“It finished eating and then ran off.”

Jin Zhao lifted the ham sausage wrapper in her hand for him to see, trying to prove herself.

Meng Yanxi’s gaze swept over it—the red plastic strip pinched between the girl’s milky-white fingers.

Meng Yanxi: “Was it good?”

Jin Zhao: “……”

Did it still matter if she kept explaining that she wasn’t the one who ate it?

Whatever. She’d just let it be considered that she ate it.

Jin Zhao gave up and got up from the ground. She had to go back to class. If he had the ability, he could kill her to keep her quiet.

“Proving yourself won’t make your situation any better.”

Meng Yanxi remained where he was. As she was about to walk out of his presence, he suddenly spoke in a light, flat tone.

Jin Zhao raised her eyes.

For a moment, she didn’t grasp what he meant. The height difference between them made her tilt her face up in confusion.

It had just rained in the afternoon; her eyes also looked as if they’d been washed with water.

Meng Yanxi: “In a situation like just now, you should have accused me of scaring the cat away.”

Jin Zhao didn’t understand why this ice-cold top student would suddenly say so much to her. In fact, she had been in Class A for over a month now, and before today, the total number of words he had spoken to her didn’t exceed ten.

No—let her count, this was easy—

Sorry, give it to me.

Thanks.

Seven characters in total, which averaged out to 0.1 characters per day. And that was only because she hadn’t been there long, making the denominator small enough. If the time were any longer, the answer would approach zero infinitely.

She didn’t understand, but she was very honest, and said gently, “Not necessarily. It used to run off after eating too. That can’t be blamed on you.”

“Does it matter?” Meng Yanxi lowered his gaze to look at her, his line of sight falling from the corner of his eyes, carrying a kind of cool aloof arrogance.

“Huh?” Jin Zhao was at a loss. “Doesn’t it matter? I can’t just wrong you.”

Meng Yanxi suddenly let out an extremely soft laugh, but strangely, it didn’t make him seem any more approachable.

Meng Yanxi: “Kindness is a noble virtue.”

Jin Zhao took it as praise: “Thank you.”

Meng Yanxi: “But you’re not worthy of it.”

Jin Zhao: “……”

Meng Yanxi’s Adam’s apple was as sharp as his mouth, a distinctly angular protrusion that rolled up and down along with the words coming out of his mouth.

“The premise of kindness is self-preservation.” Meng Yanxi looked into her eyes. After a pause, he said, “I’m not talking about the cat.”

It was only after Meng Yanxi had walked far away that Jin Zhao finally understood what he meant.

She suddenly turned around, her gaze following after him.

The boy was tall, with long legs; his pace wasn’t fast, yet his strides were large. He looked leisurely as he walked, but each step was steady and powerful. In the blink of an eye, he had already entered the campus.

Just then, two girls came out of the guardhouse after retrieving something. When they lifted their heads and saw him, joy instantly bloomed across their faces like flowers, then was immediately restrained with practiced composure. After Meng Yanxi walked away, the two girls tugged at each other, facing his back, silently thrilled.

He wasn’t talking about the cat—he was talking about her.

She studied hard, clawed her way upward—wasn’t that also a way of proving herself with her grades? Proving her value to her father, vainly trying to use this to win his paternal love.

She empathized with how difficult things were for her father, empathized that a man remarrying was only natural. As for the children from before, suffering a little grievance was unavoidable. So even as Lin Yao tested her bottom line bit by bit, pushing further and further, even letting the maternity matron bully her, she endured it all with grievance and forbearance.

Meng Yanxi told her that kindness was a very noble virtue, but someone like her, who couldn’t even protect herself, wasn’t worthy of possessing it.

Jin Zhao softly let out a breath.

She hadn’t expected that it would only take an accidental encounter outside the office for this favored son of heaven, adored by all, to see straight through her embarrassing predicament with such precision.

But thinking back on his conversation with Meng Shixu, it didn’t seem that hard to understand after all.

