Friday was the best day of every week.

It felt even better than Saturday or Sunday.

Every Friday, Yue Feather felt light and cheerful. Just thinking about the weekend after today’s classes made him finish homework faster. The classroom buzzed with more energy than usual, unlike the dull Mondays.

Of course, this all assumed exam results hadn’t come out yet. Once they did, some were happy, some were sad—and then there was Wei Xiaoxin, who never cared about his scores. Yue Feather wasn’t like that. His grades weren’t great, but he was average. Especially in the three science subjects, he often ranked in the top ten.

There were no report cards for the mock exam. Teachers ranked the papers and handed them out in class by rank. Strict teachers called students to the podium one by one. Those with poor grades naturally felt a bit nervous. But if you were bad enough, you stopped caring.

After the fun first-period computer class, many grew anxious. They huddled together discussing scores. The next classes were all core subjects, starting with math. Even Ji Fan wasn’t immune. He worriedly “chatted” with Yue Feather.

“I’m doomed. I’ll be dead last this time.”

“What’s wrong?” Yue Feather asked curiously. “Wei Xiaoxin will always be at the bottom, right?”

Wei Xiaoxin was sharp with money problems, but math tests rarely had them. So his scores were usually terrible. Thanks to him, weaker students felt safe—someone would always be below them.

“Did you forget? This test was mostly about money problems.”

“Huh? Was it? Oh right…” Yue Feather stroked his chin, thinking. Then he snapped back. “Does that mean Wei Xiaoxin might pass this time?”

“Exactly… I didn’t do any of the word problems at the end. I’m finished…”

Yue Feather could only gently pat his shoulder in comfort.

As for himself, he wasn’t too worried. His science grades were decent. Math was a bit weak, but on a 100-point test, he could score 70 or 80. At least passing. Being last in math? That shouldn’t happen to him.

“This mock exam was a bit tough. Scores are low. The real test will be easier,” said the math teacher, stroking his stubbled chin. He patted a stack of papers on the podium. His surname was Ji. Only thirty, he looked forty-five—especially aged. Students jokingly called him Old Man Ji. He looked fierce but often joked with students. When serious, few dared to cross him.

“It was hard, but some of you disappointed me. Your scores were terrible,” Old Man Ji scanned the class. Most students lowered their heads. The guilty ones immediately thought of themselves.

But Old Man Ji didn’t name names. He started handing out papers in his thickly accented Mandarin.

“When called, come up for your paper. Yue Feather.”

Everyone looked at Yue Feather with admiration. He must have topped the class on this tough test—even better than the math rep. Yue Feather felt slightly proud, especially under the girls’ worshipful gazes.

“Walking with style, huh?” Old Man Ji handed Yue Feather the paper. “First place, well-deserved.”

Before Yue Feather could guess if it was 90 or 95, Old Man Ji’s sarcastic voice cut in: “Daydreaming? Twenty-six points. Dead last.”

The classmates who just admired him burst into laughter. It was as if they used mockery to cover their earlier mistaken respect. This made Yue Feather even more embarrassed. He hadn’t expected such a terrible score. What he didn’t expect was Old Man Ji, who always started with the top scorer, beginning with the last. Usually, the first few called got the most attention. Under many mocking gazes, Yue Feather wished he could sink into the ground. Though their laughter probably wasn’t malicious.

“Twenty-six? Impossible…” Back at his seat, Yue Feather opened the paper. His level couldn’t have dropped this much. Even failing, it should be around fifty-something. Then he found the key mistake: he mixed up the numbers in the problems. Most answers were wrong because of that. He barely got any right; some points came from partial credit on word problems.

During that mock exam, Yue Feather had been distracted. Or rather, since Silver Bell appeared, he’d often been absent-minded in class. Imagine—a beautiful girl suddenly living with you. Even if you did nothing, your mind would wander. Even without weird thoughts, you’d wonder about her background. Compared to others, Yue Feather was calm. Most would call the police. Probably because he didn’t see her as real, but as a phantom “spirit.” Silver Bell always gave the feeling she might vanish anytime—as if she didn’t belong in this world, in this time.

“Wei Xiaoxin, eighty points. Third in class.” Old Man Ji grinned at him. The smile looked lewd. “Not bad, kid. Great score this time. Keep it up next time! Learn from him, especially some people.” When saying “some people,” Old Man Ji’s gaze landed heavily on Yue Feather. But the latter was lost in his own world, oblivious.

