After some playful teasing, Feng Yijiu, Qingqing, and Zhou Wenyao had settled into easy comfort. Each cradled a warm coffee cup, sipping gently.

“By the way, Yaoyao,” Feng Yijiu began, thoughts drifting to a certain pitiful “block of wood.” She turned to Zhou Wenyao with a half-joking, half-serious look. “With so many admirers chasing you… have you ever thought about your ideal type?”

“Me?” Zhou Wenyao blinked, then let out a soft chuckle. “Honestly? I haven’t even considered dating right now.”

She glanced at Feng Yijiu. “I’m just more practical. To me, romance should lead to marriage.”

“For one, I don’t want a long-distance relationship in college. And that ‘instant spark’ feeling? Feels unreliable.”

“Sure, ‘matching backgrounds’ sounds old-fashioned. But like Li Yu—that unfortunate porter who passed away—said: nowadays, it just means shared values.”

Zhou Wenyao took a sip. “So unless someone truly moves me, I won’t waste high school on a long shot.” She smiled at Feng Yijiu. “Why? Feeling envious? You’re even more naturally lovely than I am. Put in a little effort, and you’d have boys wrapped around your finger. Hehe… maybe even your own ‘flower-protecting squad.’”

Goosebumps prickled Feng Yijiu’s skin. What the hell was a “flower-protecting squad”? Just a bunch of perverts drooling over her.

“Pfft. Who cares,” Feng Yijiu huffed, turning away. “The guy I’d actually like probably hasn’t been born yet.”

Seriously—why would she like someone *that* impossible?

“Yijiu~” Zhou Wenyao grinned, squeezing her hand. “Help me out? Draw some fire for me?”

“Not a chance.” Feng Yijiu rolled her eyes. “I’ll just disguise myself as the school’s most handsome guy—and become every boy’s nightmare.”

Zhou Wenyao just smiled. “So… really no interest in dating? Not even… that guy you chatted with in the library?”

“Wait,” Qingqing shot Feng Yijiu a sharp look. “That question for Yaoyao—was it for *him*?”

Feng Yijiu’s head dipped. *Crap. Cover blown. Retreat! …Can’t retreat!*

Images flashed: tiger bench, chili-water torture…

Seeing her guilty flush, Qingqing and Zhou Wenyao exchanged glances. Their minds instantly spun a K-drama-level tragedy:

*Could a girl really be this selfless for love?*

*Smiling while helping her crush pursue his “moonlight,” then quietly wiping hot tears the moment he turns.*

*Pouring her heart out for him—thrilled by a simple “thanks.”*

*Those three words too heavy to speak… dissolving into a blessing. Her final dignity? Keeping tears off the bridesmaid dress…*

*So you’re the modern “light chaser”?*

*But seriously—how blind is that guy?!*

Qingqing snapped back first. She walked over, patted Feng Yijiu’s shoulder solemnly. “Yijiu… listen. He’s not worth it. Pah! Total scumbag!”

“I… ugh, no!” Feng Yijiu’s head felt split. *How did I get labeled a scumbag victim?!*

Who am I? Where am I? What am I doing?

Confused tree, confused fruit—under the confused tree, it’s you and me.

“Yeah! That guy’s way out of line!” Zhou Wenyao added, indignant.

“No! What are you *imagining*?!” Feng Yijiu groaned. They were living in parallel dimensions.

She finally explained Li Hao’s situation.

“So… you’re just good friends,” Qingqing and Zhou Wenyao exchanged looks.

“He doesn’t know you’re a girl?”

“Mm.”

“He thinks you’re his bro?”

“Mm.”

“But you like him?”

“Mm—wait, NO!” Feng Yijiu flinched.

Under their “diagnosed love-sick” stares, she shuddered. “There’s *nothing*! I swear—I don’t even *want* to date!”

“Really?”

“Really!” Feng Yijiu declared earnestly. “I’m head over heels for studying. I plan to spend my life with Mr. Schrödinger and Miss Eureka.”

“Pffft—I’m dead!” Qingqing burst out laughing. “Who knew our grade’s top beauties would both be love-proof?”

“I bet Yijiu finds someone before you,” Zhou Wenyao teased.

Feng Yijiu looked up, startled.

“You’re too invested,” Zhou Wenyao said gently. “If you truly feel nothing, keep your distance. Guys get… overly confident. Call it teenage delusion. It causes trouble for both sides.”

“There’s *nothing*!” Feng Yijiu buried her face. “He’s clearly smitten with *you*, Yaoyao. I only helped ’cause he’s decent. At most… I see him as a little brother.”

“Little brother? Yijiu… how old *are* you?”

Feng Yijiu froze. Her body skipped a grade… but her soul was nearly thirty.

“Haha! So I’m older!” Qingqing beamed. “Come on—call me big sis!”

Feng Yijiu turned away stubbornly.

“Yijiu,” Zhou Wenyao said softly. “I’ve given my answer: no dating for now. And I truly hope he finds the girl he’s looking for.”

“Though…” Qingqing’s eyes twinkled. “If he *knew* you were a girl… oh, his face would be *priceless*.”

Feng Yijiu’s lips twitched—then her eyes widened in panic.

“No… NO! You *can’t* tell!”