Tao Zhi looked utterly shocked. “Why must I memorize everything before I can get back my phone?”

She deliberately emphasized the word my.

“Didn’t you ask me to help you mark the key points?” Jiang Qihuai said.

Tao Zhi’s mind went blank for a moment. She had absolutely no memory of ever saying she wanted Jiang Qihuai to mark those key points for her.

“My tutoring fee is very expensive,” Jiang Qihuai went on. “You can pay in cash instead if you want.”

Tao Zhi couldn’t be bothered to respond. She jumped up, trying to reach the phone in his hand.

Jiang Qihuai lifted his arm lightly, just a bit higher, and Tao Zhi grabbed at nothing again.

The bell signaling the end of class rang. Students began leaving the classrooms one after another. People from the upper floors were also coming down. The boy held his arm aloft, pinching the phone between his fingers and waving it teasingly, as though playing with her.

Tao Zhi glanced around—quite a few people were watching curiously.

She grabbed the cuff of Jiang Qihuai’s school uniform sleeve and dragged him down the stairs. “Your Highness, could you be a little reasonable? There’s so much in both Chinese and English,” she drew out the words, “and today’s Friday! Obviously, I’m going to memorize it at home over the weekend.”

Jiang Qihuai lowered his head to look at her, his gaze slanted. “Do you actually study when no one’s watching you at home?”

Tao Zhi puffed out her cheeks guiltily, refusing to answer directly. “Well, I can’t possibly go the whole weekend without my phone! It’s really inconvenient.”

Jiang Qihuai, being pulled down the stairs by her, said nothing.

Tao Zhi glanced at him and felt he was wavering, so she continued logically, “Besides, if I run into something I don’t understand, without my phone, how am I supposed to ask you?”

They followed the small crowd out of the teaching building. The second year of high school had just begun, and evening self-study hadn’t started yet. Night was almost falling, but not quite; the clouds were thin, and the sky was a high-saturation shade of blue-purple.

The streetlamps lining the campus avenue cast tangled shadows of the trees. Jiang Qihuai stepped on the broken silhouettes for a moment, thinking, before saying blandly, “Then just finish memorizing it tonight. It’s not that much anyway.”

Tao Zhi: “……”

Not that much, huh.

What an annoying top student.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

At seven-thirty in the evening.

The streets in the city center were packed with cars. Friday nights were especially lively—streetlights flickered, crowds of people passed by, laughter and chatter unending.

Tao Zhi sat in an armchair tucked in a corner of a café, earphones in her ears. On the table before her sat a cup of coffee and several books.

Her notebook lay open, filled densely with copied classical Chinese passages and English vocabulary. The handwriting was messy.

Beside it sat a small MP3 player.

Tao Zhi lowered her head, memorized a few lines, then felt her neck growing sore. She lifted her head and reached up to rub it, glancing around.

The café was still quite busy. At the next table, a man was typing rapidly on his laptop; nearby, two young girls had also spread out their books to study.

Tao Zhi had never imagined that one day she’d be studying in a café—becoming an honorary member of the café’s “study atmosphere group.”

The music in her earphones cut off the surrounding noise. Tao Zhi lowered her eyes and glanced at the small, square, black-and-white-screened device lying beside her hand.

She also hadn’t expected that Jiang Qihuai, of all people, would actually carry around an MP3 player.

She glanced at the boy behind the café counter, busy grinding coffee beans, and for a moment, she wasn’t even sure why she had come to his workplace to study.

But since she couldn’t use her phone to ask him questions, asking face-to-face here seemed… perfectly reasonable.

What Tao Zhi hadn’t expected was that when she, quite logically, asked to have her phone back—saying, “It’s too noisy in the shop, I need to listen to music so I can concentrate”—he had calmly fished an MP3 player out of his bag and handed it to her.

It was the year 8080, and someone still used an MP3 player.

And the oldest, clunkiest kind at that.

Rather retro.

She pulled out one side of the earphones and rubbed her ear. Instantly, the laughter of several girls at the nearby table reached her ears. They chatted and giggled, stealing glances every so often toward the counter where Jiang Qihuai stood.

The boy was wearing a dark coffee-colored uniform. His shoulders were broad but slim, and the fitted shirt outlined his figure neatly and attractively. He looked less like the schoolboy he was during the day and more composed, more mature.

Tao Zhi watched him for a while. When she caught the moment he looked up, she raised her hand lazily and waved.

Jiang Qihuai glanced at her over the rim of a coffee cup, said a few words to another staff member, set the cup down, and walked over. “What is it?”

Propping her chin on one hand and swinging one leg over the other, Tao Zhi asked, “When do you get off work?”

“Ten o’clock closing. After cleaning up, around eleven,” Jiang Qihuai said. He stood beside the table, neatly stacking the messy pile of menus and order slips she had scattered. He tapped the edge of the stack lightly against the tabletop.

