Zhu Chenxi found it strange. She did not think she had done anything particularly flirtatious, right?
Feelings that fell into the category of puppy love were all fragile enough to shatter at the slightest touch. That was why people obsessed over who talked to whom or who glanced at whom a bit too long. She had learned that lesson back in middle school, when she inexplicably ended up cast as the “third wheel,” enduring indirect insults she could not refute.
Heaven knew, she had only been paired with that boy for a two-legged race by chance.
Zhu Chenxi twirled her pen cap and hesitated. “Really no need? Or should I just say I had a white moonlight-style crush from my previous school? No one would check anyway.”
She thought her suggestion was pretty good, but Ci Ye rejected it without a second thought. “Absolutely not.”
“Just focus on your studies like before. That’s enough.”
For the first time, Ci Ye was grateful for the strict and old-fashioned atmosphere at their school. Even dyeing one’s hair was treated like committing a grave sin, and puppy love was even rarer. Overt public pursuits, if caught by a teacher, would lead to parents being called and public self-criticisms… Of course, he and Song Fu were exceptions. Their engagement had parental approval, but dating was another matter entirely.
Song Fu had refused to date him.
Woo.
However, some actions that seemed to hint at budding romance were equally worth watching out for—like right now—
“Zhu Chenxi, did you get this math problem right?” A boy walked over with his test paper and pen, a bit embarrassed as he asked, “I’ve looked at the answer a few times but still don’t get it. Can you explain the thought process?”
Zhu Chenxi nodded readily and took the paper. “Sure. Where exactly didn’t you understand?”
“Right here. How did this value for p come out of nowhere?” The boy pointed to a line in the answers and scratched his head.
“The answer skipped a step. It actually substitutes into this formula.” Zhu Chenxi pulled out her own answer sheet to show him. “And there’s a condition here—did you miss it?”
As the two discussed the problem, their heads unconsciously drew closer together. Ci Ye watched with furrowed brows. What if Song Fu misunderstood and thought they got along too well?
The boy finally understood the mistake and let out a breath of relief. When he looked up, he met the gaze of Ci Ye, who stood nearby with arms crossed. “…” He was not sure if it was an illusion or his own preconceived notions, but Ci Ye with his hair back to black looked even more unapproachable than before. There was no trace of vibrant color left, only a heavy gloom.
“Th-thanks.” The boy thanked him stiffly and slipped away without looking back.
Had he disturbed Ci Ye’s nap by asking questions?
The more the boy thought about it, the more he believed that was the case. He had another question he did not understand but did not dare ask Zhu Chenxi anymore. Back at his seat, he hesitated and turned to Song Fu instead.
No choice—this problem had only been solved correctly by two people in the class: Zhu Chenxi and Song Fu. He often suspected their brains were not the same species as everyone else’s.
“Song Fu, I didn’t get this problem. Can I see your answer sheet?” The boy asked politely.
Song Fu was not hard to approach and handed over her answer sheet directly. She glanced at the problem. “This one mainly requires drawing the auxiliary line correctly.”
The boy nodded and leaned down to listen to the explanation. Out of the corner of his eye, he inadvertently caught sight of something and turned to meet Ci Ye’s gaze again—the same displeased stare: “…” Could the truth be that he had offended him without realizing? He felt so miserable, so wronged.
Would he get ambushed on the way home from break, stuffed in a sack and beaten? Ci Ye looked like the type who would do that.
Song Fu briskly explained the thought process on her end. “Got it?”
The boy looked confused. “Probably.”
It was clear he had not understood, so Song Fu patiently explained it again with good temper. She noticed Ci Ye’s hard-to-ignore gaze. “…Or maybe it’s aimed at me?”
Really? The boy did not think so.
Ci Ye on the other side was extremely displeased, but he knew the boy was just normally asking for study help. Still, did this guy have no sense of boundaries? Did explaining a problem really require getting that close? He could hear just fine from farther away.
The homeroom teacher was not very satisfied with the freshly released weekly exam results. He scribbled on the score sheet for a while and printed out a table.
When he came to the class, he first critiqued the students’ study attitudes. “Impetuous, too impetuous. Just two days off, and you all forgot your own names. High school third-years are just days away from the College Entrance Exam. After they leave, you’ll have to treat yourselves like high school third-years. Get serious.”
The homeroom teacher knocked on the desk, spittle flying as he spoke at length before finally getting to the point. He handed the table to the class monitor to distribute. “You have twenty minutes. Think about which university you want to attend in the future, what major you want to study, and whether your current scores can actually get you there.”
