“Sure. I actually wanted some pickled cucumbers today,” Ji Fan continued softly. “But why are you whispering?”

“I don’t want to disturb Zhizhi studying,” Aunt Zhang said, nearly speaking straight into his ear. “It’s the first time I’ve ever seen her work this hard.”

Ji Fan thought, Yeah, same here.

Even back when she was getting first place every day, he’d never seen her doing listening practice while eating breakfast.

He went over to the dining table and deliberately pulled out a chair with a loud screech against the marble floor.

The sound was harsh—zii-laa—but Tao Zhi didn’t even flinch.

She showed no reaction at all, head bowed over the test paper, eyes locked on the questions.

Ji Fan leaned closer. “Seriously? You can’t even take a short break?”

“Shut up,” Tao Zhi said without lifting her head.

Ji Fan shut up, took the bowl of porridge Aunt Zhang brought over, and quietly started eating.

He ate half his breakfast accompanied by that woman’s endless gibberish from the audio recording.

When Tao Zhi finally finished her set of listening questions, she turned it off, folded the paper, stuffed it into her bag, and finally looked up at him for the first time.

Tao Zhi looked genuinely surprised. “Why are you eating so slowly today?”

“I lost my appetite,” Ji Fan pointed at her phone. “That woman’s voice has me ready to fall asleep.”

“Morning is the best time for listening practice,” Tao Zhi said as she stood up, walking into the living room to grab her school uniform jacket. She slipped it on and added, “Alright, stop eating. You eat those damn pickled cucumbers every morning, don’t you ever get tired of them?”

Ji Fan downed the rest of his porridge in a few bites, then jogged after her to put on his shoes.

By the time Ji Fan got in the car, Tao Zhi was already sitting in the back seat, pulling out her English book to memorize vocabulary.

Ji Fan: “……”

He hadn’t realized that this absurd morning was only the beginning.

After arriving at school, Tao Zhi spent the morning self-study period working on English papers.

During physics class, she was memorizing English texts.

During math class, she was writing English essays.

During Chinese class, without even lifting her head, Tao Zhi was doing English reading comprehension.

Fu Xiling finally couldn’t bear to watch any longer. She leaned over and whispered, “Zhizhi, why don’t you take a break?”

Tao Zhi didn’t seem to hear her. Her eyes darted quickly across the passage as she underlined the key words that appeared in the question stems.

Fu Xiling raised a finger and gently poked her arm.

Only then did Tao Zhi turn her head, looking a bit dazed. “Hm?”

Fu Xiling said, “Take a break for a while. You’ve been staring at letters all morning—don’t you get dizzy?”

Tao Zhi blinked her slightly sore eyes. “It’s not that bad.”

Fu Xiling propped her chin on her hand. “You actually don’t need to pressure yourself this much. That last test was Li Sijia’s best result ever—probably because her essay topic matched up well. Normally, her English level should be about the same as mine.”

Tao Zhi nodded, then lowered her eyes again to continue working on the exercises. “That’s still a big gap from me.”

Fu Xiling froze.

She hadn’t known Tao Zhi for very long, but she had already seen many sides of her. It was the first time she realized Tao Zhi could take something like this so seriously.

Fu Xiling didn’t say anything else. She quietly pulled out her own English notes and vocabulary book, placing them on Tao Zhi’s desk.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

This state of Tao Zhi’s lasted for several days.

During that time, she borrowed Fu Xiling’s English notes, took Li Shuangjiang’s phrase notebook, and even tricked Jiang Zhengxun into giving her his Perfect-Score Composition Model Collection.

For the past few days, Ji Fan had been waking up every morning to the voice of that broadcast-style English narrator reading passages aloud.

He had gone from surprise, to breakdown, to gradual numbness.

Even worse, to his horror, Tao Zhi showed no signs of getting tired of it—on the contrary, she seemed to be fighting harder with each passing day, reciting words with more and more enthusiasm.

That afternoon, during the third period, Wang Zhezi mercifully switched their class to PE.

