All day long, Jin Zhao entered and left the classroom through the front door. The back door was like a sea of fire; it would scorch her.

In fact, the “sea of fire” slept almost the entire day.

Teachers were always especially lenient with students who had good grades. Across several classes, when teachers saw Meng Yanxi lying face-down on his desk, not a single one threw a piece of chalk at him. Instead, without prior coordination, they all asked, “Sick?”

Luo Heng, who sat behind Jin Zhao, was responsible for explaining for him: “Not sick. His flight just landed this morning, he hasn’t adjusted to the jet lag yet.”

At that point, most of the teachers accepted it.

Only the biology teacher pressed further. “Jet lag is pretty uncomfortable. Eh, why didn’t he take leave together with Lu Jingyue? Aren’t those two together?”

The biology teacher’s surname was Xu. He was getting on in years, somewhat gaunt; privately, everyone called him Old Xu.

The restless Luo Heng leaned back, balancing on the legs of his chair as he rocked, and said with a grin, “Because he loves studying.”

As soon as those words came out, suppressed laughter immediately rippled through the classroom, openly calling it out. But Old Xu accepted the explanation without the slightest doubt. Like the other teachers, he didn’t wake Meng Yanxi for the entire class.

Jin Zhao: “…”

See? Good students really did receive preferential treatment.

Actually, Jin Zhao felt that Meng Yanxi being this tired wasn’t entirely because of jet lag. That packet of condoms in his desk might provide some clues.

Of course, Meng Yanxi did wake up once in the middle of it all. During the long break, Chen Shu called him to the office alone.

Si Tian dragged Jin Zhao to the convenience store to buy water, saying along the way, “It’s definitely because of that early romance thing with Wu Fei.”

Jin Zhao thought of the girl she had seen during morning reading yesterday, then thought of the five boxes of condoms Meng Yanxi had mistakenly put into her desk that morning. She lowered her head, looking at her feet, and didn’t say anything.

Si Tian continued talking into her ear. “Oh right, you might not know Wu Fei—she dropped down this semester. Wu Fei used to sit in the seat next to you, she and Meng Yanxi were desk mates. But they weren’t desk mates the whole time, just for about a month.”

“Just one month, and Wu Fei’s grades slipped and she dropped out of Class A.” Si Tian clicked her tongue. “Meng Yanxi is really a femme fatale. And yet his own first-place ranking is as steady as Mount Tai—he’s even pulled further ahead of second place.”

The affection of boys and girls was like dandelion fluff—ordinarily unremarkable, but once the wind blew, it spread everywhere in flamboyant display.

Jin Zhao had already heard about Meng Yanxi and Wu Fei dating back when she was in the experimental class. Everyone said they were a golden boy and jade girl. The most famous part was Wu Fei “taking the Gaokao for love.” It was said that Wu Fei’s family was also very wealthy. Though they couldn’t compare to the Meng family, they lived in a big villa, with a driver and a housekeeper. Her monthly allowance alone was tens of thousands. Her family had originally planned for her to attend the international division and then go abroad for university. Wu Fei stayed in Class A for Meng Yanxi—she was taking the Gaokao for love.

“But I think Meng Yanxi doesn’t care at all. When Wu Fei left Class A, he didn’t even ask about it, slept soundly, so soundly the teachers couldn’t even wake him during class.” Si Tian couldn’t help complaining. “Meng Yanxi has no heart… I really don’t know what he’d be like if he truly fell for someone, completely sank into it.”

Jin Zhao suddenly thought of that scene before morning reading: in his hand he held the hottest of things, yet the expression on his face was rational to the point of coldness. He could even turn it absentmindedly, like twirling a pen.

“In this world, how can there be that many instances of true liking? Many people go their whole lives without ever liking anyone,” Jin Zhao couldn’t help saying.

Si Tian disagreed. She suddenly leaned in close to Jin Zhao, waggling her brows at her with a grin. “Be honest—have you ever secretly fantasized about Meng Yanxi liking you? Not just liking—more than liking. In front of others he’s cold and distant, but only with you he’s different. He cares about your moods, understands your thoughts, knows all your preferences. To please you, such a big, cool guy is willing to turn into a clown. He’s afraid you’ll get jealous, so he proactively draws clear lines with other girls. He gives all the gentleness of his lifetime to you alone.”

Jin Zhao looked at Si Tian, and for several seconds had no idea what to say.

A cool breeze blew over, carrying leaves spinning in the air. Jin Zhao asked sincerely, “…Did I save his life or something?”

Si Tian froze for a moment, then clutched her stomach, laughing so hard she couldn’t straighten up. “Zhao Zhao, hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!”

On the way back after buying water, they ran into the English teacher. Si Tian was the English class representative, and the English teacher called her aside midway. Jin Zhao returned to the classroom alone, passing by Chen Shu’s office on the way.

The door was open. Meng Yanxi was awake, standing inside, listening to a scolding.

The cold air from the air conditioner stirred the school uniform on the boy’s body. The blue-and-white fabric clung to him, outlining a lean yet powerful adolescent frame.

