Chen Dao had no choice but to accept her near-threat of an invitation, then slunk away through a back door and headed upstairs.
He thought Gu Lian was painfully aloof—so cold she wouldn’t even speak.
Still, he vaguely sensed something fishy.
But with zero evidence, he could only pretend not to notice.
Yet the moment he recalled how Gu Lian had gently tugged his sleeve, Xia Jiuli’s image forcefully barged into his mind.
He wasn’t naive enough to believe she’d actually boarded a train home.
By the time he ambled back to class, a noisy crowd had gathered around his seat. Someone was shouting hoarsely. Something was clearly wrong.
As Chen Dao slowly approached, he saw Bai Qiaoqiao slumped over her desk, face deathly pale. Girls buzzed around her—worried, frightened—but utterly helpless.
A boy wanted to carry her to the infirmary but hesitated, fearing unintended consequences. Someone had run for a teacher, but no one had returned yet.
Zhao Lexuan knelt beside Bai Qiaoqiao, gently checking her forehead. No fever.
Li Zhiqiang and Zhou Yu, usually close to her, could only stammer useless “Are you okay?”s—annoying Li Fang so much she stomped her foot in frustration.
“We came back from the restroom,” Ding Yun squeezed through the crowd to explain to a confused Chen Dao. “We chatted, cleared up the misunderstanding… she seemed fine. Then she sat down, said she felt dizzy, and now her limbs are ice-cold…”
She looked hurt—some were whispering she’d harmed Bai Qiaoqiao in the stall.
Chen Dao blinked, pushed through the gawkers, and stood before Bai Qiaoqiao.
The instant he steadied himself, Li Fang darted between them, shielding Bai Qiaoqiao and Zhao Lexuan behind her.
“What do you want now?” she snapped, glaring. She made it clear: this “scumbag” wasn’t getting near Bai Qiaoqiao.
Chen Dao didn’t press forward. He already knew what to do.
“Does anyone have candy? Hand one over!”
Zhao Lexuan instantly fished a piece from her pocket, unwrapped it, and popped it into Bai Qiaoqiao’s mouth. Bai Qiaoqiao obediently let it dissolve.
Chen Dao patted Li Zhiqiang—still planted in *his* seat—and waved him off. Annoyed by their panic over simple low blood sugar, he added flatly, “I’m studying. Vacate.”
“Huh?” Li Zhiqiang shot him a *Are you serious?* look.
“No ‘huh.’ Get out.”
“Oh—” Li Zhiqiang flushed. He’d gotten too comfortable enjoying the view of Bai Qiaoqiao from this seat. Flustered, he scrambled up and dragged Zhou Yu away.
Li Fang kept glaring as Chen Dao sat down and opened his math textbook. He was the only one in the room who seemed utterly unconcerned.
“Chen Dao, how did you know it was low blood sugar?” Zhao Lexuan asked, approaching his desk once Bai Qiaoqiao stabilized.
“Hm?” His eyes stayed locked on the red formulas.
Truth was, he *sort of* understood them. Or didn’t. That frustrating almost-there feeling.
“I mean—how did you figure it out? Skipping one meal shouldn’t cause this…”
“Nothing much,” he murmured. “You’d get it if you’d lived through clients demanding revisions till 6 a.m. and bosses expecting you at your desk by 8.”
Zhao Lexuan blinked, utterly lost—but still thanked him.
Just then, the boys sent for the teacher burst back in, one bumping Chen Dao’s desk and shattering his fragile geometry focus.
He sighed. Honestly, he couldn’t even solve problems like this anymore.
What followed was predictable: Teacher Zhu Zhan arrived, learned Bai Qiaoqiao hadn’t eaten or slept since yesterday, and accepted her wry “bad mood” excuse. The classmates knew far more than the baffled teacher. Zhu simply suggested she rest in the infirmary and left.
Immediately, others swarmed—volunteering to escort her, boasting about endless candy supplies, even offering to buy more. With Chen Dao stepping aside, the space around Bai Qiaoqiao filled fast.
And in Class 8, Grade 11, a rumor began fermenting: *She’s so heartbroken by Chen Dao she can’t eat or sleep.*
Li Fang seethed the most. She’d once thought him a sweet guy—maybe a little pushover-ish, but genuinely caring. Then she heard he snatched Bai Qiaoqiao’s milk tea. *No decency.* Saw him carry another girl out. *Two-timing scum.* That explained her QQ group rant last night. Now? This sealed it. *You caused this—and you’re calmly doing geometry?*
Yet the whispers and stares didn’t faze Chen Dao. They didn’t slow his focus one bit.
And the gazes on him weren’t just Li Fang’s contempt. There was Zhao Lexuan’s quiet gratitude. And Bai Qiaoqiao’s dawning, puzzled look as consciousness slowly returned.
