The wind across the open fields brushed against her still-warm face, and Jin Zhao felt she was truly clever to the core.

What kind of utterly ordinary little genius could be so calm and composed, tossing the awkwardness aside like that?

She gave another brief explanation for why only poisonous mushrooms were left now. With Meng Yanxi’s cool and detached temperament, at a moment like this he should have nodded and said goodbye, right?

Unexpectedly, today’s Meng Yanxi was very abnormal. He only fell silent for a moment, then continued walking forward. “Poisonous to what degree?”

Jin Zhao: “…?”

She suspected Meng Yanxi had already eaten poisonous mushrooms before coming.

Seeing that she hadn’t caught up, Meng Yanxi turned back. “I have a younger sister. When she’s annoying, she’s quite annoying. Are there any mushrooms suitable for her to eat?”

“…The toxicity can’t be guaranteed.” Under his gaze, she lifted her foot and followed after him.

Meng Yanxi: “Then forget it. I don’t want to poison her to death for now.”

He said forget it, but his steps didn’t stop. Jin Zhao suspected that his thought of poisoning his sister hadn’t been dispelled at all.

Meng Yanxi suddenly asked again, “Where do you usually dance?”

Jin Zhao: “…”

She didn’t know what was wrong with Meng Yanxi today. One moment he wanted to poison his sister, the next he was relentlessly trampling on her awkwardness.

“I don’t dance very often either. I was just now… cold.” Jin Zhao found an excuse against her conscience, and tactfully reminded him to turn the page and stop bringing it up. “Moved my limbs a bit, warmed up, but I’m not always this cold.”

Meng Yanxi glanced sideways at her. “I know. What I mean is, where did you learn to dance?”

Jin Zhao: “Jinghong Dance.”

Meng Yanxi finally didn’t pursue the question further and took his phone out of his pocket. Jin Zhao let out a breath of relief. Just as she was about to say then I’ll head back first, Meng Yanxi suddenly held the phone out in front of her.

“Which one?” Meng Yanxi asked.

Searching Jinghong Dance on the map brought up five in total.

Jin Zhao didn’t know where he got such strong execution ability from. Meng Yanxi explained, “My sister wants to learn.”

Jin Zhao leaned in, her fingertip sliding down the screen, pointing it out to him. “This one in Tingfeng Alley. The environment and the teachers are both very good, but I rarely go now.”

Meng Yanxi lowered his gaze, his line of sight falling on the girl’s black, soft hair.

“Why?” he asked.

Jin Zhao lifted her eyes, only to crash straight into his pitch-dark gaze. Her eyelashes fluttered rapidly once, and she looked away. After two seconds, she spoke softly, “Because I need to study.”

Meng Yanxi was quiet for a moment, then asked again, “Who is your teacher?”

Jin Zhao looked at him in confusion.

Meng Yanxi said, “Your teacher should be very good. I want my sister to study with her as well.”

At the mention of her dance teacher, Jin Zhao’s eyes sparkled. She spared no effort in her praise. “Teacher Yuyu is indeed excellent. She’s been on the Spring Festival Gala, and she’s especially patient. She’s very good at explaining those abstract emotions and movements in a concrete, clear way.”

“Yuyu?” Meng Yanxi looked at her. “The yu from fish soup?”

Jin Zhao: “……” How utterly unromantic.

“It’s the yu from Yu Meiren, the yu from Yu Ji,” she said.

Meng Yanxi nodded.

Then came a brief silence. He should be done with his questions.

Jin Zhao pointed behind her. “Then I…” I’ll head home first.

“Are there any other local specialties here?” Meng Yanxi continued asking.

Today’s Meng Yanxi was unusually talkative. Jin Zhao felt she must not be used to it, her mind a little dazed. “Huh?”

“Besides mushrooms, are there any other specialties?” Meng Yanxi said. “I want to bring some back for my sister.”

Jin Zhao had always been envious of Meng Yanxi’s sister, even though Meng Yanxi had just entertained the thought of poisoning her. Still, she could tell that he was only sharp-tongued; in truth, he was very protective of his sister. To ensure she could grow up carefree, he had stayed by her side to watch over her, even willing to give up a guaranteed admission to the best university.

