Naturally, Li Sijia’s good friends all knew as well.

When Jiang Qihuai walked over, Gu Nana immediately went “oh oh” twice, waggling her brows meaningfully. Wu Nan laughed too.

Li Sijia glared at them in embarrassment, then turned around, lowering her voice. “What is it?”

Jiang Qihuai didn’t answer. He simply handed her the paper.

Beside her, Gu Nana slapped the desk and started teasing.

Li Sijia’s face flushed bright red. She took the paper, stammering, “Wh-what’s this?”

“What else could it be?” Gu Nana chimed in with exaggerated glee. “A letter from a boy to a girl, obviously.”

They were still noisily teasing, but Jiang Qihuai didn’t tell them to stop. He only said, cool and distant, “My vice class monitor wrote you a letter of apology.”

Li Sijia’s expression froze.

Gu Nana fell silent in an instant.

Jiang Qihuai looked at her calmly.

“She’s thin-skinned, so she didn’t give it to you herself. I’m doing it for her. But whatever she said before—she’ll do exactly that. She won’t go back on her word. We lost.”

His tone carried no emotion at all. He was merely stating a fact.

Li Sijia’s face grew uglier by the second. Her fingers clenched tighter and tighter around the letter, but she said nothing.

Jiang Qihuai’s lips curved lazily—almost mocking—as he looked down at her from above and said lightly, “You won. Congratulations.”

When he turned away, his brows furrowed slightly.

Li Sijia couldn’t hold it in anymore. She stuffed the letter into her desk and buried her face in her arms.

Fu Xiling watched, astonished. Every word of his had struck straight at the heart.

Zhao Mingqi craned his neck curiously, still clueless.

“He didn’t really show much expression, but why does Huai-ge look kinda… mad? Wait, he gets mad?”

Jiang Zhengxun sighed. “That’s what you call words that cut deeper than knives.”

He had expressed clearly whose side he stood on, while also mocking how they’d splashed dirty water on someone and now cowered instead of apologizing.

And since the words came from Jiang Qihuai himself, their impact was doubled.

To be at odds with the boy you liked—and to hear him speak such words for another girl—must not have felt very good.

Li Shuangjiang’s emotional intelligence was slightly higher than Zhao Mingqi’s, and he caught on.

Touching his chin thoughtfully, he said, “Huai-ge really doesn’t go easy on girls when he’s pissed. That’s just brutal.”

Fu Xiling and Jiang Zhengxun exchanged a glance but didn’t reply.

Idiots like Li Shuangjiang and Zhao Mingqi might not notice, but over this period of time, Fu Xiling and the others had picked up on something.

For Jiang Qihuai, people didn’t seem to have genders at all. He didn’t care whether someone was male or female, whether they liked him or not.

There were only two kinds of people to him—her, and everyone else.

Tao Zhi had no idea what was happening at school, nor that Jiang Qihuai—the boy everyone saw as an emotionless, untouchable, machine-like genius—had lost his composure for the first time, in front of the entire class.

She had locked herself in her room for two days.

The sadness had faded, leaving only a deep sense of humiliation.

She was the one who had made those bold declarations in front of everyone.

She was also the one who lost.

And not only did she lose—she’d run off to hide, like a coward.

Tao Zhi felt she’d really lost face. She couldn’t even lose with dignity.

Losing wasn’t the end of the world. She hadn’t scored higher, that was all. When she was working hard, others were working hard too.

She wanted to win—but Li Sijia didn’t want to lose either.

Besides, during all those times she wasted—fighting, skipping class, spending whole days in the internet café with Song Jiang and the others—others had been studying.

What right did she have to win?

From the moment she’d thrown away her time like that, she’d already lost the qualification to stand as their equal.

But still—just the thought of the boy she liked standing side by side with someone else, while she could only watch from behind—it irritated her to no end.

Someone had caught up to that boy before she did.

That fact alone sent Tao Zhi straight into the pit of despair.

It was dinner time.

Tao Zhi propped her head on her hand, poking at the white rice in her bowl with her chopsticks. She hadn’t eaten a single bite.

She had been in low spirits for two days now, hardly saying a word at home.

Aunt Zhang set down a plate of chicken wings on the table and asked quietly, “What’s wrong with Zhizhi these past two days? She’s barely eating, and she hasn’t gone to school.”

“She didn’t do well on her exam,” Ji Fan said as he picked up a piece of braised pork. “It’s fine, just let her be. She’ll come around on her own.”

