The stadium was boiling with noise.

Because of the sudden incident, students and teachers rushed over. Several volunteers helped another girl up and headed toward the infirmary first.

Li Shuangjiang and Zhao Mingqi ran quickly and had already arrived, while Wang Zhezi jogged over from a distance.

Tao Zhi’s eyes were tightly shut, her heart dead as ashes.

Anyway, Jiang Qihuai had already seen it.

No matter who else saw her now, she no longer cared.

In that instant, the sixteen-year-old girl searched through her brief yet endless sixteen years of life and found—there had never been a moment of more absolute social death.

There would never be anything more despairing than having the person you confessed to see your ugly autumn pants.

Never.

The girl lay flat on the track with her eyes closed, her expression peaceful.

Li Shuangjiang’s face changed drastically: “Boss has gone down! She’s collapsed! Where’s Fan-ge? Ji Fan!!!”

“He’s checking in on the other side,” Zhao Mingqi said. “Send her to the infirmary first. Check if she hit her head. If she didn’t and it’s only superficial, she should be fine.”

“She’s already collapsed!!” Li Shuangjiang screamed like a startled chicken, his voice nearly breaking. “Quick, quick, quick—get her there fast!”

Jiang Qihuai’s eyes swept over the girl’s thoroughly flushed ears.

Without a word, he tugged down the hem of her uniform pants, then slid one arm under her knees, the other up, lifting her horizontally into his arms just as Jiang Hesheng raised a hand, his fingers lightly touching, voice gentle:

“I’ll do it.”

Jiang Qihuai’s movement paused. He lifted his gaze.

Jiang Hesheng frowned in concern, glancing at Tao Zhi, then looked up. “You probably don’t even know where the infirmary is.”

Jiang Qihuai averted his gaze, simply stood up with her in his arms, and walked forward.

“I know. Mind your own business.”

The boy’s voice carried an unmistakable cold impatience.

Jiang Hesheng was briefly stunned; his fingers fell away as he raised his brows at the retreating back.

Tao Zhi, eyes still closed, was carried in the boy’s arms.

Near noon, sunlight with a faint warmth fell upon her eyelids, tinting her vision a dark red.

Her eyelashes trembled slightly.

The voices around her grew more distant, the surroundings gradually quieting.

Her head rested against his chest; the boy’s warmth brushed her ear.

Through layers of fabric and texture came the sound of his heartbeat.

His gait was steady, his steps light and sure.

Tao Zhi began to think about whether she had eaten too much in the past few days—

whether she had gained weight.

Just as she was regretting last night’s portion of braised pork, Jiang Qihuai said in a low voice:

“No one’s around. Open your eyes.”

Tao Zhi remained motionless, her hands hanging limp as she shrank in his arms, playing dead.

Jiang Qihuai’s arms suddenly loosened, pretending to drop her.

Tao Zhi felt herself plunging downward; she instinctively snapped her eyes open, hurriedly wrapping one arm tight around the back of his neck, terrified of falling.

Her body dipped slightly, then steadied again in his hold.

Tao Zhi glared up at him, annoyed.

“Why are you teasing an injured person!”

Jiang Qihuai lowered his eyes, glanced at her, and saw she looked quite lively.

“Still pretending to be dead?”

“I wasn’t pretending to be dead,” Tao Zhi said stubbornly, forcing herself to sound firm. “I just fainted just now, I didn’t know anything.”

She withdrew her hand, the palm accidentally brushing against the collar of his school uniform, and she hissed softly in pain.

There were still faint traces of dampness clinging to the girl’s eyelashes. She pitifully opened her palm before her eyes and blew gently on it.

Although this princess sometimes had quite a temper, she wasn’t the pretentious type. When she had been scratched on the arm during a fight before, she hadn’t even furrowed her brows.

It seemed she had truly fallen hard this time.

Jiang Qihuai pressed his lips together, not in the mood to say anything more.

The infirmary wasn’t far from the stadium, and Jiang Qihuai seemed quite familiar with the school’s layout, taking a shortcut on the way there.

Inside, the girl who had been hit earlier while cutting across the track was sitting on a bed.

She seemed to be from the school’s cheerleading squad, wearing the standard uniform short skirt. Her long socks were torn, and a large patch of skin on her knee was scraped. The school nurse was treating her while scolding under her breath:

“Crossing the track during a race—kids these days really have guts. You’re lucky it’s just a scrape. What if you’d hit your head? Still crying? Now you know it hurts? What were you thinking at the time, huh?”

