Song Fu had no intention of tattling. She shook her head and went to practice the piano as originally planned. Compared to learning those elementary school basics she already knew, practicing the piano was far more refreshing for her spirits.
Song Fu had been annoyed for just a moment, and the matter was already behind her. But it was different for Ci Ye. He didn’t come to the Song Family to play for two whole days straight, which prompted the System to sigh: [Are kids’ friendships this fragile?]
[But that’s fine too. In the original plot, your relationship with the male lead was pretty average anyway.]
Song Fu let out a “Mm” and tidied up the desk. She pondered picking a potted flower from the yard to place there—it would probably make things more pleasing to the eye. But just as she reached the backyard, she spotted Ci Ye sitting on a small stool across the black fence through the gaps. Their eyes met.
Song Fu looked away first—
“Were you fighting?” It was the deep voice of an adult male—Ci Ye’s father, who happened to be standing near the pillar, so Song Fu hadn’t noticed him right away.
Song Fu still had no plans to tattle. “No…” She hadn’t even gotten the “yes” out when Ci Ye’s louder agreement rang out.
“We fought!”
Song Fu: “……”
Father Ci asked again, “What over?” Even if Ci Ye denied it, he could tell—the kids’ moods were written all over their faces.
Ci Ye lowered his head and stared at his toes, but his volume didn’t drop. “Because I pulled her hair and hurt her, and I haven’t apologized yet.”
Song Fu picked up a nearby potted flower, realized she’d overestimated her strength, and quietly set it back down. She didn’t join the conversation because she couldn’t quite figure out what Ci Ye was thinking. Had he run out of mischief to cause lately, so he was airing his own dirty laundry here? Father Ci was irresponsible too—he only paid attention to his son when Ci Ye got into trouble.
“Why haven’t you apologized? Go apologize to your little sister.”
Almost the instant Father Ci’s last word landed, Ci Ye’s “sorry” came out. He stood on the other side of the fence, looking at her eagerly. “Sorry, don’t be mad at me.” The kid bit his lip, his face scrunched up like he was about to cry.
Song Fu gave him a smile. “It’s fine.”
Little Bean immediately heaved a sigh of relief. He gripped the fence, his eyes sparkling. “You want to move a flower pot? I’ll help you.”
Father Ci didn’t linger long. He was very busy and only showed a flicker of surprise at Ci Ye’s quick admission of fault before his thoughts returned to work.
He’d even only realized Ci Ye should be in kindergarten because of a reminder from his assistant—what came next was another headache. But as a businessman, Father Ci’s mind was sharp. “Pick one like the Song Family’s. The kids are the same age—best if they’re in the same class too.” The Song Family treated their daughter like a little treasure, so whatever they chose had to be the best.
……
“Fu Fu and Little Ye are going to school together, so you two have to look out for each other, got it?”
In September, Song Fu and Ci Ye headed to kindergarten together. Mother Song, who had driven them, held both kids’ hands and gave them a long list of instructions. She seemed even more nervous than the children and stood there watching until they were out of sight before getting back in the car.
Seats weren’t assigned at the start of kindergarten, so Song Fu and Ci Ye, who had entered hand in hand, naturally sat together.
Kindergarten had just opened, so there were no real classes—just getting the kids familiar with each other and adjusting to the school environment. Song Fu had figured it’d be kids crying and fussing over missing home. But after the teacher took her to the bathroom and she came back, she saw Ci Ye fighting with a little fatty.
Logically, the chubby kid should have had the size advantage, but in reality, Ci Ye was the one pinning him down and beating on him.
Win or lose, the teacher got the biggest scare out of this “battle.” How had they started fighting in just that short time? If they got bumped or bruised and ran into unreasonable parents, she was done for.
The teacher hurriedly pulled the two on the ground apart. “Talk it out properly! Why are you fighting? What started this?”
Ci Ye puffed out his cheeks. “He grabbed my seat first.”
Little Fatty wouldn’t back down. “It wasn’t yours anyway!” Snot and tears streamed down his face. “I’m telling my dad you hit me!”
“You pushed me first!” Ci Ye shot back, unhappy.
Chaos reigned as Little Fatty wailed like a banshee. He insisted the teacher call his dad to complain, and since she’d worried about injuries anyway, she actually called both families to report the situation.
About half an hour later, Little Fatty’s dad—Big Fatty—showed up. For Ci Ye, it was Father Ci’s assistant in a black suit. After a brief chat, Little Fatty hugged the desk and whined stubbornly, “I wanna sit here!”
Song Fu took one look. Wasn’t that her seat?
“No, this is my seat.”
Song Fu put on a stern little face and joined in.
“W-Well, then I want this one!” Little Fatty blinked, face turning red, and shifted one seat to the right.
Ci Ye was even more displeased. “That’s my seat.”
Little Fatty pretended not to hear. His dad doted on him too and rubbed his hands, negotiating with Father Ci’s assistant. “How about letting him have it, considering my boy got beat up?”
