Meng Zhuxi looked toward Meng Yanxi.

Her brother had unbelievably thick skin. He always wore a cold, indifferent expression, his face never changing no matter what happened.

Meng Zhuxi’s eyes rolled, her gaze shifting back to Jin Zhao, and she suddenly looked as if she had realized something: “Ah, that doll! I really like it—thank you, Sister Jin Zhao!”

She smiled so sweetly. Such a well-behaved little sister—Jin Zhao couldn’t understand why Meng Yanxi would actually want to feed her poisonous mushrooms.

As soon as Jin Zhao left, the obedient, sweet smile vanished from the little sister’s face. Tilting her head, she looked at her brother and reminded him, “Meng Yanxi, you owe me two favors today, you know.”

To keep herself from sounding too domineering, she even deliberately added a “you know.” But her brother didn’t respond at all. He swept her a glance, lifted his foot, and walked forward.

Meng Yanxi was always so ungrateful, Meng Zhuxi thought. But she was very magnanimous—she wouldn’t hold it against him.

Meng Zhuxi jogged to catch up, taking the initiative to hold her brother’s hand, and asked, “What clay-painted doll? Is it pretty?”

The siblings walked along the bustling commercial pedestrian street. Their similarly outstanding looks made passersby unable to resist taking a few extra glances at them.

Meng Yanxi: “It’s just a clay figurine, pinched out of mud. Do you think it’s pretty?”

Meng Zhuxi: “……”

Meng Yanxi had eight hundred scheming minds, but Meng Zhuxi wasn’t stupid either. If it were really not good-looking, why would he privately keep her gift?

But Meng Zhuxi didn’t say anything more, nor did she ask him for it. She never asked Meng Yanxi for things—if she liked something, she usually just took it herself. And next Friday was Meng Yanxi’s birthday, but she had overheard a secret that wasn’t very friendly to him, and her heart quietly ached a little for her brother.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Although Meng Yanxi was most of the time heartless and unreasonable, overall he was still a decent older brother. The moment his sister’s emotions shifted even slightly, he immediately noticed.

Meng Zhuxi lifted her eyes to look at him, unsure whether she should say anything.

She had promised Dad not to say.

“Someone at school bullying you?” Meng Yanxi’s dark eyes fixed on her.

Meng Zhuxi: “Not at all. I’m very popular.”

Meng Yanxi nodded once. “Then it’s Dad not letting you tell me.”

The little girl was shocked, her pink, tender mouth opening slightly into a small o-shape.

Dad was right to scold him—Meng Yanxi really was a brilliantly smart bastard of a brother.

Meng Yanxi: “Go on.”

In the end, Meng Zhuxi was still on her brother’s side. After struggling for two seconds, she spoke: “Ge, on your birthday, Dad might not be home. I heard him tell Uncle Zhou to book a hotel and a diamond ring.”

Meng Yanxi’s brow twitched slightly.

Although Meng Zhuxi was young, she was already in fourth grade. She understood the meaning of a diamond ring—it was used for a proposal. But after all, she was still young. Meng Shixu and Meng Yanxi had given her far too much love, protecting her too well, filling her heart with naïve goodwill toward the world. So when it came to the matter of gaining a new mother, she wasn’t as resistant as Meng Yanxi.

She lifted her small face and asked softly, “Ge, do you still not want Dad to remarry?”

She knew that her brother had done a lot to stop this from happening, openly and secretly.

“Dad can remarry,” Meng Yanxi lowered his gaze, his pitch-black eyes falling along his lashes, “but not now.”

“Why?”

“Because your brother isn’t strong enough yet. If trouble arises in the family, I won’t be able to protect you.”

“Will trouble definitely arise?” The little girl asked, half-understanding, half-confused. “Although Momo told me that since ancient times, families with a first mother and then a stepmother are especially hard on children, especially girls. She even said that once there’s a stepmother, there’ll be a stepfather too. But our dad is different. He’s so capable, so good—and more importantly, Dad really loves us. Brother, can’t you feel it?”

