I’ll be your mother.

Tao Zhi wanted to throw all the books on the desk right at his smug, annoying face.

She hadn’t expected that her own tongue—sharp enough to strike down gods and ghosts—would one day hit a wall.

And worse, she was the one who dug herself into it.

She was so embarrassed she wanted to crawl under the desk. For a moment, she felt that anything she said would be wrong—too much sounded like arguing, too little sounded guilty.

So she simply chose to shut up, pursing her lips and glaring at the irritating bastard in front of her who wouldn’t stop running his mouth, planning to kill him with her eyes.

The girl’s black eyes were long and slightly upturned; when she put on a stern face, she indeed had a few degrees of an imposing air—but the tips of her ears, flushed red, robbed her of all credibility.

She glared at him fiercely, eyes filled with such shame and anger that she looked as if she wanted to tear him into pieces. But Jiang Qihuai didn’t care at all. He leaned back lazily, his cold aloofness relaxing a little. “Still thinking of regicide?”

Tao Zhi: “……”

“Why can’t you let it go already?” Tao Zhi’s whole composure and aura collapsed together. She said irritably, “It was just a slip of the tongue. Don’t hold on to it. We both know I didn’t mean that.”

Jiang Qihuai nodded. “How would I know? After all, you’re so curious about my letters.”

Tao Zhi choked. “Am I blind?”

“Don’t curse yourself like that,” Jiang Qihuai said.

“……”

Tao Zhi was so stifled she nearly lost her breath.

The bell signaling the end of the lunch break rang. From the corridor came the voices of Li Shuangjiang and Ji Fan, and a few boys returned noisily to the classroom carrying a basketball.

As soon as Ji Fan walked in, he saw Tao Zhi leaning close to Jiang Qihuai’s desk, stretching her head out to talk to him.

Tao Zhi looked up at him once, then spun her chair around with a sharp “swish.” “I’m not curious at all. You can keep it and admire it by yourself.”

Her movement was a bit too forceful; when she sat down, she even bumped into the chair, causing Jiang Qihuai’s desk to tilt backward again. The stack of papers and books piled high on it slid down slightly.

Tao Zhi lay on her own desk, puffing out a held breath, cheeks bulging.

This Jiang Qihuai—his personality was absolute trash: petty, calculative, annoying, and arrogantly pretentious just because he had good grades.

But he was, admittedly, somewhat good-looking.

Tao Zhi unwillingly admitted that much in her heart.

On top of that, he had excellent grades, and he was always that calm, rational, superior type—he had that fake “top student male god” look about him. It was only natural that girls would like him. Tao Zhi had even seen him get approached by girls from other classes on the sports field several times.

But that was only because they didn’t know what he was really like—just bewitched by his deceitful outer shell.

And besides, how could high schoolers date?

Students should focus on their studies!

With her cheeks puffed out, Tao Zhi randomly grabbed a book from her desk and pretended to read, when the left side of her cheek was lightly poked.

A soft “puff” sound escaped as all the air she had been holding in her mouth was blown out.

She turned her head.

Fu Xiling had woken up at some point, still bleary-eyed with sleep. She raised a forefinger and held it near Tao Zhi’s cheek. “Why do you look unhappy?”

Tao Zhi froze for a moment, then straightened up. “I’m not unhappy.”

“Oh.” Fu Xiling withdrew her hand, stifling a yawn. “You just seem a little down.”

Tao Zhi said, “I lost a fight.”

“…When did you go fight again?”

“Just now.” Tao Zhi lay back down on her desk, speaking in a muffled voice. “It’s because my skills were inferior. My reaction was half a beat too slow, so the opponent took advantage of the opening to mock me.”

Fu Xiling hadn’t even slept long—judging by the time, it couldn’t have been more than ten-odd minutes, nowhere near enough for Tao Zhi to have actually fought anyone. She looked her up and down, still asking, “Then are you hurt anywhere?”

“Yes,” Tao Zhi said. “My chest hurts.”

Fu Xiling’s expression changed drastically. “Your heart was injured?”

