Although the suspicion that “he likes me” had been turning over in her mind for days, hearing it confirmed out loud made Li Kuiyi’s heartbeat suddenly quicken. That unfamiliar flutter was disorienting, and her fingers instinctively gathered up a fistful of her clothing hem without her even noticing.

Probably because the person confessing to her was very good-looking.

Being confessed to by a handsome guy was, it had to be admitted, something that deeply satisfied a certain girlish part of her — even if she didn’t like him back. Simply because he was handsome, even his red-eyed, unreasonable behavior seemed marginally more tolerable. Right now he was sitting there, motionless, face buried in his crossed arms — a thoroughly unimpressive posture — and yet his soft, tousled hair, his flushed ears, and the clearly defined line of his spine beneath that thin T-shirt still radiated the warm, bright energy of youth. So magnetic.

No, no, no — Li Kuiyi shook her head and quietly exhaled.

She couldn’t afford to be this indulgent toward handsome guys.

That wasn’t healthy.

She gathered her thoughts, squared her gaze on He Youyuan, and said: “Your logic has a problem. Even if you like me, that doesn’t give you the right to interrogate me. I’m not your girlfriend. I have no obligation to explain my relationship with other guys to you.”

She paused, then, with an attempt at maturity, addressed the matter at hand: “As for what you just said… I’ll pretend I didn’t hear it. And… thank you for liking me…”

What came next?

Honestly, she wished she had paid more serious attention when reading those romance novels with Fang Zhixiao — she could have picked up a line or two for turning someone down. That way she wouldn’t be standing here now with her mouth open and nothing coming out. “Books feel most inadequate when you need them most” — this was precisely that situation.

Forget it. She’d leave it there. After all, it hadn’t been a serious confession.

Li Kuiyi hesitantly glanced at He Youyuan, who still had his face buried, and couldn’t help wondering whether he had even heard her. No matter — she genuinely had no idea how to handle this, so she might as well slip away while he wasn’t paying attention. If she didn’t leave soon, things would only get more awkward. She said a quick “goodbye,” turned and walked away, and then, once she had gone a few calm, dignified steps, bolted.

She ran for quite a while before her brain started running low on oxygen. Gasping for air, she stopped on the sidewalk. Cars and pedestrians flowed around her. Passersby glanced curiously at her hurry, and the surreal feeling of it all made her suddenly unable to recall with any certainty whether He Youyuan had actually confessed to her just now.

It felt too unreal.

They had been arguing. How had they ended up in a confession?

Had he lost his head for a moment and said something he didn’t mean?

Did he actually like her? Why would he like her? Since when had this started?

Endless questions welled up in her mind, leaving her dizzy. She tried hard to replay every moment she had shared with He Youyuan, searching for the origin of his feelings — but after turning it all over in a muddle, she came up with nothing. It seemed only He Youyuan himself knew the answer, which meant she would never know — she couldn’t exactly go ask him to his face.

When had it started, exactly?

He Youyuan was thinking about the same question.

That “because I like you” had left his mouth before it had even passed through his brain, and he was mortified — he almost couldn’t bear to face her again. But somehow, strangely, his heart was flooded with a peculiar sensation of settling — like dust finally coming to rest.

It was that very sense of settling which caused something inside him to swell like a rising tide, surging and ebbing, relentless and alive, washing again and again against the floodwall inside him that could crumble at any moment — swaying, stumbling — until, with a thunderous crash, it gave way completely. And as if resigning himself to fate, he thought: admit it, He Youyuan — you—

Like her.

He also desperately wanted to know exactly when he had begun to feel something for her. But the feeling of liking someone is difficult to articulate, and so the moment it began is equally difficult to pin down. The time it had hit him most tangibly was in the school snack shop — when he had gotten angry over her wanting to treat Qi Yu to a meal, and he had taken the coin she’d dropped. She had come over and pried at his fingers, her cool, slender fingertips resting against his hand — and his heartbeat had suddenly gone frantic.

That, probably, was what a heartbeat felt like.

But he knew with clarity that it hadn’t started there.

