When Jiang Qihuai’s WeChat message was sent to the group, a few seconds later, the app chimed again.

Ji Fan had sent a friend request.

Jiang Qihuai still had some impression of this deskmate of his. This person was a friend of a friend of a friend—if one had to explain it, the relationship was about as distant as the child of the cousin of the eldest cousin from the second aunt’s husband’s side of the family. The two of them had apparently fought once before.

Jiang Qihuai accepted Ji Fan’s friend request. The boy sent over four words: 【Where are you guys.】

Jiang Qihuai sent him a location pin.

【Ji Fan】: I’ll be there in ten minutes.

Jiang Qihuai looked up and glanced at Tao Zhi sitting beside him.

The little girl had finished her yogurt. The box was placed on the table next to her, and she was propping her chin up, smiling at him with squinted eyes. She patted the seat beside her, gesturing for him to come over and sit.

Jiang Qihuai walked over, threw the empty yogurt box into the trash, and sat down beside her.

Tao Zhi craned her neck to peek at his phone. “Did you see the photos we posted in the group?”

Jiang Qihuai: “No.”

“There’s one with you in it,” Tao Zhi said, yawning sleepily and rubbing her eyes. “You missed the fireworks tonight, we watched them from the Ferris wheel. Everyone saw them except you. But we took pictures.”

She went on chattering beside him: “You should look at them, they were really pretty.”

Jiang Qihuai said nothing. He set his phone aside, showing no sign of scrolling through.

Tao Zhi watched him for a while, then lowered her head in disappointment and muttered so softly only she could hear, “Zhizhi was really pretty too.”

Ji Fan was quite familiar with this area, so it took him less than ten minutes to arrive.

The moment he stepped into the convenience store, Tao Zhi saw him. She was crouched on her chair drinking yogurt and waved at him.

Panting slightly, Ji Fan walked over, leaning against the table to catch his breath. He looked at Jiang Qihuai. “Didn’t she already finish that?”

“Bought another one,” Jiang Qihuai said.

Ji Fan: “…”

He nodded, pulled out his phone. “How much was it? I’ll transfer it to you.”

“No need.”

Ji Fan didn’t insist. He just thanked him, then reached out to ruffle Tao Zhi’s hair, grabbing her arm to pull her up. “Alright, stop drinking. Aren’t you afraid of getting a stomachache from all that yogurt? Let’s go home.”

Tao Zhi was tugged to her feet and led toward the convenience store door. Just before stepping out, she turned back for one last look.

Jiang Qihuai sat at the table, quietly watching her.

He watched as the girl passed through the automatic door, hopping and stumbling her way down the street. The boy, impatient, scooped her back up with one arm, and the two finally disappeared at the corner of the road.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The Golden Week holiday of October passed quickly. Just when everyone felt the vacation had only just begun, the seven days were already gone—the longest break before the winter holidays slipped away without a sound.

Tao Zhi’s last three days were exceedingly dull. She spent one day sobering up, and the remaining two reading.

All the entertainment plans Song Jiang tried to invite her to, she rejected them all, with the excuse that there were too many people out during the holiday, and she couldn’t be bothered to squeeze through the crowds.

“Not going.”

“How come you’re not going again?”

“I have social anxiety. I’m a bit afraid of strangers,” Tao Zhi said, sitting at her desk in her bedroom, a lollipop in her mouth as she flipped through a physics test paper. The phone was on speaker beside her. “I also don’t like crowded places. My personality is rather withdrawn.”

Song Jiang: “…”

A curse got stuck in Song Jiang’s throat, but in the end, he couldn’t hold it back. “Social anxiety, my ass! What the hell are you afraid of! You’ve been holed up at home every day lately, not even stepping outside your own door—what the hell for?”

Tao Zhi twirled her pen, the tip pausing over the last multiple-choice question before she circled a letter. Her voice was lazy. “For a greater cause.”

“…”

Song Jiang hung up the call in frustration.

On the first day of school, Tao Zhi finally finished the set of test papers Wang Zhezi had given her personally.

Though they were just basic questions, she still lost a handful of hair doing them. Only by relying on Fu Xiling’s notes did she barely manage to get through them. Since there was no answer sheet, she had no idea how accurate her work was.

