Only after confirming Xia Baixiao had left did Chen Dao and Xia Jiuli turn right. Meanwhile, Yu Xin and the class monitor seemed thoroughly satisfied, munching and chatting away.

For smoother communication, Chen Dao discreetly asked Yu Xin for her QQ number. He couldn’t watch over Xia Jiuli in Xiangzhou every moment—classmates like Yu Xin would need to keep an eye on her.

He couldn’t stay by her side forever. Coming here today was purely a “childish” impulse of his seventeen-year-old self. At nearly thirty, who’d passionately rush eight hundred kilometers like this?

So… who knew when they’d meet again?

Xia Jiuli understood. Only when the streetlamp stretched her shadow backward, then gently guided it along, did she finally calm down slightly.

She was happy.

Even if Chen Dao had merely promised to visit sometime next month—or during Spring Festival—it would’ve made her joyful all day. Let alone him actually being here.

Chen Dao walked beside her now: this dear friend across two lifetimes.

After the turn, night had fully deepened. The last sliver of sunset vanished behind the girl’s silhouette.

The moment they met, she’d wanted to hug him. But Yu Xin and the class monitor were watching—and right at the school gate. Too forward. She reluctantly let the reunion embrace go.

Once passed, courage didn’t return.

Not to mention the roujiamo he handed her—filled exactly how she liked. So thoughtful.

When her aunt appeared, she’d slipped behind Chen Dao. She’d even wondered: *Should I hug him from behind? Nuzzle my face into his back? Take one deep, affectionate breath?*

Like Xiao Mi, the family cat back home—chubbier each year, inevitably getting its fur “sucked off” during visits.

But she still couldn’t muster it.

Xia Jiuli stepped forward; Chen Dao followed. She stopped; he halted too.

Seeing her pause—like words were gathering—he dared not interrupt.

“Was I… too childish today?”

After a moment, her pearly teeth parted slightly. Hands clasped behind her back, she turned gently.

Amber lamplight caught her swaying high ponytail, delicate features, faint dimples. She wasn’t smiling, yet radiated spring-breeze warmth.

“Definitely not how a twenty-seven-year-old young lady should act.”

Walking and eating that roujiamo was one thing. Doing it deliberately in front of Yu Xin? Clearly using those two big mouths to spread: *She’s spoken for.*

(Though she genuinely wanted to show her friends she was doing well.)

Right after adding Yu Xin on QQ, the first message mentioned: boys had been circling Xia Jiuli all week—mostly trying to score points. The whole class shooed them off.

Now Yu Xin had fresh gossip: *Xia Jiuli’s taken. Don’t even dream.*

“I’m only seventeen.” She frowned, pouting.

“Just a hair short… a hair short of what I like.”

“Why?”

“Nothing. You’re underage—you wouldn’t understand.”

Chen Dao skipped voicing that twisted “men always prefer eighteen” logic. Brushed it off.

Xia Jiuli blinked, watching him step ahead.

*Boys were loud in the back rows yesterday… Yu Xin said it was just games or crude jokes. Is Chen Dao hinting at something like that too?*

“But you didn’t need to be so insistent in front of them—”

“Huh? Insistent?” She jogged to catch up, genuinely confused.

“I mean—even if you’re eager to prove I’m yours, I won’t run.”

*Is she really this clueless? Or pretending?* Chen Dao sighed inwardly. Society had taught him to assume hidden motives first. He knew it wasn’t kind. Knew cynicism ran deep. But last life’s scars left no choice.

“Hmph…”

Xia Jiuli blinked fast. A blush dusted her porcelain cheeks. *He’s actually good at flirting? Why no love life last lifetime…? And calling me “staking a claim”? Your words aren’t so different.*

Then she recalled her own actions:

—Nearly biting his fingers while eating the roujiamo.

—Sharing water, lips touching the same bottle.

—Playful shoulder bumps.

—Holding hands when leaving.

All subconscious. Natural to her. But from outside? Like a girlfriend clinging to her boyfriend on a motorcycle’s backseat. *Are we really two peas in a pod?*

Embarrassed yet warmed—by his eight-hundred-kilometer journey, by his promise not to leave—she gazed at him. Eyes shimmering, tender.

Now *she* followed *him*.

“I get it. I’ll tone it down.”

Lips pressed tight, hiding a smile, she tap-tap-tapped forward and bumped his shoulder.

*Last life, I saw couples bump shoulders then dash into the woods to make out. Felt weird then. Now… kinda cute.*

“Sometimes I can’t tell—are you genuinely clueless… or faking it?”

Chen Dao reconsidered. Xia Jiuli was too sharp to be sold and count the money.

“Hmph-hmph-hmph~ I’m actually clever most of the time!” She planted hands on hips, chin lifted—*See? Smart. Just looks silly.*

(Truth was, last life she’d been a goofy school beauty behind an ice-sculpture facade. Gu Lian? *Actually* clueless.)

“Oh yeah? If I ever can’t find you,” Chen Dao smirked, “I’ll check the supermarket.”

“Why?”

“I’ll ask the manager: ‘Why isn’t she on the shelf?’ He’ll say: ‘She’s been packed away.’”