Her slender, porcelain-white calves swayed gently, rosy skin snug in milky-white pantyhose—a look utterly adorable.

Alas, in Chinese high schools where long pants ruled, a skirt paired with white pantyhose was practically an anomaly.

But this outfit belonged solely to Xia Jiuli—it had nothing to do with Xinchi No.4 High School.

*"Off now. I’ll text when I’m home. Pay attention in class."*

Mimicking future-era female vloggers with their phone-zombie faces, she filmed a short clip: red pleated skirt, pantyhose, swaying playfully before the station restroom mirror. She lifted a corner of her skirt and kicked her leg sideways with cheeky charm.

*"Thanks! Sent it all your way."*

*"Just got out of class, right? No calling!"*

Well, the innocent Xia Jiuli clearly missed the subtext. Era and culture were tangled tight—Chen Dao’s decade-later abstract memes fell flat here, making chats with boys his age feel awkward. When he faked a wheelchair "sprint," peers were baffled. Forget Ke Mu San or Kun Kun. He just couldn’t pull off the abstract anymore.

"Oh, so cute…"

Ding Yun leaned in for a peek. Her shoulder brushed Chen Dao’s arm—phone jolted, nearly slipped.

He snatched it back just before impact.

"Sorry… Wait, who’s she?"

Lately chatting more with Chen Dao, Ding Yun had grown comfortable enough to joke.

"A friend."

Chen Dao kept it short. He hadn’t meant to use his phone at school—getting caught meant scolding—but he’d been checking for Xia Jiuli’s message since she left that morning.

Finally, at 11:30 a.m., right after fourth period, it arrived.

Admittedly cute… but with a hint of naive cluelessness.

"She must be a close friend—Hey! Hide it! Don’t let Bai Qiaoqiao see!"

Ding Yun, packing up for lunch, noticed Chen Dao reopening the ten-second clip and felt compelled to warn him.

Chen Dao just shot her a genuinely puzzled look.

"Why?"

"Why *what*?"

His confusion was real; hers stemmed from thinking he was playing dumb.

"Since when does *she* get to ban me from watching cute-girl videos?"

"Uh…" Ding Yun hesitated. Bai Qiaoqiao was just in the restroom—would be back soon. Gossiping felt wrong, but she was quoting Bai Qiaoqiao directly:

"She said she hates guys who judge others. That’s why she bans this stuff—it ‘corrupts’ you. And…"

"And?"

"You used to agree! But *she* watches handsome-guy videos—you even worked out for that…"

Ding Yun flushed, sensing Chen Dao had zero memory of this.

"Tch…"

Chen Dao froze. *Was old me really that clueless? No way. I wasn’t *that* shameless… Wait—I can’t let Ding Yun think less of me!*

He slapped the phone on the desk, raised both hands in crab-claw pose, and declared:

"Past is past! Present is present! Stop dragging up history—sis, why not compare me to my birth day?"

"I don’t know about your birth—oops, I mean… did you even like Bai Qiaoqiao *when* you were born…?" Ding Yun mumbled, flustered.

"Argh!" Chen Dao felt deeply offended. He struck a dramatic "Husky Point" pose—but had no comeback for his desk mate, now fluent in abstract humor. *Did I… contaminate her?*

"Just hide it! If Bai Qiaoqiao sees it, she’ll scold you—"

"Scold *who*?"

Bai Qiaoqiao’s head popped up behind them. Her eyes locked onto Chen Dao’s screen—the girl lifting her skirt—and her expression dimmed.

"Chen Dao! How dare you watch something so indecent?"

She reached for the phone after a hesitant beat.

Chen Dao yanked it back, blocking her with his arm.

"Who gave you the right? Even my mom doesn’t micromanage me!"

"This is morally corrupting! You *hated* girls who flaunt themselves—you said so!"

Flustered but unable to snatch it (he’d never blocked her before, not even during chat checks), Bai Qiaoqiao’s panic spiked. *Why’s he reacting like this over a video?!*

"What’s it to you? Go eat. Don’t gross me out."

Chen Dao stuffed the phone in his pocket, grumbling as he stood and gestured Ding Yun toward the cafeteria. He refused to let Xia Jiuli be called "indecent," but chose peace over conflict. Yet seeing Bai Qiaoqiao now sparked irritation—even Xia Jiuli’s food pics couldn’t soothe him.

Bai Qiaoqiao caught "gross." Fury ignited. *He called *me* gross?! Corrupted by that trash!*

"Gross? *Please!* You’re the one who likes *me*! You call the girl you chased for five years 'gross'? So you don’t even want my acceptance?!"

(She counted middle school years too—unaware Chen Dao only truly liked her in third year. To him? Barely "one Kun year.")

*Bang!* Her palm slammed the desk, drawing stares.

"You say you like me, then watch other girls behind my back—and call *me* gross? Chen Dao! Apologize!"

Whispers spread. Ding Yun, guiltily silent, could only stare. Chen Dao sighed. *I thought the office talk was clear enough…*

"Then I’ll be blunt this time—"

He straightened, shedding all impatience.

"Huh… Finally apologizing? Why not sooner?" Bai Qiaoqiao crossed her arms, smug. *He’s backing down after so long—*

"My humble temple can’t house a grand Buddha like you. From now on? No contact. That’s it. Enjoy your meal!"