Tao Zhi nodded, put down her pen, and leaned back in the armchair. “My brain’s overworked. I need to replenish my sugar levels.”

Jiang Qihuai lowered his head and glanced at her chaotic notebook. “How many words have you memorized?”

“Eight.” Tao Zhi tilted her head back, looking proud.

“……”

Jiang Qihuai sighed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tao Zhi frowned. “You looking down on me, genius? It hasn’t even been that long. Memorizing eight is already my limit—I need a slice of cheesecake to restore brain power and stamina.”

Jiang Qihuai didn’t reply. He simply took the menus he’d gathered and walked away.

Tao Zhi: “……??”

What’s wrong with ordering a cheesecake!

It’s not like I’m not paying!

Watching him leave, Tao Zhi picked up her pen again, drew a line under the word she had just memorized, and put her earphones back in.

Not long after, a girl in a server’s uniform walked over with a small plate of cheesecake and quietly set it down in front of her.

Tao Zhi looked up.

The pale yellow cheesecake looked soft and smooth, with a thin caramel-colored crust at the bottom. She picked up the small fork, cut a bite, and popped it into her mouth—her eyes curved happily as she swayed a little in her seat.

When she was in a good mood, her efficiency could actually be quite high.

Though Tao Zhi often claimed she was slow at memorizing, deep down she knew she wasn’t stupid. If she truly put her mind to something, she could do it well.

Jiang Qihuai probably hadn’t really believed she could finish reviewing all those key points in one night. Tao Zhi herself wasn’t sure what stubborn streak was driving her—but by the time she finished all the marked classical texts and English words and took off her earphones, the café had already grown quiet.

Inside the café, only a few tables remained occupied by people speaking softly. Outside the vast floor-to-ceiling windows, night had fallen.

Jiang Qihuai was talking with another waiter who looked about his age.

Tao Zhi rested her elbow on the table and her cheek on her palm, watching him.

He leaned casually against the counter beside the coffee machine, head slightly bowed as he listened to the other boy talk excitedly. A faint smile lingered at the corner of his lips; from time to time he added a few words, his whole posture loose and unhurried.

The café’s warm yellow light bathed the room in a gentle glow. In the corner, a record player spun slowly, releasing tender instrumental music that wound softly through the air. The whole shop was steeped in a quiet, mellow stillness.

Perhaps sensing her gaze, Jiang Qihuai suddenly lifted his head and looked over.

His light brown eyes—slightly upturned at the corners like peach petals—were sharp at the edges, yet in that instant the chill of his gaze seemed to blur into something almost soft, almost suggestive.

Tao Zhi felt as if struck by a spark; startled, she quickly looked away.

Pretending nothing had happened, she turned her head toward the window. From the corner of her eye, she saw Jiang Qihuai straighten, remember her, and walk over.

He stopped by her table, eyes lowered. “Finished memorizing?”

“No.” Tao Zhi answered without even turning her head, the words slipping out almost before she thought about them.

Jiang Qihuai didn’t react—his expression calm, unsurprised, as though he had expected it all along. Tao Zhi herself froze for a moment.

She didn’t even know why she had said that.

Just a few hours earlier, she had been wishing for Doraemon to appear, so she could trick him into giving her two slices of Memory Bread and memorize everything in an instant—then reclaim her phone, go home, lie on the couch, watch movies, play games, and stop sitting here pretending to study.

But now—perhaps it was the cheesecake’s sweet aftertaste, or perhaps it was that fleeting look from him earlier, his eyes unexpectedly gentle when he’d glanced her way by the coffee machine.

It was as if she’d been bewitched. Suddenly, she didn’t feel quite ready to leave.

Within that short moment, the last couple in the café packed up and pushed the door open to go. The boy who’d been chatting with Jiang Qihuai called his name, and Jiang Qihuai walked over to start tidying the counter.

Tao Zhi thought about it for a long while but came to no conclusion, so she simply gave up—she was never one to overthink things.

She pushed back her chair, stood up, and stretched lazily. Picking up the empty plate and coffee cup, she carried them to the counter and leaned forward to look inside. “You’re about to get off work?”

“Mm.” Jiang Qihuai responded without looking up.

Tao Zhi lifted her hand and scratched the tip of her nose with a finger, then cleared her throat. “Then, should I… wait for you a bit?”

Jiang Qihuai’s movements paused. He raised his head and looked at her.

His expression made it seem as though, at any second, he would utter two cold words—No need.

So that look from earlier really had been her imagination.

Before he could speak, Tao Zhi turned away and hopped back to the seat she’d occupied all evening.

She idly flipped through her book for a while, then slowly began packing up the pile of notebooks and papers scattered across the table. On Jiang Qihuai’s side, the cleanup was nearly done.

He pushed open a small side door and disappeared inside to change clothes. When he came back out, Tao Zhi slung her backpack over one shoulder and pointed toward the front door.