“Damn it, Xiaoxin, are you hiding your strength? Playing dumb to hide your power?” Ji Fan, sitting in front of Yue Feather, blurted out.

“No,” Wei Xiaoxin replied innocently, wide-eyed. But he looked anything but cute—more like smug. This made people suspect he deliberately wrote wrong answers. Because with money problems, no matter how hard, he always got them right. It was too weird—novels wouldn’t write it this way. Unless it was intentional. It was like in English tests with dozens of multiple-choice questions. Scoring zero by avoiding all correct answers? Only 1% chance of bad luck. 99% chance he knew the answers. Even Old Man Ji suspected him. He joked about it sometimes. But Wei Xiaoxin remained unchanged: right on money problems, wrong on others. This mock test had so many money questions—probably a test for him.

In the next subjects, Yue Feather’s scores were much worse than usual. Even in his best science subjects, he barely passed. As for Wei Xiaoxin, he ranked last in all other subjects. Of course, more miraculous than his top-three math score was his zero in English. English had sixty or seventy multiple-choice questions. Even guessing all C wouldn’t get zero. The rumor spread that Wei Xiaoxin deliberately avoided correct answers. Everyone’s gaze changed. He seemed mysterious. Even his dirty clothes took on an aura of a hidden master. As for the person himself, as usual, he slept when he should sleep, counted money when he should count money, oblivious to it all.

Yue Feather, however, felt tormented. When students curiously looked at Wei Xiaoxin, they’d glance at Yue Feather with a hint of mockery. His grades had dropped too fast. Some said he peeked at Murong Qiuyu in class, ruining his grades. Others said seeing other boys with girlfriends made him give up. Some even said he was learning from Wei Xiaoxin to play dumb.

“Holy crap, Yue Feather! Yue Feather!” A large hand clamped on his shoulder, shaking like an electric motor, jolting him from his thoughts.

“What… so excited…” Yue Feather asked helplessly.

“Holy crap! The class monitor confessed to Tong Junxiao!”

“No way?” This explosive news shocked Yue Feather. To him, Tong Junxiao and the class monitor were from different worlds. One was extremely introverted. Besides Ji Fan, Yue Feather, and a few boys, he barely spoke to anyone. Especially with girls, he couldn’t squeeze out half a sentence. The class monitor? She was super outgoing. The most leader-like girl in class. She never interacted with Tong Junxiao. One a strong woman, one a nobody. Where’s the connection? Could it be maternal instinct, falling for the seemingly fragile Tong Junxiao? Come to think of it, Tong Junxiao, at 155 cm, did look fragile…

“True! Just now, on the playground.”

“No way… Where’s Tong Junxiao?”

“He ran away shyly. No idea where.”

“Wow… amazing…” Yue Feather sighed. A sour feeling crept in. Even a guy like Tong Junxiao found love—with a girl chasing him… And himself? Where was his? Silver Bell? Impossible…

“Looks like only us two plus Xiaoxin don’t have girlfriends in the whole class,” Yue Feather said with a bitter smile.

“Hehe, watch me win over Zhan Qi. Then it’ll be just you and Wei Xiaoxin!” Ji Fan grinned smugly.

Yue Feather looked at Wei Xiaoxin beside him. He seemed completely indifferent to whether girls liked him. So, the only one without a girlfriend in class was him? He felt the whole class was laughing at him.

In a school with a staggering 4:1 male-to-female ratio, he still had no girlfriend... What a hopeless guy...

How utterly useless must he be to not have a single girl like him?

Of course, it was just a faint bitterness. He wouldn’t chase love out of jealousy or envy—he believed romance was sacred and serious. Liking someone wasn’t decided overnight, and he refused to treat his love like a game. So, despite that sour ache in his heart, deep down, he held special contempt for boys with girlfriends, especially those swapping them every few days.

He even felt a vague sense of nobility, for only he didn’t play games with love.

Perhaps it was partly self-comfort too.

Lost in these messy thoughts, the dismissal bell rang. Classmates left unusually early today, clearing out almost completely. He barely lingered a minute before locking the classroom door. The setting sun stretched his shadow long.

Just a few steps would’ve plunged him into the homeward crowd, but he deliberately slowed his pace. Walking among those lovey-dovey couples felt worse than trailing alone at the end.

“Yue Feather~!” A girl’s voice—ethereal yet slightly husky—cut through the air like a stone tossed into a river, stirring ripples in Yue Feather’s heart.