The lights in the residential complex were dim.

A short distance ahead, the small lamps lining the garden path twisted like a string of connected candles, autumn leaves gathered under the lights, cut into fragments of shadow.

Walking against the light, Jiang Qihuai visibly paused when Tao Zhi lifted her head and her expression came into view.

The little girl was squatting by the gate with her arms around herself. Her pitch-black eyes gleamed moistly in the dim glow; her eyelids were slightly red, yet her pupils were clear as she looked at him.

The boy’s appearance was a little unexpected.

Tao Zhi looked at him, obviously not reacting right away. “Why are you here?”

Her voice was a bit hoarse.

Jiang Qihuai tilted his chin toward the row of detached houses inside. “My tutoring job is here.”

Tao Zhi was half a beat slow to respond. “Oh.”

The last time she had seen him at the convenience store by the gate, he had seemed to mention he tutored around here—she just hadn’t expected it to be in the same neighborhood.

She lifted her wrist and glanced at her watch. “It’s almost ten o’clock. Why are you finishing class so late?”

“Holiday schedule. The parents added an extra session,” Jiang Qihuai said.

Tao Zhi nodded again, her reaction a little dull.

Jiang Qihuai didn’t speak again, nor did he leave.

One stayed silent, the other didn’t ask.

So they simply lingered by the gate, letting the wind brush past—neither saying a word for a while.

All of a sudden, Tao Zhi realized there was actually some kind of tacit understanding between her and Jiang Qihuai.

For example, there were many times she had run into him in situations—awkward ones—and she never asked.

And he never explained.

Maybe, to Jiang Qihuai, those things didn’t matter at all.

But to Tao Zhi, they counted as the moments of shared embarrassment between them—another side completely different from how they were at school.

And only the two of them knew those moments.

That thought slightly eased the bad mood that had been weighing on her ever since she stepped into the house earlier.

As her emotions gradually settled, Tao Zhi began to feel a little cold. She sniffed lightly. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Not yet.” Jiang Qihuai looked at her. “Lost your way home?”

Tao Zhi raised her hand and pointed behind her.

Jiang Qihuai glanced over his shoulder, half teasing, half serious. “I thought you went out for a night run and got lost right outside your door.”

He looked at her and paused. “And no jacket—pretty good constitution.”

Tao Zhi pursed her lips. “Your Highness, don’t be so sharp-tongued. I was actually just about to invite you in for dinner.”

Jiang Qihuai nodded. “Now?”

“Now.” Tao Zhi took a deep breath and stood up. She had squatted too long, her legs were a bit numb. Leaning against the iron gate, she supported her knee with one hand and rubbed her tingling calf. “Do you want to come?”

Jiang Qihuai pulled out his phone and glanced at the time.

Almost ten o’clock.

“No,” he stood up, eyes lowered. “I’ll just grab something later.”

Tao Zhi thought about what he meant by grab something later—probably the same as last time: buying a boxed meal or rice ball from the convenience store.

“Alright then,” she bounced twice on the spot. “Wait for me a bit.”

She turned, pushed open the courtyard gate, and ran inside—darted into the house, pulled a jacket off the rack by the entryway, threw it on, and dashed out again.

Jiang Qihuai hadn’t left. He stood by the gate with his hands hanging at his sides, head slightly bowed, waiting quietly—it made him look oddly well-behaved.

As she approached, he lifted his eyes.

Tao Zhi raised her hand, pointing forward, striding ahead. “Let’s go. This young master’s in a bad mood today, so I’ll treat you to dinner.”

She called it dinner, but at this hour, most restaurants had already stopped serving.

But Tao Zhi was a night owl. She often went out in the middle of the night to eat and drink with Song Jiang and the others, so she knew well which late-night spots stayed open and which were good.

They walked out of the residential gate, followed the street for about ten minutes, then turned into a narrow alley. Beyond the alley stood a cluster of old apartment buildings.

Jiang Qihuai followed her through turn after turn. The old neighborhood was dimly lit; the street lamps crackled now and then with a buzzing sound. The vermilion paint on the walls had peeled off in patches, and scrapped bicycles were piled by the walls.

A cat lay curled in a worn cardboard box, lifting its head lazily at the sound of footsteps, squinting as it glanced their way.

Walking beside him, Tao Zhi pointed to the innermost building. “We used to live there. Later, we sold it and moved to where we are now. When we were little, Ji Fan and I used to play hide-and-seek under that bike shed, and we’d fight with the neighborhood kids—no one could beat us.”

“The kids who lost would just run home crying, and then their moms would come knocking on our door to find my mom,” Tao Zhi continued. “My mom never scolded me. The neighbors wouldn’t fuss with a little girl either. Whatever trouble we caused, it was always Ji Fan’s fault.”

