Tao Zhi had always been a straightforward person, her temperament direct—she didn’t like to hold things in or beat around the bush. If something was on her mind, she would say it plainly.

Since she had already confirmed it, and already understood what she wanted in her heart, then there was nothing to hide.

If she wasn’t good enough, she’d work hard to be worthy.

If she couldn’t catch up, she’d just keep chasing.

What was the point of a secret crush? Secret love couldn’t make dreams come true.

If she stayed quiet on her side, secretly loving him in silence, and her boy ended up being pursued by someone else, she wouldn’t even have a place to cry her regrets.

She was almost holding her breath, waiting for Jiang Qihuai’s reaction.

She had already spoken to this extent—if he still didn’t get it, then he really was a fool.

She stared straight at him, wanting to catch even the slightest trace of emotion on his face—surprise, shock, anything would do.

But Jiang Qihuai didn’t react.

He lowered his eyes to look at her. Against the setting sun outside the window, a shadow fell over his peach blossom eyes, making their color deepen.

The two of them looked at each other for a long while.

Tao Zhi pressed her lips together but couldn’t hold it in first.

She spoke softly: “Why aren’t you reacting?”

Jiang Qihuai paused for two seconds before saying, “Am I supposed to agree?”

His voice was low, carrying a faint, almost imperceptible hoarseness.

After all, she was a girl—thin-skinned. Tao Zhi felt the tips of her ears heat up. She lowered her lashes and said, “If you agree, I’ll finish all those test papers today.”

She muttered, “I can at least get half of them right.”

Tao Zhi thought about it—if she could answer half the questions correctly on each paper, then maybe Jiang Qihuai would hold her all night and not let go.

But then, that seemed a bit too much like a lovestruck fool.

She wondered if her direct confession had come too suddenly—maybe she should have given him a little time to process it.

After all, someone like Jiang Qihuai was probably rather shy when it came to relationships between men and women.

Tao Zhi lifted her eyes and secretly glanced at that cold and seemingly aloof shy man, then backed down a little. “Did you take it seriously? I was just joking.”

Jiang Qihuai looked at her, the corners of his lips slowly tightening into a straight line.

Why did it look like he’d grown even colder?

Tao Zhi regretted saying that without thinking. Her fingers picked at the edge of the desk, feeling a little annoyed with herself.

She didn’t know what Jiang Qihuai was thinking.

Nor could she be sure whether he liked her bluntness or minded it—whether he would find her annoying.

Tao Zhi stopped talking, and Jiang Qihuai didn’t speak either. He quietly finished correcting her test papers, and the two of them sank into an inexplicable atmosphere of silence.

In the last ten minutes of evening study, Zhao Mingqi went up to the podium to talk about the upcoming sports meet, urging everyone to sign up enthusiastically and win honor for the class.

Tao Zhi didn’t hear a single word of what was being said.

She only came back to herself when Wang Zhezi came in, handed out the homework for the day, and announced dismissal. Only then did she reluctantly get up from Ji Fan’s seat and slowly return to her own to pack her bag.

When she finished putting everything away and turned her head, Jiang Qihuai still hadn’t left. His things were already packed up; he was sitting in his seat, scrolling on his phone, not sure what he was waiting for.

Tao Zhi was just about to speak to him.

Ji Fan came over in two quick strides, grabbed her schoolbag in one hand and her uniform jacket in the other, and—without even looking back—dragged her away.

Tao Zhi stumbled as she was pulled along out of the classroom, looking back longingly in search of Jiang Qihuai. Ji Fan walked fast, almost dragging her by force.

Not having gotten to say a final word to Jiang Qihuai, Tao Zhi was a bit annoyed. “Why are you walking so fast!”

“If I don’t, are you planning to keep flirting with him in front of everyone?” Ji Fan slowed down, rolling his eyes. “Can’t you hold back a little? You were still in the classroom! You think the two people sitting right in front of you were deaf or something?”

Tao Zhi froze, then blushed belatedly.

She stammered, “You guys… heard? I spoke really softly.”

“We,” Ji Fan said, enunciating each word, “were sitting right in front of you, ancestor. So—it really is Jiang Qihuai you like?”

Tao Zhi didn’t answer, but her silence was as good as admitting it.

“Holy shit,” Ji Fan said, looking both shocked and like he’d known it all along. “I guessed it was him before too. There’s only a few people you’re close to, and it’s not like you’d fall for that idiot Li Shuangjiang.”

Tao Zhi weakly refuted, “Why not? Li Shuangjiang looks decent enough, and his grades are pretty good.”

Ji Fan looked a bit sulky. “That bastard Jiang Qihuai—first he beats me up, and now my sister goes and falls for him? Am I really gonna lose to that guy twice?”

“You can’t say it like that,” Tao Zhi corrected him. “Have you thought that maybe I like him because he beat you up?”