He couldn’t recall exactly where it had begun — after all, he hadn’t realized he liked her all along, and the feelings he had been projecting onto her had been muddled and unexamined, impossible now to untangle and trace back to their source. Come to think of it, it was almost funny: the two of them had found out simultaneously that he liked her.

But he had figured out why he had mistakenly believed she liked him. Simply put, he had already developed feelings for her, but he instinctively resisted those feelings — a handsome guy’s pride wouldn’t allow him to be the one to fall first. So he had brainwashed himself: she’s the one who likes me. Only by telling himself that could he find a place to rest the affection he’d developed for her.

He Youyuan laughed at himself.

Really. If the original Ah Q himself were to show up, even he would have to bow and address He Youyuan as master of the “spiritual victory method.”

He slowly got to his feet and sat for a long time on the stone rim of a nearby flowerbed. The sky darkened; a full, golden moon emerged, hanging suspended at the edge of the heavens. He gazed up at it quietly, thinking: it’s just as well that she knows now. At least there won’t be the regret of never having said it.

Only he still didn’t know what posture to take in facing her from here on. She’d said she’d pretend she didn’t hear what he said — did that mean she was turning him down? She didn’t like him, did she?

He Youyuan’s young heart had never known hardship. Even his parents’ divorce had left him with little bitterness, because he had been too young at the time to hold memories of it. Even with his mother unable to stay by his side because of work, he had never felt a lack of love — because his aunt, his grandmother, and his grandfather all doted on him. Even with poor grades, his height and good looks had always made him popular; some teachers had even extended him extra tolerance. From childhood straight through, he had lived freely and without care. Who in the world could have predicted it? One day, and just like that, he’d tumbled headfirst into heartache.

It was difficult, he had to admit — even a bit resentful. He wanted to know: on what grounds did she not like him?

And did she like Qi Yu? Did Qi Yu like her? What if they got together? How would he still be able to consider Qi Yu a brother after that? He would be consumed by jealousy — it would drive him mad. He would be completely incapable of wishing them well.

He Youyuan shot to his feet, gave the stone he’d just been sitting on two hard kicks, and turned, storming home in a foul mood.

The exam holiday came and went, and when school resumed, the first-year students began preparing for their final exams. All the semester’s coursework was finished; the remaining time was devoted entirely to review. The humanities classroom was filled either with voices reciting passages or the soft scratch of pencil on paper.

Li Kuiyi breathed a quiet sigh of relief — her greatest worry hadn’t come to pass. He Youyuan was diligently reviewing and doing problem sets every day, with none of his former hyperactive antics in front of her, and he even kept his words to a minimum. The only thing was that whenever their eyes happened to meet, he would snap his gaze away instantly, and his face — ears and all — would flush red. With his fair complexion, the blush was unmistakable from ten meters away.

She found it hard to believe. He had the look of someone who had dated eight hundred girls, yet he turned out to be almost shy.

If things could stay like this between them, that would actually be fine.

Li Kuiyi went back to organizing her notes. Because she had been tidying them as she went throughout the semester, the workload wasn’t very heavy. Once done, she sold her notes to the stationery shop owner outside the school gate — she didn’t have enough time to negotiate individual sales with classmates, and besides, notes were too easy to copy, so she needed someone to share the risk with her.

The money wasn’t enormous, but it was fair compensation for her efforts.

Still, as the finals drew nearer, something of a stir began to brew in the class. The trouble started because teachers in other subjects were leading their students through proper review sessions, but the math teacher was being lazy — every class, she handed out test papers, had students work through them, and then called someone up to the board to explain the answers. She called it “building ability,” but in reality she might not open her mouth once the whole period. When she did speak, it was usually something like: “This question also appeared on Class Eight’s test papers, but their correct rate was much higher than yours. They’re a regular class; you’re an advanced class. I don’t want to say too much and have you think I’m looking down on humanities students, but the math performance in the humanities track really just isn’t up to par.”

Class Eight was also her class. Rumor had it that in terms of math scores, it ranked first or second among the fifteen regular science-track classes. Throughout the semester, that class’s name had come up so frequently in Classroom 17 that students’ ears were practically developing calluses.