If they were wrong, so be it. Anyway, it was done just to muddle through.

Tao Zhi thought carelessly.

Early Monday morning, as soon as she entered the classroom, she saw Li Shuangjiang and the others busy at the blackboard. A small Black Forest cake sat on the lectern. On the blackboard, a large calendar had been drawn in chalk. Zhao Mingqi and the others each held a candle, standing in a row before the calendar with solemn expressions.

At Li Shuangjiang’s command—“Bow once”—the whole row bowed in unison to the blackboard.

As they bent for the second bow, Tao Zhi went closer for a look. “What are they doing?”

“Paying tribute to their beautiful, now-departed Golden Week,” Fu Xiling said beside her. “They even specially went to buy a cake this morning.”

“…Idiots.”

Tao Zhi couldn’t comprehend these boys’ ‘performance art,’ rolled her eyes, and returned to her seat.

The holiday was over, and the day-by-day school routine resumed again. After the second class break, gossip expert Jiang Zhengxun came back with the latest news.

The top student of the neighboring liberal arts class had been caught cheating. All their exam results were canceled, and they were removed from the school’s top-100 ranking.

When Jiang Zhengxun brought up the story, Tao Zhi was lying on her desk, listening to Li Shuangjiang arguing with his deskmate. Zhao Mingqi was fanning the flames at the side. The two were red-faced over a math problem’s answer—the argument had escalated from the final result all the way to personal insults.

“I just went to the Chinese office to get test papers and overheard it. I don’t know the exact details, but apparently some guy named Zhao-something-Qiao cheated on the comprehensive liberal arts exam. Somehow, it got discovered and he was anonymously reported,” Jiang Zhengxun said, sitting on a desk edge while munching chips. “Then the school checked the surveillance or whatever, called him in to question him—it really was cheating.”

“Zhao Baiqiao,” Li Shuangjiang said. “He used to be in our class. His grades were fine, but not top-of-the-grade good. I thought he’d just improved fast recently. And he’s the grade director’s son, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, yeah, our grade’s director,” Jiang Zhengxun said. “I heard the director slapped him right there in the office. All the subject teachers were there. He got chewed out real bad. That Zhao—uh—whatever—”

“Zhao Baiqiao,” Li Shuangjiang corrected.

“Right, Zhao Baiqiao,” Jiang Zhengxun said. “He cried like the ground was shaking.”

Though the incident happened in the liberal arts class, it caused quite a stir.

Incidents of cheating during exams were not rare, but a case where a top-ranking student’s grades were obtained through cheating—this was the first time such a thing had happened at the Experimental High School.

Usually, the students who performed well disdained the idea of relying on cheating to get scores, let alone to take first place in the grade.

And the person in question happened to be the grade director’s son.

That grade director was strict and sharp-tongued. If she caught even the smallest mistake, she would call you into her office for a scolding. Almost no one in the entire second-year grade liked her. She also had a fondness for wearing pink skirts, so people privately nicknamed her “Experimental Umbridge.”

Every monthly exam, the Experimental High School would post a list of the top 100 students.

That afternoon, Experimental Umbridge stood in front of the grade two bulletin board on the first floor, face dark, ordering two students to tear down the list and replace it with a new one.

A crowd of students gathered around, skipping lunch, chatting and laughing as they watched the scene.

Li Shuangjiang pulled Jiang Qihuai and the others over, and as they passed, they also glanced at it. Zhao Mingqi clicked his tongue twice beside him. “That Umbridge really lost face this time.”

Right next to them stood a few girls from Class One who had just come downstairs—among them Li Sijia and Wu Nan. Wu Nan, always serious, frowned and said, “Such sudden progress of several dozen points sounds suspicious. Learning is supposed to be a steady process. How could anyone soar that fast?”

Li Sijia, holding her arm, spoke softly, “But don’t we have one like that in our own class too? Someone who never seems to study, yet suddenly goes from scoring fifty or sixty to over a hundred…”

Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was enough for everyone nearby to hear.

Li Shuangjiang and the others were briefly stunned.

Her words were too pointed. Looking across the entire class, there was only one person they could possibly refer to.

Jiang Qihuai, who had been looking at his phone, suddenly lifted his head, glancing at her with an unreadable expression.