Ji Fan: “…”

The two of them kept talking as they walked, heading out the school gate to find their ride.

The car that came to pick them up was parked in the usual spot—but it wasn’t the same one.

Ji Fan hadn’t realized yet, thinking Uncle Gu must’ve parked somewhere else today. Tao Zhi’s eyes lit up, and she went straight toward the black sedan.

She opened the car door. Tao Xiuping was slumped over the steering wheel, frowning in thought, looking rather preoccupied. At the sound of the door opening, he suddenly came back to himself.

His brows relaxed, and he smiled warmly at her. “And who’s this princess getting out of school?”

Since Ji Fan had come back too, Tao Zhi didn’t sit in the front passenger seat—she obediently climbed into the back. “Weren’t you supposed to come back in a few days?”

“Couldn’t wait to pick up our young master and young lady,” Tao Xiuping said with a grin, gesturing toward the back seat. “Chestnut crisps, Little Fan doesn’t like things too sweet, so I got some meat floss rolls too. Try them, see if they’re good.”

Ji Fan also got into the car, still sulking, not taking any snacks. “Maybe you heard she molested some little boy, so you came back early to investigate.”

Tao Xiuping had just started the car and was slowly pulling onto the road when he choked on his own saliva at that. “You two were fighting just yesterday, and now it’s gotten physical?”

Ji Fan rolled his eyes. “She asked him to hold her.”

Tao Xiuping slammed on the brakes, the car jerking to a stop right at the red light by the school gate.

He turned his head sharply. “That little brat did hold you?”

Tao Zhi: “…”

Ji Fan: “…”

Tao Xiuping cleared his throat, turned his head back around, and softened his tone. “What Dad means is—that boy…”

“Nope, he ignored her,” Ji Fan said gleefully, taking pleasure in her misfortune.

Tao Xiuping secretly let out a sigh of relief.

Sitting in the back seat, Tao Zhi punched Ji Fan in the side.

Ji Fan doubled over, clutching his stomach with an “ah” and groaning, “I’m injured!”

Tao Zhi didn’t bother with him. She turned her head away, quietly gazing out the car window.

How did Jiang Qihuai not respond to her?

If Ji Fan’s ears were bad, he should go get them treated. He clearly had responded—he’d even asked whether he should agree or not.

How respectful of him.

Tao Xiuping had come home early. As usual, he took charge of cooking, with Aunt Zhang helping out. Ji Fan sat on the couch fiddling with the robot Tao Xiuping had brought him from Germany. Tao Zhi’s gift sat beside her while she herself sat on the sofa reading a book.

When the dishes were almost ready, Tao Xiuping walked over. He thought she was reading a novel, but when he lowered his head to look—it was a Chinese textbook.

Tao Zhi’s eyes were fixed on a single point in the air above the living room, her lips quietly moving as she recited ancient poetry.

Her concentration was absolute; she didn’t even notice Tao Xiuping approaching. The man looked stunned, exchanging a glance with his son: She’s like this every day now?

Ji Fan nodded and mouthed silently: The little brat she likes is first in the grade.

Tao Xiuping’s feelings were complicated—a mix of pride and jealousy.

His daughter had never studied seriously even for his sake, but now because of another boy, she’d decided to start studying properly.

During dinner, Tao Zhi mentioned she wanted to find a tutor.

Tao Xiuping had brought it up before—back when her grades had plummeted in middle school like a parachute in free fall—but Tao Zhi had resisted, and after two unpleasant arguments, they had dropped the subject altogether.

This time, since she brought it up herself, Tao Xiuping agreed immediately.

He worked fast. By Saturday morning at ten, the tutor arrived.

The tutor was a sophomore at a prestigious university, named Jiang Hesheng, the son of one of Tao Xiuping’s friends. Originally, he had planned to have Ji Fan join the lessons too, but the boy refused outright. In the end, it was only Tao Zhi taking the classes.

Jiang Hesheng had a gentle, handsome look, and his academic record was impressive—vice president of the student council, core member of the debate team. His teaching style was unique.

Unlike Jiang Qihuai, who was concise to the point of never wasting half a word and explained questions strictly by key points and topic types, Jiang Hesheng was thorough and detailed. He would go over fundamental concepts again and again in different ways, and no matter how simple Tao Zhi’s questions were, he never lost patience.

As he put it, “A thousand-foot tower rises from the ground—the foundation is the most important part. Once your basics are solid, those problems you never knew how to start will suddenly make sense.”

Since they were acquaintances, the schedule was flexible, with no fixed time. Tao Xiuping told the two kids to exchange contact info and arrange the sessions themselves.

After a full morning of lessons, lunch passed, and Tao Zhi sat at her desk admiring the test papers she’d completed during class.

Holding her pen, she pointed the tip at each question one by one, counting how many hugs she could earn from this paper.

But after a while, she couldn’t sit still anymore—her heart itched restlessly.

