Moonlight spilled into the bedroom through the wooden window like a silver screen. The phone screen, dimmed to low brightness, cast a faint glow.

Jiang Qihuai paused for a moment, then tapped open the second link.

【The five biggest taboos of student days — and topping the list is—】

【Number one: Aiming high but doing little.

The author has found that lately, not only in society but also among male university students, this issue has become quite common — that is, aiming high but doing little. In relationships, the person they like doesn’t like them back, while the girl who likes them is considered by them as inferior, unworthy of them. So they keep demanding that women improve themselves to meet their own standards, so as to satisfy their—】

Jiang Qihuai’s brow twitched. He closed the article.

He hadn’t expected that his casual refusal back then would be elevated to such a height by Tao Zhi.

And this kind of push notification actually existed?

What the hell. She must have written it herself.

Last night, Tao Zhi had fallen asleep on the sofa. When she woke up, it was five in the morning.

The sofa cushions were so soft they could swallow a person whole. She had slept until her shoulders ached. The room’s air conditioner was still running; the air was dry. Her throat burned with thirst as she sat up, rubbing her voice-box.

Probably because she had buried herself completely into the sofa cushions earlier, Aunt Zhang hadn’t realized that she hadn’t returned to her room.

The lights in the living room were already off, and the entire first floor was silent.

Tao Zhi sat up, raised a hand to rub the sore back of her neck, then picked up the half cup of honey water on the coffee table — already gone cold — and gulped it down in one go.

After resting for a bit, she went upstairs, took a shower, and lay down on the bed. She rolled around for a while but had already lost all sleepiness.

She reached toward the desk, picked up her phone, and swiped to unlock it.

The screen still showed her chat with Jiang Qihuai. She had sent him a few article links before falling asleep waiting for a reply. When she opened it now, she saw that he had responded.

[Pretty Girl Boss Jiang Qihuai]: ?

Tao Zhi: “?”

[Zhizhi Grape]: ?

She thought Jiang Qihuai should already be asleep by now, but only a few minutes later, WeChat chimed again with a ding-dong.

[Pretty Girl Boss Jiang Qihuai]: ?

[Zhizhi Grape]: ?

[Zhizhi Grape]: You haven’t slept yet?

[Pretty Girl Boss Jiang Qihuai]: Awake.

Tao Zhi glanced at the clock — not even six.

Did this person not need sleep?

[Zhizhi Grape]: You’re up this early?

Jiang Qihuai didn’t reply this time.

Instead, he sent a photo.

It was of a half-finished physics test paper. The desk lamp cast a dim light, blending with the faint brightness of dawn outside. At the edge of the photo was half of his hand, holding a pen.

Tao Zhi then remembered—there was still homework to do.

She had played too late last night and had completely forgotten about it.

After taking a shower, she couldn’t fall asleep anyway, so she simply turned over, got out of bed, switched on the light, pulled out a chair, and sat down at her desk. Unzipping her schoolbag beside her, she took out her books and test papers.

Tao Zhi picked up her phone, squinted seriously at the blurry handwriting in the photo, and then gave up.

[Zhizhi Grape]: Can’t you take a clearer photo?

Jiang Qihuai understood what she meant.

He didn’t reply for quite a while, as if speechless. Just when Tao Zhi was starting to grow impatient, another photo came through.

Still the same physics paper—but much clearer this time.

Tao Zhi tapped it open, zoomed in, and began copying down the answers one question at a time.

She had just finished the multiple-choice section when WeChat started chiming again—ding-dong, ding-dong—as Jiang Qihuai sent several more photos in a row.

Tao Zhi opened them one by one.

The second section of the physics paper, then math, English, and two pages from a biology exercise book.

[Pretty Girl Boss Jiang Qihuai]: Didn’t do Chinese.

Tao Zhi blinked and suddenly felt a little uneasy.

Just like last night, when he had added an extra plate of cola chicken wings for her—she’d only said one thing, and he immediately understood what she meant. Now again, the same.

It was as if the two of them had originally been evenly matched—sparring partners, keeping score—but then he suddenly, inexplicably, took two steps back, and somehow, without realizing it, stepped softly onto something very tender.

And she found herself sinking along with it.