They should share the same predicament.

The difference was that Meng Yanxi’s personality and methods were far sharper and more forceful than hers—he had even directly given his father condoms.

She suddenly felt a bit curious about the occasion on which Meng Yanxi had given the condoms. It couldn’t have been as a birthday present for Meng Shixu, could it?

From their conversation, he also had a younger sister.

—Dad, before my sister turns eighteen, I won’t leave Suiyi, and you’ll only have me and my sister as your children.

Thinking of that sentence again, Jin Zhao could still sense the killing intent beneath the calm.

Meng Yanxi was too certain—so certain it was like a warning. A warning to Meng Shixu that once anyone touched the interests of him and his sister, he would retaliate without restraint.

Jin Zhao suddenly felt deeply envious of his sister.

When her mother left, she lay on the bed. Years of torment from illness had clouded her mind. Her withered, thin hand clutched Jin Zhao tightly, tears sliding into her temples as she murmured again and again, “Lingling, after Mama leaves, no one will ever treat you as a precious treasure again.”

At that time, her father and grandmother were both by her side. To reassure her mother, they repeatedly promised that they would take good care of her.

Her mother was in tears, gently shaking her head. “They won’t… never again…”

She had been too young then, not yet understanding her mother’s sorrow. Later, she finally understood that within a family, a child’s status was often upheld by the mother.

She lost her mother, and from then on, had no one behind her.

She could only study desperately, make herself strong.

To make matters worse, her stepmother was difficult to deal with, and it seemed there was also an extra knife behind her. Hidden in the darkness, occasionally revealing the gleam of its white blade.

Meng Yanxi must understand all of this, which was why he said that before his sister turned eighteen, he wouldn’t leave Suiyi.

Staying at Suiyi, watching personally, clearing away every possible hidden danger for the siblings—it might sound overly cold and cautious. After all, Meng Shixu really did look like a very good father, not someone who would mistreat his children.

But to Meng Yanxi, doing so was only natural.

—He was merely stepping into the position of protection his mother once held.

Jin Zhao truly, deeply envied Meng Yanxi’s sister.

-♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི

Being overly sentimental delayed things; she almost ended up late for evening self-study.

She had just reached the top floor when the bell rang. Jin Zhao hurried in through the back door.

Tonight’s self-study was supervised by the English teacher, Ye Wei, who was standing on the podium, her gaze silently sweeping over the room. The students lowered their heads, took out assignment after assignment, and quietly rushed through their work.

Meng Yanxi sat at his seat, holding an extracurricular book.

As Jin Zhao passed by him, her steps slowed slightly, indulging her peripheral vision.

He happened to close the book in his hands. The cover was dark-colored, with a New Gothic-style building printed at the lower right of the center—brick-toned, looking like an ancient castle. Above it was the title: A History of the Black Sea.

The boy’s fingers were cold-white and slender, his thumb pressing against the book cover.

On the inner side of his right wrist, there seemed to be a mole, dark red. With that hurried glance from the corner of her eye, Jin Zhao wasn’t sure whether it was a mole or a birthmark—very small, like a butterfly’s wing.

But it was too small; it was also possible she had seen it wrong.

It was nothing more than the brief intersection of adjacent seats—no matter how slowly she walked, it was still only a fleeting brush past, not to mention she didn’t dare walk too slowly. Even so, Jin Zhao’s heart quickened its rhythm; she suspected it was guilt.

Because she had been peeking at him—she felt guilty.

Drawing back her gaze, she saw Ji Haoxuan standing in the aisle ahead, making space for her to pass.

There was still a trace of warmth on Jin Zhao’s face. She lifted her eyes at him in a gesture of cover, and softly said, “Thank you.”

Their gazes crossed. In Ji Haoxuan’s chest, it was as if a little deer leapt—thump. He responded half a beat late, “N-no need to thank me.”

Jin Zhao’s seat was by the window. Ji Haoxuan sat down on the outer side next to her. After a few seconds, he asked again, “Where did you go? Why so late?”

