After saying that, Tao Zhi began to wonder if she might have spoken a little too arrogantly.

Jiang Qihuai was already a pervert to begin with. What if he suddenly got some kind of buff and even she couldn’t catch up to him—what then?

She paused for a moment, then waved her hand again and said, “You don’t have to work too hard, just control yourself a bit. I hope you know your own limits.”

After waiting for a while without hearing Jiang Qihuai respond, Tao Zhi looked up in dissatisfaction. “Why aren’t you cooperating with me?”

The autumn night wind lifted the fallen leaves. Jiang Qihuai raised his hand, pulled up the hood of her jacket, and covered her entire head with it. Tugging down on the fur at the edge, he said, “That’s enough, right?”

“Fine,” Tao Zhi decided to leave it at that and poked her head back out from under the hood. “So, why did you call me out here?”

Jiang Qihuai: “……”

The boy was silent. Tao Zhi looked at him curiously. “Hm? Hmhm?”

Jiang Qihuai didn’t speak.

It didn’t seem like there was anything in particular. He had just been sitting in class, looking at the suddenly empty seat in front of him, listening to Fu Xiling and the others saying she must be feeling awful right now—and he just felt very annoyed.

She had always been delicate and pampered, unable to bear even the slightest thing. When the semester began and she suffered the tiniest loss because of him, she had to find a way to get even. But when she accidentally knocked over his desk and truly felt she had done something wrong, she awkwardly tried to make up for it—quietly, and without making a show of it.

She really was like a princess in a castle, a rose under a glass dome—someone who had grown up cherished and protected since childhood, with a bright, beautiful, and clean soul. Direct and vivid, sincere and passionate, she made people unwilling to see her suffer even a little grievance.

Jiang Qihuai tugged again on the fur of her hood and pulled it back over her head. “Why do you have so many questions?”

Tao Zhi’s eyes and nose were all buried inside the hood, her vision completely dark. She pushed her head out. “Fine! I won’t ask anymore! Let go!”

Jiang Qihuai released his hand and took a step back.

Tao Zhi quickly pulled off the hood, and the person before her came back into view. “Then…” she paused, testing the waters, “I’ll go back now?”

Jiang Qihuai didn’t really react. “Mn.”

Tao Zhi turned and started walking back.

She reached the courtyard gate, opened it, and went in without looking back, lowering her head and pretending to walk gracefully—thinking about how to make her exit look the most elegant.

How did models usually walk the runway again?

Forget it. Too stupid.

Tao Zhi bounced twice in place, then when she reached the door and opened it, she glanced out of the corner of her eye toward where Jiang Qihuai had just been standing.

The guy was already gone.

Tao Zhi pursed her lips and slammed the door shut with a loud bang.

And there she’d been, worrying about how to look good!

He wasn’t even going to look anyway!!!

Leaning against the door, she rolled her eyes. Her stomach gave a soft growl, and she suddenly remembered that she had planned to go out to buy snacks.

But after running into Jiang Qihuai, she completely forgot.

She didn’t feel like going out again, so she simply took off her jacket, went into the kitchen, took a carton of milk from the fridge, tore it open, and stuck it into the microwave to heat before drinking it.

The kitchen was warm. She had added two spoonfuls of sugar to the milk. Leaning against the island counter, Tao Zhi held the cup and took small sips, reaching up to touch her own head.

When Jiang Qihuai had pulled at her hood just now, his fingers had brushed against it.

Cold.

She stood there dazed when Ji Fan came downstairs, playing with his phone. He walked over, opened the fridge door to grab a cola, and glanced sideways at her. “What are you standing there smiling stupidly for?”

Tao Zhi instinctively lifted a hand and pulled down the corners of her lips, her face expressionless. “Who’s smiling stupidly?”

Ji Fan twisted open his cola and gulped down two mouthfuls. “Going to school tomorrow?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I? I’m ranked third in the grade.” Tao Zhi lifted her chin proudly. “I have to go accept my honor.”

Ji Fan looked at her showing off and reminded her, “In a single subject.”

Tao Zhi finished the last sip of milk in her cup. “Oh right, Boss Tao said he’s coming back to the country in a few days, and he brought you a gift.”

Ji Fan’s eyes lit up.

“As a reward for your heroic act of tattling,” Tao Zhi narrowed her eyes at him. “So that in the future, whenever there’s any movement from the boy I like, you’ll report it to him immediately.”

“……”

Ji Fan choked on his cola, turned away, and coughed deliberately.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Tao Zhi slept soundly that night. Early the next morning, the English listening practice that had been missing for two whole days once again echoed through the first-floor hall.