Tao Zhi didn’t reply. She hurriedly copied down all the questions from the test papers and exercise books he’d sent, then looked up at the clock.

Just past six.

She raised her hand to rub her ear, then scratched the tip of her nose. After a moment of hesitation, she picked up her phone.

Even though she was alone in her bedroom, she somehow sat up straighter, typing slowly.

[Zhizhi Grape]: Want to grab breakfast? My treat.

[Pretty Girl Boss Jiang Qihuai]: ?

Tao Zhi didn’t even know why, but just looking at that question mark made her feel guilty. She quickly added:

[Zhizhi Grape]: I still owe you a plate of chicken wings, remember? Consider this a return favor.

The other side was silent for a while.

[Pretty Girl Boss Jiang Qihuai]: Where.

Tao Zhi let out a breath of relief, quickly sent him the address, then stuffed her homework back into her schoolbag and stood up to change clothes.

Like a thief, she carefully opened her bedroom door and tiptoed downstairs. The kitchen light was already on—Aunt Zhang was in there preparing breakfast.

Hearing the sound, Aunt Zhang turned around, a little surprised. “Zhizhi, you’re up so early? Are you feeling unwell?”

“No, no,” Tao Zhi said, “just woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep.”

“Alright.” Aunt Zhang nodded. “Then either go lie down for a bit, breakfast isn’t ready yet—I just got up myself.”

Tao Zhi waved her hand and walked toward the door. “It’s fine, I’ve got plans with a classmate to eat breakfast outside.”

Aunt Zhang wiped her hands and came over. “Did you tell Old Gu?”

“No,” Tao Zhi said as she slipped on her shoes. “I’ll just go by myself. Could you tell Uncle Gu later for me?”

Aunt Zhang nodded. “Alright, just be careful on your way out. Zip up your jacket, it’s pretty cold this early.”

Tao Zhi nodded, waved, and pulled the door open to leave.

The early autumn morning carried the chill that had settled overnight, and the wind was laced with cold. Tao Zhi didn’t know if buses or the subway were running yet, nor which line to take, so she simply hailed a taxi.

She chose a 24-hour sheng gun porridge shop, affordable and not far from school. When she arrived, Jiang Qihuai was already there.

The boy stood tall and straight in the morning mist, a schoolbag slung over one shoulder, head lowered.

Tao Zhi jogged toward him. Halfway there, Jiang Qihuai lifted his head.

He looked as though he had just showered; his short black hair wasn’t fully dry, the soft fringe falling over his forehead and brows. His peach blossom eyes were half-lowered, his gaze deep, carrying a loose, unhurried air—more relaxed than usual.

Tao Zhi ran up to him, slightly out of breath. “You’re so fast!”

“Just got here,” Jiang Qihuai replied, his voice tinged with a lazy drawl.

A cold gust of wind swept by. Tao Zhi hunched her shoulders and quickly pushed the shop door open. “Come on, come on—I love the fresh shrimp rice rolls here.”

Jiang Qihuai followed her inside.

Because it was early, only a few tables were occupied. The shop wasn’t big, just a small two-story place, decorated in warm wood tones. The air was filled with the comforting aroma of food, driving away most of the chill clinging to them from outside.

Tao Zhi picked a seat by the window. A waiter handed them the menu.

She ordered a bowl of fresh shrimp sheng gun congee, then chose a few dim sum dishes and small plates. Looking up at Jiang Qihuai, she asked, “You don’t have any food restrictions, right?”

Jiang Qihuai rested his chin on his hand. “Allergic to seafood.”

Tao Zhi let out a small “Ah.” “Then I just ordered seafood congee.”

Jiang Qihuai paused, looked at her, and said, “Are you still afraid I’ll steal your porridge?”

When he said this, his tone was loose, the ending soft and light.

Completely unlike his usual self.

Was he still half-asleep?

Tao Zhi looked at him.

Jiang Qihuai asked, “What is it?”

“Nothing.” Tao Zhi shook her head, lowered her gaze again, thought for a moment, then changed the fresh shrimp rice rolls to beef rice rolls instead.

The waiter soon brought their breakfast. The congee steamed hot and fragrant, the savory scent of seafood filling the air. Small bamboo steamers held black bean chicken feet and steamed pork ribs; the crystal shrimp dumplings gleamed translucently; and the custard buns, shaped like little pigs, sat huddled together, plump and snub-nosed.

