In this World, maxims about love, justice, and lolis flood like rain on spring tiles.

If love makes the World bloom, then lolis push it to the peak like the first sunrise after snow.

There’s nothing in this World a single loli can’t fix; if one can’t, bring two like twin lanterns in a storm.

A person can live without money, but never without a loli, like a traveler without fire in winter.

Each day I ask myself three times: did I cherish the loli, did I feed the loli…

“That why you made a fourth-grader your girlfriend?”

“Kidding.”

Right now, Ye Weibai stood on the fourth floor of Tiannan Elementary’s main building, outside Class 1, Grade 4. He peered in through the window, hands clasped behind his back. He stood like a visiting official from nowhere, brazen as noon sun, nothing like someone who had just climbed the wall like a shadow.

If it were any other teacher inside, they’d assume he was a parent. But the one lecturing was Teacher Shen Yanyan. She’d crossed paths with Ye Weibai more than a few times. She knew what that reckless college kid was.

She also knew his appearance rarely meant anything good.

So when she caught his silhouette, she sighed and shook her head, like a leaf stirred by a cold breeze.

Ye Weibai waved back with a sunny grin, immune to her visible dislike.

But one little girl reacted.

She wore a ponytail and sat ramrod straight. Unlike the kids around her, her desk was spotless, everything squared like stacked tiles—books, pens, erasers, all lined up. No creases in her clothes. Bangs trimmed level as a ruler. Everything neat as a courtyard after rain.

You could see it at a glance—she was strict with herself.

The model class monitor.

She heard the teacher sigh and turned. Her eyes found Ye Weibai framed by glass.

Then the nine-year-old gave a tiny, proper sigh of her own, like a tiny adult imitating the wind.

Unlike the “old lady” on the podium—twenty-five and frazzled—she was small and cute. So even her frown and sigh didn’t grate. They softened like sugar in tea.

Because she was cute, Ye Weibai threw her a wide, unashamed smile.

She answered with a classic eye-roll. He didn’t mind. He was used to it. Even an eye-roll was cute.

Cute is justice.

He tried to fish for more back-and-forth. The model monitor cut it off, spine straight, eyes forward. She slid back into perfect focus like a blade returning to its sheath.

Still, that was progress.

“Got ignored,” a little girl’s voice beside him teased, bright as a birdcall. She rarely saw Ye Weibai eat dirt.

“No, that’s progress,” he murmured, voice low as a secret. “Before, that little girl wouldn’t wave to someone outside. Even if a murder happened in the next class, she wouldn’t look.”

He said it very seriously, like a bell struck in winter air.

Xiao Hei’s voice went odd. “…That a metaphor?”

“No. An example.”

An example meant it had happened.

Ruan Lin was “abnormally” serious in class—serious to the point of strange. That was fact.

It was also “uncanny.”

One year, there was an accident, a fuse that made everything ferment and swell.

Ah! Murder!

A scream like a broken flute ripped out from the next class. Chaos followed like birds taking wing.

Was it a crime of passion or revenge?

No one knew. A stranger had stormed in next door. He had a knife and went for the teacher.

The killer and the teacher staggered and chased, then flashed past Ruan Lin’s windows. In every child’s stunned gaze, the hopeless man lifted the blade and brought it down.

Screams and blood splashed the glass, red against a clear pane like paint on ice. Kids shrieked. Even their teacher panicked and fell, curling under the podium like a frightened rabbit.

Except Ruan Lin.

She did not panic. She did not fear. She stood. She crossed the chaos like a reed through water. She went up and gripped the trembling teacher’s arm, steady as a hand on a drum.

Up to here, you might think her mind was simply older than her years. Strange, yes, but not frightening.

What came next froze that teacher’s face worse than the blood on the window.

The little girl looked at her, calm as a winter lake.

Teacher, it’s still class time.

Don’t mind what’s outside.

It has nothing to do with our lesson.

Please continue.

“What a pity,” Ye Weibai sighed, wind in his chest. “If that attack hadn’t happened, her oddness would’ve stayed hidden. To others, she’d be a hard-working kid, just a bit too hard.”

“A girl like that—good conduct, good grades, good behavior. Classmates might dislike her sometimes. But teachers and parents would love her. Because of that one incident, love turned to fear.”

“Worse, that teacher resigned. She stood there and told every teacher her reason, no sugarcoat.”

Sorry, I can’t teach anymore.

That little girl is absolutely not normal.

She doesn’t value life at all. It’s extreme indifference.

Sorry, sorry—I’m so scared.