At first, when the math teacher said things like “humanities students just aren’t cut out for this,” everyone swallowed the irritation — after all, her science-track results were genuinely outstanding, and they were all taught by the same teacher. So if the humanities class wasn’t performing well, it had to be their own fault. But recently, someone reported that the math teacher was vibrant and enthusiastic in Class Eight, nothing like the listless, tight-lipped version they saw. Apparently she could barely be bothered to open her mouth in their class.

That was too much. Class secretary Zhang Yun was the first to jump up: “How can a teacher play favorites like this? If you look down on humanities students, then go petition the school to stop teaching our class. On one hand you say our math is terrible, on the other you can’t be bothered to teach us — are you expecting us to teach ourselves?”

“Exactly!” Zhao Jiawei immediately chimed in. “Honestly, I’ve only managed to understand anything in math this semester because of our class secretary, our class president, and the math rep explaining problems to me every day. Without them, I’d be a lost cause.”

“And then she makes a point of saying ‘I don’t mean to discriminate against you’ before every discriminatory remark — isn’t that as good as an admission?”

More and more voices joined the complaints. With everyone piling on in turn, the math teacher was systematically demolished in the court of class opinion.

Li Kuiyi quietly exchanged a glance with the math class representative, Chen Lu. The two of them both had strong math scores — even without the teacher putting in much effort, they didn’t feel much pressure. They had been turning a blind eye to everyone else’s frustrations all along. Only now did they realize that the class’s resentment toward the math teacher ran as deep as the Mariana Trench.

When even venting wasn’t enough to ease the grievances, the entire class turned to Li Kuiyi in unison, imploring her to relay the situation to the homeroom teacher. If things continued like this, the class’s math scores would be ruined for good.

Li Kuiyi nodded and soothed everyone: “Let’s all focus on preparing for the exams for now. It’s already finals week — the school definitely isn’t going to swap out a teacher at this critical juncture. Once the results come out, I’ll raise the issue with the homeroom teacher. Going to him with the exam scores in hand will make the case much more persuasive.”

Everyone agreed. Zhao Jiawei joked: “What if we all just scribble nonsense on the math exam? Then our scores would hit rock bottom, the school would have to take notice, and they might actually agree to give us a new teacher.”

“Great idea,” someone unhelpfully fanned the flames. “Alright, let’s make a pact — anyone who tries on the math exam is a dog!”

“No, no, no.” Li Kuiyi quickly waved her hands, afraid someone would take this seriously. “The teachers will examine the answer sheets. If they see us all writing nonsense, they’ll think we’re collectively targeting the math teacher. We absolutely cannot do that.”

No sooner had she finished speaking than a boy named Wang Jianbo let out a cold little snort: “See? The class president’s math scores are great — why would she want to mess around with you guys? Don’t flatter yourselves.”

The warm, lively atmosphere instantly chilled.

An awkward silence lingered in the air. Li Kuiyi turned to look at Wang Jianbo. She didn’t know why he’d said something like that — as though he couldn’t stand the sight of her. Though, after a semester of sharing a class, she did have some understanding of him. She didn’t think he was deliberately targeting her specifically; he was just the kind of person who had an equally sharp tongue toward everyone, and whose every word came out like a jab.

As class president, she didn’t want to let class relations sour. She was preparing to make light of it and smooth things over — when He Youyuan, who had been lying draped over his desk and apparently asleep, opened his eyes lazily, made no move to sit up, and said in a cool voice: “Why are you trying to drive a wedge between the class president and everyone else?”

Li Kuiyi glanced back at him, mildly surprised — the words had been unusually blunt. But bluntness had its advantage: at least no one would be swayed by the remark and start doubting the intent behind what she had just said. The only concern was that He Youyuan and Wang Jianbo might have a falling-out now.

Wang Jianbo said expressionlessly: “Who drove a wedge?” And as if feeling guilty, or finding the whole thing tiresome, he returned to his own seat.

Those who had gathered around laughed drily and dispersed. Li Kuiyi looked at He Youyuan; his eyes were closed again, his expression as serene as if nothing had happened at all. Except that his ears had gone quietly, tellingly red once more.