He was a brother with a strong sense of responsibility.

Jin Zhao thought for a moment, then said, “The consecrated-goods exchange at Jinjue Temple has lots of bracelets, sachets, and cultural creative products. It’s quite famous.”

Meng Yanxi: “Anything else?”

“The rice wine here is also very well-known.”

“Mhm.”

“And wood, peachwood.”

“Mhm.”

“Rubus juice.”

“Mhm.”

Jin Zhao listed several more in one breath, but Meng Yanxi only responded in agreement, without showing any obvious interest.

The sky gradually darkened, the sunset leaving only its final trace of orange. The two walked side by side along the field ridges. The evening breeze was slow, their footsteps slow as well, and two slender shadows were stretched long.

“Oh, right,” Jin Zhao suddenly remembered something. Her eyes lit up as she lifted her face to look at the boy beside her. “Our painted clay figurines are very famous.”

Meng Yanxi: “Painted clay figurines?”

Jin Zhao smiled, revealing two small, white, pointed tiger teeth. “Yes, my grandpa is very good at—”

“Lingling.”

Someone not far away called her name, cutting off what she hadn’t finished saying. Jin Zhao turned her head.

In the countryside, relationships between people were closer than in the city. Those from the same village were usually related by blood or marriage to some degree, and even if not, there were frequent social exchanges. Jin Zhao couldn’t sort out the interpersonal relationships of her grandparents’ generation, but she could recognize several familiar faces.

She raised a smile and called out to the elderly woman walking toward her, “Grandma Zhang.”

The old woman was already over seventy this year, yet still very robust. With a full basket of grass on her back, she greeted Jin Zhao warmly in the local dialect, smiling all over her face. “Back for the New Year? Haven’t seen your family in such a long time!”

Jin Zhao also replied in the local dialect, “Yes, I came back for the New Year.”

“Your grandpa and grandma, your dad and mom, they all came back too, right?”

Jin Zhao said, “Grandpa and Grandma came back.”

As she spoke, Grandma Zhang had already walked up close, proactively taking Jin Zhao’s hand, her eyes full of affection. “What a good, obedient girl, oh—so pretty again.”

As she spoke, she began sizing up the young man beside Jin Zhao.

In small places, people marry early, especially in the countryside. Childhood sweethearts getting engaged at a young age are not uncommon. The older generation has seen it all and is even less reserved. After giving Meng Yanxi a once-over, she directly turned her head and asked Jin Zhao, “Is this your boyfriend? Bringing him home for the New Year?”

Jin Zhao was caught completely off guard, her face instantly flushing red. She glanced at Meng Yanxi in a panic and hurriedly denied it. “No, Grandma Zhang, don’t say things like that. I’m still studying. He’s just my classmate.”

“Oh, a classmate.” Grandma Zhang nodded, not finding her misunderstanding embarrassing at all. Instead, she generously offered a comment. “Your classmate is really handsome, just like a big star on TV—handsomer than those TV stars.”

With that, she walked off, smiling cheerfully.

Jin Zhao stiffened and said goodbye to her. Sensing Meng Yanxi’s gaze falling on her, she was immensely grateful that they had been speaking in dialect.

The Jinjue Town dialect was hard to understand—Meng Yanxi probably hadn’t understood it, right?

Jin Zhao stiffened again and turned back.

Meng Yanxi reminded her, “You were just talking about the painted clay figurines.”

So he really hadn’t understood. Jin Zhao quietly let out a breath of relief.

But Grandma Zhang’s words had been a lesson. Her face was still burning, how could she dare bring him home now?

She hastily found an excuse. “Mm, right. I was just going to say, painted clay figurines take quite a long time. If you like them, I can bring one to school for you when the next semester starts.”

It was just polite talk—Meng Yanxi didn’t seem like someone who would trouble others.

Unexpectedly, after a brief moment of thought, Meng Yanxi nodded directly. “Okay.”

Jin Zhao’s feelings were very complicated.

