Song Fu spun the pen in her hand once and replied below that line of text: Early love is no good.
Her deskmate stared at those simple five words for a good five seconds, speechless. It probably meant there was still no chance, right? A bit of a shame—she had thought that Lu Qunwen next door might have another shot, and the CP she shipped was about to reignite from the ashes.
But Song Fu having no ideas was one thing; whether others would take action was another.
Just like how the engagement news had spread before, this latest gossip about the engagement being called off also spread like wildfire. Within the ten-minute break, it went from one to ten to a hundred, and in just one short day, even their class teacher had heard this bit of insider info.
The class teacher took a sip from his cup, spat the tea leaves into the trash, and wondered if it was the parent-teacher conference talk that had worked. Whatever the reason, it was undoubtedly a good thing.
…
It was not until the afternoon class in Class A, when he saw Ci Ye’s dark expression in the back row, that the class teacher realized his assumption had been wrong.
In terms of emotional impact, the engagement mattered less to Song Fu than not getting first place in the whole school. But for Ci Ye on the other side, his mood swings were visible to the naked eye—look at that foolish look on his face now that his “wife” had run off.
Time to rally his enthusiasm again.
The class teacher knocked his desk twice with the blackboard eraser to draw everyone’s attention. “Some of you have been waiting a long time, thinking your teacher here is just a big talker who promised medals to the top-improving groups but hasn’t delivered so much as a single hair, right?”
He grinned and plunked a big box onto the desk. “Inside here are little desk lamps, scarves, pens, stuffed toys, and the like. The students with the biggest improvements, come up one by one and pick.”
“Ci Ye made the most progress—you first.”
Plain to see, the best item in that whole big box was that little yellow duck desk lamp.
But when Ci Ye went up, he didn’t even glance at the lamp. He grabbed a box of pen refills and went back down.
Zhu Chenxi was in the same study group as Ci Ye, so she was next. Without hesitation, she took the little duck lamp and headed back. While others went up to pick, she asked Ci Ye about his logic for choosing prizes.
Ci Ye was annoyed that quite a few boys had come up to Song Fu during the break to ask this and that. “Just happened to need them.” He used to barely use pens—one had to last him a whole semester—but ever since he started studying, pens had become a scarce resource. He kept forgetting to buy more.
Besides, he had a little night light—Song Fu had given it to him.
That said, it really wasn’t petty of him; he just didn’t like others asking Song Fu even two questions. The key was how much more frequent it was compared to before.
And after the questions were done, what was the point of standing there without leaving?
Ci Ye’s thin lips pressed together slightly. His dyed-black hair lacked the natural sheen of real black hair, looking heavy and dark against his purely inky phoenix eyes. He let out a light hum.
Hmph.
Next step would probably be buying her a gift to “thank” her and pull closer under that pretense.
Zhu Chenxi, who had watched Ci Ye’s expression change: “…” That resentment was practically tangible—it really shattered her worldview. The next second, if Ci Ye pulled a voodoo doll out of his desk, she wouldn’t even be surprised.
Someone who cared so much about Song Fu had actually taken the initiative to cancel the engagement?
Receiving a gaze mixed with sympathy and curiosity, Ci Ye turned his head away, feeling baffled. “What are you staring at me for? Study.”
Zhu Chenxi was speechless.
Could she ask who was actually the good student between the two of them?
If she remembered right, this was the second time Ci Ye had told her to study properly, and each time it felt utterly sincere. Zhu Chenxi wasn’t the narcissistic type, so she didn’t think Ci Ye actually cared about her. His concern for her grades must indirectly affect Song Fu, right?
But like last time, Ci Ye should have wanted her to bomb the exam so Song Fu could take back first… Wait, no—in the last monthly exam, Song Fu had already gotten first.
Hold on!
In a flash of insight, Zhu Chenxi came up with a bold guess. Her almond eyes widened a full circle as she lowered her voice. “Does my performance have something to do with the engagement between you and Song Fu?” Otherwise, what a coincidence—Song Fu got first, and the engagement got canceled.
Ci Ye froze, his face giving everything away with a perfect “How did you know?” look. But his verbal response was flat denial: “You’ve got quite the imagination.”
Zhu Chenxi pressed on with her bold guess: “Did you two make a bet back then, that if someone beat Song Fu and became the new top student in the school, you’d get engaged?” The timing lined up. “And this time I didn’t beat her, so the engagement’s off? If I try harder and beat her again, can we re-engage?”
With that thought process, Ci Ye had no idea how she’d arrived at it. He almost thought she’d guessed the truth. He rubbed his temple. “First, no relation to the first question. Second, it’s not like ordering a cake—you can’t just keep reordering.”
Zhu Chenxi sighed in disappointment, not listening a word.
If she’d known her grades were tied to the happiness of her lifesaver’s son, she definitely would have tried harder!
“Don’t worry, I’ll give it my all in the finals,” Zhu Chenxi said, fired up. She decided to warm up by doing a few practice sets first.