Later, when Tao Xiuping and Ji Jin were about to separate, Tao Zhi had gone to bed early that night. She woke up in the middle of the night, feeling hungry, and wanted to go downstairs to see if there was anything to eat.

She tiptoed out of her room, and when she passed the master bedroom, she heard Tao Xiuping and Ji Jin talking.

“Zhizhi has always been sensible. I never have to worry about her grades or anything. I’m at ease knowing she’s with you,” Ji Jin said gently.

Tao Xiuping was silent for a while before saying hoarsely, “Zhizhi’s a girl. She’ll be cared for better if she stays with her mom. I’m not good at taking care of people. And compared to me—her dad, who barely sees her a few times a year—she likes you more. She’s grown up now. I think we should ask her, and Xiao Fan too, respect their opinions.”

Ji Jin sighed. “But Xiao Fan isn’t like Zhizhi. He’s been a handful since he was little. If I don’t keep an eye on him myself, I can’t be at ease. I have to take him with me.”

Tao Zhi had stood at the doorway for a long time that night.

Later, she couldn’t hear clearly what they said anymore—she didn’t remember. She just stood there, listening as their voices gradually faded, until the whole house fell silent again.

She went back to her room, closed the door, lay on her bed staring at the ceiling, and didn’t cry.

Ji Jin had tried very hard to keep everything fair. She had two children and had spent ten years dividing her love evenly between them, never letting either child feel unloved.

Tao Zhi didn’t know if it was because mischievous children were easier to be fond of, but it wasn’t until that night that she understood—that even when you try your hardest to be fair, there’s always a scale inside your heart.

It’s sharp and merciless, marking the exact place and weight each person holds within you.

And that weight—only when you face parting—can you no longer lie to yourself.

Tao Zhi told Jiang Qihuai many stories from her childhood. It seemed that every street corner they passed held a memory for her.

Jiang Qihuai didn’t talk much; he just listened quietly as she spoke, answering softly from time to time.

They walked out of the residential compound and onto the street.

The road ahead was brightly lit; small shops lined both sides one after another, their lights shining. Most sold food. Street food carts were packed closely along both sides of the road, so crowded there was barely space to pass.

The night was deep, yet the whole street glowed as bright as day.

Jiang Qihuai followed Tao Zhi through the crowd until they reached a barbecue shop at the very end of the street.

The shop wasn’t large, but business was booming. Only one small table inside, at the very back, was empty. The owner moved between diners, chatting and joking with them in a familiar way.

As soon as Tao Zhi entered, the owner noticed her and waved.

“Little Tao Zhi’s here, long time no see.” He glanced at the boy following behind her. “Brought a friend this time? Where’s Little Song? Why didn’t he come today?”

“Didn’t call him. I brought my friend to eat something,” Tao Zhi said with a bright smile as she walked in and sat at the innermost table. Jiang Qihuai sat across from her.

Tao Zhi took the menu from the owner and handed one copy to Jiang Qihuai. Without even looking at her own, she began snapping her fingers as she rattled off a list of orders.

When she finished, she turned around. “Do you want a main dish? Their stir-fried beef rice noodles are really good.”

Jiang Qihuai nodded, then looked at the shop owner. “A plate of fried rice, please.”

Tao Zhi: “…”

She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.

The shop owner laughed heartily. “This young man’s pretty funny. Don’t worry, our fried rice is just as good. Sit tight, it’ll be out soon.”

Tao Zhi turned back, reached into the beer crate behind her, and pulled out two bottles. She handed one over. “Barbecue needs beer to go with it.”

Jiang Qihuai took it, set it on the table, and pushed it slightly forward. “I have tutoring tomorrow.”

Tao Zhi opened her own bottle. “Tomorrow too? Isn’t that the one you teach at night?”

“In the morning, there’s an English session.”

“So it’s really the full nine subjects,” Tao Zhi said, pouring herself a glass of beer. “How many tutoring jobs do you have?”

“Just these two,” Jiang Qihuai said. “During the holidays, the lessons come with extra pay.”

Tao Zhi took a small sip of beer, lifted her head, and looked at him. “Your Highness, why are you so short on money anyway?”

“Don’t ask those ‘why not eat minced meat’ kinds of questions,” Jiang Qihuai replied, looking back at her. “Why’d you go out running at night without a jacket?”

Someone like Jiang Qihuai—top of the city’s rankings—was surely in demand across every school. He probably didn’t even need to apply for financial aid; his tuition was likely fully waived. Considering Experimental High was well-funded, the top-tier scholarship amount wasn’t low either. His usual expenses—study materials, basic living costs—should have been well covered.

Even if his family’s situation wasn’t especially good, he shouldn’t have needed to push himself this hard.