Li Sijia’s eyes met his, and she quickly looked away in panic.

Another girl beside her gave a knowing “oh,” and said meaningfully, “That one? She paid her way in. How can she be compared to the grade director’s son?”

Li Shuangjiang frowned. “Boss isn’t that kind of person.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “How is she not? She copies homework every day—why wouldn’t she cheat on exams?”

Zhao Mingqi made a sound, grinning. “That’s not fair. I’ve copied Huai-ge’s homework before, too.”

“Homework and exams are two different things,” Li Shuangjiang said, sounding displeased. “Sometimes I copy homework too when I don’t finish it, does that mean my seven-hundred points are from cheating? Who hasn’t copied homework during morning study? You never made up work?”

The girl sneered. “Boys, huh. Looks are justice, I guess. As long as they’re good-looking, that’s enough.”

Li Shuangjiang was at a loss for words, his face flushed red, unable to think of a comeback. Zhao Mingqi tugged his sleeve. “Forget it, Li.”

Jiang Qihuai turned and went upstairs.

He went against the stream of people to the third floor.

Class One’s classroom was quiet, with only a few people inside.

Tao Zhi and Fu Xiling were sitting together eating boxed lunches, laughing over something with their chopsticks still in their mouths.

When they saw him standing at the door, Tao Zhi raised the hand holding her chopsticks and waved. “What’s up, Your Highness? Forget something?”

Jiang Qihuai didn’t speak. It seemed he only came to check whether she was there.

Then he turned, closed the back door, and left.

Tao Zhi and Fu Xiling looked at each other.

Tao Zhi blinked. “What’s wrong with him?”

Fu Xiling blinked too. “The world of geniuses—we mortals can’t understand it.”

Tao Zhi didn’t know what had happened downstairs at noon, but she wasn’t stupid.

Through the entire afternoon, she could still feel that something wasn’t right.

For example, during every class break, the number of times those girls gathered in a circle glanced at her clearly increased. Every time her gaze happened to meet theirs, they would hurriedly look away and continue talking.

Tao Zhi had long grown used to being looked at by all kinds of eyes. She didn’t care about irrelevant people; she just kept doing what she was doing, unaffected by such idle onlookers.

Even Li Shuangjiang and the others became noticeably more attentive toward her.

All afternoon, Zhao Mingqi came over to give her a yogurt, Li Shuangjiang handed her a bag of soft candy, and even Jiang Zhengxun—who usually couldn’t be bothered to leave his seat—ran over to chat with her.

“Class monitor, you didn’t hear anything this afternoon, right?”

“Hear what?” Tao Zhi asked absentmindedly while playing mahjong.

Jiang Zhengxun sighed in relief. “Nothing.”

Tao Zhi said, “That I cheated on the monthly exam?”

Jiang Zhengxun: “…”

Li Shuangjiang, who had been eavesdropping in front, immediately turned his head around, his expression tense.

Tao Zhi frowned in thought, tossed out a three-dot tile, and said, “It’s not like I’m deaf. They were so loud it’s as if they were afraid people in the next class wouldn’t hear. I caught half of it, and guessed the rest.”

Jiang Zhengxun scratched his nose awkwardly. “Don’t listen to them.”

Tao Zhi lifted her head. “Why don’t you doubt me too? My score—” She paused for a moment, then said with satisfaction, “Hmm, it was pretty good.”

Li Shuangjiang: “…”

Beside her, Fu Xiling couldn’t help pressing her lips together, quietly laughing.

Jiang Zhengxun looked exasperated. “You can’t even be bothered to come up with topics for class meetings, and you dump all the class monitor work on me—guess you’re too lazy to cheat too.”

Just as Tao Zhi was about to speak, Zhao Mingqi ran into the classroom with a basketball in his arms. “Class monitor, Old Wang’s looking for you.”

Everyone in the room instantly turned their heads.

Tao Zhi set down her phone, expressionless, and stood up to go out. At the office door, she knocked twice.

Wang Zhezi was sitting at the desk writing a lesson plan. Hearing the knock, he lifted his head. “Come in.”

Tao Zhi entered, standing properly in front of the desk, waiting for the teacher to speak.