The boys cheered and rushed out of the classroom with their basketballs.

Within ten minutes, the classroom was empty, leaving only a few students who usually preferred to stay glued to their seats, minding their own things.

Tao Zhi left the teaching building, bought a bottle of juice and some snacks from the campus shop, and was heading upstairs when she happened to see Li Sijia walking into Wang Zhezi’s office.

The office door wasn’t completely closed, and as she passed by, Tao Zhi vaguely heard Wang Zhezi’s voice from inside: “I also contacted the academic office to retrieve the surveillance footage from the final exam room. Tao Zhi didn’t have any disciplinary or cheating behavior during the exam. Her score…”

Tao Zhi didn’t stop walking, but her eyes flicked sideways into the room.

Li Sijia was standing with her back to her, head lowered—her expression unseen.

Tao Zhi didn’t pay it much mind.

Even if Consort Li now knew she hadn’t cheated, the bet had already been made.

Words once spoken were like water spilled—there was no taking them back, and no such thing as the bet not counting just because she hadn’t cheated.

Consort Li couldn’t understand it—Tao Zhi seemed not to care from the very beginning. No matter what others thought of her, nothing she did ever changed.

When Tao Zhi entered the classroom and closed the door behind her, the last two people in the room had already left.

Jiang Qihuai was sitting in Ji Fan’s seat, leaning against the wall, reading a book.

Tao Zhi was a little surprised. “Why didn’t you go play basketball with them?”

Without lifting his head, Jiang Qihuai replied, “Didn’t feel like moving.”

Tao Zhi nodded, went back to her own seat, twisted open the juice bottle, took two sips, and pulled out the English test paper she hadn’t finished earlier.

She had just completed the reading comprehension section—now it was time for the compositions.

Tao Zhi took out her phone, opened the alarm app, set a timer, and began writing her essay.

She was very clear about her strengths and weaknesses. Reading comprehension, aside from vocabulary, mainly relied on technique. Her sense of language was decent, and because she liked watching British and American dramas and movies, her listening wasn’t bad either.

Although doing listening exercises was still very different from watching films, it was something that could be improved quickly.

However, she hadn’t memorized vocabulary seriously in years—her word base was still stuck at junior high level.

Her essays were weak; the grammar and vocabulary she used were so simple they read like a primary school “picture description.”

These past few days, she had gone through quite a few composition books, spending most of her study time on writing essays.

Whenever she finished one, she would ask Fu Xiling to correct it for her. But Fu Xiling wasn’t here right now.

She finished her final essay, and there were less than two minutes left on her phone timer.

Tao Zhi set down her pen, shook out the paper in her hand, and reread what she had just written from the top.

The setting sun hung low, the clouds thick and vivid, the fiery evening glow staining half the blue sky red.

In the quiet, empty classroom, a faint sound of a page being turned came from behind her.

Tao Zhi’s fingers holding the paper paused for a moment. She hesitated, then turned her head.

Jiang Qihuai was reading, eyes lowered, his expression calm and focused. His eyelashes curved softly downward, tinted a gentle golden brown by the sunset.

Tao Zhi lifted the paper, covering half her face, leaving only her eyes visible. She turned slightly toward him and deliberately cleared her throat.

Jiang Qihuai raised his head and looked at her indifferently.

The girl’s black eyes blinked twice over the edge of the paper. “Your Highness, are you busy?”

Jiang Qihuai raised an eyebrow.

“If you’re not busy, could you take a look at my essay?” she said in a half-pleading tone. “Please.”

Jiang Qihuai set down the book he was holding. “So you’ve remembered me now?”

Tao Zhi blinked, puzzled.

Jiang Qihuai sat up lazily, his tone slow and low.

“When you were looking for Jiang Zhengxun, looking for Li Shuangjiang, practically glued to Fu Xiling twenty-four hours a day—how come you didn’t think of me then?”

He leaned forward slightly, resting his hands on the desk as he moved closer to her.

“Is it really that hard to beg me?”