Meng Yanxi quietly looked at his sister, seven years younger than him.

“I know. But I don’t like gambling, and I won’t gamble on human nature.”

On Monday, Jin Zhao arrived at the classroom at seven o’clock.

She didn’t know if she had deliberately created an atmosphere of infatuation for herself, but she kept feeling that after Sunday, the distance between her and Meng Yanxi seemed to have drawn closer. Now, even stepping into the classroom made her heart beat faster.

Meng Yanxi hadn’t arrived yet. She walked past his seat.

Until the morning reading bell rang, until the first class began, Meng Yanxi’s seat remained empty. Jin Zhao found herself repeatedly distracted, wondering why he hadn’t come.

When they parted yesterday afternoon, he had even said, see you tomorrow.

Lu Jingyue and Luo Heng arrived. The two of them reacted with ordinary calmness to Meng Yanxi’s empty seat, not even mentioning it. Jin Zhao guessed they definitely knew the reason, but she was too embarrassed to ask.

She was afraid that if she mentioned Meng Yanxi even one more time, that little bit of feeling in her heart would be seen through. She wasn’t doing anything sneaky, yet she felt guilty. Thinking back to when Luo Heng had casually said, “Zhao as in zhaoran ruojie, Zhao as in Sima Zhao’s intentions known to every passerby,” it had startled her badly.

Her lying low was effective, because Si Tian soon noticed that Meng Yanxi hadn’t come either. During the first break between classes, Si Tian turned around to borrow a pen from Jin Zhao. Noticing Meng Yanxi’s seat was empty, she generously asked Lu Jingyue, “Why didn’t Meng Yanxi come to school today?”

In her heart, Jin Zhao silently felt overwhelming gratitude toward Si Tian.

With a calm face, she opened her pencil case and searched for a black pen, her two ears quietly perking up.

Lu Jingyue said, “He took a leave.”

Si Tian: “Why did he take leave?”

Lu Jingyue: “He’s injured.”

“Pa!”

The black gel pen was pulled out of the pencil case, but her grip slipped, and it fell onto the desk.

Lu Jingyue and Si Tian heard the sound and looked toward Jin Zhao.

The tips of Jin Zhao’s ears burned hot. She hurriedly picked up the pen, pretending to be calm as she handed it to Si Tian.

“Thanks.” Si Tian took the pen, the capped end naturally tapping against the desktop, and continued asking Lu Jingyue, “How did he get injured? Is it serious?”

Lu Jingyue glanced at Jin Zhao. Jin Zhao hadn’t said a word the whole time, lowering her head and pretending to tidy her pencil case.

After a few seconds, Lu Jingyue finally said unhurriedly, “He accidentally twisted his ankle playing basketball last night. It’s not serious, but he should probably rest at home for a week.”

Si Tian got her answer, but still looked a bit incredulous, muttering, “That’s ridiculous. With the way he looks, he seems more like someone who gets others injured—he doesn’t look like someone who’d get hurt himself.”

Lu Jingyue let out a laugh.

Jin Zhao didn’t know why he laughed.

Countless times, she had felt that her deskmate must be the last disciple of some enlightened high monk hidden deep in the mountains—every word and action of his full of Zen.

The second period was Chinese class. Chen Shu was the homeroom teacher, and Meng Yanxi must have already asked her for leave. Standing on the podium, she glanced at Meng Yanxi’s empty seat, thought for a moment, then looked at Lu Jingyue and said, “Lu Jingyue, Meng Yanxi is on leave this week. I’ll have to trouble you to organize his class notes for him, all right?”

Lu Jingyue said, “Sure.”

As soon as Chen Shu turned her head away, he tilted toward Jin Zhao and asked in a low voice, “Can you help Meng Yanxi write the class notes?”

Jin Zhao was lowering her head to write. Her hand trembled lightly, and the horizontal stroke she was writing came out crooked, slipping out of the grid.