“Yes,” Tao Zhi pressed a hand against her chest, face solemn. “It was grievously wounded—by words.”

Fu Xiling: “…”

Fu Xiling’s expression grew equally serious, and she coaxed her, “Then should you ask the teacher for leave and go to the infirmary for a check-up?”

Tao Zhi hadn’t expected such a good idea to come out of this.

Lying down in the infirmary was definitely better than sitting around in class waiting for the bell.

“I think you’re absolutely right. Of course I should go,” she said readily. “Wait here for me a bit and help me tell the teacher.”

Saying that, she fished her phone out from the desk compartment, stuffed a few milk candies into her pocket, then hopped out of her seat and skipped out of the classroom.

Ji Fan had just taken off his school jacket, a tissue stuck to his forehead to wipe sweat. Looking up, he saw Tao Zhi had disappeared.

“Hey.” He raised his hand and patted Fu Xiling.

Fu Xiling turned her head.

“Where’s Zhizhi gone?” Ji Fan asked.

“She went to the infirmary,” Fu Xiling said. “She said her heart was just wounded by words, and it hurts.”

Jiang Qihuai—the one who had just wounded someone’s heart with words: “……”

This little groundhog really could seize on any excuse available to skip class.

The heart-wounded Tao Zhi slept comfortably for an entire period in the infirmary before waking up.

She had been a frequent visitor to the infirmary since her first year of high school, familiar with the nurse there to no end. The girl could make herself sound sweet and charming whenever necessary.

The infirmary teacher had long learned to turn a blind eye, listening to her heart and lungs out of formality before letting her pick any bed she liked to “rest for a while.”

Tao Zhi had originally planned to choose the innermost bed, but when she entered, her eyes landed on the one by the outer wall, then on the medical cart parked beside it.

Her steps paused for a moment; she hopped onto the outer bed instead and pulled the curtain shut.

The white curtain instantly enclosed a sealed secret space. The mixed scent of disinfectant, alcohol, and medicine spread at her nose, carving out an isolated, tiny private world cut off from everything outside.

Tao Zhi lowered her head, sitting on the bed and swinging her legs. One hand slipped into the sleeve of her other arm’s school jacket, fingertips brushing over the scratches she’d gotten before.

The thin scabs from the past few days had begun to peel off, new flesh growing underneath, leaving a faint itch.

She gently scratched at it, staring blankly at the white curtain.

Somehow, the anger from earlier didn’t feel that strong anymore.

Tao Zhi didn’t even know when she fell asleep.

She’d actually slept well the night before and hadn’t felt sleepy all morning. Maybe it was just that the infirmary was too quiet. Her plan to lie down and play on her phone for one class period fell apart, and she ended up falling asleep with her phone in her arms.

It wasn’t until the bell rang for the end of class that the curtain she had carefully drawn shut was pulled open with a sharp swish.

Tao Zhi struggled to open her eyes. Still half-asleep, her vision was blurry; she could vaguely make out a figure standing at the foot of the bed, holding the curtain open.

She thought it was the school nurse or Ji Fan, so she didn’t care. She yawned, rubbed her eyes, and started to sit up.

“Is your injury healed?” Jiang Qihuai’s voice came from the foot of the bed.

Tao Zhi’s hand paused mid-rub. Her fingertips brushed the corner of her eye before she let her head drop back onto the pillow, eyes closed. “It’s internal. I’m very weak. In a near-death state.”

Jiang Qihuai pulled the rest of the curtain aside, sunlight slanting across the bed. “Then what should we do?”

“Heart ailments must be treated with heart medicine. Since you’re already here, don’t let your trip go to waste.” Tao Zhi lay straight on the bed with her hands folded over her stomach, eyes closed in mock serenity. “Let me scold you a bit.”

Jiang Qihuai let out a low, ambiguous laugh.

Tao Zhi opened her eyes. “What are you laughing at?”

“I was just thinking,” Jiang Qihuai said from above, his tone cutting, “with you lying like this, it feels like something’s missing. Maybe a circle of white flowers around your head.”