Ji Fan yawned as he came downstairs. “Don’t know why, but hearing this noisy woman yapping here again actually gives me a weird nostalgic feeling.”

Tao Zhi took a bite of her sandwich without looking up. “You just like being tormented.”

When they arrived at school, morning self-study had just begun. Today’s session was classical Chinese poetry recitation. The class representative for Chinese was standing at the front, maintaining order, when the back door creaked open softly.

Those sitting in the back row heard the sound and turned their heads.

Tao Zhi, with a milk candy in her mouth, casually returned to her seat. Hearing the sound, Li Shuangjiang turned his head, his eyes lighting up when he saw her. His mouth just opened—“Old—”

Tao Zhi raised her index finger and whispered, “Quiet.”

Li Shuangjiang immediately nodded and turned back, continuing to read his text aloud.

Tao Zhi took off her bag, pulled out her Chinese textbook, turned her head—and saw Fu Xiling looking straight at her.

Tao Zhi looked back, rubbed her nose, feeling a little embarrassed.

Fu Xiling’s eyes turned red.

Tao Zhi froze for a moment. “Eh…”

The girl suddenly leaned over and wrapped her arms around Tao Zhi’s waist, her voice muffled. “I missed you.”

Tao Zhi lifted her hand, hesitated for a moment, then gently patted her head.

From behind, Ji Fan watched the scene, utterly baffled. He turned to his deskmate, looking at him in disbelief. “Are all girls like this?”

His deskmate looked at him expressionlessly. “Am I a girl?”

“Oh, slip of the tongue. They.” Ji Fan, having lived two days of upside-down day and night, still hadn’t adjusted back to his own time zone, his mind a bit foggy.

The first class was math, and as expected, Tao Zhi got scolded by Wang Er.

Wang Er was a teacher with a very distinct personality. He didn’t care why a student had missed class the past two days—results spoke for themselves. If you didn’t do well, no matter how reasonable your excuse was, even if the heavens came down, he wouldn’t indulge you. Tao Zhi stood up obediently and listened to the lecture. After class, he called her to the office to continue.

The math office was a little bigger than the physics one. The teachers had just started work—some were making tea, others chatting. Tao Zhi stood honestly in front of Wang Er’s desk.

The math teacher from the next office came in, greeted Wang Er, and when he saw Tao Zhi, smiled. “Isn’t this the girl from your class who got 140 in English last month? What happened, did she get into trouble?”

“139,” Wang Er crossed his legs and sifted through a pile of papers. “And then she gave me a 30 in math. You’ve skewed your subjects all the way down to the Mariana Trench. Even if you got just a fraction of your English score in math, I’d be satisfied. What, those nine points didn’t look good enough for you?”

Tao Zhi felt he was looking down on her. “Your expectations for me are pretty low.”

Wang Er laughed in exasperation. “I’d love to expect more from you! If you could score in math what you do in English, I’d teach class standing on my head. Your English teacher’s been grinning for days—top ten in the grade for single-subject and fastest improvement, all from her class. Why don’t you let me experience that kind of joy too?”

As he spoke, he pulled out a stack of papers and tossed them to her. “Basic problems. Ask if you don’t understand. No need for pressure yet, but for midterms, at least get a passing score.”

Tao Zhi hugged the papers to her chest.

Wang Er: “Did you hear me?”

Tao Zhi answered obediently, “Oh.”

Wang Er always got a headache seeing her act so well-behaved—whatever she said on the surface, once she left that door, she’d still do things her own way. He waved his hand. “Go on, don’t waste your English talent.”

Tao Zhi walked out carrying the papers. When she returned to class, she saw Zhao Mingqi dashing around with a form in hand, running all over the room.

She placed the papers on her desk. “What’s that for?”

“Sports meet,” Fu Xiling said simply.

Tao Zhi nodded.

The school’s autumn sports meet was held after the second monthly exam, around mid-November, the last major event before finals.

Tao Zhi wasn’t interested. She picked up a pen and started on her math papers.

Math wasn’t like English. With English, she could rely on intuition and foundation to manage on her own. But for math and science, the sheer number of missing concepts and formulas left her at a loss.

She put the papers aside and decided to start with the textbook first, already thinking about asking Tao Xiuping to find her a tutor.

Time always worked strangely when one was studying. If you couldn’t focus, an hour felt like an eternity.

But once you were absorbed, the whole day passed in a flash.

Tao Zhi had never felt time move so fast before.

