Tao Zhi tried to picture Jiang Qihuai holding a medical cotton swab, helping someone clean and disinfect a wound, but she found it truly hard to imagine.

Just the thought of such a ridiculous scene was frightening enough.

Jiang Qihuai was the kind of person who, if he offered to help you on his own, you’d have to be on guard—wondering if he had mixed poison into the medicine.

Tao Zhi came back to her senses and looked at him suspiciously.

“……”

Jiang Qihuai’s brow twitched. “What kind of look is that?”

Tao Zhi hesitated for a moment, but still took the cotton swab with a doubtful expression.

“Your Highness,” she called him with her head lowered, looking at the swab in her hand, her tone serious. “If I apply this medicine, will I die?”

Jiang Qihuai ignored the strange titles she occasionally threw at him. “You’re overthinking. Calamities live a thousand years.”

“What’s this dark-colored medicine?” Tao Zhi changed strategies to pry something out of him.

“Povidone-iodine.”

She got nothing out of that. Tao Zhi held the bottle up against the sunlight to inspect it, then asked bluntly, “Did you mix soy sauce into it?”

“……”

Jiang Qihuai felt what little patience he had left burning away.

Expressionless, he said, “Are you addicted to acting now?”

Tao Zhi pouted. “You really have no sense of humor.”

The povidone-iodine–soaked swab was cool and damp. When it brushed against the wound, she belatedly felt a sharp, stinging pain.

She frowned, threw the blood-stained swab into the trash after the first cleaning.

Jiang Qihuai turned around, pulled out a few new ones, deftly opened the glass lid of the povidone-iodine, soaked them, and handed them back to her.

Tao Zhi lifted her eyes.

“What are you looking at?”

“I’m thinking,” Tao Zhi said with a straight face, “I should’ve checked when I got up this morning—where exactly the sun rose from today.”

“……”

Patience: gone.

Jiang Qihuai turned around and left.

He walked out of the infirmary and conveniently shut the door behind him.

Tao Zhi raised an eyebrow.

He even had the nerve to get annoyed.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Fu Xiling didn’t have any external injuries, but her mental state was very poor. She stayed in the infirmary, and Wang Zhezi directly notified her parents.

Tao Zhi stayed with her for a while. When she returned to the classroom, the second period had just ended.

Seeing her come back, Li Shuangjiang immediately turned around. “Brother Zhi, how’s Fu Xiling?”

“Nothing serious, her parents are coming to pick her up.” Tao Zhi looked completely puzzled at the address. “Brother Zhi?”

“From today on, you’re my big brother.” Li Shuangjiang pressed his palms together and bowed twice with solemn respect. “I never thought that someone with such terrible grades and awful academic performance could have such a heroic and righteous heart. Having witnessed my big brother’s gallant demeanor up close today, I, Li, am in complete admiration—down to all five of my limbs.”

“……”

For a moment, Tao Zhi couldn’t tell whether that sentence was meant to praise her or insult her.

Li Shuangjiang went on, “Don’t worry, from now on, whatever you say goes. Whether it’s climbing a mountain of blades or diving into a sea of fire—so long as you give the word, your humble subordinate will get it done, perfectly and without question.”

His deskmate beside him rolled his eyes.

Tao Zhi, however, accepted his dramatic speech quite naturally. Leaning back against the desk rail with one foot propped up, she nodded. “There is actually something I want you to do.”

Li Shuangjiang straightened up. “Big Brother, just say the word.”

Tao Zhi raised her hand and pushed the math test paper on her desk forward with a casual motion. “Teach your big brother these problems first.”

Li Shuangjiang: “……”

Although Li Shuangjiang usually seemed unreliable, his math grades were actually quite good. Compared to math, his English and Chinese were at the bottom of the class—his subjects were terribly unbalanced.

When he explained questions, it was completely different from Jiang Qihuai’s “stream-of-consciousness written only for himself” style. Li Shuangjiang’s teaching was the passionate and fiery kind.

Back in junior high, Tao Zhi had at least studied a little; her foundation wasn’t too bad, not to the point of being unable to understand. After two whole periods, she finally managed to work through five math problems and decided to spare her newly recruited underling—for now.

Meanwhile, in those same two periods, everyone else in the gym had already spread the news across the entire school: that the problem student from Grade 11 had fought someone from Grade 12.

Though calling it a “fight” wasn’t very precise—it had been a one-sided massacre.

Kids this age often acted on impulse; fights weren’t rare. But even the rowdiest ones usually knew enough to say “wait after school” or “meet outside the gate.” Tao Zhi, of course, refused to follow convention. She’d gone out of her way to drag someone to the most conspicuous spot during class time and beat them up in public.

If she was going to cause trouble, she made sure the whole world knew.

At the Academic Affairs Office, the Grade 11 and Grade 12 directors exchanged glances, then sighed in unison.

They had never seen anyone this lawless.

Wang Zhezi had spent the whole afternoon talking with Fu Xiling and her parents. After getting their consent, he explained the situation to the school: “This student, Tao Zhi, she’s not a bad person. She usually gets along well with classmates. This time, her intentions were actually good—she just used the wrong method.”

“The reason doesn’t matter. The negative impact of her behavior is already done,” said the Grade 12 director. “Have her parents been contacted?”

Wang Zhezi rubbed his throbbing temples. “I called. Her father’s out of town right now and can’t come back.”

The director gave a cold snort. “It’s because of irresponsible parents like that the kids end up so wild.”

Wang Zhezi frowned. “Her parent isn’t an unreasonable person.”

Another teacher suddenly spoke up. “Wait—isn’t Tao Zhi’s parent the one who donated to the school’s new library? Tao Xiuping, right?”

The director gave a meaningful smile. “No wonder she’s so untamed.”

