Before Ci Ye was called to the office for a talk, he held the weekly test paper, still brooding over being called a dummy, and slumped depressed over his desk.
The phone hidden in his desk drawer lit up. It was a message from a junior high friend who had also entered the same high school. The first line congratulated him on getting what he wished for, and the second asked if something had gone wrong at Song Fu’s house.
Ci Ye read it and felt a surge of anger.
What did that mean?
Just then, as he looked at his phone, Song Fu stood beside him. “The homeroom teacher wants you to chat with him in his office.”
Ci Ye was so startled that he nearly dropped his phone. He looked up, and their eyes met. For some reason, he felt a pang of guilt over not focusing on proper studies. He wanted to make an excuse, but Song Fu had already walked away indifferently. His just-opened mouth had to close again.
In the office, he stared at the balding homeroom teacher for three minutes.
The teacher finally sighed and spoke. “What’s really going on with you two?” He did not quite understand the twists and turns of wealthy families, but since both were his students, he had to take responsibility. “Don’t you think you’re too young? Otherwise, maybe I should talk to your parents.”
It had nothing to do with the elders; Song Fu had brought it up. But Ci Ye did not say that. He just shook his head. “Call if you want. Only an assistant will come, and he can’t make decisions.”
The teacher sighed again.
Ci Ye could not completely ignore it. He pursed his thin lips repeatedly, then broke the silence with a mutter. “Is it that inappropriate?”
The teacher did not catch it. “What?”
Ci Ye shut his mouth again.
The teacher could only repeat what he had said to Song Fu, asking the two to keep a low profile. They absolutely could not do anything age-inappropriate. “Song Fu said you’re not dating, not puppy love, so I’ll believe it. Save anything else until after graduation. It’s just a year and a half. No one will care then.”
“Got it,” Ci Ye replied carelessly.
It did not look like he had taken it to heart.
They talked a few more minutes. Ci Ye left the teachers’ office building and ran into Lu Qunwen in the lobby on the first floor.
Lu Qunwen was the class monitor of neighboring Class B and also in the student council, so he often came and went from the office building. Ci Ye glanced at the test paper in his hand and looked away, too lazy to say more. They had little to do with each other.
Since Song Fu had taken the initiative to get engaged to him, she could not possibly like Lu Qunwen. Once he reached that conclusion, Lu Qunwen seemed a lot less annoying.
Ci Ye felt relieved, but Lu Qunwen’s mood was the complete opposite.
Lu Qunwen had always had a poor impression of Ci Ye—the typical bad student look, just with a good family background and an extraordinary face. He knew plenty of girls secretly liked Ci Ye but did not dare show it because of his nasty personality. As for Song Fu—
That time in the library, Song Fu had been firm, while Ci Ye seemed subtly aggrieved. The intimacy between them was impossible to hide.
“You two are completely mismatched.”
Hearing that, Ci Ye’s stepping foot came back down. He turned his head to the mood-ruiner, his stiff eyelashes casting shadows in his eyes. He repeated, “Mismatched?”
Seized by hot-blooded impulse over losing the girl he loved, Lu Qunwen clenched his fists. “Your grades are so bad.” His family had always put grades above all else. Their motto, besides studying hard, was to avoid bad students—people doomed to be society’s burdens.
Ci Ye could deny other things, but bad grades were fact. “Just because of that?”
That retort sounded utterly arrogant and indifferent to Lu Qunwen. His lips trembled with anger. “You’re just…”
“Class is about to start. What are you arguing about here?” The grade director, heading downstairs for class, interrupted their standoff. His brows furrowed into a river character. “Is the office building for fighting?”
Lu Qunwen immediately admitted his mistake and apologized.
The conflict was not Ci Ye’s doing, so he turned and left.
Back in the classroom, he stood before the bulletin board and looked at the previous monthly exam scores. Only then did he belatedly realize that, in others’ eyes, the most mismatched thing between him and Song Fu was their grades.
On the scoresheet in black and white, Song Fu was at the top, he was at the bottom—a huge gap.
Fine. It was just about improving grades, right?
…
Song Fu noticed Ci Ye but did not linger her gaze.
Her engagement task was complete. Next, she had little to do except occasionally make intimate gestures toward Ci Ye on purpose, to provoke Zhu Chenxi.
Most of the plot revolved around the main couple’s interactions.
The female lead, who loved studying, could not stand the male lead sleeping in class and ranking dead last. So she found ways to make him study. By chance, their homeroom teacher formed a study partner group, pairing the top student with the bottom one. Their interactions deepened until a parent-teacher conference.