Jiang Qihuai stepped forward first and pushed it open.

The cool night air rushed in, a stark contrast to the warm air-conditioning inside. Tao Zhi pulled her jacket tighter, eyes lowered, and hopped lightly down the short flight of steps one by one.

The city center at night was alive with the weaving flow of people.

Jiang Qihuai stood beneath the bright lights of the café entrance, waiting quietly as Tao Zhi slowly hopped her way down the steps.

By this hour, there were probably no more regular buses or subways running. Tao Zhi jumped off the last step and looked up at him. “How are you getting home?”

“Night bus.”

Tao Zhi blinked. “They run all night?”

“Mm.” Jiang Qihuai started walking forward. “Until four in the morning.”

Tao Zhi’s eyes blinked rapidly, her intention obvious.

Jiang Qihuai tilted his head. “You want to ride it?”

“I’ve never taken one before!” Tao Zhi said immediately. “Is it different from daytime buses? Does it have a double deck? I want to sit on the top!”

“There’s no difference, and no second deck,” Jiang Qihuai said, mercilessly crushing her fantasy. “Where do you live?”

Tao Zhi followed close beside him. “That place where we ran into each other at the convenience store last time. Is there a stop near there?”

It was something completely ordinary, yet the girl acted as though she’d discovered a new continent. Jiang Qihuai found it somewhat amusing. “There is.”

“Then let’s go, hurry up,” Tao Zhi urged, walking faster, excitement in her steps. “Is the bus stop ahead?”

They hardly had to wait at all—by the time they reached the stop, the bus was just pulling in.

Tao Zhi chose a seat by the window, and Jiang Qihuai sat behind her.

Her last memory of taking a bus was from long ago. After Tao Xiuping got a driver, she was always driven to and from school, and whenever she went out with Song Jiang and the others, they would just take a taxi.

The night bus felt different from the day. Inside, the lights were bright but soft; only a few passengers sat scattered through the cabin. The bus moved unhurriedly through the streets as the dazzling city night unfolded scene by scene beyond the windows.

Tao Zhi leaned against the glass, watching for a long while. Just as she was completely absorbed, the person behind her curled his finger and tapped twice on the windowpane. “You’re getting off at the next stop.”

Tao Zhi snapped back to her senses and turned around, gripping the back of her seat to look at him.

Jiang Qihuai raised an eyebrow.

“Um, um, that…” Tao Zhi blinked rapidly.

“What?” Jiang Qihuai asked, though he clearly knew what she meant.

“My phone!” Tao Zhi slapped the plastic seatback. “You’re not planning to give it back?”

Jiang Qihuai: “Did you finish memorizing?”

I did!

Tao Zhi froze.

When she had said that earlier, it had only been because she hadn’t wanted to leave at that moment. The words had slipped out before she could even think, and she definitely hadn’t thought as far as the matter of the phone.

Now she was caught in her own trap, unsure what to say.

She couldn’t exactly admit she’d been lying, could she?

“What matters isn’t the result, it’s the effort,” Tao Zhi said indignantly. “Even kindergarten teachers tell little kids how important it is to try their best.”

The bus stopped at a red light, then rolled forward again when it turned green. Outside the window, the scenery began to look familiar—but Jiang Qihuai still didn’t respond.

Tao Zhi’s temper flared. She turned her head sharply away. “Forget it.”

She could just buy another one!!!

—Except her Mahjong app was logged in as a guest!!!

She’d lost five hundred thousand Happy Beans!!!

That was a whole ten yuan!!!

Tao Zhi pressed her forehead against the cold window glass, listening as the soft female voice from the bus’s announcement system called out the next stop and reminded passengers to move toward the back door.

She was just about to stand up when the person behind her reached forward, holding out a silver phone between his fingers. The light from the passing streetlamps glided over the pale back of his hand, outlining the sharp bones and his long, clean fingers.

Tao Zhi blinked, stunned, and turned her head.

Seeing that she didn’t react, Jiang Qihuai gave the phone a little shake, urging her to take it.

Tao Zhi pursed her lips and, imitating his earlier cold and indifferent tone, said petulantly, “I haven’t finished memorizing yet.”

Throwing a childish princess tantrum, she glared at him but Jiang Qihuai only made a motion to pull his hand back. “Then don’t take it.”

Tao Zhi immediately snatched the phone from his hand at lightning speed.

With her five hundred thousand Happy Beans safely home again, all traces of her earlier sulk vanished without a trace. In a bright mood, she turned on her beloved phone and said while fiddling with it, “Why are you so moody? Did you see that article I sent you before? This is exactly how people with antisocial personality tendencies behave.”

A textbook case of someone being ungrateful after getting what they wanted.

Jiang Qihuai watched her lower her head over her phone, smiling to herself and swaying happily like a fool. Pressing his lips together, he said quietly, “A child who’s worked hard deserves a little reward.”