Because of the contract she’d made with Wenquan, Nana Toki naturally found herself crossing paths with her more often, the way streams braid together under a rising moon.

Even so, Wenquan’s favorability froze after that day, stuck at fifteen percent, like a needle jammed in ice.

Nana poured in one hundred percent grit and spark every day, charging like a little storm to win her over, yet the progress crawled like a snail dragging a pebble.

She started suspecting her damned System had pulled some shady lever behind the curtain, like a shadow tugging at threads no one could see.

System: "..." The hell does that have to do with me? I’m catching strays like a tin can in a hailstorm!

"Didn’t I say it?" The System’s voice dropped like cool rain. "If you want to raise her favorability cap, unlock her heart-knot first. Daily hard-flirt won’t ever work, like tossing seeds on stone. And could you not pin every problem on me whenever the wind blows wrong?"

This System would be in a tight spot, like a fish gulping in low water.

Nana’s face went cold as frost. "No."

Useless System, and I can’t even complain? If you’re so precious, why not drop dead like a leaf that’s had enough?

System: "..."

"Anyway," she breathed, irritation pricking like nettles, "if unlocking Wenquan’s knot is the only way to raise her cap, then I have to solve it from the root, like pulling a weed with all its strings."

She hadn’t forgotten Wenquan was a girl long bullied, a willow bent by rough winds. Things had eased with Nana’s interference, the way dawn thins the fog, but ease wasn’t cure, and the knot still sat in her chest like a locked gate.

A bullied girl’s heart-knot… tch. Just thinking about it felt like untangling fishing line in the dark.

"..."

With that sigh still warm, Nana stepped into her classroom, handbag swinging like a pendulum.

"Yo, what’re you looking at?" Today again, Wenquan had arrived before her, sitting neat as a folded crane. Nana, barely beating the bell, tried to pop up behind her like a mischievous cat, but this wicked little plan fizzled like a damp firework.

"Hm? Underwear…? Or swimsuits?" Nana hadn’t even sorted the tops from bottoms before Wenquan snapped the magazine shut and slid it into her desk, quick as a swallow.

"You—"

Nana blinked for a few seconds, surprise fluttering like a sparrow, then chose to ask.

The reaction hit harder than she’d expected, like a drumbeat in a quiet hall. "Th-this was just shoved at me by a senior from my part-time job yesterday. Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not into that stuff."

Ah… a part-time senior.

Hearing a new term she hadn’t caught before, Nana’s eyes lit up like lanterns. That smelled like main-quest branching, a new reed path along the river.

"If you’re not into it, why take it out to read?" Nana’s gaze curled into a smile, a cat with secrets, hard to pin down.

"To kill time before class, of course." Wenquan’s wavering look steadied, smooth as a still pond. "Today’s prep ran quicker than usual. Using the extra minutes isn’t a crime."

"Right, if it’s just killing time, no problem." Nana wasn’t the kind to badger in one spot like a fly on fruit. Her brows arched, playfulness glinting like sunlight on glass. "Anyway, we haven’t taken today’s photo yet, have we?"

"We haven’t. So?" Wenquan’s tone cooled like shade. "It’s class time already. Even if Classmate Lu has strange tastes, wait till the bell like a civilized person."

"No, I should say this now, before the wind shifts." Nana’s smile thickened, like honey warming on a stove, and Wenquan felt a prickle of unease, a chill through silk.

"What… what do you want?"

"It’s nothing grand. Just a small special request for today’s ten-minute photo." Her voice dropped, smooth as velvet.

"A special request?" Wenquan tilted her head, a curious sparrow.

"Yeah. Special." Nana slid out her textbook, flipping to the teacher’s page, her voice low as a whispering stream. "Staring at the same look every day gets dull, like chewing plain rice forever. I want to see the Wenquan I can’t usually see, the side hidden behind curtains."

"So…?" Wenquan’s head tilt deepened, a petal catching rain.

"So let’s go on a date this afternoon."

"Huh?" Time seemed to pause for three heartbeats, like the air holding its breath.