Later, as she watched Meng Yanxi’s back as he left, she couldn’t help thinking: just how many poisonous mushrooms had Meng Yanxi eaten before going out today?

The Meng family left Jinjue Temple on the third day of the New Year. Jin Zhao and her grandparents stayed in the countryside all the way through the Lantern Festival.

The affiliated high school started on the seventeenth day of the first lunar month. Jin Zhao and her grandparents returned to the city on the sixteenth.

When school started, it was already the second semester of senior year two. On the seventeenth, Jin Zhao brought Jinjue Town’s rubus juice for her deskmate and the students in front of and behind her. The deep purplish-red juice was poured into transparent glass bottles, tasting sweet and sour as it went down. Si Tian took one sip and was so moved she started crying out loudly, her confession to Jin Zhao loud enough that Meng Yanxi looked over at them several times in a row.

“Is it really that exaggerated?” Lu Jingyue twisted open the bottle cap and tilted his head back for a sip. He raised his brows, then took several more gulps in succession.

“It’s actually really good!” Luo Heng, rarely singing a different tune from Si Tian, tilted his head back and gulped down more than half of it on the spot.

Feeling a chill behind him, he turned around and saw Meng Yanxi staring at him. Luo Heng immediately and generously held out the rubus juice toward him. “This is good. Yan-ge, want some?”

Meng Yanxi’s expression was indifferent. He glanced at Jin Zhao.

Jin Zhao was leaning over her desk, speaking softly with Si Tian.

Meng Yanxi said, “I don’t like sour things.”

“It’s not sour, it’s sweet.” Luo Heng grinned. “Just as sweet as little sister Jin Zhao!”

“Pa!”

The textbook in Meng Yanxi’s hand flew out on the spot, striking Luo Heng squarely in the face with perfect accuracy, nearly jolting the rubus juice from his hands—fortunately, he held on steady.

“Ow!” Luo Heng clutched his face and cried out. “Meng Yanxi, what’s wrong with you!”

The commotion alerted Si Tian and Jin Zhao, who had been talking quietly. Both of them turned to look at them at the same time.

With an expressionless face, Meng Yanxi warned Luo Heng, “Watch your mouth.”

Luo Heng: “?”

He had only said Jin Zhao was sweet. He hadn’t said anything excessive, right?

These days, can you not even compliment a girl anymore?

On the first day of school, everyone was still adjusting, generally a little dazed. Jin Zhao kept lowering her head to look at the small blue paper box hidden in the desk cubby.

Although it had only been polite talk, since Meng Yanxi had said he wanted to give it to his sister as a gift, she had still asked Grandpa to help mold a small, pink-carved, jade-like little lucky doll.

It was just that, seeing how cold and indifferent Meng Yanxi looked today, it seemed as if he had completely forgotten about it.

Jin Zhao wavered all day over whether she should give him the lucky doll. She was afraid that if Meng Yanxi truly had forgotten, her giving the doll would look like she was delivering a love letter; yet she was also afraid that if he hadn’t forgotten, he might be scolding her in his heart for going back on her word.

After school in the evening, Luo Heng and Lu Jingyue invited Meng Yanxi to play basketball, only to be mercilessly rejected by him. In the end, Luo Heng and Lu Jingyue carried the basketball out of the classroom together.

Jin Zhao secretly turned her head. Meng Yanxi was sitting alone at his desk, head lowered as he read.

It was that book again, A History of the Black Sea. He seemed especially fond of this book. Jin Zhao later looked it up—apparently it was about Eastern European geopolitics and cultural economics.

Meng Yanxi was interested in Eastern Europe. Did he want to study there?

Jin Zhao drifted off in thought. The Meng Yanxi who had been reading suddenly lifted his head. Jin Zhao couldn’t dodge in time and unexpectedly crashed straight into his gaze.

Awkwardness instantly crawled over Jin Zhao’s scalp.

So awkward—she had been caught peeking. Jin Zhao was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and could only hurriedly take out the paper box from the desk cubby, pretending she had something proper to do as she walked over to him.

“This is for you.” She carefully placed the small blue paper box on Meng Yanxi’s desk.