Unless there was another reason.

Tao Zhi didn’t ask further. That subtle wall of tacit indifference between them wavered slightly—then stood firm again.

The food came quickly. Tao Zhi worked on skewers; Jiang Qihuai ate his fried rice. He didn’t seem too interested in meat, preferring grilled vegetables instead.

Both beer bottles ended up in Tao Zhi’s stomach. She was drinking faster than usual tonight, and by the time she realized it, the alcohol had already started to hit her.

Resting her chin on her hand, she looked across the table at him and began to talk from the heart. “Jiang Qihuai, do you ever regret transferring to Experimental?”

Jiang Qihuai held his spoon. “Why?”

Tao Zhi tilted her head, thought for a moment, and said, “For example, compared to Affiliated, the teaching quality at Experimental really is just a little worse.”

“Doesn’t matter. Exams are the same everywhere.” Jiang Qihuai’s tone was even.

Tao Zhi mentally expanded his words:

— Doesn’t matter. Being first place anywhere takes the same kind of exam.

She lifted her hand and pointed at herself. “And, for example, you met a troublesome person.”

Jiang Qihuai glanced at her, then at the two empty beer bottles in front of her.

The little girl didn’t look much different from usual—her dark eyes lifted slightly, the corners of her lips faintly curved as she pressed them together, her fingertips tapping lightly against her cheek again and again.

Only her eyelids were red.

It was the first time Jiang Qihuai had seen someone’s eyelids turn red after drinking.

He’d heard the bold words she’d boasted at Li Shuangjiang’s birthday, thought she could really hold her liquor—turns out, just two bottles.

His gaze landed on her fingertips as he said something, but just then, several noisy people came into the shop. Their voices were loud, drowning out his words, and Tao Zhi didn’t catch what he said.

She leaned forward curiously, the tip of her tongue already a little numb from the alcohol. Her words slurred faintly. “What did you say?”

The boys who had just entered walked in further. One of them recognized her and called out, “Tao Zhi?”

Tao Zhi turned her head.

The boy was the kind of handsome that carried a sharp edge. He wore a silver earring and a black jacket, every piece of clothing on him from head to toe flashing some brand’s logo—like a walking pile of money.

The walking money approached their table, took a closer look, and confirmed it really was her.

“Why didn’t you answer my calls?” he asked expressionlessly.

Tao Zhi looked blank. “What calls?”

“What calls?” He stared at her in disbelief. “I called you over fifty times—fifty times!”

Tao Zhi thought for a second, then said seriously, “That might be because I blocked you.”

“You—” The boy looked so angry he nearly choked, but when he met the innocent expression on her face, he was momentarily at a loss for words.

From across the table came the faint, crisp sound of porcelain clinking—spoon against plate. The boy turned his head and saw Jiang Qihuai sitting opposite.

He gave a short, incredulous laugh, then pointed at Jiang Qihuai and snapped, “You think you can just dump me with one sentence, and in less than two months you’ve already got yourself a new one?”

The words carried more than enough meaning. Jiang Qihuai lifted his head. “Ex-boyfriend?”

The question was calm and flat, but Tao Zhi somehow felt a pang of guilt. She whispered, “We broke up. We broke up.”

“Over fifty calls,” Jiang Qihuai said, reproachful. “Little heartless thing.”

“How am I heartless?” Tao Zhi muttered in protest. “We already broke up, didn’t we…”

The two of them went back and forth as if no one else were there. The walking money boy was completely ignored. He laughed in exasperation, raised his hand, and reached out to grab her. “You think you can just say we broke up and that’s it? Tao Zhi, come out and talk this through.”

He grabbed her sleeve. Tao Zhi blinked, reacting a moment too slow. His strength wasn’t much, but her arm followed the pull loosely, and as he tugged upward, she stood up.Jiang Qihuai looked at her sleeve being tugged and asked calmly, “Are you going?”

Tao Zhi finally came to her senses a beat late. She pulled her hand back, still looking a little dazed. “No. Nothing to talk about.”

Jiang Qihuai pushed his chair back slightly, stood up, and quietly stepped between the two of them.

Tao Zhi instinctively retreated half a step, hiding behind the boy’s back. Her fingers clutched at the fabric of his shirt, only her head peeking out.

The walking money boy looked at him and said with forced patience, “Bro, I’m her ex-boyfriend. I’m not trying to cause trouble, I just want to talk for a minute.”

He didn’t look like a bad guy, and his tone was polite, almost like he was trying to reason things out.

Jiang Qihuai nodded slightly, meeting his gaze. “She came out with me, so I have to make sure she’s sent back exactly the same way. Even if you were still her boyfriend, you’d have to wait until she’s sober before asking me for her.”