Tao Zhi leaned sideways against the wall, her whole body hidden in the shadow, watching through the glass window at the awkward confrontation between the two people inside.

She should have rushed in right away to drag Song Jiang out, but several times when she wanted to move forward, her steps just wouldn’t go.

Her gaze stopped on Jiang Qihuai inside.

The boy wore the convenience store’s uniform shirt, his figure tall and lean. As he moved, the creases of his shirt were lifted by the lines of his bones. His sleeves were rolled up twice, and under the cold light, his skin showed a kind of almost sickly paleness. His expression was indifferent and unfamiliar.

There was a sense of isolation—completely different from when he was at school, as if he were cut off from the world.

This was a Jiang Qihuai from another world.

A world still private to him, one that the faint bond newly formed between them was far from enough to let her glimpse into.

The convenience store’s automatic glass door opened and closed repeatedly, letting out fragments of their conversation. Tao Zhi sighed and took out her phone to call Song Jiang.

He picked up, turning his back and lowering his voice furtively. “What is it? Why didn’t you come in?”

“Get out. Now. Stop making a fool of yourself,” Tao Zhi said impatiently.

Song Jiang said, “Weren’t you the one who always wanted to beat him up? Anyway, we’re off campus now.”

“The truce’s long over. Right now I want to beat you up. Anyway, we’re off campus.”

Reluctantly, Song Jiang shuffled out.

Tao Zhi hung up, slipped the phone into her jacket pocket, and looked up. Inside the convenience store, Jiang Qihuai suddenly turned his head as well.

Their gazes met through the glass. Tao Zhi froze for a moment.

Jiang Qihuai’s eyes stayed fixed for an instant, then looked at her indifferently.

Just then, Song Jiang came over and said carelessly, “What’s wrong? Why did you call me—”

Tao Zhi grabbed his jacket sleeve and turned to leave.

Her steps were brisk, and Song Jiang stumbled twice before catching up. “Hey, hey, what’s the rush? That luzhu isn’t going anywhere.”

Only after they had walked out of the street did Tao Zhi slow down and turn to him. “What did you two talk about?”

Song Jiang thought for a moment. “I asked him how he wanted to die.”

“Idiot,” Tao Zhi said objectively.

“He said he gets off work in four hours.” Song Jiang frowned, confused. “Was he serious or just acting tough?”

Tao Zhi ignored him and did the math. Four hours later—it would already be daylight.

She had never seen him sleep even during class. Did he not need sleep?

They sat at a table outside the luzhu stall. Tao Zhi propped her head on her hand in a daze while the food was served quickly. Song Jiang was still tangled up about whether “even though you two called a truce, I already issued a challenge—if I just ran away now, wouldn’t that look too cowardly,” and for the third time he checked his watch, worrying, “Only three hours left.”

“…”

Tao Zhi put down her chopsticks and nodded. “You can sit here and wait three more hours then. The boss won’t chase you away anyway.”

Song Jiang said, “What about you?”

Tao Zhi stood up and walked off, waving her hand behind her back. “I’m going home to sleep.”

Song Jiang: “…”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Tao Zhi stayed at home like a salted fish, lying limp day and night for two whole days. She barely paid attention to time—waking up to watch American dramas or play games, then sleeping again when tired. The weekend slipped by quickly.

The side effect of her upside-down sleep schedule was that she overslept straight through Monday morning. Aunt Zhang knocked several times on her door before finally waking her up.

Tao Zhi got up slowly, washed up, and went downstairs. As she left the house with a slice of toast in her mouth, the driver happened to be checking his watch. Tao Zhi climbed into the car and looked at him through the rearview mirror, trying to sound sweet:

“Uncle Gu, from now on, little things like me being late or leaving early—no need to tell Old Tao, alright?”

The driver suppressed a laugh. “Got it, got it.”

By the time she arrived at school, the flag-raising ceremony had already begun. On the field, all the teachers and students stood neatly by class and grade. Class One was the first of the second year.

Tao Zhi slipped in from the very end of the formation, passing more than a dozen classes until she reached the back of Class One’s line.

Jiang Qihuai stood at the very end; in front of him was Li Shuangjiang.

Tao Zhi stood at the end of the girls’ row—there were two fewer girls than boys, so she happened to stand right beside Li Shuangjiang. Hearing movement, he turned around.

“Morning, Class Rep.”

Tao Zhi still had the corner of her toast in her mouth. She lifted a hand lazily and mumbled, “Morning.”

“Did you do the weekend homework?” Li Shuangjiang asked.

Tao Zhi finished the soft white bread, tore off the pale crust around it, and tossed it into the trash bin behind her. She asked sincerely, “What homework?”

“…The paper from last Friday,” Li Shuangjiang said. “Just reminding you, every Monday before Wang Er’s class, he does a ten-minute quiz. The questions are taken from the weekend homework. If you get something wrong, he gives you a similar one with the answer changed. Still get it wrong, he changes it again. Keeps going until you get it right. Total maniac.”

Wang Er was their math teacher—full name Wang Jie. He was the homeroom teacher of Class Three and the math department head, notorious for his inventive ways of tormenting students. He and another teacher nicknamed “Wang Folds” were collectively known as the Two Wang Fiends.

Tao Zhi had never heard of such a tactic. “Until they get it right?”

Li Shuangjiang: “Until they get it right.”

Tao Zhi wasn’t concerned. “That’s fine then.”

She could just copy from the top student.

Li Shuangjiang saw right through her idea. “Don’t even think about it. Your front desk, back desk, even your deskmate—all of you might have different papers.”

“…What do you mean?”

