Ci Ye had grown out a bit, his childishness gradually fading. A pair of ink-black phoenix eyes, narrow and long—his expressionless face was truly quite intimidating.
Song Fu watched as Ci Ye rummaged on the desk for a long time before finally pulling out a nearly pristine test paper. She silently withdrew her gaze. Lately, things had been awkward between her and Ci Ye. They barely spoke at school anymore, and even during holidays at home, they rarely saw each other.
If she had to pinpoint a reason, it was probably because half a month earlier, Song Fu had been changing clothes in her room when Ci Ye barged in without knocking. He shouted that he saw nothing, slammed the door shut, and bolted.
Song Fu completely believed he truly saw nothing—if he had, his reaction wouldn’t have been like that. After all, she had a white camisole on underneath. Their school uniform followed a British style, and the white shirt as the top was too thin, so…
[Host, you don’t need to do anything next. Just wait for the female lead to become the new number one.]
‘Okay.’ Song Fu yawned, not turning her head again. She casually wrote the characters for “female lead” on a blank page.
The female lead, Zhu Chenxi, was the child the male lead’s mother had saved from in front of a car that year. At first, her attention toward the male lead stemmed purely from kindness and an incredibly complex guilt. A long time ago, at the funeral, that brief encounter made Zhu Chenxi painfully aware that she had caused a child to lose his mother.
That child was Ci Ye, and he therefore hated her.
This became a thorn in the side during the later interactions between the male and female leads—an abuse point, in the System’s words. Of course, once the truth came out later that the male lead’s mother had actually been suffering from cancer for a long time and was doomed to die soon anyway, this insurmountable hurdle would vanish on its own.
“This question—I checked all your answer sheets. Only three people in the class got it right.” The homeroom teacher smacked the desk twice. “Come on, which three classmates? Raise your hands so everyone can see.”
Though she had zoned out, Song Fu got the multiple-choice questions all correct, so she didn’t need to overthink it and simply raised her hand.
The homeroom teacher had the three lower their hands. “Was this question that hard? Even Ci Ye got it right. Come on, Ci Ye, tell everyone your thought process.”
Ci Ye stood up and straightened his paper with exaggerated seriousness. “…When in doubt, just pick C?”
The homeroom teacher rubbed his temples. “Sit back down.” It had been his mistake to hold out hope. “Such an obvious trap, and none of you spotted it? Now read the question stem three times!” Spittle flew everywhere as the homeroom teacher ranted. The front-row students ducked their heads in unison, trying to evade the spray.
[Host, isn’t repeating school all over again super boring?]
The System occasionally chatted with Song Fu like this. [I’ve heard some hosts would rather go to an ancient setting and be palace maids than redo school. Tell me what kind of background you prefer—I can try to push for it in the next mission.]
It was holiday time. Song Fu had just returned from the teacher’s office, and few people remained in the class. She packed her bag simply. ‘It’s fine?’
‘Easier than back then.’ Song Fu lowered her eyelashes and added faintly.
All she had to do was study—nothing else. It was once exactly what she had dreamed of.
The System realized belatedly that its host rarely mentioned her past. Out of curiosity, it pressed: [Was life really tough for you before, Host?]
‘I had to do a ton of part-time jobs. I figured you knew everything.’ Song Fu had no intention of elaborating and changed the subject crisply. ‘That hero-saves-beauty plot is coming up today, right?’
[Yes.]
The female lead, who had just arrived at the new school, got targeted by some thugs on her first holiday—but luckily, the passing male lead saved her.
Meanwhile, outside the school, Zhu Chenxi had indeed run into trouble.
“You nearly broke my bones bumping into me, and you think a sorry lets you walk away?” The yellow-haired thug clutched his shoulder dramatically, his tone hostile.
Zhu Chenxi stepped back half a pace. “What do you want, then?” She frowned tightly; one thing needed correcting. “It wasn’t just me hitting you—I got hit too.”
“So what?” The yellow-haired guy sneered sarcastically. “You gonna turn the tables on me?”
He looked her up and down, his gaze finally landing on the school badge on her uniform. “All you kids from that school this unreasonable? I’ll tell you what—you’ve got two choices. One, pay up. Or two…” He paused, grinning sleazily as he reached out to grab Zhu Chenxi. “Come drink with big brother, and we’re square.”
His hand was just about to grab her wrist when his face deformed from the punch.
“Pretty tough, huh.” A boy with flamboyant red hair flexed his fist. “Never heard alcohol’s off-limits for minors?”
The punch left the yellow-haired thug dizzy, the taste of blood in his mouth. His face flushed red. Losing face in front of a girl was unbearable. “Mind your own business, punk—showing off? I’ll teach you a lesson today!” He swung his fist, landing it smoothly on the boy’s left cheek. The yellow-haired thug’s heart leaped with joy—then he was slammed to the ground.
The red-haired boy wiped his injured lip with his thumb, his long, powerful fingers clenching into a fist again. “Now it’s mutual assault. You get that?”
