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This year’s first snow came fiercely.

Without warning, snowflakes tumbled and spilled downward, falling into the warm amber light overhead. Tilting her face up, it was like countless soft points of light rushing toward her — in an instant brushing past her cheeks, leaving behind a scattering of cold, and some of them, mischievous, flying straight into her eyes, melting at once into a film of moisture.

The screaming from the teaching building continued. Perhaps muffled by the thick curtain of falling snow, it didn’t sound sharp or urgent — it floated over like something carried from a great distance by the wind, soft and fragmented, dissolving at the edges.

He Youyuan gazed at the snowflakes wheeling through the air and found himself holding his breath. For some reason, the snow seemed extraordinarily beautiful tonight — quiet, and somehow grand. He stood there in still, wordless contemplation, and perhaps because it was so quiet, he became aware of a faint, shallow sound of breathing nearby. Coming to himself, he lowered his lashes, and from the corner of his eye, he looked at the girl beside him. She was still gazing upward. Her face was luminous, her hair slightly disheveled, gilded at the edges with a faint shimmer of gold — like the shards of light breaking on the ocean at sunset. Tiny snowflakes landed on her eyelashes. She blinked very gently, but didn’t look away.

Strange. She looks extraordinarily beautiful too.

He Youyuan’s throat moved.

A gust of wind swept through, carrying snowflakes straight into the gap at their collars. Li Kuiyi gave an involuntary shiver and came back to herself. She glanced at him instinctively — their eyes met for a brief moment, then both looked away awkwardly. They both realized at the same time that the atmosphere between them had become something that exceeded the bounds of their actual relationship. It had tipped, quietly, into something resembling romance.

Watching the first snow together — and with this person, of all people?

Li Kuiyi rubbed the back of her hand against her reddened nose and turned to go. She’d taken only a few steps when she realized she was still holding his Christmas hat in her other hand. She doubled back, shoved it into his hand, and then walked away for good.

He Youyuan looked down at the hat in his hands, momentarily dazed.

She doesn’t want it again.

Last time he gave her chocolate, she said it was too expensive and she couldn’t accept it. And this time? A Christmas hat could hardly be expensive — and she still wouldn’t take it. In other words, she simply didn’t want anything from him. Not wanting anything from him meant wanting to keep a distance. Why keep a distance? Obviously because of Qi Yu.

A sour, stinging feeling rose in He Youyuan’s chest.

He swore he wasn’t jealous. He really wasn’t. It was just — well, how to put it — he’d thought Li Kuiyi liked him, and now he’d discovered she not only didn’t like him, but had very possibly fallen for his closest friend. That kind of drop was hard to avoid feeling.

He was a good-looking guy. Being disregarded — that was hard on anyone, right? And he couldn’t even say Li Kuiyi had no taste, because the person she’d chosen was his friend. Not as handsome as him, sure, but academically a hundred times better. For someone as dedicated to academics as Li Kuiyi, it made perfect sense that she’d fall for another top student…

Fine. I’ll wish them happiness. He thought bitterly. I’m not a petty person.

He Youyuan tugged at the corner of his mouth and walked after Li Kuiyi in a few quick strides. Without ceremony, he tossed her orange back into her arms and said, clearly a little displeased: “Returning this.”

Then he left — hands back in his jacket pockets, the picture of breezy nonchalance. He hadn’t gotten two steps away when Li Kuiyi called after him and asked bluntly: “Why don’t you want it?”

How are you asking me that? He Youyuan thought indignantly to himself. You’re giving me an orange — aren’t you worried Qi Yu might take that the wrong way? I’m not the kind of person who goes around wrecking other people’s relationships.

He turned and looked at her. He studied her face for a moment — through the veil of snow, her eyes and expression were still vivid and clear. At last he spoke, his voice cool and firm: “You won’t take things from me. Why should I take things from you?”

Li Kuiyi: “…”

That sounds exactly like a child throwing a tantrum.

She considered what he’d said, then pointed at the Christmas hat and ventured: “Was this a gift for me?”

“What else?” He Youyuan replied, eyes dropping.

“Oh.”

Li Kuiyi reached out and took the Christmas hat back from his hand. “This hat is big enough for two of my heads. I thought you bought it for yourself.”

He Youyuan: “…”

So his whole moment of wounded feeling had been completely wasted.

He kept his expression rigidly in place and muttered: “My head isn’t exactly two of yours either.”

Li Kuiyi’s gaze made a round trip over his face — apparently genuinely assessing the size of his head — and then she nodded, seeming to agree with him. Then she looked away and continued walking.

He Youyuan fell into step beside her, walking alongside her, though every so often he glanced at her hand.

Fine, you’ve taken the hat. But at least give me back the orange.

They walked through the falling snow for a while. A light coating of white had settled on their heads, shoulders, and the crooks of their arms. He Youyuan reached up and raked his fingers through his hair to shake the snow loose. Then he looked at the snow caught in Li Kuiyi’s hair and found himself wanting to brush it out for her.

Just brushing off the snow — she shouldn’t mind that, should she? And if the snow didn’t get brushed off, it would melt once they were back inside, and then her hair would get damp, and she’d definitely catch a cold.

