Class ended at 11:30 AM. Too early to head home, Bai Ningning slipped into a familiar lounge, sat down, and checked her phone.

As a modern intellectual, she deeply valued learning. So when the doctor suggested improving her communication skills, Bai Ningning promptly decided to study advanced methods.

She’d already bought an e-book online: *How to Communicate with High Emotional Intelligence in Daily Life*.

It offered many conversational tips—one of which Bai Ningning had just put into practice.

The book advised: always consider the other person’s traits when talking. “Analyze each situation on its own merits,” it said. Phrase the same matter differently for different people.

Just then, Qin Xin sent a message.

[Black Thigh-Highs]: Senior Ningning, what time do you finish class this afternoon? Walk together?

After some hesitation, Bai Ningning had changed Qin Xin’s contact name to this. *“If only life could stay as beautiful as the first meeting…”* That memory truly was too sweet.

She switched windows, opened the e-book, and flipped to her highlighted page.

*“When describing something, consider the other person’s awareness: are they an insider? What’s their acceptance level and perspective? This makes them feel you’re on the same wavelength—keeping the conversation smooth and light.”*

Applied today: Bai Ningning was skipping afternoon class. If Qin Yue had requests, it might mean one roll in the sheets.

Or several.

Earlier, with President Lingyin—a seasoned otaku who’d even been part of that whole “forcing girls to dance” incident—Bai Ningning had spoken bluntly.

But Qin Xin? In Bai Ningning’s eyes, she was a pure, diligent junior with a straightforward orientation.

So she typed:

[Ningning Doesn’t Know]: Heading home early. Work awaits.

Tactful for someone unfamiliar with the subtext—and still true. “Work” meant intimate time with Qin Yue. Duration unknown. Total compensation: 2.5 million.

She set down her phone, stretched comfortably, and headed off campus.

First high-EQ conversation practice: complete success. *I might not be great at chatting,* she thought, *but I’m willing to learn!*

Hard work brings luck. A learner’s fortune never fades!

…

[Ningning Doesn’t Know]: Heading home early. Work awaits.

Qin Xin read the reply. A dull ache pulsed in her chest.

She knew what “work” meant. Senior didn’t know she knew—and thought it was just a gentle euphemism.

But *she* knew Senior didn’t know *she* knew. That soft phrasing became a blunt knife, stabbing deep into her heart. Painful.

“Qin Xin, what’s wrong?” a classmate beside her asked. “You’ve been off ever since that message.”

Her former roommate—still the closest among classmates.

“I’m fine,” Qin Xin shook her head, hiding her pale face. “The noon sun’s too strong… made me dizzy.”

“R… really?”

…

Bai Ningning returned to their Shuiyue Courtyard apartment. Qin Yue was already up, watching TV on the sofa.

“What’re you watching?” Bai Ningning asked curiously. “I’ve seen you glued to this for days.”

Qin Yue glanced over coolly. “A dark, suspenseful Korean crime drama.”

Bai Ningning’s delicate frame trembled slightly. *No wonder she’s my older sister—even her K-drama taste stands out.*

She sat beside her. Qin Yue eyed her with mild curiosity. “Back this early? Skipping afternoon class?”

She’d checked the schedule—Bai Ningning only had free afternoons on Wednesdays and Fridays.

“It’s… fine,” Bai Ningning mumbled. “Teacher doesn’t take attendance.”

Qin Yue smiled faintly. “Not worried about failing finals?”

She remembered last year: Bai Ningning claimed exam stress required study time—no dates. Qin Yue had even offered a tutor. Refused.

“Heh,” Bai Ningning let out a cold chuckle. “Finals?”

Qin Yue’s eyebrows lifted. “What’s funny?”

“Just finals. Nothing to fear.” Bai Ningning crossed her arms, chest high with swan-like pride. “Skip every class all semester—review one hour—I’ll still score above eighty.”

*Sorry. Being a college grad reincarnated into sophomore year? Yeah, that’s the vibe.*

Qin Yue blinked, then laughed—a sound growing steadily colder.

“So you’re a top student?”

“I won’t boast broadly,” Bai Ningning lifted her chin, proud as a swan, “but academically? Zero issues for all four years.”

“Then, Miss Bai,” Qin Yue stood, looming close with shadowed eyes, “explain this: last semester finals, you said you needed study time—so no dates. Where *exactly* did you go?”

Wait… that happened?

Bai Ningning’s mind blanked. Fragments surfaced.

*“Sorry, Yueyue-jie… finals are tight. If I fail, I’ll retake. Gotta study—can’t keep you company.”*

*“Study? Total excuse. Let’s hit karaoke tonight.”*

One line for Qin Yue. One for classmates. Truth confirmed: she’d used it to go out with others.

Bai Ningning relaxed her posture, face cool. “My fault this time. Do as you wish.”

Ugh—apologizing like she’s granting mercy. If Qin Yue hadn’t built up resistance, her blood would’ve boiled again.

Instead, she took a sharp breath, shot Bai Ningning a glare, and sank back onto the sofa.

“Noted. I’ll settle this later.”

Qin Yue was clear: one morning was enough for that little “green tea” to recharge her Water Dragon Soul. Fighting now? Unwise. Next time—full skill combo. One shot. Done.

…

A lazy noon. Two glasses of iced black tea ready. Brother Tian jogged over to find the fiery girl.

“President Ling, I’m here,” he said carefully. “What did you want to consult me about?”

Lingyin scanned the area. Empty. She relaxed slightly.

“Straight question: do you understand… things between girls?”

Brother Tian froze. “But President Ling, aren’t you with Broth—I mean—"

Wait. Did she genuinely not get it?

“Enough nonsense,” Lingyin snapped, flustered. “Do you know? Say yes. No? Recommend someone who does.”

Brother Tian wiped his brow. “President Ling… if I claimed ignorance, you’d see right through me. But explaining *that*? Not my place. Here—let me share a few forums and sites.”