…
Three minutes later.
The yellow-haired thug, who had been smug moments ago, now huddled with his head in his arms, begging desperately. He yelled about calling the cops and threatened, “I’ll make sure you get a major demerit—no, expelled! Just wait!”
“Didn’t you hear what I said?”
Ci Ye narrowed his phoenix eyes and tapped his lip, repeating, “Mutual assault. And you’re the nasty adult against me, the poor student. Got it?”
Zhu Chenxi behind him raised her hand cooperatively. “I can vouch! I can vouch!”
Seeing he couldn’t win, the yellow-haired thug covered his face. He wanted to throw out a tough line before running, but eyed Ci Ye’s clenched fist, swallowed hard, and didn’t dare. He muttered curses under his breath. “What rotten luck!”
Wasn’t she the one with rotten luck? Zhu Chenxi rolled her eyes at the thug’s retreating back and hurried to thank Ci Ye. “Deskmate, you’re actually a pretty good guy.”
Ci Ye, who had walked two steps away, paused and turned back. He stared at Zhu Chenxi’s face for two seconds, as if only then realizing. “Oh, transfer student.”
Zhu Chenxi was stunned for a moment and reminded him, “We’ve been sitting together for a week.”
“So?” Ci Ye drawled indifferently.
It left Zhu Chenxi speechless. Was she actually that forgettable? “Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks.”
Ci Ye grunted an “Mm” and turned to leave.
Zhu Chenxi hadn’t finished. “Let me buy you milk tea or…”
He stopped but didn’t turn to look at her. Instead, he unzipped his bag, pulled out a mask, put it on, and left even faster—stopping only at the supermarket across the street.
He stood in front of a pretty girl in the same school uniform.
The kind of pretty that stood out from everyone else, impossible to forget. Zhu Chenxi remembered her name—
Song Fu, now the top student in the whole school.
She sat in the core good-student zone of Class A, far from Ci Ye. Zhu Chenxi had thought the two had zero interaction.
But now, that assumption seemed wrong.
…
The person being watched, Song Fu, had just come out of the supermarket across from school. She had only meant to buy some pen refills, but after wandering inside, she also picked up a claw clip and two hair ties. She and the System had debated forever which was prettier with no conclusion—then she ran into Ci Ye.
“Why the mask all of a sudden?” Song Fu lifted her eyelashes, puzzled.
Ci Ye pulled the mask up higher, mumbling, “Just… felt like it.” That hit to his lip was definitely visible. Song Fu always got annoyed seeing him fight. She wouldn’t lecture him at length, but she’d go with out of sight, out of mind and just stop talking to him.
Ci Ye’s gaze fell on the claw clip in Song Fu’s hand. “New?”
Song Fu hummed an “Mm” and showed off the hair tie on her wrist. “Pretty, right?”
“Pretty.”
“Which one’s prettier?”
To Ci Ye, they looked pretty much the same—just hair ties of the same style in different colors. Much difference? But the one asking seemed so serious that he found himself hesitating, pondering for a bit before picking one. “This one.”
“I thought so too.” Song Fu’s debate with the System ended with majority rule.
Ci Ye smiled too, half a step behind. “When we get back, want me to tie your hair?”
“No.”
Monday morning after the holiday ended.
Zhu Chenxi, unfamiliar with the route, arrived late. The other students had already started morning reading. She had just sat down when she glimpsed the black hair tie newly added to a certain someone’s wrist.
“So you two really are dating?”
Borrowing the cover of the reading voices, she boldly asked the question.
“What?” Ci Ye asked, confused.
Had she gotten it wrong? Zhu Chenxi uncertainly pointed at the hair tie, then shot a glance toward Song Fu’s direction. “Isn’t it hers?”
Ci Ye: “…And just because of that, you assume we’re dating?” His tone was utterly incredulous, as if baffled by what went on in her head. “Maybe puppy love was common at your old school, but not here. Song Fu and I aren’t.”
“The last kid who dated got hauled to the director, parents called, and made to do a self-criticism in front of the whole school. It’s seriously disruptive to studies.”
Ci Ye paused. “I’m just wearing it casually. Don’t spread nonsense.”
Zhu Chenxi stared at his reddening ears and fell silent for a moment.
Fine, if Ci Ye said no, then no. “Fair enough.”
“What do you mean ‘fair enough’?”
Ci Ye didn’t know why those simple words irked him, his face sour.
“You two just don’t seem that… close?” Under the death glare from beside her, Zhu Chenxi urgently swapped the last word from “compatible” to something safer.
But it didn’t seem to help much.
Ci Ye pressed his lips together, turned his head aside with an expression like her eyesight sucked.
Zhu Chenxi had a pretty good idea now.
Her deskmate had just spouted a bunch of righteous nonsense about disrupting studies. Anyone hearing it would think the class’s last-place student had been swapped out. But to refute it all, one sentence would’ve sufficed: I don’t like her.
But he hadn’t said it.
How interesting.
Was there room for her to help out here?