Xia Jiuli skipped toward the great banyan tree, then slowed her steps.

She glanced back at the school gate, then at Chen Dao just a few paces away. Smoothing a stray strand of hair from her forehead, she closed the distance slowly.

The composure she’d lost during her frantic run returned the moment she confirmed the gazes behind her and the boy before her—as if nothing had happened.

But her heart rebelled fiercely against her calm facade, pounding like it might leap straight out to shout its joy. Jiuli took deep breaths, slowed her steps again, yet her heartbeat refused to quiet.

*He’s here?*

*No… Why is he here?*

Her thoughts stalled. The boy standing there, lips pressed tight to hide a smile, was unmistakably Chen Dao.

He feigned a casual glance up, covered his mouth with a fist, eyes darting left and right, then lightly ran fingers through his hair—

But Chen Dao’s joke wasn’t “unrelated to romance,” and Jiuli didn’t get it. She simply thought he was genuinely flustered.

Still… she fell for it. Not because of his smooth, effortless motions, but because even in this reunion, he pulled a playful stunt to keep her from spiraling.

Finally, Jiuli stepped close. Her clear, almond-shaped eyes scanned Chen Dao head to toe. Then her crimson lips parted slightly.

“You… Aren’t you in class?”

“Good girl! *That’s* your first line? Fine, I’m leaving.”

Chen Dao had braced for something to throw his Dao Heart into chaos—but she led with homework?

“Great. Guess I’ll go home and tackle that study guide.”

Where was the justice in this?

So 800 kilometers earns me a study report?

He turned as if to leave—and sure enough, Jiuli panicked.

“Don’t! Please!”

Her heart dropped. A hollow ache bloomed. She hurried forward.

She wasn’t cold—just flustered. *Hug him? Greet him properly?*

After overthinking it, she chose the least awkward reply… probably.

“Kidding. Want some?”

Chen Dao turned and handed her a roujiamo—the one he’d earned helping someone earlier. Starving as he was, he’d saved it just for her.

Jiuli froze. *Aunt said she’d bring me one tonight… How do I explain this?*

Forget it. It’s from Chen Dao. Eat first.

Hands trembling slightly, she took it, cradled it, glanced up. Seeing his quiet urging, she took a small bite.

Hmm? All my favorites…

The roujiamo was cool, yet warmth spread through her with every bite.

Only now did Chen Dao truly look at her. A week apart, and she seemed weary.

Same high ponytail—schools everywhere demanded it. Her uniform: green and white.

Hair freshly trimmed, bangs perfectly placed. Only the dark circles under her eyes betrayed her.

She probably hadn’t slept well.

“What are you staring at…”

Muffled around food, her grumble came with a glance flickering between the roujiamo, the ground, the space between their shoes—then she sidestepped.

Through the rough, cool fabric of her jacket, her arm’s warmth seeped slowly into his. Chen Dao didn’t pull away.

Awkward? Yes. Uncomfortable to walk? Absolutely. But neither moved apart.

She nudged his arm with her elbow, stealing a glance.

Backpack bulging, black tracksuit slightly worn but sharp-looking—except his gaze fled the second it met hers.

Chen Dao followed her earlier path. The two girls who’d been with her strolled down a side road, laughing, glancing back at them.

*What’re you looking at? Never seen someone travel 800 kilometers to see a friend?*

*What? You haven’t?*

*…Never mind.*

“Haven’t been sleeping well?”

“Mm… I cried.”

Jiuli mumbled, biting hard into the roujiamo.

That first night back, she’d locked her door, buried her face in blankets, sobbed until tears ran dry.

Alone, she couldn’t stop it. Comforting herself did nothing.

Even replaying seaside memories with Chen Dao in her mind couldn’t hold back the tears.

Because her parents were truly gone. Not coming back.

Now her home held only her. The double bed—just an empty mattress. The bathroom cup meant for three—hers alone.

Too many reminders. Too many to believe.

Aunt, fearing triggers, brought her home. “Wait half a month before living alone,” she’d said.

Even school was something Xia Baixiao fiercely opposed.

But Ren Yi told her not to hover. Jiuli insisted she was fine. Reluctantly, Xia Baixiao agreed.

“Do you still cry?”

“Not anymore.”

Their exchange was painfully childish—even kindergarten kids would scoff.

At least they know how to walk alone through a dark alley.

“Wait… why *did* you come?”

After long hesitation, Jiuli spoke. Eighty percent sure he came for her—but that twenty percent doubt ruined everything.

Everyone wants to believe their friend came *for them*, not as an afterthought.

“Me? You’re not ser—”

“Wait—duck!”

Jiuli pivoted around his shoulder, hiding behind him.

Across the street, a BMW pulled up near the gate.

The elegant woman Chen Dao helped earlier hurried out, peering anxiously inside.

Chen Dao finally clicked.

She did look like Jiuli.

“Your aunt?”

He tilted his hand slightly, letting Jiuli peek.

“Yeah…”

“Shouldn’t we go over?”

“Right now… I want to stay with you.”