As he spoke, the boy pushed the plate of chicken wings a little closer to her.

After dinner, Tao Zhi received a call from Tao Xiuping.

Old Tao had been very busy lately. The last time he’d called was when Ji Fan had just returned.

Tao Zhi buried her head into the couch cushions as she answered, saying nothing.

On the other end, Tao Xiuping cleared his throat.

“What,” Tao Zhi said flatly.

“Your teacher, Mr. Wang, gave me a call,” Tao Xiuping paused, not mentioning her skipping school for two days. “He said you did quite well in English this time.”

Tao Zhi: “Well, that’s bullshit.”

“Watch your mouth,” Tao Xiuping sighed. “Your teacher seems to really like you, he kept praising you.”

“Praising me for what? For scoring eighteen points in Physics?” Tao Zhi muttered.

“What? My girl can score eighteen in Physics now?” Tao Xiuping’s tone was full of mock surprise. “That’s impressive!”

“…”

Tao Zhi kicked her legs irritably, making the sofa cushions thump, but said nothing.

Tao Xiuping chuckled over the phone.

“Alright, alright. It’s no big deal. Two days of sulking is enough. My Zhizhi isn’t the kind of kid to be knocked down by a tiny setback, is she? Or…” he paused knowingly, “…is it because you like someone, and you feel embarrassed in front of him?”

Her father’s words hit right on the mark.

Tao Zhi instantly shot up from the couch, glaring at Ji Fan with wide eyes.

Ji Fan turned his head away, whistled, and escaped upstairs, pretending to admire the ceiling.

Tao Zhi slumped back down, lowering her gaze, her voice small.

“He got first place… with another girl.”

Tao Xiuping immediately understood. So that’s what this was about.

“Then think about it,” he said, carefully following his daughter’s train of thought. “Do you just want to tie with him for first place?”

Tao Zhi thought about it. Not really.

“Then you’ve got to surpass him—make him bow down to you,” Tao Xiuping said, feigning seriousness. “The person you like exists so you can trample him under your feet. What’s the fun in just standing next to him?”

It was like a slap of clarity.

Tao Zhi realized he was right.

That Li Sijia girl hadn’t truly replaced her—she’d just managed to catch up, to stand beside Jiang Qihuai.

That was all.

But Tao Zhi wanted to ride on top of his head.

After thinking it through, Tao Zhi felt much better.

She hung up the phone, rested her head on her hand, and sat on the couch for a while.

She hadn’t eaten properly for two days, and her stomach was already growling.

She went into the kitchen, saw that dinner had gone cold, and decided not to trouble Aunt Zhang to reheat it.

Putting on her jacket, she stepped out the door—heading to the convenience store to buy some snacks to eat when she got back.

She pushed open the door and stepped out. The courtyard gate was ajar. Tao Zhi nudged it open, tucking her head into her scarf as she walked out—and when she looked up, she saw someone standing ahead.

Jiang Qihuai was standing beside the ground light, phone in hand. The upward glow outlined his tall, slender figure in soft light.

At the same time, Tao Zhi’s phone chimed with a WeChat notification.

She fished it from her pocket and glanced down.

[A Secret]: Come out.

She lifted her head—and Secret lifted his too, looking at her from a distance.

Tao Zhi walked toward him slowly, stopping in front of him, head lowered, saying nothing.

It had only been two days since he last saw her, yet Jiang Qihuai thought the little girl seemed thinner. She was wearing a red, thin scarf that made her small face look pale and soft.

Her long hair was caught in the scarf, puffing up around her collar—it looked a little… cute.

Jiang Qihuai paused at the words he was about to say. His gaze darkened slightly as he quietly looked at her.

Tao Zhi cleared her throat and slowly said, “I’ve thought it over.”

She looked at him, frowning. “Your grades still aren’t good enough.”

“…”

Jiang Qihuai: “?”

He suspected that this “you” of hers might have been a mistake.

Surely, she meant “I.”

“You only got 141 points,” Tao Zhi frowned and scolded him.

“How could you let another girl catch up so easily? You need to study harder. Get a score no one can ever reach, then wait to be ridden by me. What happened this time must never happen again.”

“…”

Jiang Qihuai looked at her, his gaze strange, as she rambled on with her odd, nonsensical logic.

The frustration that had been bottled up inside him for days suddenly found its outlet—bursting out, then dissipating.

After a long pause, a faint laugh slipped from his throat.

In a low voice, he said, “Yes, Princess. Your lecture is well received.”