Wenquan didn’t give the big reaction Nana expected. She stayed calm, cool as black glass. Even her eyes carried no ripples, just still water: "You mean a date?"

"Yep. A date."

"But why?" Wenquan frowned, a crease like a drawn line. How did this woman jump from photos to dates in one stride? What thread tied them?

She thought and thought, like counting beads, and found no good reason.

"If you need a why…" Nana lifted her lids, gaze brushing Wenquan like a feather. She suddenly held out a hand. "Give me your hand."

Wenquan: "?"

Confused, hesitant, she slid her left hand from under the desk, cautious as a mouse.

Nana didn’t warn or prepare. She caught Wenquan’s hand straight on, firm as a clasp.

"You— what are you doing!"

Startled, Wenquan kept her voice low, like a candle-murmur.

"Shh. Quiet. Class."

Nana ignored her, and in the hush, she called in the wind from her mind: "Stop playing dead and get to work, System. Heal."

System: "..." The host only remembers me when the rain starts, huh.

"Less chatter, or I’ll report your last-world loafing," she hissed, a knife-thin threat.

"…"

She had almost forgotten: each plane-hop gave her one free heal, a small sun in her pocket.

"Remove Wenquan’s bruises and scars." Nana did have manual ways, but they ate time like sand. She wasn’t in the mood.

"Hey, Lu Qiqi, what exactly are you doing?" Wenquan’s whisper was sharp as a pin. How could she study like this, with the wind tugging at her sleeve?

If a teacher or anyone saw, how would she explain? Panic fluttered like moths.

Right as her words fell, a thin warmth flowed from Nana’s palm, like spring water threading through stone. It climbed along Wenquan’s arm, then unfurled through her whole body, a soft tide.

"Mmph…" Every inch of skin answered with comfort, like sun touching frost. Her next words caught at her throat, a peach pit she couldn’t spit.

It ended fast, like a shooting star. But for a while after, Wenquan’s mind scattered like leaves, unable to focus.

Just as she steadied, lunchtime came, and Nana dragged her out by the hand, relentless as a river’s pull.

"Where are you taking me…" Wenquan’s question built like cloud, but before it broke, Nana cut in, clean as a blade.

"Try these." She conjured clothes like a little stage magician and piled them into Wenquan’s arms, light fabric like drifting petals.

Wenquan unfolded one piece, confusion bright in her face, and froze. It was a black lace set, scandalous as midnight thorns.

"!!!"

"Why— why is it that kind of thing!"

So the ‘different side’ Nana wanted to see was… this? Heat climbed her cheeks like sunrise.

"Because I realized my sizes ran small lately, and I need new ones," Nana said, tugging at a matching pair of panties, the fabric faintly translucent like morning mist. "And you popped into mind like a spark. Plus, the weekend’s almost here. We’ll see each other, won’t we?"

"Eh?"

"Eh, my foot." Nana squinted over that whisper-thin pair like a fox. "It’s ten minutes of photos every day. You didn’t forget, right? This isn’t a paid-shift gig; no paid leave in this contract."

Wenquan: "..."

"So I figured we’d grab daily stuff now and also pick swimsuits for Sunday at the pool."

"The pool?" With who? With her? The thought splashed cold like a bucket.

"Why the shock? If I want every look, swimsuits are a must, like sunlight for a flower."

Wenquan: "..." What kind of line was that?

"I don’t recall agreeing to all these excessive demands, so I—" I have a right to say no, she meant, spine straight as bamboo.

"If it’s just ten minutes a day, I accept." A familiar voice played from Nana’s phone, drifting out like a record of vows.

She had recorded Wenquan’s promise. Of course she had. The little fox always trapped with silk thread.

"So, Wenquan, anything else you want to say?" Nana held her phone, smile sly as a cat with cream.

Wenquan: "..."

"No… nothing."

She hated yielding, but a promise was a bridge you didn’t burn. She wouldn’t break it and stain her name like ink spilled on snow.

So.

"Wenquan, please start with this piece."

"..."