Sorry, sorry, sorry…

“Indifferent to life?” Ye Weibai smiled, thin as a knife. “What a verdict to drop without digging for truth. Ruan Lin isn’t indifferent. She’s a kid who obeyed her parent’s ‘instructions’ too hard.”

“She wasn’t dismissing life. She was in class. She kept her mother’s rule in her heart—follow class discipline. So she ‘didn’t look’ outside. She shut out anything beyond the room.”

“That teacher who shouted and left never knew how much damage her words did. She moved to another school, slept well, kept teaching.”

So I killed her.

“Wh—”

“Kidding.” His lips curved. His eyes didn’t. They held only ice. “I only let her taste the pain of having your life twisted by others.”

He said it light as drifting ash. Xiao Hei knew it wasn’t simple.

In a few hours, she had sensed the breadth of his power. Not of muscle. He wasn’t big. He had a clean face, a scholar’s frame. But he read minds like a hawk reads wind. It was terrifying.

If he wanted, he could ruin that teacher by social steps alone. He could break her spirit and grind her will.

Crueler than killing.

Ye Weibai dropped the topic of the teacher, who now could be anywhere, in any state. He changed course like a boat cutting to a new current.

“Anyway, Lin-chan’s much better now. The ‘rules’ her dead mother left, the ones clinging to her like frost, are mostly cracked.”

He turned away, out of the little girl’s sight. He looked up at the blue sky beyond the outer corridor, clear as a lake. He sighed. “But it’s not enough.”

If only we had more time.

Ye Weibai smiled. “It’s your fault, Xiao Hei.”

“…Sorry.”

“Don’t actually apologize! This is where you make a snarky line. You’re a Deity!”

“And—really, you gave me courage.”

Death gives a human a courage he’s never had, like night giving stars their shine.

He stepped forward and pushed open the classroom door.

Every eye swung to him at once, like flowers turning to sun.

Little boys and girls stared, curious as cats.

Ruan Lin blinked, rattled. We’re in class!

Shen Yanyan’s face said, What are you pulling now, headache shading her brow like a cloud.

Ye Weibai read it all in a snap. He always did.

He ignored Shen Yanyan. He locked on Ruan Lin’s seat like a compass. He slipped through the kids and stopped before her.

He smiled. “Wanna go out and play?”

Sound drained from the room, a tide rushing out. A heartbeat later, noise rushed back in, kids whooping and gasping.

Ruan Lin stared up at him. She knew he was bold. She hadn’t thought this bold.

Her round eyes grew wider. “We’re still in class!”

“What’s the difference between Saturday classes and hell?” Ye Weibai looked righteous, like a blade catching light.

He winked. “Let’s go watch a movie.”

“Don’t make trouble.” Ruan Lin waved him off, frowning, cute and earnest. “I’m very troubled.”

“I’m very troubled too.” Ye Weibai paused, then his mouth curled, wicked as a fox. “Why can’t I spend the weekend with my girlfri—”

“Ahhh!” Her scream cut him off. Ruan Lin shot to her feet. She glared up at him, cheeks blazing.

“Don’t say it!”

“Why not? We’re alre—mmph.”

She lunged with surprising force, rose on tiptoes, and reached up. Her small, pale hand covered his mouth, warm as bread from an oven.

She had to press in close to reach. The height gap made her cling like a koala, which looked like a hug.

It was so shy that her eyes glazed with heat.

But she held on. She wouldn’t let him speak.

For momentum and for cuteness, Ye Weibai gave it a 98. Two points left for future growth.

Mouth sealed, he winked at her.

Then let’s sneak out. Or I’ll say it.

She understood at once. She bit her lip, lashes trembling. Her eyes wavered, water about to spill. Her face said she was torn to tears.

Boom. That face was a perfect 100.

Ye Weibai caved. He scooped her up in one smooth motion as she squeaked.

So light. So soft.

He thought that as he carried her toward the door.

“Hey, Bai, don’t underestimate me,” Shen Yanyan called from the podium, leaning on the desk, smile crooked like a half moon.

Ye Weibai held the squirming girl with one arm. He reached his free hand toward Shen Yanyan.

“Today’s short skirt and black stockings look great. Also—thanks, Senior.”

“You’re impossible.” At the familiar “Senior,” her feigned anger crumpled. She sighed and smiled, then pulled a prepared note from the desk and handed it over.

“Be careful, Junior. If anything happens, it’s on me.”

“Leave it to me. I’ll protect my girlfri—mmph.”

Ruan Lin, face scarlet, clamped his mouth shut again.

…