Halfway through his walk, the sky—clear just moments ago—suddenly darkened. Within half a minute, rain poured down impatiently. Had Yue Feather not dashed under a shop’s eaves in time, he’d have been soaked to the bone.

"Just a shower? It’ll stop soon," he muttered, idly scanning his surroundings.

This commercial street was usually lively for a small city, but it was too early. Most shops remained closed, leaving an eerie quiet.

The downpour made Yue Feather feel cut off from the world, as if standing in another realm, watching this hazy place.

The rain lightened but kept drizzling—a nuisance with no end in sight.

Spotting a newly opened general store, Yue Feather figured they’d sell umbrellas. Buying one felt wasteful, but better than getting drenched.

He wasn’t late yet, but time slipped away. He still had to unlock the classroom. A few classmates arriving first was fine; the whole class waiting for him? Utterly awkward.

"How much money do I have left..." He worriedly rummaged through his backpack for his wallet. Maybe he should just run through the rain—it was summer, and he’d dry fast.

But catching a cold would cost far more than an umbrella. His wallet held barely enough for half the month’s meals. An umbrella meant skipping a day’s food.

"Huh... what’s this?" As he hesitated, his hand brushed against an umbrella wrapped neatly in a plastic bag, tied with a bow. One name sprang to mind.

Probably Silver Bell’s doing again. She not only helped with his homework but had prepped this umbrella too. Her care rivaled a mother’s—his foster mother had never been this attentive.

Unfurling the umbrella, Yue Feather walked on. Warm happiness filled his chest, sweeter than candy but not cloying.

Raindrops pattered on the fabric. Roadside grass bent under the weight, glowing vividly dewy. That tender, lively sheen reminded him of Silver Bell’s eyes—pure and bright, yet holding a trace of weathered depth.

The rain shifted between heavy and light as he entered the classroom.

He loved watching rain from here, big or small. It soothed his mind like a gentle massage.

"Morning!" Zhan Qi chirped, skipping in with twin ponytails bouncing. Fresh pimples dotted her face, but her energy stayed bright. Yue Feather often thought she hadn’t grown up—kind yet childish, just... immature.

"Morning..." he replied as usual. Oddly, she always arrived shortly after him. If he was late, so was she. A strange coincidence?

"Huh? Your arm... what happened?" Zhan Qi frowned, concern in her eyes—though the expression made her look plainer. Yue Feather shoved that thought away. Judging looks was wrong. He wasn’t handsome himself. Who was he to call others ugly?

"My arm?" He glanced at the bandage on his left hand. Without her reminder, he’d forgotten it. "Ah... this... yesterday, um... a knife cut."

"What? A fight?" Her worry deepened.

"Sort of," he answered vaguely. Not a proud story—he’d been extorted by thugs at an arcade. If Silver Bell hadn’t come, fear would’ve made him run. Total humiliation. He still thanked her; without her, he’d have hidden in shame. Running sometimes felt beyond control...

Zhan Qi knew boundaries. Seeing his reluctance, she smoothly switched topics. "Homework done?"

"Done." Yue Feather rested his chin on his hand, thinking of Silver Bell. Murong Qiuyu’s face flickered in his mind too—his secret goddess before Silver Bell appeared. But with Silver Bell so close now, Murong Qiuyu’s image blurred. Not fickleness—just a guy noticing beauty. Distant, unattainable things got pushed aside by new ones.

He recalled Murong Qiuyu throwing herself into his arms that day.

"What if both Murong Qiuyu and Silver Bell liked me? Who’d I choose?" Impossible, yet he wondered. Maybe that’s just men. Or a single guy’s self-comfort.

Classmates trickled in slowly at first, then in pairs. Few woke early.

Ji Fan barely slipped through the closing gates, sprinting drenched into class—no umbrella. He must’ve finished homework; otherwise, he’d have rushed earlier. For Ji Fan, early arrival meant unfinished work.

Rain canceled morning exercises. First period started early... with an exam.

Chinese test first—a two-period marathon including the essay.

"Was a mock exam scheduled today?" Yue Feather gasped.

His deskmate Wei Xiaoxin calmly tucked money into his wallet. "Announced two weeks ago."

"Too soon! And Chinese first... ugh... I hate essays..."

"Oh? Yue Feather dislikes essays?" The Chinese teacher smiled "kindly" while handing papers. Robed like an ancient scholar, his long beard neatly trimmed, he always smiled—but since he assigned punishments with it, students called him "Smiling Dagger."

"No, no..." Yue Feather stammered.

"How about this: skip the test. Write a three-thousand-word essay. Eighty points if decent, ninety if great. Deal?"

"No! Please... I can’t..." Yue Feather wailed. "Three thousand words... kill me now..."

"Heh! Focus, everyone. No cheating. Scores don’t matter—find your weaknesses and fix them in two weeks."

Yue Feather’s lip twitched. Distracted, he’d written his name wrong—somehow penning "Yue Ling" instead of "Yue Feather."

Wei Xiaoxin stayed calm. He grabbed his paper, filled multiple-choice blindly, scribbled random poetry lines, and for reading comprehension, wrote generic phrases like "This expresses the author’s spirit..." Sometimes off-topic, sometimes weirdly fitting.

"Sigh... let’s write..." Yue Feather lifted his pen. But Chinese was just the appetizer.

A full day of mock exams awaited—the true torture. He’d prefer boring classes over this drain.

Handing in his biology paper, Yue Feather felt floaty. One kick might send him soaring. Walking home felt like treading clouds. He yawned repeatedly to clear his head.

"Why’s it still red..." he muttered. A little girl dashed across the street, giggling as if playing a game. Her mother chased, calling desperately but failing to stop her.

A sand-filled dump truck rounded the corner. Its high chassis hid the tiny girl. Collision was seconds away.

"Danger!"

Yue Feather recalled his cowardice from yesterday. Out of nowhere, a surge of courage flooded him. He charged forward without hesitation and tightly grabbed the running little girl. At that exact moment, the massive truck loomed right before him.

The screech of brakes tore through the air—yet the truck kept rolling forward...