From the back door to the front door, Jin Zhao walked along, listening to Chen Shu’s earnest, long-winded admonitions: “The three years of high school are the most important three years of your lives… at every age you should do what’s appropriate for that age. Your primary task right now is studying… once you get to university, you’ll have a lifetime to date…”

The walls of the office were thick, with fairly good soundproofing. Chen Shu’s voice came through in fragments.

Jin Zhao soon reached the front door. It stood wide open, and the sound instantly became much clearer.

Meng Yanxi’s slightly hoarse, weary voice also clearly entered her ears—five parts fatigue, five parts bewilderment.

Meng Yanxi: “Who is Wu Fei?”

Truly heartless.

-♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི

That was Jin Zhao’s first impression of Meng Yanxi. It couldn’t be said to be utterly terrible, but it certainly wasn’t good.

Even the faint, almost illusory goodwill that had once grown from distant admiration vanished completely on the first day they crossed paths.

—A chaotic private life, aloof and superior, without a heart.

It wasn’t until evening self-study ended that Jin Zhao noticed Meng Yanxi was already awake. Other classmates were leaving the classroom one after another, while he kept his head down rushing through homework, oblivious to everything around him, the pen under his fingers flying.

So even a favored son of heaven had to rush homework. She had thought he could just study with his face.

Jin Zhao had already finished her homework. After getting home, she took out the extracurricular exercise book she had bought at a bookstore last week, and before going to bed she did another set of math problems. Her problem-solving feel was good that night, her accuracy rate very high. She felt light all over, as if she were another step closer to last night’s dream.

Before falling asleep, she made a wish: if she had that get-rich dream again tonight, let it start earlier, so she wouldn’t be woken halfway by the alarm.

That night, she really wasn’t woken by the alarm. She was woken by a bout of clanging noises.

When she opened her eyes, the room was pitch-black. She groped for the alarm clock by her bedside and pressed the night-light. The time displayed was 03:55.

The clanging sounds outside were still there, intermittent.

She lay on the bed, enduring it for a while. The noise outside didn’t stop; instead, she was completely woken up. Finally unable to bear it any longer, she got up to take a look.

On the balcony were two hens being kept. Their dark feet were tied with rope, the other ends of the ropes fastened to the railing. Not far away, an iron basin filled with water sat on the floor. At this moment, the hens had knocked over the basin. Their claws stepped back and forth on it, the iron basin colliding with the marble tiles, clanging nonstop.

Jin Zhao closed her eyes and gently let out a breath of pent-up irritation.

There was no need to think to know who had done this good deed.

She moved the iron basin away, putting an end to the annoying farce.

However, when she went back, she couldn’t fall asleep again.

Jin Zhao’s sleep was actually quite good. During the middle school entrance exams, classmates were so nervous they couldn’t sleep; after entering the affiliated high school, some classmates also suffered insomnia under the pressure of the rotating class system. She never had. She just slept lightly—any noise would wake her, and falling back asleep was very hard.

She lay on the bed until dawn, struggling on the brink of collapse. Later, she might have dozed lightly for half an hour. Extremely lightly—during that time, she dreamed she was doing practice problems, while at the same time she could still hear the low voices of her stepmother Lin Yao and her grandmother talking in the kitchen.

The alarm finally rang at that moment. Jin Zhao opened her eyes, exhausted to the point of breaking down. She washed her face in a daze and sat down at the dining table, still foggy-headed.

At this hour on ordinary days, her father Jin Wenhui and stepmother Lin Yao would still be asleep, her grandfather would have gone out for morning exercise, and her grandmother would be in the kitchen preparing a simple breakfast for her. Today, Jin Wenhui was going on a business trip and had to rush to the airport in the morning, so Lin Yao had already gotten up with him. Her grandfather also hadn’t gone out for morning exercise, instead helping her grandmother prepare breakfast in the kitchen.

It was rare for the whole family to sit together and eat breakfast.

Jin Zhao was tired, sleepy, yet awake, and didn’t really feel like eating. Lin Yao suddenly smiled and asked, “Lingling, were you the one who brought in the basin of water from the balcony last night?”

Lingling was Jin Zhao’s childhood nickname.

Lin Yao was thirty this year—sharp-featured and pretty. She was Jin Wenhui’s new wife after Jin Zhao’s mother passed away, with a fifteen-year age gap between them. In novels, age gaps were always written as romantic. Jin Zhao didn’t know if that was true in real life; from her perspective, at least, it felt awful.

Like dark clouds pressing down on the city—heavy and oppressive. There was no rain, yet no daylight either. When the wind picked up, it became even harder to breathe.

Lin Yao was over eight months pregnant. Wearing a loose dress, her belly was high and round, her due date imminent. Jin Zhao guessed that the two chickens on the balcony were being kept for her postpartum confinement meals.

Realizing this, she found it impossible to be angry.

Lin Yao was the mistress of this household. She had the freedom to bear children, and the freedom to raise confinement chickens in her own home.

Jin Zhao explained, “Last night the chickens knocked over the iron basin with water and kept clawing at it. The noise was a bit loud, so I brought the basin inside.”

“Did it wake you up?” Lin Yao asked with concern, then immediately smiled. “Your dad and I, and your grandparents, didn’t hear anything at all.”

Auntie Niu, the maternity matron sitting beside her at the table, chimed in, “I didn’t hear it either.”