No matter how much Zhangqianxing nagged about the serious consequences, Liming simply adopted a "let them be strong" attitude. He left his best friend speechless for a long moment, unable to form a complete sentence.

To sum up Liming’s behavior in one sentence:

*Mhm, go on, I’m listening… Don’t stop. Holy crap, that’s amazing…? Keep going, I’m all ears. Mhm, great stuff—I’ll take notes…*

Obviously, Liming treated his best friend like transparent background noise. His mouth said, "I’m listening," but his mind had already flown to the book in his hands.

Multitasking was Liming’s specialty.

Back in the Student Council at Qianning High School, he’d been swamped. That’s when he’d developed this skill—forced into it during one-sided speed competitions with Senior Bailin.

At first, Liming hadn’t even noticed he had this ability. Later, it became so habitual he couldn’t forget it even if he tried.

After talking himself hoarse, Zhangqianxing saw Liming’s calm exterior hiding a mind lost in his book. *Fine!* Zhangqianxing thought. *I wasted my breath. Don’t listen then. You’ll cry over this later, little Ming.*

School life was often fulfilling yet ordinary—not particularly thrilling.

But this quiet fulfillment and innocence were emotions many high school graduates longed for, emotions they could never recapture. Another afternoon study session. To avoid overwhelming pressure before military training, the first days of freshman year were relaxed. Only later would the stress gradually intensify.

After all, push too hard, and some student might snap—taking a suicidal leap from the roof.

Qianning High School had seen such tragedies before, sparking major scandals. So, student mental health had become a half-hearted policy requirement.

Watching the sunset’s glow spill into the nearly empty classroom, gilding everything in a hazy gold, Liming felt a sudden pang.

*Another day gone so fast.*

Delayed by chores—assigning cleaning duties and buying supplies—Liming finished late. The vast classroom held only a few stragglers.

Familiar faces remained: study committee member Xulu, who’d stayed voluntarily to help, and… Liqianying, sitting by the window, quietly reading a book.

Golden light draped over Liqianying, painting a breathtaking scene.

Was Liqianying beautiful? Absolutely. Anyone compared to Senior Bailin had to be stunning.

Qianning High’s summer shirt clung to Liqianying’s slender frame. Through the white fabric, Liming’s sharp eyes caught a hint of delicate curves—and the white strap beneath.

Bathed in sunset, Liqianying seemed softer. She’d tied her hair back, revealing small, delicate ears. A stray autumn breeze tousled her strands—and stirred Liming’s heart.

*As the sun sets, a heartbroken soul wanders far from home.*

The melancholic poem surfaced in Liming’s mind. Its desolate mood perfectly matched this poetic view.

Men were visual creatures. Liming was no exception. He couldn’t tear his eyes from this unexpected sunset portrait. He’d glimpsed Liqianying at her most beautiful, in just the right place.

His biggest embarrassment? His admiring gaze caught Liqianying’s attention.

Their eyes met. Was it a trick of the fading light, or real? A faint blush colored Liqianying’s fair cheeks. She looked away slightly.

*A graceful lady draws a gentleman’s heart.*

But since she’d noticed, Liming couldn’t keep staring. That would cross into harassment. He lacked Zhangqianxing’s thick skin.

Under the sunset, Liqianying shed her usual aloofness. Instead, she seemed fragile—someone you’d want to cradle gently.

Everyone carried hidden stories. Liming sensed Liqianying’s quiet sorrow in that moment.

But not all stories could be spoken aloud.

Just like Liming had his own.

"All packed?" Xulu asked.

"Mhm. Just some notes and textbooks left. Thanks for today, Xulu. Zhangqianxing slacked off again. Without you, I’d have missed dinner."

Missing dinner wasn’t an exaggeration. Xulu had sped them on her e-bike to buy cleaning supplies just in time.

"Our vice monitor loves slacking off. But you spoil him too much, Liming."

Xulu, already packed, brushed her bangs aside. The wind from her e-bike ride had mussed her hair.

With her single-strap bag, Xulu radiated quiet intelligence.

Her slender waist and slim curves reminded Liming of riding behind her earlier—the delicate feel of her waist under his hands. He crushed the thought instantly. *Damn Zhangqianxing’s loose mouth. Now I’m restless.*

"Ah, he’s just like that. If I don’t help him, he’d be utterly pitiful."

"Only you tolerate our vice monitor, Liming. Others would’ve fought with him by now."

Zhangqianxing had few true friends. Liming was a rare exception. Their bond was unusually lasting and pure.

"Don’t worry. I’ll teach him the value of work. He won’t slack off under me again."

A sly smile curled Liming’s lips. He had ways to discipline lazy teammates. They’d laugh now—but cry later.

"Suit yourself. Oh, want a ride on my e-bike? I can drop you off."

"Uh… no thanks. I’m taking the back gate."

The refusal slipped out before Liming could agree. He glanced toward Liqianying. It was late. As a day student, why wasn’t she leaving?

Xulu paused at the door, noticing Liqianying still seated. Liqianying read her book with quiet charm, her pace slowing.

"By the way, Liming," Xulu called, her voice warm. "If you need help with work, call me anytime."

Her words reached both Liming and Liqianying.