Jin Zhao lowered her head and took out her homework from the desk cubby, replying absentmindedly, “Went to eat something.”

Ji Haoxuan wanted to say more, but just then Ye Wei looked over from the podium. He lowered his head and quietly did his homework.

Between the two evening self-study sessions, there were ten minutes of break time. During this period, students usually darted around the classroom looking for people to ask about problems. Ye Wei was an English teacher, and some students went up to the podium with English questions to ask her.

Jin Zhao took out the big math problem that had stumped her that afternoon, just about to ask Si Tian, when Si Tian happened to turn around. A small, exquisitely delicate glass bottle was thrust in front of her.

“Zhaozhao, this pudding is really good—have some!”

Jin Zhao was instantly delighted, smiling as she took it. “Did you buy it at the back gate this afternoon?”

“Mm-hmm! You didn’t go, so you wouldn’t know—there’s a new bakery that opened at the back gate. This pudding has caramel inside, it’s very sweet, just like you!”

Jin Zhao put the pudding into her backpack and said with a laugh, “Then it definitely isn’t as sweet as your mouth.”

Si Tian was beside herself with joy. “That’s true, it’s still a bit short.”

In the back row, Luo Heng had just called Lu Jingyue over and was about to say something when he heard the two of them talking. He couldn’t help being mouthy and deliberately asked Lu Jingyue in a “low voice,” “Hey, do you think Si Tian’s parents know her skin is this thick?”

Si Tian and Lu Jingyue had lived in the same residential compound when they were young and counted as neighbors. Luo Heng’s mother and Si Tian’s mother were close friends who talked about everything, and the three of them had basically grown up together. Luo Heng deliberately asked Lu Jingyue, but the words were meant for Si Tian to hear.

Si Tian laughed and told Luo Heng to get lost.

Luo Heng teased her a couple more times. Si Tian got flustered, almost jumping up to hit him. Jin Zhao quickly raised her math test paper to block between the two of them.

“Hmph, big sister is going to start explaining the problem now—I won’t stoop to your level!” Si Tian said, casually picking up the pen on Jin Zhao’s desk.

One minute later, she was successfully stumped.

Luo Heng had been waiting to see her make a fool of herself. Seeing that she couldn’t squeeze out a single word after a full minute, he burst out laughing. “Hahaha, blew your bragging way too big, huh? Just say it—can you do it or not?”

Si Tian shot him a fierce glare, waved the paper in her hand, and passed it to him across Jin Zhao. “If you can do it, then you do it!”

Luo Heng took it without ceremony. “I’ll do it, then I’ll do it.”

Then Luo Heng also fell silent. Staring at the paper, he held it in for a long while before finally squeezing out a single, sharply written character—“Solution.”

Si Tian slapped the desk and laughed herself silly. “Luo Heng, with skills like yours, how do you even dare to laugh at me?”

Luo Heng said, “Kuku, say what you want, but don’t launch personal attacks.”

Si Tian’s name had been given by her grandfather, meaning remember bitterness, think of sweetness. Luo Heng had loved teasing her since they were little. A young boy full of mischief, he insisted on calling her “Kuku.” Si Tian beat him every single time she heard it, yet he never learned his lesson.

Si Tian was about to rush over and hit him again when Ji Haoxuan lightly cleared his throat and said, “How about… I try?”

“Sure, let the class monitor do it.”

One minute later, the class monitor also fell.

Si Tian lay sprawled on the desk, laughing, counting as she laughed: “So miserable—one little bitter gourd, two little bitter gourds, three little bitter gourds, four little bitter gourds…”

Her finger pointed in turn at Jin Zhao, herself, Luo Heng, and Ji Haoxuan. When it reached Lu Jingyue, who had temporarily come over to sit, she paused and asked, “Brother Yue, do you want to be the fifth little bitter gourd?”

