As the watch hands settled on 9:15, a faint trace of displeasure flickered across Xia Jiuli’s face.

In just a little while, she’d have to part ways with Chen Dao.

After leaving the fast-food joint, they turned onto the pedestrian street Chen Dao had come through earlier. The scene was worlds apart from the afternoon’s quiet: street vendors hawking snacks, shops buzzing with crowds… every detail painted the city’s vibrant night.

But for two seventeen-year-olds, the romance of it all felt utterly lost.

“Are you studying properly?”

Xia Jiuli gently bumped Chen Dao’s arm with her shoulder, nudging him to snap out of his daze as they passed a bathhouse.

Chen Dao glanced at her—holding a pinwheel—then watched her give it a soft puff.

Warm lamplight brushed her petite frame, hinting at a quiet maturity. The red, blue, yellow, and green pinwheel spun slowly in her hand, while its owner gazed at him with tender affection.

Chen Dao couldn’t shake the dreamlike haze of the moment.

“I’ve got a super capable study buddy now. Supervised sessions twice a day—even at home.”

The little rich girl had him study an hour at noon, another after school, then review everything promptly once home. At 9 p.m. sharp, Uncle Liu would call to check in.

Mornings began with memorizing twenty English words and a classical poem, to be written from memory during their noon library session.

“Oh? Do you live close?”

Xia Jiuli’s mind instantly pictured Chen Dao studying with a boy—but she had no idea he even had such a classmate.

Wait… her knowledge of Chen Dao was even less than Yu Xin’s understanding of herself.

“Nah. Just a phone call every night.”

Uncle Liu called nightly at nine to collect Chen Dao’s questions for Gu Lian to address the next day. So Chen Dao had to be home by seven and finish all homework by eight-thirty.

Truth be told, Gu Lian had completely erased his old habit of procrastinating—like scrolling through his phone while doing homework.

“Sounds like you two get along pretty well!”

Xia Jiuli was genuinely glad he’d found help. After all, objective gaps existed between them—resources, environment, time. Even with shared effort, those disparities mattered.

She was surrounded by excellent teachers and classmates; a simple request brought willing help. More importantly, in her previous life, she’d truly applied herself.

So now, absorbing knowledge came far easier to her than to Chen Dao.

At least during their final night at his place, when they tackled the same practice set, Xia Jiuli overwhelmingly outperformed him on fundamentals—aside from regional curriculum differences.

Provincial exams differed; national standardization was still two years off. Their studies were tailored accordingly.

They’d each stumbled on topics the other was tested on but they weren’t—deeply awkward.

Especially when Xia Jiuli blurted, “Isn’t this elementary school material?”

That alone left Chen Dao feeling utterly inadequate.

Yet even she couldn’t message him every night… so how did this newcomer manage daily calls?

“‘Good’ enough that skipping class draws criticism? Is that really what you call a good relationship?”

Chen Dao recalled Gu Lian’s firm stance on missing sessions—a nagging sense of lost freedom crept in.

But that was the price of a top-student ally. You couldn’t expect them to bend their schedule to yours.

Sacrificing personal time wasn’t a bad trade… except lately, Bai Qiaoqiao had been watching him a little too closely.

“Skipped class? Wait—didn’t you have afternoon classes today? And tomorrow too?”

Xia Jiuli finally snapped out of her joyful haze, catching the clue to Chen Dao’s presence in Xiangzhou.

Today was Friday. Even with only two afternoon classes, dismissal wasn’t until 4:30. And Xinchí High held Saturday sessions—

“Hey, hey, hey!”

Facing her reproachful, regretful gaze, Chen Dao instantly struck a “pointing Husky” pose to cut her off.

“Don’t blame yourself first! Today’s classes were just chemistry and PE—I was dismissed at 3:15!”

He knew Xia Jiuli well: she hated owing money, and she’d never sacrifice precious study time.

Indulging in this fleeting warmth risked their future college years together. She’d already lived the awkwardness of being Chen Dao’s classmate yet never sitting beside him—a memory she refused to repeat.

“That’s why she’d never let him sacrifice like this.”

“And tomorrow? The school’s booked as an exam venue—no classes.”

Chen Dao could’ve said the noble thing—“I’d have come anyway”—but truthfully, if real studying was needed, he wouldn’t have come.

Sunday felt too rushed; delaying until winter break risked Aunt Hong grilling him relentlessly, with Chen’s dad one hundred percent backing her.

Just the face of a doting Southern husband—not the meekness of a man whose secret stash had been fully confiscated.

“I-I see…”

Xia Jiuli lifted her face, relief softening her features as she brushed away the shadow of worry.

If Chen Dao had truly jeopardized their future just for this meeting, guilt would’ve consumed her.

Her last “See you next time” had carried the weight of leaving Xinchí High—and him. And Chen Dao, sensing that longing, had traveled eight hundred kilometers.

“Th-That’s good…”

Pouting slightly, she let out a quiet breath of release, then deliberately slowed her steps, inviting his gaze.

“So… you’ll stay two days, right?”

With the worry gone, hope bloomed—to savor this warmth just a little longer.

“Yeah. Need to buy local specialties. I’ll check into a hotel later.”

“You borrowed that money, didn’t you? Hotel’s a waste—just stay at my place.”

She’d be at her aunt’s tonight anyway; her house stood empty. Might as well…

But her wording was too vague. Chen Dao took an immediate step back.

“Classmate Xia Jiuli! Are you having some… *impure* thoughts?!”