The other teacher laughed as well. “He was in my year! Also graduated from Experimental. His photo should still be in the school’s Hall of Honor—he was our year’s top scorer in the science track of the college entrance exams.”

The director was momentarily at a loss for words.

“I’ll give her parent a call myself later and see how to handle this,” said Vice Principal Wang, seated at his desk. “It’d be best not to make this a big issue. The seniors have the college entrance exams next year, and the juniors are in their crucial stage too. One way or another, the students’ grades mustn’t be affected.”

He suddenly turned his head toward Wang Zhezi. “By the way, isn’t your class getting a new student soon? Also transferred from the Affiliated School? What’s that kid like?”

Wang Zhezi’s expression stiffened, his headache returning full force. “Vice Principal, you can just ask him directly when you call.”

Vice Principal Wang: “?”

Wang Zhezi: “That child’s parent is also Tao Xiuping, he’s Tao Zhi’s younger sibling; they’re fraternal twins.”

Vice Principal Wang: “……”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Tao Zhi didn’t know exactly how Wang Zhezi had negotiated, but this time she didn’t receive a demerit or suspension; she was only made to write a self-criticism.

Last time when she and Song Jiang beat someone up, each of them was suspended for a week. There was no such penalty this time, and Tao Zhi felt rather disappointed.

One less week of skipping school.

She still had to attend every day.

Tao Zhi waited anxiously for several days, but didn’t receive a call from Tao Xiuping. In the end she couldn’t bear it and, feeling guilty, sent Tao Xiuping a WeChat message.

It wasn’t until just before dinner that Tao Xiuping finally called her.

Tao Zhi was sitting cross-legged on the small sofa watching a movie with her notebook in her lap when the phone rang. She lazily glanced at the screen; when she saw the name she stiffened.

She paused the movie, answered the call.

“Dad.” Tao Zhi spoke obediently and ingratiatingly, “How have you been recently? Is work going well? How’s your health?”

Tao Xiuping: “I heard you beat up a senior again?”

“……”

“Was it still one against three?” Tao Xiuping continued.

“……”

“You even pushed someone’s head into the toilet?”

“……”

Tao Zhi felt the need to explain herself: “I didn’t push her. She didn’t stand steady and fell in by herself.”

“…You’ve got a point,” Tao Xiuping sighed softly. “Back in my day I was the terror of Experimental — nobody in ten classes dared pick a fight with me. Didn’t expect my daughter to really inherit my legacy.”

Tao Zhi immediately got excited. “Did you push someone’s head into the toilet too?”

“No,” Tao Xiuping said proudly, “because I studied well.”

“……”

Tao Zhi rolled her eyes at the ceiling and obediently said, “Oh.”

“Next time, before you get carried away, think a bit. What good does that ‘harm the enemy a thousand, harm yourself eight hundred’ method do you? You felt good at the time, sure — but afterward? Who got punished? Wasn’t it you? Later on, whether here or elsewhere, situations like this will keep happening. Right now you can do this because you’re young and still in school. What about later, will you just keep beating people up?”

Tao Zhi fiddled with the plush on the sofa cushion without answering.

Seeing her silent, Tao Xiuping patiently said, “Think now: is there a way to avoid getting hurt yourself while making the bully receive punishment, other than beating them up?”

Tao Zhi’s rebellious mood rose at his words. Too lazy to think hard, she stubbornly answered, “There is. I put a bag over her head and beat her up.”

Tao Xiuping: “……”

Tao Zhi hung up, threw her head back on the sofa, and stared at the stark white ceiling without moving.

She dazed for a while, then went downstairs to eat.

Dinner had already been prepared and left on the table; Aunt Zhang had probably gone off to do something else, leaving the ground floor quiet with only her there.

Tao Zhi crossed the living room to the dining table and pulled out a chair to sit.

The rice had already been served. She picked up her chopsticks and poked at it, then looked up.

The spacious living room was bright and clear; the deep gray marble floor reflected the crystal chandelier above—cold, yet dazzling.

She set down her chopsticks. The bamboo tips rested lightly on the marble tabletop, making a faint sound, but to Tao Zhi, it was sharp and piercing. The quiet echo lingered through the empty space before fading away.

It was like a boulder dropping into an endless sea with a heavy thud—deafening at first, then swallowed whole, sinking deeper and deeper until it disappeared completely.

Tao Zhi lowered her head, her gaze falling on her arm. After a few days, the scratch marks had already scabbed over, the pain gone. Yet for some reason, she suddenly felt a phantom ache.

She tugged her long sleeves down to cover them, then raised a hand to rub her eyes.

All of a sudden, she felt a little wronged.

She didn’t think she had done anything wrong. If the same thing happened again, she would probably still do the same. Tao Xiuping hadn’t said she was wrong either, nor had he blamed her.

He had merely stated the facts in his calm tone—that the way she solved the problem was too impulsive and not the best choice.

But still, she couldn’t help feeling a twinge of unreasonable sadness, one that reached its peak when she sat alone at the dining table downstairs.

Her father—her father whom she barely saw even once a year—had learned she’d been in a fight, yet didn’t ask whether she was hurt, whether she’d been scolded by teachers, or whether she felt wronged.

He only told her, very calmly, that she could have handled it more rationally.

Tao Zhi had never doubted her father’s love. He loved her as any parent loves their child. Even after she lost her mother, even after her brother was gone, she still had a father who loved her deeply.

Even though he was always busy with work, never had time to be with her—never fetched her to and from school, never cooked her favorite meals, never sat beside her to study or listen to her stories about school.

She had learned to get used to all that.

She could learn how to grow up on her own.

It was only during the years after her mother had left with Ji Fan—on very, very rare occasions—when she came home to an empty house, or sat down alone to eat her meals…

That she felt, along the road of growing up, she was walking a little too alone.