Gu Lian aced every monthly exam with scores hovering around 700—but she wasn’t the type to bury herself in textbooks.
Most of the time, she only studied because she had nothing else to do.
Truth was, her tutoring sessions involved little actual teaching. Yet simply sitting beside Gu Lian and working through exercises earned the tutor a few hundred bucks—who wouldn’t jump at that?
If the tutor brought snacks mid-session, Gu Lian would inevitably drift toward the tempting aroma.
Even the faint patter of cats or dogs passing outside would make her glance up instinctively.
Let alone the guy nearby—making exaggerated faces, thoroughly amused—as he cooed sweet nothings into the phone…
At least, that’s how it looked to her.
So she tiptoed after him, only to spot another girl sneaking around just like her.
Shoulder-length hair, fair skin, petite frame, round face—a quietly charming presence.
One hand gripped her uniform collar; the other pressed flat against the wall.
Her expression was grim, face pale with disbelief, as if refusing to accept Chen Dao being so close to someone else.
Bai Qiaoqiao had followed Chen Dao out quietly—just to see where he went after school.
This time, she hadn’t even told Li Zhiqiang (“Bootlicker No. 2,” in her mind) or her best friend Zhao Lexuan. Alone, she searched the campus until she spotted Chen Dao dashing out mid-call.
She watched him slip into the narrow path behind the library—a deserted spot, perfect for slacking off.
Just then, Chen Dao shoved his phone into his pocket. The call ended. He turned his head: left—Gu Lian hiding behind a tree; right—Bai Qiaoqiao pressed against the wall.
He ignored Bai Qiaoqiao’s furrowed brow and her simmering, ready-to-scold stance, and walked straight toward Gu Lian.
His pause felt awkward. Bai Qiaoqiao knew he’d seen her—but hadn’t expected him to glance, confirm, then deliberately turn away.
She squinted at the distant figure: head tucked behind the trunk, body fully exposed.
What normal person hides like that?
A breeze brushed the leaves; branches rustled into a gentle green melody. Yet beneath the tree, one girl’s face was hidden—blocking her view—while her slender body stood stiffly in plain sight.
“You serious?” Chen Dao murmured, secretly switching on video mode.
“…”
Gu Lian stayed silent, shifting deeper behind the trunk and stealing a glance at him.
In under ten seconds, the clip perfectly captured the silly girl behind the tree—and her two clumsy moves.
The moment she spotted the lens, she curled up and vanished completely.
Thanks to her slight frame, not a trace of her remained visible.
But stung by embarrassment, she muttered resentfully:
“I—I scored 700 on this month’s exam…”
Chen Dao felt utterly insulted, yet could only sigh like a weary dad before pointing at her exactly like that accusatory Husky meme.
“C’mon, let’s go. Reading Comprehension’s still lying in wait for me!”
He tapped the trunk. The dull thud traveled through the wood. Gu Lian kept a straight face—*I didn’t do anything. I’ll do it again.*
When she finally stepped out, Bai Qiaoqiao was gone.
Only a puffing, storming-away silhouette headed for the school gate.
Gu Lian ached to ask: Did Chen Dao like the girl on the phone? What was that classmate to him?
But she wouldn’t ask now.
He’d just brush her off again.
She’d tried during study sessions these past days—always dodged.
It wasn’t the snacks’ fault. Chen Dao was just *that* good at deflecting.
Yet strangely… she found herself looking forward to his little daily treats.
So she’d even asked her parents to delay tutoring by two hours—claiming she wanted extra study time to improve.
(“Teaching others is a study method,” Chen Dao had coached her. She used his exact words.)
Now she trailed Chen Dao toward the library. He always steered their talks. Sometimes she wondered: Was she even his friend?
More urgently—was his wallet okay? If he bought her snacks daily… did he have the cash?
She wasn’t some clueless rich girl. Facing someone surviving on plain rice lunches? She couldn’t freeload.
That’s why she agreed. Still… she felt silly. *Bribed by snacks.*
“Oh right—squeezing study time like this isn’t practical. Give me your QQ. I’ll… put you to work.”
Chen Dao took two steps, remembered he didn’t have the “little rich girl’s” contact, and fumbled for his phone.
Gu Lian hesitated, then complied.
Shielding the screen with their bodies, Chen Dao’s clumsy taps wasted five full minutes before the friend request went through.
Just like that—Chen Dao became the first male contact in Gu Lian’s QQ list.
Truth was, classmates (and others) often tried adding her to get closer.
If Gu Lian were even slightly outgoing, her requests would’ve exploded. But she never knew what to say.
The “New Contacts” tab always held a dozen ignored red dots.
Class announcements used the group chat—so those trying to “expand their list” genuinely just wanted to befriend her.
She knew. She just didn’t know how to talk.
*[Sunday, 8 a.m. City Library. I’ll treat you to shrimp chips.]*
As she stared at her first-ever male classmate’s chat window, her phone vibrated. A message from Chen Dao.
Gu Lian glanced up at the boy beside her, then slowly typed.
“Received.”
…And accidentally read it aloud.
Side by side, they walked toward the library—chatting silently on their screens all the way.
