Thanks to An Baili, the silly goose had recently developed a mix of fear and respect for Lu Li.

One afternoon, just waking from a nap, Lu Li saw her sneakily hand him a book like a thief caught mid-heist.

“Lu Li, I think this book is really important for you.”

He flipped it open—*Abstain from Lust: The First Step to Success!*—and broke into a cold sweat.

If Chu Jingyi had any special talent, it was her uncanny knack for getting under people’s skin.

Had he not known her well, Lu Li would’ve sworn the Class Monitor was mocking him.

He tapped her head firmly with the book spine—*whack*, like swatting a mole.

“Don’t believe a word An Baili says. Can you be a little more mature?”

Chu Jingyi clutched her head pitifully, cherry lips pouting. “That hurts! Don’t be ungrateful, okay?”

She muttered on, “I didn’t even dare write my name when borrowing this from the library… hid it under my clothes the whole way, scared someone’d see…”

Lu Li froze. The book was still warm—almost as if he could imagine the girl’s bare skin.

He tucked it away with a wry smile. It was the silly goose’s goodwill. Humoring her wouldn’t hurt.

The trio—Lu Li, Chu Jingyi, An Baili—had quietly formed their own circle: seated together in class, at meals, even walking home side by side.

(Of course, Lu Li insisted it was purely to discuss music production details with the Class Monitor. *Absolutely* no hidden motives.)

Chu Jingyi took his requests seriously. Dark circles shadowed her eyes these past two days—turns out the silly goose had been secretly staying up late transcribing sheet music behind her parents’ backs.

You couldn’t ask for help without showing gratitude. Since school ended early today, Lu Li decided to treat the Class Monitor to milk tea at the campus commercial street.

Yes, you heard right—Chuanhai No.1 High School had its own pedestrian street, second only to downtown Chuanhai Mall.

Girls this age adored milk tea, and the Class Monitor was no exception.

An Baili, eavesdropping sneakily, immediately chirped, “Thirsty! So thirsty!”

Naive Chu Jingyi naturally pulled her along too.

Before Lu Li could react—it was a trio outing again.

They found a quiet shop. The two girls sat shyly, too flustered to approach the counter, gazing at Lu Li with hopeful eyes.

He felt a bizarre paternal pang—as if seated before him weren’t his ex-wife and classmate, but two bleating lambs waiting to be fed.

“What flavor do you like, Class Monitor? Any allergies?”

“Do they have strawberry?” the silly goose asked nervously. “I’ve… never had milk tea. Don’t know what’s good.”

*Never?* Lu Li shook his head. *That strict?*

If Chu Xiaodong found out he’d not only encouraged his daughter to pull all-nighters but also lured her into “junk drinks,” would the city cabinet’s prime minister toss him straight in jail for “corrupting minors”?

He chuckled aloud at the thought.

“Wait—you haven’t asked *me*,” An Baili shot him a glance. “I want papaya. *Papaya.*”

*Yeah, right*, Lu Li glared inwardly. An Baili actually hated milk tea—too sweet, too cloying. She preferred plain black tea.

The silly goose nodded eagerly.

(For the record: brainwashed by An Baili, she genuinely believed Lu Li and An Baili were a couple. She’d eagerly play matchmaker—assigning only them to clean duty, sending them alone to the botanical garden…)

Whatever happened to the upright, principled Class Monitor? Her idea of friendship was… unconventional.

At the counter, Lu Li glanced at prices—his heart bled.

Cheapest: 25 yuan. Most expensive: 70. This wasn’t milk tea—it was his and Sister Ya Meng’s blood!

Could high schoolers even afford this? Still, he paid swiftly, though it felt like a knife twisting inside.

The manager, recognizing Chu Jingyi, offered a 40% discount and ushered them into a private room.

More than a tea shop, it was a girls’ hangout: tablet, mic, a flashy claw machine.

But the trio just sat sipping quietly. An Baili’s “Fireworks and Grain Breeze” (light sugar, as requested); the silly goose’s “Crimson Palm and Azure Waves”—Lu Li’s tiny, teasing jab.

Chu Jingyi smacked her lips. “Too sweet? Will it make me gain weight?”

*Gain weight?* Lu Li eyed her slender frame. A little more meat would suit her. She wasn’t strutting a catwalk.

How to tell a man’s true feelings? If he wants her thinner—it’s liking. If he wishes she had a little more softness—it’s love.

A healthy love nourishes body and spirit. Not like him and An Baili—wearing each other down.

An Baili flinched at “gain weight,” discreetly pinched her stomach, pushed her cup away, and started munching sunflower seeds.

Then she noticed Chu Jingyi’s gaze lingering on *her* Lu Li. Jealousy sparked.

Under the table, her foot slipped free of its boot and crept slowly toward his calf—then lower.

Lu Li froze. He looked down: An Baili’s leg, sheathed in black pantyhose.

No denying it—An Baili was near-perfect. Flawless features, elegant bone structure, exquisite figure.

That slender leg traced his inner thigh. Following the curve upward, he glimpsed the “absolute territory”—creamy skin where skirt met stocking.

Fair skin against pure black created an electric contrast.

Past snow-white thighs, his gaze drifted toward the shadowed valley—normally hidden by her dark green plaid skirt, now faintly visible.

Sensing his stare, An Baili bit her lip, parted her knees slightly wider in a shamelessly open pose.

Thankfully, the large table blocked Chu Jingyi’s view. Otherwise, this scene would’ve shattered her worldview.

It should’ve been tempting—but Lu Li’s eyes locked on a tiny hole near her pinky toe.

*Hole? In the stockings of a “flawless” beauty?*

Through it, her delicate toe wiggled restlessly.

The absurd flaw dissolved his arousal—amusement and quiet heartache tangled together.

*Just how tight is her family’s situation?*

He slipped a finger into the hole, pinched her tiny foot—no bigger than his palm—and mercilessly tickled her sole.

An Baili jolted like she’d been shocked. “Ah—no!”

She yanked her foot back, shooting a nervous glance at the oblivious Class Monitor.

Lu Li sipped calmly, playing victim. “What’s wrong?”

“Feeling unwell?” Chu Jingyi asked worriedly.

An Baili stammered, “S-saw a mouse… got scared.”

Chu Jingyi scanned the spotless room, baffled.

The silly goose nodded earnestly. “I’ll report it—they must improve hygiene!”

*Please don’t*, Lu Li thought. One word from her, and staff might scramble for weeks—or lose their license.

“Classmate An Baili probably mistook a car mirror’s reflection for a rat,” he said, pointing toward the window facing the street.

An Baili mumbled, “Y-yeah… must’ve been wrong.”

Her shy, flustered blush was unmistakable. Even the silly goose blinked, glancing between them—searching Lu Li’s poker face for clues.

His innocent stare only deepened her suspicion.

*Huh. Not entirely a silly goose after all.*

Chu Jingyi said nothing. As they left, she added softly, “Tomorrow’s Saturday. You promised to visit my house. What time? Shall I pick you up?”

*Right. Almost forgot.* He’d wanted a quiet day off.

“The day after tomorrow. Morning.” Delay was mercy. He dreaded a stiff, suffocating day in a bureaucrat’s home.

An Baili’s ears perked up. “Jingyi… you know where Lu Li lives?”

*She might not. But Chu Xiaodong certainly does.* Lu Li spared no malice imagining Chuanhai City’s de facto top official. He’d likely already memorized every student’s file in Grade 11 Liberal Arts Class 1.

Chu Jingyi deflected, uneasy with her father’s underhanded tactics. “Baili… will you come too?”

An Baili hesitated long and hard—then slowly shook her head.