He really did reach out. His fingers swept lightly over her hair.

Unfortunately, the snow he dislodged promptly slid straight down into the back of her collar.

He Youyuan: “…”

Li Kuiyi felt a chill on the back of her neck and let out a sharp breath, reflexively shrinking into herself. She stared at him, her expression that of someone barely believing what had just happened: “You put snow down my collar?”

He Youyuan rushed to explain: “No — I saw the snow in your hair and wanted to brush it off, but my hand slipped and it…” He paused, swallowed, and said: “I’m sorry.”

Li Kuiyi evidently believed the explanation but still glared at him: “Who asked you to help?”

Who would you prefer? Qi Yu?

He Youyuan was certain that if Qi Yu had accidentally knocked snow down her collar, she would not have been this angry.

And he’d already apologized, and she was still holding it against him.

This person was very skilled at treating people differently.

With that thought, He Youyuan turned his face away. He was always the one who ended up on the losing end — he was used to it by now.

Neither of them saying a word, they made their way toward the teaching building. Before they reached it, they could see the corridors packed with students, apparently unwilling to stay cooped inside on a night like this, and all come out to watch the snow.

Li Kuiyi didn’t want to be seen walking alongside He Youyuan. She lowered her head and quickened her pace. It was then that she noticed the orange was still tucked in the crook of her arm, its wrapping crumpled. She still couldn’t make heads or tails of He Youyuan’s strange, impossible-to-predict mind. She simply held the orange out toward him and asked: “Do you want this orange?”

No! He Youyuan’s instinct flared.

After the way she’d treated him, he still had some pride left. He wasn’t going to bend for an orange. He had the dignity not to.

He shot her a cold sideways look and said with supreme composure: “I’ve already collected so many oranges today that my hands are going numb.”

That’s such an insufferable thing to say, Li Kuiyi thought.

She started to pull the orange back and turn away — then remembered how, that evening outside her apartment complex, he had completely ignored her wishes and shoved the chocolate into her hands. Utterly unreasonable. So why should she have to respect his wishes?

Li Kuiyi lobbed the orange into his arms and, just as he had done to her that time, immediately turned and ran.

He Youyuan stood there watching her disappear into the teaching building, her figure swallowed by the crowd watching the snow. After a moment, he looked down at the orange in his hands.

What was he supposed to do with this? He didn’t want it. He’d already collected dozens of them today.

He swore, he genuinely did not want it.

He Youyuan shot the orange a mournful look. Then he glanced around, confirmed no one was watching, and — orange, wrapping, and all — stuffed it into his pocket.

He made his way through the wind and snow and the crowd back to the classroom.

The gifts he’d received had already been cleared out once. But while he was gone, a few more small boxes had appeared on his desk.

He normally hated getting these things — throwing them out felt disrespectful, keeping them was a headache. But at this particular moment he found himself wishing Li Kuiyi could see this: Look. People don’t exactly overlook me, you know.

He took Li Kuiyi’s orange out and smoothed the creases from the wrapping paper. His deskmate noticed and leaned in curiously: “Did you buy that yourself?”

He Youyuan put on an air of casual indifference: “Someone pushed it into my hands on the way back.”

His deskmate: “…”

He really should not have asked. Now he’d walked right into another one of his performances.

He Youyuan peeled the wrapping open. Inside sat a bright, round orange, looking fresh and fragrant with a faint clean scent. He picked it up, turned it over in his hands, and then peeled it briskly.

He ate a section. It was surprisingly sweet.

His deskmate, puzzled: “Didn’t you say this afternoon that if fine arts students eat still-life props, they won’t get into university?”

He Youyuan cleared his throat: “One is fine occasionally.”

His deskmate narrowed his eyes. Ah. The Schrödinger’s still life. I see.

During evening self-study, He Youyuan was working through a geography test when he hit a problem about calculating solar elevation angles. After a lot of effort without getting anywhere, he set his pen down and rubbed his face — and was suddenly reminded of Li Kuiyi asking him in the shop whether he wanted her notes.

Notes from the top student in the year group — they might not be the stuff of martial arts novels, suddenly unblocking all your meridians at once, but they would certainly have plenty to learn from.

He was starting to regret it. He shouldn’t have sulked at her. Li Kuiyi herself was insufferable in her way, but her notes had done nothing wrong.

What now? He genuinely wanted her notes. But if he went to her now to ask, she definitely wouldn’t give them to him. She and he were nothing alike — she had the longest memory for grudges.

Should he sweet-talk her?

No. He was never going to sweet-talk her again. Not in this lifetime.

Should he threaten her?

“If you don’t give me your notes, I’ll go report you and Qi Yu to Chen Guoming for your romantic entanglement.”

No. That was beneath him entirely.

What about buying them?

Actually… that wasn’t a bad idea. Who in the world could say no to money?

So after school, He Youyuan picked up his phone and immediately posted a status update — six words, clean and direct.

“Seeking notes. Will pay handsomely.”

Settings: visible to Li Kuiyi only.