If even a single stubborn sprout of green pushing through early spring’s chill could bring comfort and whisper of warmer days ahead…

Then seat number one in Class 1, Grade 11 of Xinchi No.4 High School held its own breath of spring.

As if the most captivating hue imaginable had taken lively, youthful form—suddenly right before everyone’s eyes.

This was Gu Lian.

The kind of “other people’s child” you’d never even dare imagine.

So flawless, no one felt worthy to approach.

Her aloofness carried an otherworldly grace—as though she belonged apart from the world, untouched by dust.

A high ponytail, a few strands softly framing her face. Fair skin glowing with healthy youth. Beneath her loose uniform, a subtle curve hinted at quiet blossoming.

*Even the best upbringing couldn’t explain this*, some might mutter.

*With a face and figure this perfect… how’s anyone supposed to compete?*

When Chen Dao heard the clothes were missing, his heart skipped a beat. *Could it be the one I took from the infirmary?*

It had still been warm when he took it—but—

Xia Jiuli reached out and lightly tapped his wrist.

The shop, once noisy, had fallen dead silent. She didn’t dare speak.

“It couldn’t be…”

Her gaze drifted to the breathtaking girl at the door.

“Maybe…”

Chen Dao faced away. Turning now would be too obvious. He kept his head down, eating.

A brief, heavy silence settled.

“Hmm. Not eating here. Just… that person looks familiar.”

Gu Lian blinked, then pointed a slender finger—peeking from her sleeve—toward their table.

She’d had two outfits: uniform and a red tracksuit.

That afternoon, after PE, passing the indoor court, she’d accidentally witnessed a confession. Flustered, face burning, she’d tripped while fleeing—dirtying her pants.

Since Class 1 was an honors class with an extra period, she’d asked the teacher to fetch the tracksuit she wore that morning for her ballet warm-up.

Left on the infirmary table—facing the only window, the sole opening besides the locked door.

She changed. Peeked out.

Gone.

Stunned, she nearly chased—but stepped out to empty hallway.

She almost gave up. Then a loud group gathered near the admin building. Terrified, she hid by the window, trembling.

Only when she spotted *her* red tracksuit—and the girl clinging to the boy’s back—did recognition flicker.

*How could two identical tracksuits exist?*

After the crowd cleared, she finally stepped out, called her butler for fresh clothes.

Now, reporting the incident while passing the shop, the sharp-eyed young heiress instantly recognized Xia Jiuli’s silhouette—and the hunched boy ahead of her.

“The clothing matter will be clarified with the teacher tomorrow. Surveillance checked if needed. But Miss—your tutor session awaits. Dinner, then class. No delays.”

Gloved hands opened the car door. Gu Lian’s cheeks flushed slightly. Brows furrowed. After a pause, she relented.

*Just a piece of clothing. Truly nothing.*

But…

Her eyes lingered on Chen Dao’s back.

*So familiar… Wasn’t he the one confessing earlier?*

She blinked, slipped into the backseat. The perspiring butler drove off.

The scene outside the tiny shop wasn’t grand—but to Xinchi No.4 students inside, it felt monumental.

Most stared at Chen Dao and Xia Jiuli’s table: two students buried deep in rice bowls.

“Why’re they hiding in their bowls?”

“No clue. Is that girl connected to the ‘white moonlight’? Didn’t she just point there?”

Whispers swirled. As the car faded, Chen Dao lifted his empty bowl.

He looked up. Saw Xia Jiuli across the table, mimicking him exactly—face pressed to bowl. A chuckle escaped.

*I stole the clothes, not you. Why hide?*

“They’re gone. Up you go—”

He tapped the bowl’s rim. She lifted her head; the bowl clung briefly, leaving a faint red ring on her cheek.

Chen Dao covered his mouth, stifling laughter.

*Wait—you actually did it? I was faking!*

“Wipe your face. Rice stuck on.”

He handed a tissue. She was frantically scooping rice back from the shared bucket.

Three dishes, soup, one rice bucket. She ate slower. To copy him, she’d dumped her rice, then slammed the bowl to her face.

Chen Dao said “don’t panic”—then moved lightning-fast. Xia Jiuli, fearing guilt by association, followed.

Only after rescuing her rice did she wipe stray grains, nervously glancing at the bucket.

“What now?” she murmured. Stealing clothes and fleeing felt like hit-and-run.

“Me? I’d eat ‘imported’ rice too!”

Chen Dao, utterly off-track, plunged the plastic scoop right where she’d dumped her rice. Xia Jiuli’s face burned crimson.

She let out a flustered hum, speechless.

But watching him munch happily, she sighed, picked up her chopsticks, and slowly ate.