Students in Class A could roughly be divided into four types—

The first type was those who were strong themselves but wouldn’t explain problems to others—like Meng Yanxi. He would let you copy the answers, but he wouldn’t explain the problem to you.

The second type was those who were strong themselves and could also explain problems—like Si Tian.

The third type was those who were bad at it yet loved running around explaining problems to others—the representative figure being Luo Heng.

The last type was those whose ability you didn’t know, but who definitely didn’t like explaining problems—like Lu Jingyue.

Compared to Meng Yanxi, Lu Jingyue was actually a rather mysterious presence in Class A, even in the affiliated school as a whole. He and Meng Yanxi were cousins. Both had outstanding family backgrounds and appearances, but Lu Jingyue’s sharpness was much more subdued. Even his grades had always stayed in the middle—not outstanding, but not bad either.

Strictly speaking, Lu Jingyue fit the public’s typical image of a favored son of heaven better: privileged conditions, broad interests, decent grades—not top-tier, but always passable.

On the contrary, someone like Meng Yanxi, who excelled in everything, was so dazzling that he hardly seemed like a rich second generation at all.

Lu Jingyue had originally been sitting casually on the chair beside Luo Heng, watching the show. Suddenly being stared at in unison by four little bitter gourds, he laughed once and held out his hand. “Give it to me.”

Luo Heng hurriedly offered it up with both hands, fawning. “Brother Yue, please!”

Lu Jingyue actually knew how to do it.

He glanced at the problem, worked out roughly one line with a black pen on scratch paper, and immediately found the solution. He was also very good at explaining problems—he pointed out three key steps, didn’t say much, and the four little bitter gourds clustered around him instantly understood.

“Wow, so that’s how it is!” Si Tian exclaimed. “As expected of you, Lu Jingyue!”

Luo Heng exaggeratedly clapped right by his ear, clapping as he shouted, “Brother Yue! Brother Yue!”

This drew a glance from Meng Yanxi, seated diagonally behind them.

Jin Zhao smiled as she looked at Lu Jingyue, which happened to be in Meng Yanxi’s direction. Caught completely off guard, she met Meng Yanxi’s gaze—and her heartbeat suddenly skipped a beat.

Meng Yanxi quickly withdrew his eyes and continued reading the book in his hands.

A History of the Black Sea… is that a history book? It sounded like a history book. Jin Zhao’s thoughts wandered aimlessly—was he interested in history? Then why didn’t he study the humanities?

“Which Zhao is your Zhao?”

Lu Jingyue suddenly looked at her and spoke to her. Jin Zhao came back to herself half a beat late.

“What?”

Lu Jingyue across from her asked again, “Your name—is it the jinchao from ‘If there’s wine today, get drunk today’?”

Jin Zhao: “No, it’s the zhao from ‘the sacred fire blazing bright.’”

Lu Jingyue seemed to think of something. He leaned back against his chair and let out a laugh with unclear meaning. “Sacred fire blazing bright.”

Luo Heng thought he hadn’t understood and, being self-assuredly clever, explained again, “It’s the zhao from plain for all to see, the zhao from Sima Zhao¹Sima Zhao (司马昭) — A powerful regent of the Cao Wei state during the Three Kingdoms period. His ambition to seize power was so obvious that it gave rise to the idiom “司马昭之心，路人皆知” (“Sima Zhao’s intentions are known even to passersby”), meaning one’s motives are blatantly apparent.’s intentions—known to all.”

Jin Zhao: “……”

In her peripheral vision, that figure had been keeping his head down, reading, not paying them any attention. But upon hearing Luo Heng’s terrifying explanation, Jin Zhao’s heart still skipped another guilty beat.

Footnotes

• 1
  Sima Zhao (司马昭) — A powerful regent of the Cao Wei state during the Three Kingdoms period. His ambition to seize power was so obvious that it gave rise to the idiom “司马昭之心，路人皆知” (“Sima Zhao’s intentions are known even to passersby”), meaning one’s motives are blatantly apparent.