He Youyuan, you…

Li Kuiyi spun back around immediately, her own face burning. She thought: this person is so insufferable — even when he says nothing, he manages to conspicuously remind her that he likes her.

Can’t you just… keep it a little more hidden?

When the finals were over, July had arrived. The idea of summer vacation had barely taken shape in anyone’s mind when the school released a supplementary class notice. Adding it up carefully, Class One and Class 17, both being advanced classes, had only ten days of actual vacation for the entire summer — scheduled from August first to August tenth — and the rest of the time was to be spent in school for supplementary classes.

The other classes had it far better. Their vacation stretched to a full month.

Jiang Jianbin made the announcement about supplementary classes, then walked out of the classroom to a chorus of groans and profanity with perfect composure. Li Kuiyi hurried to catch up with him and explained the math teacher’s classroom conduct and the class’s concerns.

Whether the math teacher was truly treating the science-track class better than the humanities class was still uncertain — after all, no one had actually sat in on a Class Eight math lesson; they only heard that she was enthusiastic and patient with that class. So Li Kuiyi chose her words carefully, hoping the homeroom teacher would investigate before drawing any conclusions.

Jiang Jianbin gave her a measured look and said: “The school assigned a teacher of Teacher Peng’s caliber to handle our class’s math precisely because we’re an advanced class. Teacher Peng has mentioned the math situation in our class to me before. Apart from you and Chen Lu, who have a solid foundation, everyone else’s math basics are fairly average — including Zhang Yun, whose scores fluctuate up and down. That makes the class genuinely difficult to teach. So if the results aren’t good, shouldn’t the first place to look be inward?”

Li Kuiyi felt her heart sink halfway. It seemed the homeroom teacher and the students weren’t exactly on the same side.

“The greatest pitfall in studying is looking outward for excuses when things go wrong.” Then Jiang Jianbin gave her shoulder a pat and walked away without looking back.

Back in the classroom, Li Kuiyi relayed the homeroom teacher’s words. Everyone sighed even more heavily — already unhappy about the lack of vacation, and now the hope of a new math teacher had evaporated too. They couldn’t help venting, and both the math teacher and the homeroom teacher caught their share of complaints.

The heat of July and August in the city was suffocating; even the leaves hung limp and wilted. The ceiling fans in the classroom did nothing against the heat, and everyone fanned themselves furiously with textbooks, passing through one long, slow day after another in the rustling green shade outside the windows and the ceaseless drone of cicadas.

The one saving grace was that during supplementary class time, evening self-study was only two periods, and the lunch break was longer.

On the days Fang Zhixiao was not in supplementary classes, Li Kuiyi went to the cafeteria with Zhou Fanghua. Every evening after dinner, the two of them would walk a couple of laps around the track, watching the summer sun burn at the edge of the sky.

But somewhere along the way — after finals ended — He Youyuan had simply vanished from the classroom.

His textbooks and test papers were still on his desk, but he himself was nowhere to be seen. He hadn’t appeared once throughout the entire month of July.

Li Kuiyi was quite curious about where he’d gone, but she couldn’t very well ask him — she was afraid he’d flush where she couldn’t see it.

In early August, Qi Yu invited her again.

This time it wasn’t to go anywhere fun — just to meet briefly at a bookshop selling study materials. Qi Yu handed her a heavy box and explained it was a birthday present.

“The National Mathematics League is in September, so I’m planning to attend a summer training camp. I’ll be out of the city for all of August and will miss your birthday, so I wanted to give you the gift early.”

“Thank you.” Li Kuiyi accepted the present, then thought for a moment. “How did you know my birthday is in August?”

Qi Yu was a little embarrassed: “At my birthday party — when we were at the KTV — Xia Leyi was showing everyone star charts, remember? I… I just remembered it.”

“I see.” Li Kuiyi gave a small nod.

That feeling grew stronger. She thought: Qi Yu doesn’t like her too, does he? Why else would he remember her birthday? As a counterexample — Gao Guang had also been part of the star chart activity that evening, and she had completely forgotten his birthday.

“I wish you an early happy birthday.”

