The last class of the morning was activity period.

Compared to other high schools that crammed every minute with academics, Qingyuan High was far more considerate. Even in senior year, students still got two activity periods weekly—basically PE class in disguise.

After several classes of problem-solving and lectures, Mo Xuan’s head buzzed with formulas and exercises. He’d been itching to stretch his limbs. So when Yang Jie called, he shot out without a word.

Exercise was one thing. Reuniting with an old friend for a basketball game? That mattered more.

After starting university, he’d mostly lost touch with high school classmates. Only a few attended the same school, but everyone drifted into separate lives.

And after getting together with Yun Jiumo, he’d grown even lazier.

Meals arrived ready-made—sometimes even fed to him. Laundry vanished into the washing machine. University “PE” felt more like casual fun than real training. Slowly, his stamina faded.

That old basketball win over Yang Jie? Less about skill, more about Yang Jie’s extra weight.

He missed the version of himself who could sprint five kilometers without breaking a sweat.

While boys chattered excitedly, girls reluctantly set down pens, shuffling slowly from seats—still clutching English textbooks or recitation handouts.

Sports held little appeal. Without the teacher’s order, they’d have stayed seated till the dismissal bell. Even on the field, they’d huddle in shade, studying while watching sweaty boys play. *So much energy*, they’d think.

Yun Jiumo moved slowest of all.

Only after the classroom emptied did she rise gradually. Her gaze drifted to the window, landing on Mo Xuan amid the boys.

He bounced around, laughing, joking with everyone.

At first glance, nothing seemed off. Except his odd reaction that morning… and refusing to switch seats during self-study.

Mo Xuan had long forgotten the hallway incident. But she kept turning his expression over in her mind.

The exact moment he’d leaped toward the wall—she’d seen it clearly: panic and fear flashing in his eyes.

*What did it mean?*

She furrowed her delicate brows, fingers tracing silently across the desk.

*What was he afraid of?*

*Afraid of me?*

No. They’d barely interacted since summer break.

*Did he find out I followed him before?*

If so, he’d confront me. Why fear someone who’s done nothing?

Yun Jiumo shook her head, tucking the questions away.

More than that, his seat refusal stung deeply.

How many times had she hoped he’d sit beside her during self-study? Even in silence, just sharing space doubled her focus.

Hearing his voice calmed her. Catching his smile felt like chugging an energy drink—suddenly buzzing with drive.

When her deskmate first mentioned he might sit nearby, Yun Jiumo’s inner scream was *Why are you still here?!* But outwardly, she stayed poised. Couldn’t seem too eager.

Naturally, on his first day beside her, she spent the whole period legs pressed tight, subtly rubbing together. Several times, she nearly lunged to pin him down. It took half the class to suppress the urge.

*Rational mind whispered: Don’t rush. Senior year means endless self-study. Plenty of chances.*

Who knew? On day one of school, he’d refuse.

Beneath brilliant sunlight, the girl’s expression twisted slightly.

Something had changed in Mo Xuan. She *would* uncover it.

…

On the court, Mo Xuan and classmates played fiercely.

Naturally, he and Yang Jie were split onto opposing teams. With only two skilled players in class, pairing them would’ve meant total domination.

Rusty skills put Mo Xuan on the defensive early. Yang Jie hounded him relentlessly, nearly blocking every shot.

“Dude, how’d you get so rusty over break?” Yang Jie taunted. “Passed the ball to the *opponent*? Eyes failing you?”

“Shut up and worry about yourself,” Mo Xuan shot back while dodging. “That physique won’t last another year.”

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

Yang Jie clung to him like a shadow. Cornered and fearing a steal, Mo Xuan stumbled back to the three-point line and hurled the ball blindly.

“Whoa! Where’d you aim that?!”

They watched helplessly as the ball sailed past the hoop and vanished into the nearby grove.

Silence. Then all eyes locked on Mo Xuan. “What was *that*?”

“My bad, my bad,” he chuckled awkwardly, already jogging toward the trees, sighing inwardly. *Of course. Being reborn doesn’t magically restore skills.*

Yun Jiumo sat alone in the grove, handout in hand.

She had no friends and didn’t care. Her quiet intensity clashed with the other girls.

To outsiders, she was flawless: top grades, elegant looks, athletic, gentle, polite. Never argued. Never grew close to anyone.

Such uniqueness drew constant attention. Since freshman year, boys sent letters, confessed, offered gifts—all rejected.

Yang Jie once worried for Mo Xuan: *He’ll end up like the rest. Better quit early.*

But Mo Xuan believed he was different.

This grove was Yun Jiumo’s sanctuary—quiet, solitary. And from here, she could watch the court. Watch *him*.

Until a basketball shattered the peace.

It flew straight for her forehead.

But Yun Jiumo moved faster. Pushing off the stone bench with one hand, she flipped backward and landed gracefully against a tree trunk—completely unharmed.

*Thud.* The ball hit the bench.

“Whoa! Did I hit someone?!” Mo Xuan’s panicked voice echoed from the path.

Yun Jiumo’s eyes glinted. She dropped the handout.

Mo Xuan stumbled in, heart lurching at the crumpled figure on the grass.

“Classmate, are you—”

He recognized her.

He nearly bolted.

But classmates blocked his escape, jaws slack.

“Y-Yun Jiumo?”

“You knocked her over?!”

“Oof. You two are *so* done for.”

Mo Xuan stammered, “Wait, it’s not like that—”

“Check if she’s hurt!” Yang Jie shoved him forward without moving an inch.

Guilt and dread twisting inside, Mo Xuan crouched beside her.

Yun Jiumo lay curled on her side, graceful curves visible. She gazed up with clear, innocent eyes, lips slightly pursed—a vision of fragile vulnerability.

His heart skipped. *She’s stunning.* Any guy would melt. If he hadn’t known her true colors from his previous life, he’d be drowning in guilt right now.

But this? A trap. Of all people to hit—*her*. He wanted distance. Now he *had* to play hero.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” he asked, voice tight.

He prayed she’d say no. Stand up. Apologize. Escape.

She pointed to her right knee, brows lightly furrowed—a trace of pain.

Mo Xuan: “….”

*Roll up her pants? Take them off?* Unthinkable.

He glanced back desperately.

His “friends” had retreated far away.

“…Why stand so far?”

Yang Jie grinned. “She’s hurt! Carry her to the nurse’s office, culprit.”

“Mo Xuan, I thought you weren’t irresponsible,” someone added dramatically.

Another shook his head. “Sigh… Clearly destined. Even a stray ball finds your crush. Too bad it wasn’t a bouquet.”

Mo Xuan wanted to cry. He’d bragged so much about her before.

“Someone help!” he pleaded. “I can’t carry her alone.”

Silence.

*Can’t carry her? She’s under a hundred pounds!*

In unspoken agreement, they linked arms, turned sharply, and marched away—abandoning him.

Only two remained.

Yun Jiumo hadn’t moved. A soft whimper escaped her lips.

Each sound was torture. Mo Xuan turned back, forcing a strained smile.

“I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”