Given twenty minutes, Song Fu only used three. She filled it out and set it aside to keep doing problems.
Ci Ye did not take much time either. With his current scores, he had few options. He filled it out casually to complete the task. He noticed Song Fu had finished early and was not surprised—her scores spoke for themselves. She could just put the best school and pick a major she liked.
He even guessed what major Song Fu might like but could not narrow it down. It was not until the homeroom teacher compiled everyone’s target schools and majors during evening self-study that he got the answer.
“Architecture major.”
From a general perspective, this major did not seem particularly suited for girls.
The homeroom teacher asked Song Fu to explain her reason. She said she liked warm, beautiful houses.
Ci Ye knew that.
The houses Song Fu liked had to be bright, preferably with large floor-to-ceiling windows and a pretty balcony for growing flowers and plants. But Song Fu was not actually good at taking care of flowers and plants—even the extremely resilient succulents often died under her care.
…
[Host, I remember your major in the original world was not this, but—]
‘Finance.’ Song Fu helpfully completed it. ‘That wasn’t what I liked.’
She did not know what other taskers thought, but for her, in this task world, she lived the life she had once idealized. So she wanted to cherish it, do what she loved. She wanted to design houses she liked with her own hands—houses others would like too.
The System could not quite understand this sentiment. It simply thought that sticking to her previous major would make exams easier to handle.
But now there was a problem that might or might not be serious. [The male lead’s target school is not the same as the female lead’s.] According to the plot, they should go to the same one, but since the male lead had already confessed to the host, it seemed natural.
Their relationship had not developed yet.
They would have to wait a bit longer.
At least—at least the plot point where the male lead started studying hard and improved his scores had not changed.
Ci Ye had started studying, and the students in Class A had mostly noticed. They were simply a bit surprised but did not dwell on it. Similarly, Lu Qunwen, who had to patrol the self-study sessions as part of the student council, saw Ci Ye doing problems too. But he interpreted this behavior as mere three-minute enthusiasm born of boredom.
In the afternoon, Song Fu and Lu Qunwen left school together for the long-prepared competition.
Due to their interactions during the previous holiday, their relationship was not terribly bad, but it was hard to have a pleasant conversation. In the back seat of the car, each stared out one window, showing the other only the back of their head.
In the end, Lu Qunwen could not hold back first. He glanced once, then again, and broke the silence. “Nervous?”
“Not really.” Song Fu responded.
Lu Qunwen was the type who never learned his lesson. Seeing Song Fu still willing to reply, he could not resist bringing up Ci Ye again. “If he could really change, he would have done it long ago. He won’t stick with it like this for long.”
The topic shifted too abruptly and leaped too far. Song Fu took a moment to react and realize the “he” referred to Ci Ye.
She helplessly pursed her rosy lips. “I don’t think so.”
Lu Qunwen wanted to say more but worried about annoying her again. He frowned and shut his mouth.
…
Song Fu had just expressed her trust when she returned from the competition to face a “slap in the face”—
During class time, Ci Ye was not at his seat.
Her deskmate noticed Song Fu’s gaze and hesitantly shared what she had just heard. “Ci Ye seems to have hit someone again. It was the class committee member from the next class over. He beat him until his nose bled nonstop. I think he’s at the hospital now.”
Song Fu was stunned. “Do you know why?”
“Someone overheard the homeroom teacher talking to Ci Ye in the office. Apparently, it was because he didn’t like the look of him.” The reason sounded utterly unreasonable, extremely malicious, pure hooliganism, so her deskmate did not say it too confidently. “Didn’t he hit someone before without any reason too?”
Song Fu blurted out, “Ci Ye wouldn’t hit someone for no reason.”
The obvious defense and trust.
Her deskmate had not expected to be contradicted. She paused, then gave an awkward “oh.” “…Sorry.”
Song Fu noticed and responded. “I’m not angry at your words, and I don’t blame you.” She just felt something was off.
The class committee member from next door was publicly known to be easygoing, good at studies, and not bad-looking. Song Fu remembered him—he was Lu Qunwen’s friend and had given her an apple at Christmas.
Was there a plot point like this?
[No.]
The main person involved was not in the classroom, so she could not ask for the real story. The others had class to attend.
Song Fu spun the pen in her hand and stared at the black words on white paper, but she did not read a single character. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the class monitor collecting practice homework. “Um, can I take this to the teacher’s office?”
“Sure.” The class monitor handed the homework to Song Fu readily, then hesitated. “Can you carry it all by yourself?”
“Yes.”
Song Fu thanked her, which gave her a reason to go to the teacher’s office.