievous grin: “Hehe — time to revive my middle-school craft. Please, call me Tony Fang.”

During their middle school dormitory days, their bangs always grew quickly. Sometimes they were too lazy to go to the hair salon off campus, so they would help each other trim a little. The results, it had to be said, were not always satisfactory.

“What if you cut it wrong? How am I supposed to face anyone at school tomorrow? And besides — my bangs aren’t even long!”

“You’ve had this same hairstyle for ages, haven’t you? I’m sick of looking at it. What’s wrong with a change?” Fang Zhixiao made a face of pure disdain, then appealed to both emotion and reason: “And look — I saw a post on the school forum where a senior said that students who make the honour roll after the first monthly exam of Year One must make sure they look their best for the photo, because the photo taken this time will be used for all three years of high school! With your grades, you’ll definitely be on the honour roll for three years — don’t you want a gorgeous photo to go with it?”

Li Kuiyi remained skeptical. “Are you sure you can cut it properly?”

“Of course — I’ve done my homework.” Fang Zhixiao put down the scissors, opened her bag, took out her phone, and searched up a few photos. “Like this — eyebrow-length bangs. Pretty, right? I’m telling you, they’ll absolutely suit you. You and the girl in this photo have the exact same face shape. Eyebrow-length bangs aren’t picky about your features either. If you’re cute, you’ll be even cuter; someone like you will look absolutely cool.”

“Uh, it’s not actually the bangs I’m doubting — it’s your technique…”

Fang Zhixiao: “…”

“I swear, okay? I will absolutely not mess it up!”

“In that case — if you do mess it up, you have to cut yourself a matching one, and we’ll both look ridiculous together.” Li Kuiyi raised the stakes.

“Fine, if I mess it up we can just go fix it at a salon afterwards.” Fang Zhixiao agreed without hesitation.

She found the tutorial on her phone, carefully reached out her fingers to pinch Li Kuiyi’s bangs, leaned in close, and let the scissors open and close with a gentle snip-snip. Fine bits of hair scattered and fell.

The stray hairs tickling her face made Li Kuiyi scrunch up her nose. Seeing this, Fang Zhixiao reached out to brush them away, and when her fingers touched Li Kuiyi’s slightly cool skin, she couldn’t resist giving her cheek a pinch and teasing, “Girl, give big sis a smile.”

Li Kuiyi: “…”

“I’m filing a complaint — Tony Fang is harassing the client.”

“You dare file a complaint and I’ll cut it crooked!”

Jokes aside, Fang Zhixiao worked with extraordinary care — a level of focus she privately thought matched what she’d given her middle school final exams. Snip by snip, nearly half an hour passed before she finally set down the scissors and admired her own handiwork: “Oh my, not bad at all — it’s got that feeling.”

Li Kuiyi slowly opened her eyes and pulled a small mirror from the drawer with immense trepidation.

Thank goodness — she could still show her face in public.

But Fang Zhixiao grew more pleased the longer she looked, tilting Li Kuiyi’s head this way and that, and letting out an astonished cry: “Oh my God, did I actually cut this? It’s absolutely perfect! Li Kui, you look incredibly cool like this — these bangs and your eyes are a match made in heaven!”

Li Kuiyi quickly brought a finger to her lips and pointed at the neighbouring room, signalling that everyone was already asleep.

Fang Zhixiao immediately clapped a hand over her mouth, but still couldn’t contain her excitement. She urged: “When you take your honour roll photo, you absolutely must not put your hair up. Keep it just like this, okay?”

Li Kuiyi nodded, then picked up the little mirror and looked again.

It really was quite nice — she just wasn’t sure whether it would stand out too much at school. She’d just managed to get out of the morning run; she really didn’t want Chen Guoming to start watching her again for another reason.

After washing up, Li Kuiyi and Fang Zhixiao squeezed together onto one bed.

Fang Zhixiao was still admiring her “masterpiece,” continuously flicking Li Kuiyi’s new bangs with her fingers. But when they lay down, the bangs flopped right back with each flick. Fang Zhixiao immediately dissolved into full-body laughter: “You know what? You look exactly like that Pokémon right now — Exeggutor!”

Li Kuiyi: “…”

One strand of her bangs must have gotten pressed in the wrong direction during the night, because by the next morning it was standing straight up in the air.

Fang Zhixiao nearly collapsed laughing again.

Li Kuiyi wet her hand and pressed it down hard, barely managing to flatten it.

The two of them walked together to the small stall near the school gate to buy egg pancakes and soy milk for breakfast.

Li Kuiyi’s egg pancake finished cooking first. She took it and bit off a big mouthful — mm, wonderfully smooth and soft. She stepped up onto a low kerb by the side of the road and ate while waiting for Fang Zhixiao.

Then she suddenly spotted He Youyuan and Zhou Ce walking side by side toward them.

The egg pancake in her mouth immediately stuck in her throat.

She tried to avert her eyes and pretend she hadn’t seen them, but it was too late — He Youyuan had already lazily glanced over.

He visibly paused, and then a smile crept irresistibly onto his lips.

That smile was absolutely up to no good!

He ambled over with his characteristic lazy ease, tilted his chin up, and said with a casual, unbothered air: “You’re eating breakfast — fine. But what’s that antenna sticking up from your head?”

It was only after saying it that he noticed the faint sense of unfamiliarity about her today wasn’t coming from that upturned strand at all, but from the fact that her short bangs were somehow distinctly odd — they sat just above her eyebrows, cleanly framing those sharp, clear eyes and brows of hers in a way that was striking yet carried a slight curve, the lower edge not rigidly straight but gently contoured, evoking the tender resilience and quiet stubbornness of a young girl.

At that moment, Zhou Ce squeezed in beside He Youyuan, took one look at Li Kuiyi, blinked his wide eyes, and then burst into wild laughter: “You look just like that thing — Watermelon Taro!”