Song Fu propped her cheek on her hand and doodled a little star on a blank page of her notebook—a reward for herself.
Her deskmate sighed beside her, unable to sit still with the problems. “How did this happen?”
Song Fu twirled her pen. “How what?”
The deskmate glanced around and lowered her voice. “Weren’t you hanging out with Lu Qunwen over break? I thought you two would have a story.” Now her ship had sunk. It hurt too much.
Song Fu corrected her. “Not hanging out. Studying together.”
The deskmate saw little difference.
There was PE class that afternoon.
After the class ran two laps together, the teacher let them do free activities. The boys immediately pulled out their basketballs, divided into teams simply, and started playing. The girls found their own fun—badminton, ping-pong, whatever. Song Fu was not among them.
She turned down her friend’s invitation for ping-pong and found a shady spot to watch Ci Ye play basketball.
Ci Ye always looked listless and unapproachable cooped up in the classroom, but once he touched the ball, he transformed. No one was more energetic. He jumped high again and again, breaking through blocking walls. His flamboyant red hair drew everyone’s eyes, like a leaping flame. Tall with long legs, he was a sight to behold on the court.
Even Song Fu, who did not know the rules, could see how good he was.
“Ci Ye jumps so high,” her deskmate, sitting with her, marveled. She could not criticize anymore and just wondered, “Why doesn’t he join the school basketball team? Playing matches would be better than rotting in class, right?”
Song Fu explained, “He fits, but he does not particularly like it. Just kills time.”
The deskmate caught the familiarity in her words. She kept watching the court and casually followed up. “So what does he like?”
The whistle blew just then, drowning her question. The deskmate did not bother repeating it. She looked down and idly picked at the grass on the court.
Song Fu waved at Ci Ye.
Ci Ye, who had been talking expressionlessly to someone, came right over and squatted down. His lips and phoenix eyes curved. “Did you see that dunk I did?”
“Both eyes saw it. Very impressive.”
Song Fu was generous with praise and handed him her water. “I haven’t drunk from it.”
Ci Ye thought the last bit unnecessary and pursed his lips. “I don’t care.”
Her deskmate stopped picking grass, eyes widening in disbelief.
If she remembered right, someone once accidentally took Ci Ye’s water cup and drank from it. He threw the cup away. Another time, someone wore his uniform jacket by mistake, and he bought a new one right away… looking extremely annoyed. Now he said he did not care?
The deskmate had thought their engagement was just a cold business merger, but now it did not seem so.
What did Ci Ye like?
The answer seemed to be Song Fu.
Song Fu herself was talking to the System.
[Nothing particularly off, but everything feels wrong.]
[The issue is not you. It’s Ci Ye’s reaction. He should be annoyed and exasperated with you, not…] like a puppy that had run itself out, rushing over eagerly at a beckon.
The System hesitated, feeling complicated for the first time.
Song Fu sensed trouble, as if foreseeing the sad end of task failure. ‘Is my relationship with Ci Ye too good?’
The System sorted through the remaining plot. [As long as the main couple’s feelings heat up smoothly, it should not affect your divorce plot. Let’s see if the male lead’s grades improve next… maybe?]
Mid-game break ended. Song Fu’s lap now held Ci Ye’s jacket.
The classmates on the opposing team all looked ashen-faced.
Because Song Fu was watching?
Today’s intensity was extra high. Ci Ye’s flashy trick shots were plentiful. Toying with them was effortless, no different from teasing a dog.
The boys in their class who secretly liked Song Fu numbered more than one hand could count. This game, they went all out to show Ci Ye up, take him down a peg. But they failed to land a hit and exhausted themselves instead.
What a peacock fanning its tail. Everyone grumbled inwardly.
High school schedules were packed tight, with scant entertainment. Even teachers pretended not to gossip, but they did. Their eyes darted between Song Fu and Ci Ye.
One glance, and they spotted the rare sight: Ci Ye actually paying attention in class.
“Please have student number 34 answer my question.” The chemistry teacher tapped the desk, calling up an obviously distracted student.
The student stood with drooping head, mumbling forever without saying anything coherent.
“You don’t even know where I was in the lesson, do you?” The teacher, disappointed like iron that would not become steel, knocked the desk twice more. “Come on, Ci Ye. Tell him where the teacher left off.”
Ci Ye, head aching from the heavenly text, hesitated at his sudden naming. “Page 143 diagram.”
“Very good. Spot on.” The teacher praised generously. “Ci Ye, sit down.”
Ci Ye sat, unmoved, and continued listening expressionlessly to the heavenly text.
Not great. With such a poor foundation, raising grades just by listening in class was next to impossible.