Father Ci himself might have agreed, but the assistant was just an employee—who’d let the boss’s son take a loss? He refused outright, discussed with the teacher, and added a seat to Song Fu’s left. “Same thing.”
Little Fatty grudgingly accepted.
He couldn’t get his favorite spot, but sitting next to a pretty little girl wasn’t bad.
Still, his relationship with Ci Ye stayed bad.
This “bad blood” lasted all the way until fourth grade before it started to change a bit.
By fourth grade, kids were starting to care about face. They hadn’t grown tall yet, but their mouths were already gossiping about who liked who and who was a couple with who. Little Fatty hated the teasing, and seeing Song Fu and Ci Ye always going to and from school together, he knew the score… Whenever rumors flew, it was always Song Fu and Ci Ye as the pair—nothing to do with him.
Song Fu had overheard it a couple times and denied it seriously, but as long as she kept going to and from school with Ci Ye, the rumors wouldn’t stop.
By middle school, Song Fu simply applied to board at school.
She couldn’t pinpoint when it started, but they began pretending not to know each other at school—not exchanging a single word—even though they’d play with the dog together at home.
Song Fu really didn’t like watching Ci Ye fight. To put it bluntly, even a dog you’d lived with for ten years would earn some affection, let alone a person. Every time she saw him hurt, it made her uncomfortable, but she had no standing to intervene.
Fortunately, by middle school, fewer people dared to fight Ci Ye. One reason was his height and build—they couldn’t win. The other was his family background; the boys gradually realized he was someone they shouldn’t mess with, someone they couldn’t afford to.
“Hey, today’s Valentine’s Day, you know?” A girl’s eyes sparkled with gossip. “The class rep’s boyfriend from the next class over gave her a rose and a big bag of snacks.”
During PE class free time, the girls clustered together chatting.
“What’s there to talk about with couples who’re already dating? Bet someone confesses today, you believe me?” A boy scoffed, smugly sharing his scoop. “They might even end up together.”
It was hot out, and the boys were too lazy to move, huddling to chat about random stuff. “Like our class rep and Song Fu…”
“Who?!” The teen with stern features paused his mechanical dribbling at those two names and pressed, “Who with who?”
The first boy grinned. “Class rep and Song Fu. This morning I went to the convenience store across the street to pick up a delivery and ran into the class rep. Guess what he bought?” He teased with a grin. “Chocolate and flowers—who do you think he likes? Anyone with eyes can tell.”
“Aren’t they off getting called by the homeroom teacher to grade papers right now? Perfect chance for the two of them alone in the classroom to confess.”
Everyone nodded. “Their grades are top-notch, they look great together—total golden boy and jade girl vibes. Pretty compatible…”
“Compatible my ass.”
Ci Ye’s face darkened, tone hostile.
The rebuked boy hadn’t even reacted when Ci Ye stood up and headed straight for the PE teacher.
“I feel sick, dizzy and nauseous. Can I go back to the classroom?” The teen lied without batting an eye.
The group stared at his back in silence for a moment. “So… does that mean Ci Ye likes Song Fu too?”
“Who wouldn’t like Song Fu?” another boy sighed.
……
Meanwhile, on the other side, Song Fu mechanically graded papers. She flipped to one that was mostly blank, with just a few scribbles—very “easy” on the eyes.
[Classic male lead work.]
Yeah, no name needed to tell.
She gave credit for the two five-point fill-ins and scraped some points for the steps on the first and second big questions. Song Fu shook her head and wrote “15” in red pen on the blank middle space.
“Song Fu, I’m done. You?”
“Me too. Let’s leave them here and go.” The homeroom teacher had classes in the next building and wasn’t watching from the office.
Back in the classroom, Song Fu’s butt had barely touched her stool when the class rep stood next to her, hands behind his back.
The class rep closed his eyes and held out the chocolate and flowers together, his nervous fingers trembling. “Song Fu, I like you. Wanna be with me?”
Song Fu had plenty of confession experience, but that didn’t stop her from agonizing over how to respond politely.
This brief hesitation looked like agreement to onlookers—
“Watch it, or I’ll tattle!” Ci Ye must have run back—sweat beaded on his forehead, face flushed, breath uneven as he issued the warning first.
He strode to Song Fu, glanced at the panicked class rep, knuckles rapping the desk. His gaze returned to the expressionless girl’s face. “I’ll tell not just the teachers, but your mom too.”
Song Fu rubbed her forehead. “Did I say yes?”
She shook her head at the class rep. “Sorry, my energy’s all on studying. Pretend I didn’t hear what you said today. Ci Ye, you pretend too, got it?”
Ci Ye tsked, neither agreeing nor refusing. “Look at how he panicked when I said I’d tell the teacher—totally unreliable.”
Class rep: “I didn’t.”
Song Fu twirled her pen and smiled. “On this monthly exam, math without multiple choice—you got fifteen points. Self-evaluate?”
Ci Ye wasn’t ashamed at all. He smirked, arm propped on Song Fu’s book. “Not bad, tons of room for improvement.”
The class rep returned to his seat. As he turned, his eyes met Ci Ye’s, and that smile felt a bit like showing off.