The young girl, eyes red, kept crying silently and whispering apologies.

Jiang Qihuai placed Tao Zhi on another bed.

“Does your butt still hurt?”

The pain in her tailbone had lessened quite a bit, but being asked like that made her feel somewhat ashamed.

Tao Zhi shook her head and glanced at the girl beside them. The other’s legs, wrapped in white knee-high socks, were slender and beautiful.

She thought of the ugly autumn pants on her own legs.

The contrast hurt even more.

Sitting on the bed, she swung her feet slightly. “Her legs are really pretty.”

Jiang Qihuai followed her gaze toward the girl, his brows furrowing slightly, his expression clearly edged with impatience and irritation.

He didn’t respond, only looked in silence—and that made Tao Zhi even more frustrated.

Boys were visual creatures, after all. Compared to pretty long socks, who would like ugly autumn pants?

Her mood suddenly dipped, and in a small, low voice, she muttered, “My legs are actually very pretty too.”

Jiang Qihuai turned his head and looked at her.

The little girl drooped her head listlessly, like a wilted little animal.

He raised his arm and grabbed the white curtain hanging by the bed. With a swish, he drew it closed, shutting off the view from the other side.

Then he half-squatted by the bed, grasped her ankle, and removed her sneaker.

“What does she have to compare with you,” he said softly.

Tao Zhi stared blankly downward.

The boy lowered his gaze, placed her sneaker on the floor, then lifted the hem of her pants leg.

Tao Zhi braced herself on the edge of the bed and tried to draw her leg back, slightly resisting.

Jiang Qihuai said quietly, “Don’t move.”

She didn’t.

The pink autumn pants were exposed again; Tao Zhi felt it unbearable to look at and simply turned her gaze away.

Jiang Qihuai lightly rolled up her autumn pants; a slender ankle showed, reddened. He raised his eyes, staring at her expression of willing self-sacrifice, not understanding what odd, strange things this little girl had packed into her head: “What’s so wrong with looking at this?”

Tao Zhi twisted her head and puckered her lips: “It’s obviously ugly.”

“Where’s it ugly?”

“Everywhere.”

A green rabbit with round, bulging eyes, its two paws on its hips, standing proudly on a flower—its expression looked more and more like a certain someone. Jiang Qihuai hooked a corner of his mouth: “Then give it a name.”

Tao Zhi awkwardly turned her head: “Who?”

“The rabbit,” Jiang Qihuai said, “call it Chou-Chou.”

Tao Zhi: “……”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Tao Zhi’s ankle was slightly sprained, not serious; it would heal in a few days. The scrape on her hand was a bit deeper.

The school nurse’s examination was quick; after cleaning and disinfecting the wound she bandaged it. Both of Tao Zhi’s hands were wrapped in gauze, looking at first glance like two little white steamed buns.

After the pain subsided, the girl became lively again.

Jiang Qihuai told Wang Zhezi that Tao Zhi would forfeit her afternoon events; although she had qualified first in her 400-meter heat for the final, she could not participate.

The sports meet continued. She lay on the infirmary bed with her feet crossed, a little bored: “Your Highness.”

Jiang Qihuai looked up.

Tao Zhi, listless: “I have nothing to do.”

“Then sleep.”

“I can’t sleep,” Tao Zhi stretched the words out, putting him in a bind, “tell a story.”

“……”

Jiang Qihuai sat on the edge of the bed, leaning against the headboard, raising an eyebrow.

Tao Zhi glanced at him from the corner of her eye, waiting for his temper to flare so he’d start with his sarcastic poison-tongue.

After a moment, Jiang Qihuai began slowly: “The six kingdoms fell, the four seas unified; Mount Shu stood alone, the Epang Palace rose. It overlaid more than three hundred li, isolating heaven and earth. From the north of Mount Li it turned westward, heading straight to Xianyang.”

“……”

Tao Zhi turned her head, feeling at a loss: “Is that your story?”

“The six states were destroyed, the world reunited, the Epang Palace was built.” Jiang Qihuai replied calmly, “How is that not a story?”

A god of learning is a god of learning—different from ordinary people’s awareness.

Tao Zhi rolled her eyes and saluted him with a fist.

Tao Zhi stayed in the infirmary until the sports meet ended.