This time, Tao Zhi had learned her lesson—she brought her test papers along when she went out.

After the first time came the second; it was easier now. She got out of the car downstairs at Jiang Qihuai’s building, went into the little supermarket nearby to buy a few things, and carried two full bags up to his door purely by memory.

The stairwell lighting was dim, and the bags were especially heavy. Red marks were pressed into both her hands. Tao Zhi stopped at the door, suddenly hesitating.

This felt a little abrupt.

She hadn’t even thought to send a message or call first—just came straight here on impulse. How rude was that?

Leaning against the cold railing, Tao Zhi thought for a moment, then decided she should go back and wait until next time—after giving him a proper heads-up.

Just as she turned to leave, the security door in front of her clicked open. Grandpa Jiang stood there holding a bag of trash. Seeing her, he froze for a second before breaking into a smile. “Xiao Tao’s here?”

Tao Zhi blinked, realizing what was happening.

Well, she couldn’t leave now anyway. She stepped forward and said a little sheepishly, “I was craving Grandpa’s cooking.”

Grandpa Jiang laughed heartily and stepped aside. “Come in, it’s cold out.”

Tao Zhi went inside, set her bags on the dining table, and noticed the trash in his hand. “Grandpa, were you about to take that out? Let me do it.”

Grandpa Jiang hurriedly waved his hand. “No need, no need.”

But Tao Zhi had already taken the bag.

The girl was wearing a red coat, hopping down the stairs with light steps—bright and lively, nothing at all like their taciturn young man.

Grandpa Jiang left the door open and waited. Soon, the sound of footsteps came echoing up the stairwell as Tao Zhi, neck tucked into her collar, came bouncing back.

The apartment was warm and cozy inside. She rubbed her sore palms where the handles had left marks, changed into slippers, and let out a long, contented sigh.

Grandpa Jiang poured her a cup of warm water.

Tao Zhi thanked him and took it, peeking carefully toward the inside of the house.

“A’Huai’s not home. He’ll be back this afternoon,” Grandpa Jiang said.

Tao Zhi sat obediently on the sofa, holding the cup in both hands.

Grandpa Jiang sighed. “A’Huai’s a good, sensible child—he just wasn’t born into a good family. He’s quiet, doesn’t have many friends his age, always has too much on his mind, and has to take care of this old man too.” He paused, then smiled softly. “Grandpa’s happy you came to visit. When you’re around, A’Huai seems a little more lively.”

Tao Zhi nodded, though she honestly couldn’t tell how Jiang Qihuai was any livelier when he was with her.

That man and the word lively were complete opposites.

She chatted with the old man for a while. As a young girl, she had plenty to talk about and a knack for keeping conversation cheerful. She made him laugh again and again. When they were both tired, each settled into their own quiet activity.

When Jiang Qihuai came home, dusk was already falling. The moment he entered, he looked up—and saw an extra person in the living room.

Grandpa Jiang sat in the rocking chair by the window, glasses on, reading. Tao Zhi had pulled up a small stool beside the coffee table, a test paper spread out in front of her.

Since he wasn’t home, she hadn’t gone into his room. She was bent over the table instead, pen in hand, working on questions.

The sunset shone through the window, the old window frame dividing it into neat, slanted squares. The ends of her hair were bathed in the golden light, and in that instant, she seemed completely illuminated—like light itself.

Jiang Qihuai was briefly dazed. Then he came back to himself just as Tao Zhi, having heard the sound of the door, lifted her head.

Across the living room, against the light, she looked at him—her lips curved into a wide, radiant smile.

“You’re back!” she said brightly.

Jiang Qihuai’s heart gave a sudden jolt. His fingers, hanging at his sides, curled slightly.

The light passed softly through his body, quietly wrapping around his heart. Then, little by little, it expanded outward.

Something unfamiliar, mixed with emotions he couldn’t quite name, surged uncontrollably within him.

He pressed his lips together and said nothing, changing his shoes before walking into the living room.

“I have something to show you.”

Tao Zhi sat on the small stool and turned around, stretching her arm to hook her little bag from the sofa by its strap. Lowering her head, she rummaged through it for a while.

After a good bit of searching, she pulled out a test paper. It was a little crumpled from being stuffed inside her bag. She smoothed it out eagerly and raised it high before him.

This paper had been specially made for her by Jiang Hesheng—it was full of simple, basic problems.

Peeking out from under the paper, Tao Zhi tilted her head up to look at him, her eyes bright.

“Look, I got them all right!”

The living room was silent except for the cheerful voice of the girl.

Grandpa Jiang lifted his eyes from his book, sneaked a glance in their direction, then quietly lowered his head again and turned slightly to the side, back facing them.

Meeting her expectant gaze, the corners of Jiang Qihuai’s lips finally couldn’t help but lift.

He raised his hand, paused for a moment above her head, then let his palm fall gently to rub her hair.

“I saw,” he said softly. “You did great.”