Tao Zhi picked up a crystal shrimp dumpling and popped it into her mouth, then slid the whole steamer closer to her side while giving Jiang Qihuai a wary look.

Jiang Qihuai found it a little funny. “I’m not eating it.”

“Isn’t it delicious, though?” Tao Zhi said vaguely, her cheeks puffed out. “What if you can’t resist the temptation? I invite you to breakfast and end up sending you to the hospital.”

Jiang Qihuai said, “Swallow your food before talking.”

“…”

Tao Zhi swallowed and glared at him. “Cold-blooded.”

Jiang Qihuai ignored her and quietly lowered his head to drink his porridge.

Tao Zhi picked up a chicken foot and placed it in her small dish. “So, did you finish your Chinese homework?”

“Yeah.” Jiang Qihuai looked up. “You didn’t?”

Tao Zhi blinked, replying as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “You didn’t send me a picture.”

Jiang Qihuai: “…”

He paused. “Can’t you just do one subject on your own?”

Tao Zhi said frankly, “I can’t. Those ancient poems? I’ve never even looked at them.”

“Midterm exams are next weekend,” Jiang Qihuai reminded her. “Class monitor, how many points are you planning to get this time?”

“See? There you go again.” Tao Zhi pointed her chopsticks at him from across the table. “Did you even read the WeChat article I sent you yesterday?”

Jiang Qihuai said, “No.”

“Why not? You never read anything,” Tao Zhi said, frowning in complaint. “Those were carefully selected by yours truly! I spent ages picking them. Young people should learn to accept advice — good advice sounds unpleasant, you know?”

Jiang Qihuai nodded. “Then I advise you to do your own homework. Otherwise, you won’t even beat your little brother in the midterms.”

He was clearly referring to Ji Fan, who had only scored nine points in math last time — a name Tao Zhi didn’t want to hear.

Jiang Qihuai slowly picked up a piece of steamed pork rib and returned her own words to her: “Good advice sounds unpleasant.”

Tao Zhi: “…”

A waiter nearby glanced over a few times.

The boy and girl both wore the Experimental No.1 High School uniform, strikingly good-looking and eye-catching together.

The waiter tilted her head slightly and whispered to her coworker, “Look at that young couple over there, such a perfect match.”

The other nodded. “Made for each other.”

From where they stood, they could only vaguely catch words like “exam” and “scores.”

“Even at breakfast they’re talking about studying, so serious.”

“Heaven-made pair.”

Tao Zhi had no idea that in the waiters’ eyes, she was now “the pretty girl half of that model top-student couple.”

She and Jiang Qihuai bickered all through breakfast until they were done eating. When she checked the time, it was past seven.

She scanned the QR code at the table and paid the bill. The two of them stepped out of the shop and started walking toward school.

It was about a ten-minute walk from here to Experimental High. They were early, so they didn’t rush, strolling along the roadside at an easy pace.

The air outside was chilly. Tao Zhi, always afraid of the cold, didn’t even feel like talking. She zipped her school jacket all the way up to her chin, buried her face in it, and quietly walked on.

When they were almost at the school gate, a burst of hurried footsteps suddenly sounded from behind.

Tao Zhi turned her head slightly.

Li Shuangjiang came sprinting up from behind, dashing forward like the wind. When he reached them, he was going so fast that he nearly couldn’t stop in time—stumbling forward several steps before finally managing to steady himself.

“I saw your backs from a whole street away and thought it looked like you two,” Li Shuangjiang said, panting heavily. “Where’s Ji Fan?”

Tao Zhi lifted her chin slightly, revealing her mouth from under her zipped-up collar. “He drank too much yesterday, no idea if he’s even up yet. Why are you here so early?”

“Didn’t do my homework yesterday, so I came early to make it up,” Li Shuangjiang said, then turned to look at Jiang Qihuai. “Huai-ge, you doing alright yesterday?”

Jiang Qihuai gave a brief “Mm.”

Li Shuangjiang nodded and was about to dash off again when he suddenly paused mid-step.

It finally hit him. He looked at Tao Zhi, then at Jiang Qihuai.

With a puzzled face, Li Shuangjiang asked, “But… why are you two going to school together?”