Li Kuiyi thanked him again. She thought about asking whether he knew where He Youyuan had gone — but then thought better of it. If Qi Yu also liked her, how unbearably awkward would that make the situation?

Was she really that popular?

She couldn’t make sense of it.

On August seventeenth, Li Kuiyi was still at school for supplementary classes, the day passing as quietly as any other. But after the two evening self-study periods, Fang Zhixiao pulled Zhou Fanghua together for a small gathering of the three of them — they bought a cake and celebrated Li Kuiyi’s birthday at a hot pot restaurant.

The fact that Zhou Fanghua had used another student’s day-pass, at some personal risk, to get through the school gate moved Li Kuiyi almost to tears.

After the birthday celebration, they returned even later than usual after school, but Li Kuiyi was happy, carrying her received gifts and ambling slowly homeward. As she neared the entrance of her residential complex, she noticed a tall, slender male figure lingering by the gate. No matter how she looked at it, it looked like He Youyuan.

Why had he suddenly appeared again?

Just as Li Kuiyi snapped out of her daze, He Youyuan also spotted her. From a distance, their gazes collided without warning. She didn’t move; neither did he. After looking at each other quietly for a moment, she slowly walked toward him.

“Why are you just coming back now?” He spoke first, his tone gruff, though his voice carried a trace of something wounded.

“I went to celebrate my birthday with some friends,” Li Kuiyi said. “Did you wait long?”

He nodded obediently.

Though she already knew perfectly well why he was there, Li Kuiyi still asked: “What are you doing here?”

He Youyuan didn’t answer directly, and instead asked: “How come you haven’t asked me where I’ve been all this time?”

If you want to say it, then say it. Why make someone ask?

Li Kuiyi refused to coddle him, turned her face aside, and said: “Can’t you just tell me yourself?”

“Alright, I’ll let you know in advance from now on.”

That’s not what I meant…

I didn’t ask you to report your whereabouts to me…

Li Kuiyi bit her lip, and then heard him explain: “Our art studio organized an outdoor sketching trip for the summer. We went to Xidi and Hongcun first, then to the Taihang Mountains, and finally to Wuyuan.”

“Oh. That sounds wonderful.”

Li Kuiyi didn’t know what else to say, and could only respond with that. When he finished, silence fell again between them. She could hear only his soft, steady breathing. Instinctively, she looked up, and their eyes met once more — the black of his pupils was clear and transparent, her reflection burning inside them.

Her heart tightened. She looked back down and asked the same question again: “Why did you come?”

“I wanted to give you a birthday present.”

Li Kuiyi wondered whether she should even accept his gift. Since she had no intention of letting things develop between them, wasn’t it better to cut off all contact with him?

“You didn’t have to come all this way to give me a present,” she said quietly.

“But when it was my birthday, you came all this way to give me one.”

Li Kuiyi: “…”

Why did he make that sound so meaningful?

She quickly shook her head: “The reason I gave you a present was to thank you for giving up your seat for me.”

He Youyuan froze again.

Not because of his birthday? Only to thank him?

He was silent for a long time. Li Kuiyi looked up and saw that he had already turned his face away in indignation, his chest rising and falling, fists clenched tight at his sides — every bit of him radiating the energy of someone she owed a vast sum of money to.

He Youyuan, can you please stop getting angry all the time? At this rate, you might not live very long…

“Not only to thank you — also to celebrate your birthday…” Li Kuiyi tried to soften things, though her tone was not entirely convincing.

Still he said nothing, working through his feelings in silence for a long moment, before finally muttering: “You’re seriously going to be the death of me.”

Li Kuiyi pressed her lips together and said nothing.

After muttering that, he set his schoolbag down from his back, rummaged around inside, and produced a small box. Just as he stretched his hand out to pass it to her — he immediately pulled his hand back and hid it behind him.

“Did Qi Yu give you a birthday present?” he asked.

Why is everything always a competition with Qi Yu?

Li Kuiyi wanted to roll her eyes, managed not to, and gave a soft “mm.”

“What did he give you?”

She knew He Youyuan could be stubborn about things. He wouldn’t let this go tonight without an answer, so she didn’t bother to hide it: “A crystal ball — the kind with a music box inside.”

