The characters “Chang’an” in the school’s name gave him a slight pause…

After all, in Ye Chang’an’s memory, Anyang City had never had a place called “Chang’an Noble Girls’ Academy.” It must have been established during the five years he’d been gone.

Still, it was clearly rebuilt on the site of a former school—not constructed from scratch. Otherwise, such scale in just five years would’ve been impossible.

This spot had apparently once been a private aristocratic academy.

So… acquired by someone? Then renamed?

By the way, Shi Xia mentioned Qianqian studies here—and Yan Ye too. Though Yan Ye apparently dropped out for a year due to some unknown reason, leaving her still in middle school while Qianqian’s already in high school.

Cinderella doesn’t seem enrolled here. Her grades weren’t exactly stellar… silly girl.

She should’ve been in third year by now, but held back, she’s still in second.

She apparently attends “Yajun Junior High School.”

Still, getting into a noble academy like this is easy enough with money—it’s meant to cultivate young ladies from distinguished families.

Most likely, Cinderella’s straightforward nature, paired with her naive innocence and lack of worldly sense, led her to part ways with her sisters and enroll alone in some obscure place like Yajun.

Gazing at the school name’s elegant, delicate calligraphy, a quiet wave of emotion washed over Chang’an, along with a flicker of nervousness.

Honestly, he really wanted to step inside—not necessarily to see Qianqian or Yan Ye. Just to tour the place where they study now. That’d be enough.

But the security guard’s gaze was sharp, wary, sizing Chang’an up like a suspicious figure.

After a hesitant breath, Chang’an mustered his courage and stepped forward.

“Hello… I’d like to take a look inside. Is that… possible?”

“No.” Two crisp, unyielding words cut him off.

“…”

Chang’an understood. No proper school allows strangers in—it’s for student safety. Otherwise, what’s the point of a guard?

During holidays, though, visits are usually allowed. Most schools open their gates then.

He cast one last longing glance inward: emerald lawns, European architecture, a marble colonnade draped in flowering vines that cascaded like a green waterfall. Just the gate’s ordinary view—what secret gardens lay deeper?

No wonder it’s a noble academy. Chang’an swallowed hard, turned to leave—then spun back.

“Ah, sir… why’s the school named ‘Chang’an Noble Academy’?”

“It’s *Chang’an Noble Girls’ Academy*!”

“Details like that don’t matter…” Chang’an had deliberately dropped “girls”—partly embarrassed it was a girls’ school, especially one sharing *his* name…

Though honestly, it might not be named after him. “Chang’an” also evokes the ancient capital—and auspicious wishes: lasting peace, enduring wellness.

The guard eyed him. His clothes were plain, clean. He’d come from the affluent district, yet the guard doubted this gentle-faced youth was one of *them*.

Chang’an always carried that next-door-older-brother warmth: approachable, fair-skinned, rosy-lipped, eyes soft with kindness.

“You’re from out of town?”

“Uh… sort of. I’m from Anyang City. Just… been away a long time.”

Yes. A long time. Five fleeting years.

Lost in thought, Chang’an didn’t hear the precise *click-clack* of thick-soled shoes on marble behind him—each step measured, elegant.

But he saw the guard’s face shift: stern, respectful, then a deep bow.

“Chairwoman!”

The gesture startled him—the bow was aimed right at *him*.

Then, a girl’s voice, faintly reproachful, drifted from behind:

“If you wanted to know, Brother… why not just ask *me*? Did you really have to vanish without a word…?”

—Ye Xiaoxian.

Beside her, a maid with a katana sheathed at her waist smiled faintly, eyes narrowed.