In the dorm room, Mu Yao packed her things to head home. She hadn’t been back in ages. The past month had been nonstop busy. With home far away, visits were rare. Now that monthly exams were over, she’d rest two days before prepping for Elder Sister’s election in half a month.

Out of the corner of her eye, Mu Yao spotted Zhou Yuan—unusually silent, head bowed on her bed’s edge. The girl who normally chatted up thin air had gone quiet.

“What’s wrong, Manager Zhou?” Mu Yao teased gently.

“I… bombed the exam,” Zhou Yuan whispered.

Her breathing turned ragged. Mu Yao, tote bag in hand, blinked uncertainly—was she about to cry or snap at the nearest person?

“I checked. You ranked upper-middle this time. Way better than enrollment. Your studying’s working,” Mu Yao said, sitting beside her and giving her arm a light shake.

“Why can you and Nangong Ruihui tie for first? I worked so hard just to not drag the class down! You barely study in the dorm!” Zhou Yuan burst out, frustration raw and unfiltered.

Mu Yao hesitated. Geniuses existed—she knew her learning speed dwarfed others’. To Zhou Yuan, it must’ve felt like a blatant shortcut.

“Hey now. At Yingshengya Academy, as children of Maria, don’t think like that. I’ll tutor you next week. Maybe your method just needs tweaking. Okay?” Mu Yao stayed calm, never snapping back.

“Waaah… Mu Yao…” Zhou Yuan buried her face in Mu Yao’s lap, sobbing. Mu Yao could’ve walked away—but didn’t. In that moment, Zhou Yuan realized the “Long Xueer” she’d held in her heart for three years was truly gentle.

“You can’t leap to first place overnight. Did you think I was born a prodigy?” Mu Yao softened, relieved jealousy hadn’t twisted Zhou Yuan’s heart.

Mu Yao’s gift was absorption—reading ten lines at a glance, memorizing details. Pure practice. Without family hardship and her little sister’s illness, Nangong Ruihui’s lifelong brilliance might’ve crushed her grades long ago.

No choice. As the family’s sole pillar, she had to be flawless—or break first.

She understood Zhou Yuan. Living together, she saw no malice in her.

After bidding weekend-staying Zhou Yuan goodbye, Mu Yao stepped outside—and found Nangong Ruihui waiting.

“Ugh, girls. How long does packing take?” Nangong Ruihui crossed her arms, snorting.

“None of your business! I’m going *my* home, not yours!” Mu Yao shot her a glare, sidestepping. Bus time was tight.

“Yaoyao~ Great minds think alike. You *are* coming to my place. Planned for tomorrow, but since you’re packed… today works.” Nangong Ruihui grinned.

“Ruihui, stop joking. Let me go—I’ll miss the bus.” Mu Yao’s heart ached for her sister. She needed to see her, hope the photoshoot money eased their strain.

“Joking? Father requested you. Skip it, and he might visit campus himself.” Nangong Ruihui snatched Mu Yao’s black-and-white backpack, slinging it over her shoulder.

“Give it back!”

“Still dreaming of home? I warned you—Dad’s temper makes *my* knees shake. You unshaken?” Nangong Ruihui exaggerated, knowing soft words wouldn’t work.

“Fine… Just let me carry my bag. Ugh. First trip home since semester start, and you block me.” Mu Yao grumbled.

“Hah! Look at my blushing little wife~ Scared of future father-in-law? Relax. I’ll smooth things.” Nangong Ruihui strode off, glancing back with a smirk. “Your wife carrying your bag? Totally fair.”

“Wife?! We’re not married!” Mu Yao stomped her white-stockinged foot, cheeks flushed, glaring at the shameless girl.

“Only a matter of time~”

“Pfft!”

…

Walking toward the gate, both halted. Xia Xi stood there—with a shirtless, pot-bellied man sporting a prison buzz cut. A garish dragon tattoo, yellow whiskers and green scales coiling over his shoulder. Not a student. Yingshengya Academy banned tattoos. Gatekeepers must’ve slipped.

“Sir,” Xia Xi’s boot heel scraped the pavement, smile tight, “we don’t know each other, do we?”

“Strangers? Beauty, first time’s shy, second time’s sweet! My Hummer’s parked out front. Hop in?” he leered.

Nangong Ruihui almost laughed. A *Hummer*? As if the Xia Clan’s heir cared. Clearly, he had no clue who she was.

Mu Yao moved to help—but Nangong Ruihui held her arm.

“Ruihui! Can’t you see Sister Xia’s in trouble?!” Mu Yao hissed, shaking free.

“Obviously. But do you think she can’t handle it?”

Friday gate duty—probably mistook him for a parent. Just a lecher.

“…Guess so.”

Mu Yao watched. Last time, Xia Xi matched judo-practicing Nangong Ruihui blow for blow. One greasy man? Easy.

But something felt wrong. His oily hand groped Xia Xi’s waist. His foul breath neared her cheek. And Xia Xi… hadn’t moved.

Nangong Ruihui frowned. Where was the boot to his face? Half a minute ago, it should’ve landed.

Mu Yao’s chest tightened. No decent person could watch this.

“Mu Yao…” Xia Xi bit her lip hard, eyes squeezing shut.