“Oh.” He started to smile.

Qi Yu’s gift isn’t as good as mine, he thought.

He didn’t actually mean to put his friend down, but a crystal ball music box was genuinely outdated. He remembered that when he was in primary school, giving those as gifts had been trendy — after that, no one had been interested in such things anymore.

Maybe that was what people called “the straight-guy gift instinct.”

As an art student, He Youyuan felt confident that his taste was a cut above his friends’. Zhang Chuang, for instance, only knew how to give his girlfriend those bouquets with a string of tiny lights wound around red roses — practically unwatchable. The one time He Youyuan would admit to having his own “straight-guy taste” was when he had seen Li Kuiyi in that white dress with the black mechanical watch, and thought she looked beautiful — exactly like what he imagined a first love would look like.

Speaking of the dress —

“How come you’re not wearing a dress today?” he asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

Li Kuiyi had no idea how his thoughts had jumped there: “Why would I be wearing a dress?”

“It’s your birthday — dresses look nice.”

Li Kuiyi was speechless: “I was at school. How would I wear a dress?”

“Oh.” He Youyuan conceded the point, scratched his hair, and launched the next round of stilted small talk: “So how old are you now?”

“…Sixteen.”

“What a coincidence — me too.”

“…Mm.”

After that exchange, they both fell quiet. Then He Youyuan finally remembered the gift, fished the box out, and held it out once more: “Happy birthday.”

Li Kuiyi accepted it.

If she didn’t, He Youyuan might actually die of anger on the spot.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” His tone held a thread of anticipation — he seemed very confident about what he’d sent.

He was, of course, very confident. His gift had been chosen specifically for her — that alone already put it miles ahead of Qi Yu’s. A crystal ball music box could be given to any girl, but his present could only be given to Li Kuiyi.

See? He had simply never been in a relationship before. If he ever were, he’d be a natural.

Following his eagerness, Li Kuiyi started unwrapping the box.

The box was remarkably light, making her wonder if there was anything in it at all. Inside the large box was a smaller one. She opened the smaller one and found something shaped like a test tube — and inside the test tube was something the size of a fingernail…

A what, exactly?

It was deep in the night; she couldn’t see clearly.

He Youyuan, noticing her struggle, pulled her toward a streetlamp.

“You can open the lid.”

Li Kuiyi did. She opened the test tube lid — and the thing inside it began, astonishingly, to move. The moment it reached the mouth of the tube, she finally saw clearly what it was —

A spider. Gray and white, fluffy, with large eyes.

Every hair on Li Kuiyi’s body stood on end. Her eyes went wide.

The next second, the spider leaped out of the tube and landed on her bare forearm.

“AHHH—”

Li Kuiyi’s heart stopped for a moment. The scream shattered the stillness of the night. In pure reflex, she flung her arm out violently, stomping her feet in rapid succession, desperate to get the spider off her body.

He Youyuan stood frozen in shock. When realization caught up to him, he moved quickly — he caught her forearm and lifted the small spider off. “It’s alright, it’s alright — the spider’s in my hand now.”

Li Kuiyi stilled, but her scalp was still crawling. Her legs had gone soft; she nearly lost her footing and had to steady herself against He Youyuan’s arm. The terror of feeling the spider on her had triggered actual tears — a purely physiological reaction — and she stood there, still shaking with the aftershock, crying in small, breathless hitches.

He Youyuan panicked. He put the spider back in the tube and held it up in front of her, speaking quickly: “His name is Lucas — do you recognize him?”

It could be called “Peking University Acceptance Letter” and it wouldn’t make a difference!

“It’s a jumping spider.” Seeing that she still didn’t seem to make the connection, He Youyuan reached around and grabbed her schoolbag. “Look — the plush hanging from your zipper and the one on your pencil case are both modeled after it. They’re identical, aren’t they?”

The only thing identical is how terrifying it is!

Watching Li Kuiyi continue to sob, unable to stop, He Youyuan finally realized he had made a catastrophic error.

Oh no. She… she wasn’t a fan of spiders, was she?