The teachers at Experimental were highly efficient, and they pinpointed key knowledge precisely. They spent about two-thirds of the time teaching textbook material, leaving the last ten or so minutes for advanced exercises. There were still parts Tao Zhi didn’t understand, but she didn’t slack off—she marked all the unclear points in her book and noted them down carefully.

The last class of the day was, as usual, self-study. When the bell rang, Tao Zhi turned and said something to Ji Fan, and the two of them swapped seats.

When Jiang Qihuai came back, he saw the little girl sitting beside him, a pile of worksheets spread out on her desk, flipping through her math book.

He stood beside her, eyes lowered.

Tao Zhi was completely absorbed in her own little world. It took her quite a while to notice he had already come back. Tilting her head up, she patted the seat beside her.

Jiang Qihuai sat down.

Tao Zhi set down her book and leaned closer, looking at him eagerly. “Your Highness, the tutoring fee is two hundred. Extra charge on weekdays.”

Jiang Qihuai understood.

Resting his foot on the bar of the desk, he drawled lazily, “Three hundred.”

Tao Zhi’s eyes widened. “Why don’t you just go rob someone? I could hire a Tsinghua student for less than that.”

Jiang Qihuai raised an eyebrow. “And how do you know I can’t get into Tsinghua?”

“……”

You can.

You’re the greatest.

Tao Zhi rolled her eyes and shoved the math paper toward him.

She’d stumbled her way through a single sheet all day, had no answers to check against, and had no idea what kind of mess she’d written.

Sure enough, after Jiang Qihuai glanced through it twice, his expression froze.

Tao Zhi propped her chin in her hand. “What’s with that look?”

“It means,” Jiang Qihuai picked up his pen and said unhurriedly, “your potential for improvement is downright admirable.”

“……”

Tao Zhi wanted to shove his head under the desk.

Jiang Qihuai continued, “Right now, it’s actually easy for you to raise your total score. No need to keep grinding English like last month. As long as you get the points for the basic questions in each subject, you can earn sixty to seventy percent of the total marks. That’s much simpler than trying to improve your English further. Science subjects are straightforward—either you know it or you don’t.”

“If you don’t, you don’t. There’s no need for long-term vocabulary accumulation,” Tao Zhi said listlessly.

Jiang Qihuai glanced at her.

Her head was still working fine.

He didn’t use a textbook to explain—he started directly from the problems.

For each question, he listed clearly which concepts it covered and which formulas were used. Whenever Tao Zhi didn’t understand something, she circled it, and he would explain that part in detail.

It was the most efficient method.

When he explained, his tone was steady and unhurried, his logic precise and clear. Listening to him, Tao Zhi finally understood why Fu Xiling had said that listening to a top student explain problems was a kind of enjoyment.

One taught clearly, the other understood quickly. In just one self-study session, Tao Zhi had finished two full sheets.

Tao Zhi was floating.

She felt that if she kept up this steady progress, she could score 150 in the next math midterm.

After finishing both papers, she set down her pen and stretched, her whole body relaxing from its earlier tension. Leaning back, she tilted her head slightly, watching Jiang Qihuai from behind and to the side.

The boy was looking down at the paper she had just completed, his eyelashes lowered, his gaze calm and quiet.

His gaze stopped on one of the questions. The tip of his pen tapped lightly on the solution as he said in a calm, even tone, “This one—the formula is wrong.”

No one responded for quite a while.

Jiang Qihuai lifted his head.

The girl had stretched both arms forward, her upper body sprawled out, lying across the desk in a limp, starfish-like posture. “I’m tired. My brain’s frozen. So tired, I can’t think anymore.”

Jiang Qihuai looked at her but said nothing.

Seeing that he didn’t react, Tao Zhi waved her hands weakly and whined while still lying on the desk. “I need a little reward.”

Jiang Qihuai sighed—he had no idea who she’d learned this from. “What kind of reward.”

Tao Zhi turned her head, thought for a moment, and said, “For example, if I answer one question right, you praise me once.”

“……”

Jiang Qihuai’s eyes were sharp and unmistakably sarcastic: What kind of dream are you having.

He was the type who didn’t know how to say nice things anyway. Tao Zhi thought for a bit—making him give compliments really was too hard for him.

She propped up her head and leaned in closer, shortening the distance between them.

Jiang Qihuai didn’t move away. He lowered his eyes to look at her as she leaned closer.

They were so near that even their eyelashes became distinct.

Tao Zhi tilted her head up, her dark eyes wide and unblinking, bright and straightforward. “Or—if I answer correctly, you can hug me once.”