Between third and fourth period, two small figures drifted onto the balcony, like sparrows on a sun-warmed rail; one stood half a head taller, like a willow over a reed.
“Hey, Xiaoxue.” Joanna tilted her head down, her voice like a pebble in a clear stream.
“Mm, what is it?” Little Loli pulled her gaze back, eyes like dew on petals, and met Joanna’s.
“Tired from the morning classes?” Her tone fell soft, like shade under a bamboo eave.
“Not tired—honestly, I wasn’t even listening.” Little Loli pouted, lips like a cherry under frost, the careless shrug of someone fresh from senior-year battles.
They traded lines like fireflies in the dusk, easy and bright, while boys drifted past like moths to lantern flame; every time, Little Loli chased them off with a look sharp as winter steel.
“You can’t do that, Xiaoxue—skipping the lecture’s a bad habit,” Joanna said, concern like a silk ribbon.
“Nana, don’t fuss so much.” Little Loli tossed her chin, pride like a cat’s raised tail.
“You said… what?” Joanna cut in mid-sentence, fingers lifting to pinch Little Loli’s chin, a sly smile curling like a crescent moon.
“Mm, I get it, okay? Let go,” Little Loli mumbled, soft as steamed bun, eyes shimmering like a pond about to spill.
“Ohohoho.” Joanna’s queenly laugh rolled out like lacquered bells, then her other hand found Little Loli’s cheek and gave a playful squeeze, fingers combing through silk-smooth gold like wind through ripe wheat.
“What a darling; with that face, you’re bewitching me,” she teased, voice like honey over ice.
“Uu… uu…” Little Loli wriggled, tears squeezed out like squeezed pearls, until Joanna panicked and let go, guilt flashing like a startled fish.
“You okay? I went too far—Xiaoxue, you’re just too fun; please forgive me.” Joanna pressed her palms together like a temple prayer, remorse like incense smoke.
Little Loli seized the moment and stroked Joanna’s brown hair, touch light as a crane’s step.
“I forgive you, but don’t push it next time,” she said, words like a tassel’s sway.
The bell rang like a bronze wave across the courtyard, and Joanna swept Little Loli into a hug, sprinting for class like wind through pines, hands still roaming like curious cats, no trace of that apology left.
Flushed scarlet like sunset on snow, Little Loli slipped free and darted to her seat, while Joanna followed with a fox’s grin.
Suspicion pricked first, sharp as a thorn, before Wu Hao’s mind settled like a scale.
She’s half a head taller, yet her strength isn’t small, he judged, thoughts moving like abacus beads; she’s trained, not a normal little girl’s build.
Math class began under the step of an elder teacher, hair sparse as winter grass, each strand a line of toil and wisdom.
Not long in, he turned and spotted a golden heap on a desk, like a haystack under noon sun; he pushed his thick lenses up, rubbed aging eyes like frost off a pane, then asked loud as a gong, “What’s that golden thing in the last row?”
Classmates glanced back like reeds in a shared breeze; they knew, but the teacher, new to the room, did not.
Little Loli’s hair was so abundant it cocooned her head in sleep, a golden bundle from afar, like a chrysalis glowing at dusk.
“Report, teacher,” a tattletale-looking boy popped up like a prairie dog. “She’s a student—her name is Xiao Ruoxue.”
The math teacher nodded, then smacked the blackboard with his pointer, sound cracking like dry bamboo. “Xiao Ruoxue!”
“Here!” Little Loli jolted from a chess game with the King of Dreams, standing at once like a spring uncoiled.
“Come solve this on the board,” the teacher said, calm as tea steam; he showed only mild surprise at her look, a man of clean virtue and steady hand.
Little Loli warmed to him, liking him as one likes morning sun on stone, and walked to the platform with a lake’s stillness.
This problem was simple; Young Master Wu could’ve done it by touch, like counting coins in the dark.
After a careful explanation and layered analysis, she stepped down amid a hush of wonder, eyes on her like stars on a lone boat, and even the teacher pushed his glasses up a few extra times, light dancing on the lenses.
Later, when the problems turned thorny like briars, the math teacher would invite Xiao Qianxue to the board, and Little Loli handled them with the grace of a swan on clear water.
After her breakdown, the teacher only needed a few taps at the tail, and the problem was done like a knot drawn tight.