She looked at Lu Jingyue. Luckily, Lu Jingyue showed great mercy—after saying it, he turned his head toward the blackboard and didn’t see her guilty, thief-like look.

Lu Jingyue: “I’m not good at taking notes.”

Jin Zhao’s eyelashes fluttered slightly. She said softly, “Okay.”

She had always only worked hard quietly. Taking notes should be the thing she was best at. She deliberately took out a brand-new notebook, flipped to the first page, and neatly wrote Chinese.

Chinese, math, English; physics, chemistry, biology—before the new college entrance examination, the strict division between liberal arts and sciences. Although among these six subjects only Chen Shu’s Chinese class had mentioned class notes, Jin Zhao still took notes for every single class.

That evening after evening self-study, Jin Zhao handed the notebook to Lu Jingyue. Lu Jingyue lowered his head and swept a glance over it—the dark blue soft-cover notebook, the girl’s fingers pinching the cover, her fingernails white with a hint of pink.

Lu Jingyue didn’t take it, saying, “Meng Yanxi isn’t that devoted to studying. He’s recovering right now, give it to him when he comes back.”

Over the next five days that followed that week, Meng Yanxi indeed never appeared. Jin Zhao seriously organized the notes. When she occasionally got distracted, she couldn’t help wondering—was he badly injured? Lu Jingyue said it wasn’t serious, but she didn’t really believe it. Back when he returned from Paris, he hadn’t even fixed his jet lag before coming to school. And now, once he took leave, it was a full week.

During the time Meng Yanxi wasn’t around, the atmosphere of infatuation she had painstakingly created for herself was ruthlessly snapped back to reality. She suddenly realized that she and Meng Yanxi belonged to two different worlds, like two tracks that would never intersect. It was school that allowed those two tracks to cross briefly, and school itself also bore all of their points of intersection. Once he didn’t come to school, she couldn’t get even the slightest bit of news about him.

In the days that followed, her mood gradually calmed.

That Saturday, Si Tian suddenly asked her, “Do you want to go visit Meng Yanxi on Sunday?”

Jin Zhao abruptly lifted her gaze.

“We’re all classmates.” Si Tian’s personality had always been open and generous. She even suggested, “Why don’t we ask the other classmates? I think everyone probably wants to go see him. If possible, we can set a time and place, then chip in some money to buy a gift and go together.”

“Chip in what money?” Lu Jingyue let out a light laugh. “You might even be able to ask him to lend you some.”

Jin Zhao: “?”

Si Tian: “What do you mean? Ah ah ah—did he go scratch lottery tickets again?”

When Luo Heng heard this, he immediately sang a different tune with her: “Have some ambition, Kuku. Scratching lottery tickets only wins a little money. My Brother Yan—”

“Enough, stop bragging. Whether your Brother Yan makes money or not, what does that have to do with you?” Lu Jingyue turned his head to look at Jin Zhao and said after a moment’s thought, “How about this—Meng Yanxi doesn’t like crowds, and he doesn’t like making a fuss. Let Jin Zhao and Si Tian represent the class to visit him, okay?”

Lu Jingyue arranged it clearly. Si Tian thought it was fine and asked Jin Zhao, “What do you think?”

Jin Zhao’s feelings were very complicated, but in the end, her desire to go see Meng Yanxi won out. She nodded lightly.

That Sunday, Jin Zhao and Si Tian still chipped in together to buy Meng Yanxi a small cake. Si Tian called on Lu Jingyue and Luo Heng to chip in, but the two of them didn’t know what had possessed them—they absolutely refused. In the end, it was still the two girls who paid, which made Si Tian deeply disdainful.

When Jin Zhao followed Lu Jingyue, Luo Heng, and Si Tian to the Meng residence, she finally understood why Lu Jingyue and Luo Heng had absolutely refused to chip in to buy Meng Yanxi a gift.

Not worth it—really not worth it!

In Jin Zhao’s imagination, Meng Yanxi’s past week had been like this: bedridden, wracked with pain, unable to muster any energy, listless; occasionally getting up to move around but needing a wheelchair. Every time she thought about it, her heart ached once more.