After Ji Fan finished his events he came to the infirmary. Seeing her pitiful state, the boy mocked her, and Tao Zhi raised her hand to hit him. He quickly grabbed her arm, his motion gentle, frowning: “Don’t make a fuss; your hands are like this and you still won’t behave? If you don’t calm down I’ll call Old Tao and have him come pick you up.”

Tao Zhi said carelessly, “He doesn’t have time; he’s busy.”

Recently, Tao Xiuping, unusually, hadn’t gone on any business trips and had been staying home. But he still seemed very busy—sometimes he didn’t even show up by dinnertime.

Occasionally, when Tao Zhi studied late into the night and went downstairs, hungry, to find something to eat, she would see him just coming back.

He didn’t say anything, and Tao Zhi didn’t ask. There were always many worries in the adult world.

Besides, she had her own goals now—catching up on all the knowledge she’d fallen behind on and struggling to reach that person already felt exhausting enough.

After the sports meet, the first semester of the second year’s leisure activities officially came to an end. The brief moments of happiness were over, and everyone returned to mechanical studying, preparing for the midterm exams.

Jiang Hesheng came to teach about two to three classes each week. Tao Zhi’s progress was rapid and astonishing. Not only the teachers but even the students clearly noticed her improvement.

Tao Zhi never borrowed anyone’s homework or test papers to copy anymore.

She had to make up all the lessons she’d missed while still keeping up with the current school schedule. With midterms approaching, she felt there was never enough time—she wished she could split one hour into two.

Sometimes Jiang Hesheng couldn’t understand why she worked so desperately. More than once, he told her that she could take it slow. She was only in her second year of high school and still had a year and a half left—there was no need to rush.

Tao Zhi listened but said nothing.

If her goal were only to get back into the normal grade range, she wouldn’t need this much pressure.

But that wasn’t her goal.

Jiang Qihuai stood there—and she had to climb to the top too.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Time flew by. The withered leaves of late autumn were swept away, and winter approached.

The midterm exams were scheduled for the last week of November. Unlike the monthly exams, which covered everything in a single day, the midterms at Experimental No.1 High were arranged over two days, following the official college entrance exam schedule, so students could adapt early to the test rhythm.

The day before the exams, even Ji Fan was a little nervous, but Tao Zhi had calmed down.

Unlike last time, when she’d desperately focused on raising her English score to 140, this time she couldn’t afford to neglect any subject.

Tao Zhi’s exam room number was the same as before, though her seat was more than ten rows ahead. She still didn’t know anyone in the same room.

The first exam started much later than the monthly test. Feeling bored while waiting, Tao Zhi went to peek into Exam Room 1.

Inside, most students had already arrived—some were doing last-minute review, others resting their heads on the desk with their eyes closed. Jiang Qihuai sat in the first seat by the door, while Li Sijia was in the very last seat.

One at the front, one at the back—surprisingly balanced.

Tao Zhi pursed her lips, feeling a bit unhappy.

She only glanced inside briefly before Jiang Qihuai spotted her. She was leaning against the wall in the corridor when her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Tao Zhi took it out and looked.

[A Secret]: Come in.

Tao Zhi typed lazily.

[Zhizhi Grape]: Then why don’t you come out?

She waited for a while, ears pricked.

From the classroom came a faint sound. Jiang Qihuai walked out, looking slightly helpless when he saw her leaning against the wall.

“Why aren’t you staying in your own exam room? What are you doing here?”

Tao Zhi blinked, then suddenly stood on tiptoe, raising her arm so that her fingertips lightly touched his forehead.

The school had turned on the heating; the girl’s fingers were warm, her fingertips soft, her touch gentle and hot.

Jiang Qihuai didn’t move, just stood there before her, letting her touch him, his eyes lowered.

“What are you doing?”

“Absorbing some of the top student’s divine power,” Tao Zhi said mysteriously with her eyes closed. “After all, this time I’m going to score seven hundred points.”

Jiang Qihuai narrowed his eyes. “You think you can?”

Tao Zhi lowered her hand, opened her eyes, and shook her head honestly. “I don’t think so.”

“But you can give me a discount,” she said, looking up at him hopefully. “Your tutoring has a family discount, right? Shouldn’t exams be treated the same? You can’t be biased. Give me a ten percent discount—how about it?”

Her nonsense was delivered with such seriousness that it almost made people laugh.

Jiang Qihuai leaned against the wall, looking at her. The corners of his lips lifted, a faint laugh slipping out; his gaze was clear and light. “Alright.”

He raised his hand, curled his index finger slightly, and tapped her forehead lightly.

“Discount granted. Do your best.”