True to her word, Zhu Chenxi never did things half-heartedly. When she said she’d try hard, she showed unprecedented effort—even in PE class, she specially brought her vocab book to the field to memorize words.
When she really couldn’t keep going, she’d glance at Ci Ye, then at Song Fu, steeling herself with the sense of responsibility that their happiness was tied to her. She pushed on.
But as Zhu Chenxi prepared a third glance for motivation, she noticed one of the parties involved walking toward her.
It was Song Fu, walking in the sunlight, so fair she dazzled the eyes.
She sat in the spot next to Zhu Chenxi.
Zhu Chenxi caught the fresh, elegant fragrance unique to beautiful women and didn’t know where to put her hands and feet.
Just being approached by a beauty was nerve-wracking enough, let alone one who seemed not so easy to get along with. Of course, “not easy to get along with” here didn’t mean harsh or arrogant, but a faint sense of distance—hard to approach was more accurate.
Zhu Chenxi cleared her throat. “Um…”
“Today’s weather seems a bit sunny, huh?”
Interrupted by a male voice, Zhu Chenxi pouted. Damn it, he’d stolen her line!
The boy who appeared in front of the two, hugging a basketball, grinned foolishly. His eyes never left Song Fu. “I’ve got a parasol—want to use it to block the sun?”
Song Fu lifted her lashes, confirmed the unfamiliar boy was indeed talking to her, then shook her head coolly. “Thanks, no need.”
The boy showed no sign of leaving. He even said he’d seen Song Fu’s grades and asked where she planned to go to university after this. “Who knows, we might end up in the same city. We could look out for each other then, right?”
Song Fu found his overly familiar attitude baffling and let out a soft “Ah?”
The boy rubbed the ball in his hands. “We’re from Class A in freshman year—you didn’t forget, did you?”
Song Fu made a recalling face and gave a polite dry laugh.
Zhu Chenxi felt it vicariously, embarrassed enough to want to crawl into a hole. She practically wanted to grab the boy by the collar and yell: In this situation, of course you should just say your name! Does she look like she’d remember?
Sure enough, even with the hint, Song Fu still couldn’t recall the boy’s name, though she vaguely recognized his face after the fact.
Zhu Chenxi couldn’t stand it anymore. “You’re Zhang Li, the math class rep from Class C, right?” Their class had PE at the same time as Class C. She’d gone to ask the math teacher a question before and happened to see the boy delivering homework, so she’d remembered.
Song Fu came to a sudden realization with an “Oh,” repeating: “Zhang Li.”
Zhu Chenxi knew that expression all too well.
Total blank—she was just powering through the pretense.
She realized Song Fu really couldn’t act.
Song Fu turned down the boy’s invitation to study together over the weekend and looked at Zhu Chenxi, blinking.
As if she’d made some huge decision in that moment? Zhu Chenxi wasn’t sure when the next second hit her with a question—
“Do you know what Ci Ye likes to eat and what he doesn’t?”
Whoa, was this something she should know? Zhu Chenxi was stunned and asked blankly in return: “Don’t you know? I don’t either.” Was it for cooking or gifting?
Song Fu restrained the urge to cover her face and stuck to the script stiffly. “He likes all sweet things and dislikes carrots and broccoli.”
Zhu Chenxi didn’t know how to respond properly: “Oh.” Not wanting to seem too curt, she added, “Lots of people don’t like those two.”
Song Fu let out a small “Mm” and sighed softly, feeling that heartbreaking sense of walking the plot alone.
This scene was supposed to be the scheming side character coming over relentlessly to provoke, trying to one-up with insider info only she knew, only for the heroine to clap back. Like with the food preferences—the heroine’s line should have been “I don’t know yet, but he knows what I like. Thanks for telling me,” turning it into a subtle burn. But now it was just commenting on picky eating.
Song Fu powered through, her pale pink fingertips absently picking at her sleeve. “Do you know how the scar on Ci Ye’s knee happened?”
Zhu Chenxi shook her head.
No idea—she didn’t even know Ci Ye had a scar on his knee.
But that wasn’t important now. What she really wanted to figure out was why Song Fu had come to tell her all this?
“He was learning rollerblading back then and dragged me along with him. I…”
And so, during the next twenty minutes of free activity, Zhu Chenxi passively listened for fifteen minutes to stories of Ci Ye’s past experiences and hobbies. The remaining five minutes were for her responses.
By the time class ended and they returned to the classroom, Zhu Chenxi finally got it.
This had to be what they called showing off affection, right?
Song Fu wasn’t actually aloof at all. She was even a bit silly, a little chatterbox. Once she started talking about Ci Ye, she couldn’t stop. “Kinda cute.”
Ci Ye had just come back from washing his face. “Who?”
“Song Fu.” Zhu Chenxi nodded emphatically, totally convinced. “She cares about you a lot.”
Ci Ye: ?