The bell pealed again, a river over stones, and the teacher, satisfied, adjusted his glasses with a fingertip like a monk’s bell striker.
“I planned to choose a class rep next period based on today’s performance,” he said, voice like a calm drum. “But I can announce it now. Xiao Qianxue will be our class rep. Applause.”
He began clapping first, palms like light rain, and the class followed in waves, a tide of sound closing the lesson.
“You’re amazing, Xiaoxue.” The moment the teacher left, Joanna pounced like a puma, and Little Loli let out a muffled “Ugh,” chest squashed like mochi under a press.
She could feel the pressure of those two soft hills, and her face flushed again like a rose in snow.
First year and already so… developed, she groused inwardly, words like a tiny stormcloud.
Sensing exactly that thought, Joanna hauled her up, then, with a wicked sparkle like a cat eye at night, gave two teasing pinches at Little Loli’s chest.
Little Loli yelped and sprang back like a startled rabbit.
“Don’t worry,” Joanna said, fingers crooking like playful claws. “Small or not, the feel’s pretty nice.”
Little Loli’s cheeks bloomed like peach blossom at dawn, and nearby classmates feasted their eyes like birds at a granary.
But her cool air was a frost line; it kept them from joking freely, so close approach was Joanna’s privilege alone.
“Enough, stop messing around—let’s eat,” Little Loli murmured, pinching her skirt hem like holding a leaf, head lowered like a willow.
“Alright, alright,” Joanna laughed, sound like wind-chimes, and led the way to the cafeteria.
“So many people!” Little Loli gasped at the canteen, a tide of bodies rolling like surf against a pier.
“Relax. To make it up to you, I’ll grab your lunch,” Joanna said, then ran into the long line like a darting swallow.
Little Loli turned and found a four-seat table, sitting like a lotus on clear water, but soon a tray slid before her like a cloud easing over a hill.
She looked up; the one holding it wasn’t Joanna, but a boy bright as midsummer sun, whose smile carried light like a window swung open.
He didn’t sit facing her; instead, he took the diagonal seat, a detail neat as a folded fan, and it nudged her impression upward like a tide.
“Hi. I’m Cai Wenbin from Class One-Two,” he said, polite as a new leaf. “Nice to meet you.”
He reached out a sturdy hand, muscles like woven rope; she glanced at it, then at him, and he pulled back with a soft laugh, tact like a garden path.
“My bad—that was forward. I saw you sitting alone without food, so I got an extra,” he said, words smooth as polished stone.
Around them, eyes flared like torches, fists nearly lifting like storm clouds, but for some reason no one moved, anger dammed like floodwater behind a levee.
Watching his every motion, Little Loli’s evaluation rose like a kite on wind; his bearing said big family, yet no arrogant thorn.
“Thank you,” she said, ponytail of gold swaying like ripe rice, and she offered a small smile like first light over a ridge.
Cai Wenbin stared as if struck by thunder without sound, heart caught like a moth in amber.
Joanna returned cradling two trays, steam rising like morning mist, only to find Little Loli smiling at a sturdy, handsome boy; she strode in fast as a storm gust.
Sensing the rush, Cai Wenbin left one last line on the table, voice easy as a breeze: “If you need anything, I’m next door—just call me Caibing.”
He lifted his tray and vanished into the crowd like a fish into reeds.
Joanna arrived in time to see the tray before Little Loli. “From him?” she asked, voice testing like a toe in water.
“Mm,” Little Loli answered, lowering her head again like a crane by a stream.
Joanna set down her own tray; the two meals differed like twin moons in different ponds.
“This one, we can share,” she said, eyes bright as a fox before a feast.
After the meal, on the path back to class under plane trees like green umbrellas, Joanna nudged, curiosity curling like incense.
“How about that boy? Your type?” She added a wicked pinch under Little Loli’s chin, baiting a chase like a kite teasing a child.
“No way. Just easy on the eyes,” Little Loli said, mouth quirking like a cat’s.
“Alright, alright—he looks good. If you won’t have him, I might try,” Joanna teased, grin like sunlight on ripples.
“You menace—I won’t spare you,” Little Loli cried, and they dashed and dodged all the way back, two swallows chasing shadows along the corridor.