“It means every quiz, Wang Er prepares four different sets of questions. You never know which version you’ll get.”

Tao Zhi: “…”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Tao Zhi hadn’t expected to face such a brutal trial in just the second week of school, and for a moment she couldn’t imagine how she would survive the next two years in Class One.

Every day felt like a battle of wits with each subject teacher.

And she still had to deal with the awkward classmates sitting around her.

All afternoon, during every subject’s group discussion, the atmosphere in the last small group of the first row in Class 2-1 was rather strange.

Fu Xiling didn’t talk much to begin with, and Jiang Qihuai was practically mute. Last week’s group discussion had only felt less awkward because Tao Zhi kept asking random questions—like how to simplify a square root or what the chemical equation for calcium carbonate was.

But this week, Tao Zhi didn’t even speak. She didn’t nap on the desk either. She simply rested her elbow on the narrow back of her chair, and whenever she accidentally brushed against Jiang Qihuai’s desk, she quickly pulled back.

Because of what had happened over the weekend, Tao Zhi felt a little uneasy.

She wanted to explain, but whatever she could say seemed strange.

During the break after morning chemistry class, Tao Zhi gathered her courage again, turned around, tapped her fingers lightly on the back of her chair, and glanced at the boy behind her who was looking down at his vocabulary sheet. She hesitated, unsure how to start.

“Just say what you want.” Jiang Qihuai suddenly spoke.

Tao Zhi blinked. “Huh?”

“You’ve been twisting and turning in your seat all morning,” Jiang Qihuai looked up. “What do you want from me?”

“…What do you mean, ‘want something from you’?” Tao Zhi didn’t know why every time this person opened his mouth, he could irritate her so much. She narrowed her eyes in displeasure. “When did I ever ask you for anything?”

“Have you figured out how you’re going to cheat on the math test?” Jiang Qihuai countered.

“Didn’t he say if you get one wrong, he gives another one? Then I’ll just get all of them wrong.” Tao Zhi said carelessly. “Let’s see if he can outlast me.”

“…”

Impressive.

Jiang Qihuai said nothing more and lowered his head again to read.

Tao Zhi was no longer as awkward as before. With genuine curiosity, she asked, “You don’t need to sleep?”

Jiang Qihuai turned a page, clearly understanding her question. “I only work night shifts on weekends.”

Since he mentioned it directly, Tao Zhi started feeling awkward again.

She cleared her throat and pretended to ask casually, “Did you and Timely Rain fight that day?”

“No.”

Seeing his indifferent look, Tao Zhi couldn’t help asking again, “Do you actually know how to fight?”

Jiang Qihuai lifted his eyes. “You want to find out?”

“So you do want to tear up our peace treaty,” Tao Zhi stretched out her hand toward him. “Give me back my sincerity.”

It took Jiang Qihuai a moment to realize that her so-called peace treaty referred to that gingerbread man she had written “Truce” on.

Her “sincerity” probably meant that too.

He nodded calmly. “You wrote a truce, then immediately sent someone to ask me how I wanted to die.”

Without a second thought, Tao Zhi sold Song Jiang out. “I didn’t tell him to ask. He’s just that kind of guy—loves fighting,” Tao Zhi said seriously. “Sometimes when we’re walking down the street, he’ll see someone and just punch them out of nowhere. I don’t even know why.”

Jiang Qihuai: “…”

Fu Xiling, eavesdropping nearby: “…”

Downstairs in Class Eight, Song Jiang was bragging to someone. Mid-sentence, he suddenly sneezed.

“Someone thought of me or cursed me?” Song Jiang muttered, puzzled.

The last class of the morning was math. Sure enough, Wang Er walked in carrying several stacks of papers under one arm, a book tucked beneath them. He handed the test sheets to the first row of each group. “Cut the chatter, it’s test time. I looked at the homework you all turned in—my son’s in middle school and he couldn’t have made that many mistakes.”

Tao Zhi took the test paper from Li Shuangjiang and glanced at it.

Three sheets were left—sure enough, each one was different.

She picked one at random and skimmed it from the top. Five problems in total, all long-form questions, giving her no chance to even guess the answers.

The test lasted fifteen minutes.

At the front, Wang Er watched the clock closely. When time was up, he tapped the blackboard with his triangle ruler. “Alright, that’s it. If you can’t finish this junk in fifteen minutes, what are you even doing? Pass your papers forward. Li Shuangjiang, your deskmate’s been waiting on you forever.”

Li Shuangjiang finished his last problem, set down his pen, turned around, and glanced at Tao Zhi’s paper as he took it.

Tao Zhi’s paper was exactly the same as when she received it—except for the name at the top, the rest of the page was blank.

Li Shuangjiang: “…”

As expected of the class rep.

Tao Zhi raised one hand forward and reached back with the other. After a couple of seconds, she felt Jiang Qihuai’s paper lightly tap her palm.

She took it and was about to pass it forward when she noticed a small sticky note folded on top.

The gingerbread man had been folded in half—cut cleanly across the middle—with a crease added through its waist.

Tao Zhi took the note, handed the test forward, then turned around. “What’s this supposed to mean?”

“Your sincerity,” Jiang Qihuai said.

He actually gave it back?

“So you’re declaring war now? I told you it wasn’t me who sent Timely Rain to pick a fight with you, why are you so—” Tao Zhi grumbled as she unfolded the note, but then her voice trailed off.

On the little figure, beneath her wild and flamboyant “Truce,” two new characters had been added.

They weren’t her handwriting—the strokes leaned slightly, sharp and forceful, the verticals and slants drawn long and fierce.

——Permission granted.

Tao Zhi: “…?”