Wang Zhezi set down his mouse and turned his chair toward her. “A classmate came to me anonymously, saying they have some doubts about your Chinese and English scores in the monthly exam.”

Tao Zhi nodded. “I know. Those doubts probably started right when the results came out. It’s just that because of what happened in the liberal arts class, people only dared to say something today.”

Wang Zhezi looked at her, a bit surprised. “You don’t even sound slightly wronged.”

Tao Zhi imitated his tone. “Then you should at least suspect me a little, shouldn’t you? After all, you caught me copying homework on the very first day of school.”

Wang Zhezi couldn’t help but laugh in exasperation. “The teacher believes in your character. I’ve seen your past report cards and also talked with your father. I think it’s completely reasonable for you to get these scores. I just wanted to tell you not to be affected by what others say. And also—”

His expression suddenly changed as he slapped a stack of test papers onto the desk in front of her. “What on earth did you write for physics? How did you even manage to get basic questions wrong like this? Go back and correct every single one. Do each wrong question ten more times in your mistake notebook. I’ll check tomorrow.”

Tao Zhi: “…”

Tao Zhi returned to the classroom with her test papers in her arms, her face ashen.

As soon as she pushed open the door, she saw Wu Nan and Li Shuangjiang arguing about something.

Both of them were standing. Li Shuangjiang’s face was flushed red with anger, while Wu Nan stood with her arms crossed, calm and cold. “I’ve never spoken ill of anyone behind their back, but for this matter—ask around the class. How many people think there’s no problem? Just because you’re close to her, that means you can’t tell right from wrong?”

“When the hell did I—” Li Shuangjiang’s voice rose sharply. Fu Xiling patted his arm beside him.

He turned his head and saw Tao Zhi standing at the doorway. The rest of his words stuck in his throat, and he ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

Wu Nan also turned her head. Seeing Tao Zhi enter, she gave a cold laugh. “Since the class monitor is back, then prove your innocence. If we really misunderstood you, I’ll apologize.”

Tao Zhi set the physics papers Wang Zhezi had given her down on her desk, then walked over.

She was about the same height as Wu Nan, and across the desk, she met her gaze without the slightest trace of avoidance. “So it was you who reported me?”

Tao Zhi’s features were naturally a little fierce. Usually, when she talked and laughed, she seemed quick-witted and easy to get along with, like nothing in the world really bothered her. But when she went quiet, those dark eyes staring straight at someone carried a quiet, heavy pressure.

Wu Nan didn’t speak.

The classroom fell silent. Those who were watching the commotion kept watching.

After a while, the faint sound of desks and chairs shifting broke the silence.

Li Sijia, standing beside Wu Nan, rose to her feet and said softly, “It was me who told Teacher Wang.”

Tao Zhi turned to her.

“It wasn’t Wu Nan,” Li Sijia said, lips pressed together, her eyes slightly red. “When I was helping organize the English exam papers in the office last time, I saw your English paper from last semester’s final. I just thought… your progress was unreasonable.”

Everyone was surprised.

Wu Nan had always been the type who spoke her mind, never holding back when she saw something she disliked. But Li Sijia was quiet, barely ever spoke, and was considered the model student of the class.

Tao Zhi looked at her in genuine surprise. “Consort Li, why’s it you?”

Li Sijia looked confused.

Li Shuangjiang also turned his head, puzzled. “Boss, who did you just call?”

Jiang Qihuai sighed, rolled up the paper in his hand, and gently tapped Tao Zhi on the head from behind. “Speak properly.”

Tao Zhi hissed softly, rubbing her head with her hand and pouting. “Classmate Li Sijia, you’re the best in English, right?”

Fu Xiling tilted her head, whispering, “She’s the English class representative. Ranked first in the whole grade last time for English.”

Tao Zhi nodded. “Then English it is.”

Li Sijia was stunned. “What?”

Tao Zhi was taller by a head. Looking down at her, she spoke slowly, unhurriedly: “Next monthly exam, if my English score is higher than yours, you’ll go to the school broadcast room and apologize to me over the mic.”

After thinking for a moment, Tao Zhi still felt that wasn’t quite satisfying, so she added, “And write me an eight-hundred-word self-reflection essay, and read it out loud at the next class meeting.”