“……”

Tao Zhi sprang up from the bed, furious. “Do you see how vicious you are? This face of mine could at least be that of Snow White!”

“Sure,” Jiang Qihuai gave her a look, his agreement forced. “Then spit out the apple, Princess. Old Wang’s looking for you.”

Tao Zhi had originally wanted to keep arguing, but the word Princess managed to please her.

Unwilling but appeased, she got up, put on her shoes, and stepped down from the bed.

She slowly straightened up the messy sheets, adjusted the pillow, and walked out.

The school nurse was sitting at the outer desk, reading a book. Hearing the sound, she looked up with a smile. “Awake?”

Tao Zhi blinked innocently, feigning confusion. “Wasn’t feeling too well.”

But the nurse didn’t give her any face, smiling even wider. “You sure weren’t. Slept like a log too. I went in several times and couldn’t wake you—another few minutes and you’d have been snoring.”

“……”

Exposed outright, Tao Zhi shot a glance at Jiang Qihuai, scratching her nose before scampering toward the door. “Bye, school nurse!”

Jiang Qihuai followed after her and closed the infirmary door behind them.

Tao Zhi walked quickly, though Jiang Qihuai didn’t seem intent on catching up. Still, his stride was longer than hers, so the distance between them neither widened nor closed—they simply walked one behind the other toward the academic building, not too far apart, not too near.

They had just passed the outdoor basketball court and reached the convenience stand when someone suddenly called out from behind, stopping Jiang Qihuai.

Tao Zhi instinctively paused and turned her head.

Li Sijia came jogging out of the shop, her face flushed red.

She was holding two bottles of water. Running up to Jiang Qihuai, she cleared her throat and handed one to him. “Classmate Jiang, would you like some water?”

Jiang Qihuai lowered his head, his expression indifferent. “No, thank you.”

Li Sijia bit her lip and withdrew her hand, flustered.

With both bottles clutched to her chest, she hesitated for a moment, then stammered softly, “That letter… did you read it?”

At a scene like this, Tao Zhi felt she should probably leave.

But for some reason, her feet seemed rooted to the ground; she just stood there, stiff as a post.

So she simply crouched down on the spot, turning her head aside to pretend she was casually admiring the scenery—while secretly eavesdropping on the conversation.

“No.” She heard Jiang Qihuai say.

Propping her cheek on her hand, Tao Zhi tapped her fingers against her jaw.

An entire class period had passed, and he still hadn’t read it.

Li Sijia fell silent for a moment, then mustered her courage again. “It’s okay if you haven’t. I just… actually, I noticed you from the very first day you transferred here, and I… kind of like you,” the girl’s face turned crimson as she whispered, “Classmate Jiang, do you have a girlfriend?”

Jiang Qihuai was silent.

He doesn’t! Tao Zhi said in her head, still pretending to watch the boys playing basketball across the way.

After a few seconds of silence, Jiang Qihuai suddenly spoke. “How much did you score on the last mock exam?”

The question was so strange that Tao Zhi was momentarily stunned.

Li Sijia was also taken aback.

“Six hundred eighty,” Li Sijia said.

Her grades weren’t top of the entire year, but they were still quite good—her name always appeared near the upper part of the overall ranking.

The last joint mock exam between the three schools had been tough in every subject, and that score was already excellent.

And for kids their age, academic performance was undoubtedly their greatest source of confidence.

Thinking of this, Li Sijia’s expression gained a bit of assurance as she added, “My English was first in the year.”

Tao Zhi counted on her fingers. She had scored three hundred on that exam—Li Sijia’s score was more than twice hers, with eighty points to spare.

And her English was first in the year!

Tao Zhi sneaked a sidelong glance in their direction.

Good grades.

Quiet and shy.

Pretty, too.

Final conclusion—the perfect girlfriend candidate.

While Tao Zhi was distracted by this thought, she heard Jiang Qihuai speak again.

“Not even seven hundred.” His tone was cool; though the words were harsh, there wasn’t the slightest hint of mockery in his voice. “I suggest you focus on your studies.”

Tao Zhi: “……”