That day, Yingshengya Academy began military training for the first week of the new semester. The sky was clear and bright, free of summer’s scorching heat.
Mu Yao’s feelings toward Nangong Ruihui had shifted deeply. If every move before was a calculated act to win Ruihui’s affection, yesterday afternoon’s embrace—throwing herself into Ruihui’s arms—was utterly genuine.
Even… the later mention of serving as Ruihui’s maid for life couldn’t erase that warmth.
She’d confirmed it: Ruihui was serious. Calling it “working off the debt,” she declared Mu Yao could only escape it by becoming the “Elder Sister.”
“Ruihui~” Mu Yao murmured softly from the inner edge of the rubber track, her gaze fixed on Nangong Ruihui standing two to three hundred meters ahead.
Training focused mainly on boys; girls faced far lighter demands. Most academy girls were delicate, pampered young ladies unused to hardship.
So—Mu Yao rather “shamelessly” followed the crowd, trained briefly, then slipped to the sidelines to rest. It wasn’t that *he* didn’t want to train; pushing too hard would raise suspicion. A “girl” trying to blend into the boys’ formation? Far too odd.
“ONE-TWO-ONE! AT EASE—! HALT!” The suntanned drill instructor’s voice boomed, directing two squads.
Each class split into two groups. Today’s top-performing squad would face lighter drills later—students trained with fierce motivation. No one wanted extra sessions.
Girls clustered near Mu Yao. Some watched boyfriends who’d swept them off their feet in a week; most stared at Nangong Ruihui, Yingshengya’s undisputed “school god.”
High school was a tender, romance-prone season. Teachers turned a blind eye. As an elite academy, Yingshengya prioritized holistic growth over rigid academics.
Ruihui didn’t search for Mu Yao. Admiring glances from the girls around her were palpable even in peripheral vision. If looks could violate, she’d have been “taken down” countless times already.
Spring did stir hormones—no lie.
Boys stole glances at Mu Yao too. Yet the rule was eyes forward. Many failed. Surrounded like stars orbiting the moon, Mu Yao glowed—framed by “green leaves,” she seemed an angel descended to earth.
Pure enchantress. Her outfit was modest, fully covered. Her charm wasn’t sex appeal—it was genuine magnetism.
“Eyes front! Fall out—run two laps!”
“Your souls over there? Look at *me*!”
“Stare after training, you little rascals.”
Instructors barked, but understood: youth ran hot-blooded.
Calm and focused, Ruihui earned praise. She excelled *and* kept her gaze steady. Nearby instructors even complimented Class 1-C’s drill instructor on his guidance.
Ruihui felt no pride. She was a girl. If a handsome guy stood there? *He* might catch her eye.
Unaware boys whispered she was faking it: “His cold act is staged,” “He’s got dozens of secret girlfriends,” “He only got in through connections.”
Boys knew boys best. Her unnatural composure felt forced. *He* couldn’t be normal.
During standing-at-attention drill, Mu Yao seized the moment while instructors rested on the grass.
“Ruihui, open up. Aaah~”
She’d dashed to the dorm during break, sliced a home-packed apple onto a plate, and returned.
Peeling apples was child’s play for Mu Yao. Ruihui half-joked she’d make a perfect official maid.
“Wh-what are you doing? Everyone’s watching!” Ruihui stammered. Mu Yao’s gesture was *too* obvious.
“Let them watch. I’m yours, right~?”
Mu Yao saw nothing wrong. Instructors didn’t object—what could anyone say?
The words deepened resentment toward Ruihui. She knew boys liked Mu Yao. This open affection? No need to spell it out.
“Eat it or not?”
The toothpick-held slice nudged Ruihui’s closed lips. Mu Yao wouldn’t waste effort.
“Just… go, please…” Ruihui was flustered. This was training, not vacation! A beauty feeding her? Ridiculous!
“Eat one piece. I’ll leave. Or not~”
Mu Yao knew Ruihui couldn’t move. She’d come prepared. Unless Ruihui wanted her to stay.
“Fine, fine, I’ll eat.”
The crisp, heart-shaped slice vanished after two hurried chews.
“Good girl~”
Mu Yao hummed lightly and left. Ruihui’s pained expression was adorably funny.
Ruihui sighed in relief—but a chill prickled her spine from all the stares.
“Did you hear? Mu Yao said she’s *Ruihui’s*!”
“Heard it. Known each other a week and already sleeping together? Lucky bastard.”
“Wish I were that handsome…”
“Nah. Real men have backbone. No need to be a pretty boy.”
Their whispers reached Ruihui. She wasn’t deaf—and felt utterly wronged. *When* had they slept together? Don’t jump to conclusions!
Besides… even *if* they had, she lacked the… equipment. What exactly would she do? Use a phantom limb?
Twenty minutes remained. A light drizzle fell. Instructors silenced murmurs with a roar:
“This rain scares you? I stood in monsoons—move an inch, get whipped! Too used to being greenhouse flowers? Anyone without grit—leave. *Now.*”
Silence. Instructors stood firm too.
Ruihui smiled faintly. She truly lacked “it,” but wouldn’t leave. Rare discipline like this? Worth enduring.
Then—the “devoted wife” Mu Yao reappeared. To Ruihui, she looked like a doting little spouse, refusing to let her suffer a single drop.
As if answering her silent wish, Mu Yao approached under a dark blue umbrella adorned with Totoro.
“What now…?” Ruihui blinked fast. Rain dripped from her bangs to her nose—tingling.
“To hold an umbrella for my fiancé.”
—
PS: Nangong Ruihui’s inner monologue
*If only you hadn’t stormed into my life… how could I have released the loneliness I guarded so fiercely?*