But the Meng Yanxi she actually saw—was riding high in life, full of vigor and confidence.

When they arrived, it was Meng Yanxi himself who came to open the door.

In the constant-temperature, constant-humidity residential compound, even the early spring chill that wavered between warm and cold felt warm and comfortable. Meng Yanxi was wearing a thin black sweater with casual trousers. The boy was tall and straight, moving freely, standing behind the general’s gate to welcome their arrival.

Jin Zhao stared at his foot in shock.

Meng Yanxi said, “It’s already healed.”

Jin Zhao tentatively understood it as rich people recovering from injuries faster.

But the news she got afterward made her a little resentful of the rich.

Luo Heng was loud about it, Lu Jingyue low-key. The news that Lu Jingyue had forcibly kept Luo Heng from blurting out at school was—Meng Yanxi had made five million.

That’s right. In just one week—during the very week when everyone was sympathizing with Meng Yanxi for injuring his leg playing basketball and having to recuperate in bed—Meng Yanxi had endured the pain and made five million.

Jin Zhao didn’t understand futures or international affairs, but from the conversation between Lu Jingyue and Meng Yanxi, she roughly grasped the logic.

It even had something to do with the book Meng Yanxi had been reading, History of the Black Sea, which encompassed Eastern European culture, economics, and geopolitics. Before the New Year, Ukraine’s political situation had been unstable. Meng Yanxi believed that the Ukrainian plains were Europe’s breadbasket—once a crisis emerged, grain prices would inevitably surge. So he decisively bought wheat and corn on the futures market. Sure enough, with the recent outbreak of the Ukraine crisis, in less than a month, wheat and corn prices rose by an average of twenty percent.

Jin Zhao was astonished.

She had noticed so early on that Meng Yanxi was reading History of the Black Sea, and while she was still overthinking it as his personal interest, guessing whether he wanted to study abroad there, Meng Yanxi had already been making money.

So it turned out that Meng Yanxi wasn’t reading because of some hobby—if he had one, then it should be making money.

Jin Zhao felt a little vexed at how narrow her own perspective was. If only her vision were broader… maybe she could have bought in together with him.

But when she did a simple calculation, she knew it was impossible.

Granted, Meng Yanxi’s foresight was impressive, able to judge international macro conditions while still in high school—but the reason he could make five million was probably because his principal was twenty-five million.

Jin Zhao: “……”

His principal alone was already something she could never reach in her lifetime. She really was an NPC.

“It didn’t take twenty-five million. With ten times leverage, two and a half million was enough. Do you know where that money came from?”

When Jin Zhao handed him the class notes, the two were briefly alone. Meng Yanxi leaned against the beauty bench by the artificial lake, casually scattering a handful of fish feed into the water below. The koi in the lake rushed toward him one after another.

Jin Zhao suspected he was showing off his wealth to her—after all, even two and a half million was a dreamlike existence for an ordinary high school student like her.

No—at most, in her dreams she had only ever dreamed of one million.

She stood in front of him, looking at him in a daze.

Meng Yanxi took the class notes she handed over, set them aside, and said nonchalantly, “My dad was preparing to spend two and a half million to buy a diamond ring for his girlfriend. I split them up. The two and a half million didn’t sit idle—since the ring couldn’t be bought, I borrowed it and bought corn.”

“Strictly speaking, profits at this scale count as the first pot of gold in my life.”

The morning sun slanted across the upturned eaves of the Chinese-style garden, willow threads hanging down over the artificial lake. Meng Yanxi lounged lazily against the beauty bench, light falling on his shoulder like scattered gold, the boy’s handsome face resting in shadow.

“Would you think it’s bloodstained, Lingling?” He looked into her eyes and softly called her by her childhood name.

Their gazes met. In his pitch-black eyes, Jin Zhao saw her own eyelashes trembling lightly.

“Plop!”

In the lake, the koi suddenly flicked their tails, stirring up ripples, the sound of water clearly audible.