Clearly it was something he had asked for, yet her heart was pounding nonstop. Those who knew would know she was giving a lucky doll; those who didn’t might think she had hidden a love letter in the doll’s belly.

Meng Yanxi picked it up and opened it.

Inside the box was a tiny lucky doll, lying in his palm, a circle smaller than his fist. It wore a light-colored hanfu, sat cross-legged on a lotus leaf, with a pink-carved, jade-like little face. Its eyes curved in a smile, and its two small hands were raised beside its ears, as if sweetly asking for a hug.

Meng Yanxi scraped it lightly with his fingertip, a cool, delicate texture.

“Thank you,” he said.

Jin Zhao smiled. “You’re welcome.”

She thought for a moment, then took the initiative to explain, “That day when I mentioned the rubus juice to you, you didn’t seem interested, so I didn’t bring any for you.”

Meng Yanxi said, “Mm. I thought it was sour.”

“It’s not sour,” she said. “It’s sweet.”

Meng Yanxi: “What kind of sweet?”

Jin Zhao looked at him blankly.

She was a bit straightforward. Many times, she didn’t easily grasp the subtext in other people’s words, but because he was someone she cared about, she would always unconsciously put in extra thought.

She wasn’t sure whether Meng Yanxi wanted her to describe the taste of the rubus juice, or wanted her to bring him a bottle.

She was a little afraid of being overly self-conscious.

Fortunately, Meng Yanxi quickly shifted the topic. “By the way, that Teacher Yuyu you mentioned—we might not have found the right one.”

“Huh?” Jin Zhao froze for a moment, then shook her head. “That shouldn’t be possible. I went to dance once before the Spring Festival, and Teacher Yuyu was still there.”

“Could it be another Teacher Yuyu?” Meng Yanxi said. “After all, that surname isn’t uncommon.”

“That won’t happen. If a new teacher has the same surname, they’ll use given names to distinguish them.”

Meng Yanxi: “Given names to distinguish?”

Jin Zhao: “Yes. For example, my name is Jin Zhao. If the dance studio already had a Teacher Zhao Zhao, then I’d be called Teacher Jin Jin.”

Meng Yanxi’s pitch-black eyes fixed on her. “Aren’t you called Lingling?”

Characters with a nasal ending always carried an innate sense of intimacy. When spoken by the boy she secretly liked, it felt like a feather brushing lightly over her heart.

Jin Zhao’s face immediately heated up, betraying her. She explained softly, “That’s a childhood nickname.”

Meng Yanxi neither agreed nor disagreed, and asked, “When do you usually go dance?”

The dance studio used dance cards. Jin Zhao’s card had been a multi-use card her mother had arranged back when she was still alive. Each use meant one fewer remaining—like the last trace of connection between her and her mother. Subconsciously, she cherished those few remaining sessions, and only went extremely occasionally.

Meng Yanxi said, “My sister is shy around strangers. She probably didn’t adjust well with the teacher—after going once, she was very resistant, crying and making a fuss. If it’s convenient for you, you could take her with you.”

Jin Zhao thought for a moment and said, “Then I’ll go back and set a time with Teacher Yuyu.”

Jin Zhao started learning dance at eight. After all these years, she could now only take one-on-one classes, which required scheduling with the teacher in advance. She didn’t have Teacher Yuyu’s contact information; every time, she told Jin Wenhui, who contacted the teacher for her.

It wasn’t until Friday that Jin Wenhui helped her set it up, for Sunday afternoon at three.

On Saturday, Jin Zhao told Meng Yanxi the time.

That night, the crying from the Meng household could be heard even across the street.

“I’m not going! I don’t want to learn dance!” Little Meng Zhuxi sat on the floor bawling, even rolling around twice without any regard for dignity. “I don’t like dancing!”

But her brother was completely unmoved, sitting with restrained elegance on the sofa. A laptop was placed beside him, the screen filled with complex K-line charts.

He stared intently at the trend, pinpointed the moment to enter, and with a light tap of his cool, pale fingers on the touchpad, millions in capital were instantly poured into corn futures—while still having the presence of mind to argue with his sister. “No. You like it. You like it very much.”