Honestly, Gu Lian didn’t think she needed to follow. She could’ve just glued herself to the backseat. But hiding like this wasn’t a solution—if she dodged today, she’d be cornered tomorrow.

Better to face a short pain than suffer a long one.

For the past three days, she’d told herself it was because Chen Dao was busy, so she didn’t need to go to the library after school. She hated lies—giving them or receiving them. Those three days had been pure torture; even her pop quizzes missed full marks.

Ugh. So frustrating.

Now, she trailed the tall guy beside her, stealing glances at his face. The second she sensed even a hint of anger, she’d bolt—turn, jump into the car!

Yeah. That’s the plan.

They walked the main road with a few students from the advanced class. Most lived on campus, so the street was nearly empty. Uncle Liu followed calmly in the car, no worry of losing them.

“Whoa! Caliburn!”

Chen Dao suddenly spotted something roadside and exclaimed.

Gu Lian flinched, ready to run—was she about to get hit?

But Chen Dao dashed over, bent down, and picked up a straight twig. Only two tiny bends, conveniently near the “hilt.” Smooth, branchless, almost perfectly straight.

Swinging his newly dubbed “holy sword,” Chen Dao carried Gu Lian’s windbreaker and kept walking. He chose the main road to stay synced with Uncle Liu—and to ease her nerves.

After turning onto Baojia Road, he naturally shifted to the traffic-side.

Gu Lian didn’t get it. A flicker of unease.

But watching him act like a kid—earning envious stares from passing boys—she wondered: *Is this a boy-only joy?* Slightly surprised, she tried to understand.

Five minutes later, he gifted the “escorted” holy sword to a little kid… in exchange for a plum candy.

“Oh, want cotton candy?”

Ahead, an old man spun colorful clouds under a cart canopy. Kids clustered around.

Gu Lian had only ever tried packaged cotton candy. These vibrant, round or oval swirls looked… intriguing.

“Do they taste different?”

“Who knows? Been ages since I had any…” Chen Dao muttered, then sprinted back with two sticks—one red, one blue.

Gu Lian frowned. *Same stuff… why two colors? Why not the rainbow one? Short on cash?*

She took the blue one. Bit in. No blueberry flavor. Just… sweet.

Chen Dao held his stick toward her side, slowing his pace. Didn’t even touch it.

*It’s huge. Missing a bite won’t matter… right?*

She pinched a tiny bit of his red cloud. Same taste. Sticky fingers.

“Knew you couldn’t resist.”

He handed her a tissue, eyes crinkling—he’d seen it coming.

Gu Lian stared, wide-eyed, but took it and wiped her hands.

By the time the cotton candy vanished, they’d crossed the pedestrian bridge and neared Haibin Road.

January draped the streets in festive red. Andy Lau’s annual New Year’s tunes echoed warmly. Beyond the seawall stretched the endless sea; fishing boats bobbed nearby, some setting sail.

Chen Dao aimed for Haibin Road’s market. Not yet New Year, but already bustling—mostly aunties shopping, uncles trailing with bags. More kids and students lingered too; wholesale warehouses meant cheaper prices. (Though no one came just for a pack of spicy strips or a pencil.)

Chen Dao wouldn’t spend Spring Festival here—he wasn’t local. After holidays, once Mom’s nagging peaked, he’d sneak back. Freshman year, he’d planned to keep Bai Qiaoqiao company… only to find she’d left on a trip without telling him. Homework it was.

Here, Uncle Liu parked in a white-lined spot and followed on foot.

Aunties laughed while picking goods; uncles trudged behind, frowning under bags.

Chen Dao watched. *Future me.* Once Dad got gout, *he’d* be the bag-carrier. *Gotta tell Old Chen to cut back on booze and seafood.*

“That rainbow ice cream good?”

“That’s a food toy—check the label.”

“What about this? Li X Long? Here?”

“Spicy strips. Not healthy in bulk.”

Too fragrant to bring to school—if Gu Lian spoke with that scent, the whole campus would crack down on snacks.

But the lure was real. Even adult Chen Dao sometimes caved.

He spent fifty cents. Tore the pack. Handed her one glistening, dark-red strip.

“Why?” Gu Lian asked, hesitant.

“Bad for you.”

“Then why do *you* get a whole pack?”

Chen Dao popped the rest in one go. “I’m a student athlete. Handles it.”

He swallowed the seven strips fast. A warm rush bloomed in his gut, tingling at his lips.

“Why’s that okay for athletes?”

Gu Lian watched, curious. Gently parted her lips, mimicked him—swallowed, then chewed.

So spicy!