"Xuanxuan, haa~ what’re you up to?"

Bai Qiaoqiao approached with a listless expression, slipping over before class to invite her bestie to pick some flowers.

But as she crept up behind Zhao Lexuan, she spotted her frantically searching something on her phone.

[Xiangzhou Missing Person Notice: High School Girl’s Failed Suicide Attempt]

Those words caught her eye.

"Not much… Chen Dao asked me to look stuff up for him. His place doesn’t have a computer. I searched all night and found nothing useful…"

"Chen Dao?"

Bai Qiaoqiao instinctively glanced at the seat ahead—still empty.

First period started in ten minutes.

Honestly, she felt relieved he wasn’t here. Otherwise, she’d have zero focus today.

"You’re helping *him*? Why?"

She turned back from Chen Dao’s seat, eyes narrowed at her best friend for aiding that two-timer.

"Just gathering local news and social context—solid essay material."

Zhao Lexuan powered off her phone, tucked it into a hidden backpack pocket, and followed Bai Qiaoqiao out the back door.

Bai Qiaoqiao had seized this moment to vent.

Yesterday, Chen Dao had given her the cold shoulder, leaving her with a faint sting of being dismissed.

He used to be *her* warm guy—now he’s warm to every girl. One the day before yesterday, another yesterday… Seriously, is there a third tomorrow?

How outrageous.

She wasn’t as striking as Gu Lian. Both were beauties, sure—one an 8, the other a flawless 10. Slowly, everyone called her "cute," never "pretty."

Because "pretty" belonged solely to Gu Lian.

She wasn’t petty enough to envy that glow… but Chen Dao changing?

Li Fang was right. Total jerk.

"Qiaoqiao, you skipped breakfast again? Your health matters—don’t let Chen Dao wreck your mood."

Zhao Lexuan pushed up her glasses.

"Huh? Why would I let *that guy* ruin my health?"

"But yesterday you—"

"I don’t care how many girls surround Chen Dao! I don’t care what he’s doing! I’d never get mad over someone so insignificant!"

She cut Zhao Lexuan off mid-sentence, voice rising with unchecked frustration, oblivious to nearby glances.

"Somehow… I think you *do* care."

They’d reached the bathroom door while talking.

"Why would I care about that flip-flopper? He swore he liked *me*, chased *me*—then sneaked around with one girl the day before yesterday, cozy with another yesterday. Can’t I be angry?"

Bai Qiaoqiao felt genuinely hurt. Shouldn’t a best friend comfort her unconditionally? Why side with *him*?

"So… how long would Chen Dao have to chase you before you’d accept him?"

Bai Qiaoqiao blinked, thrown. She peered through Zhao Lexuan’s lenses but couldn’t read her.

"W-Well… only when he truly moves me! When I see real effort and sincerity! Otherwise, wouldn’t I seem too easy?"

Truth was, her answer was fuzzy. She still naively believed her feelings hovered just above friendship.

Because he *had* been the kindest to her.

Every morning: steamed buns, soy milk, youtiao, cheung fun—never repeating all week.

This morning? Just plain congee from Mom.

Zhao Lexuan went silent. Then remembered Chen Dao’s request—finding a girl, getting a seaside stall contact, checking Xiangzhou news—and sighed inwardly. Not worth it.

"What if, while he’s chasing you, you meet someone better?"

"Obviously I’d choose the better one! I won’t ditch my real prince charming just ‘cause Chen Dao chased longer!"

She said it like stating fact: childhood friends don’t beat love-at-first-sight rivals.

"Uh… okay. What if Chen Dao actually ends up with one of them?"

Zhao Lexuan tried the "play hard to get" tactic—testing limits. Big mistake. Hearts shouldn’t be tested.

"Huh? Let him. That flip-flopper? You think I’d *like* him?"

Bai Qiaoqiao frowned, answering instantly. A trace of disdain crossed her lovely face. With a flick of her hand, her shoulder-length hair swayed. She looked utterly indifferent.

Yet her words mirrored each other like a reflection. Zhao Lexuan froze, unsure.

She chalked it up to immaturity—unaware this behavior would later earn an ethereally named, brutally derogatory nickname.

"Alright…"

Zhao Lexuan lowered her head, dropping the topic. *Maybe I should grow my hair out too.*

Silence fell—then crisp footsteps echoed from the stairwell.

Both girls tensed, thinking *teacher*—but the warning bell hadn’t rung.

A figure flashed into view:

Gu Lian. Icy expression, sharp strides, heading straight for them.

Spotting them, she flinched, halted, deliberately sidestepped to the corridor’s far side.

Bizarre. She was from Class 1—downstairs.

Not done yet: she marched past three classrooms, paused at both doors of Class 8 to peek inside, then hurried down the opposite stairs.

*She’s looking for Chen Dao,* Bai Qiaoqiao thought.

Zhao Lexuan, fearing another outburst, yanked her into the bathroom.

Later, after first period—and every break after—Gu Lian reappeared, pacing the hallway.

But Chen Dao never showed up that day.