Lu Li had a habit of checking WeChat messages as soon as he woke up.

In this life, he barely had any WeChat contacts. Only Sister Yameng, Chu Jingyi, and Secretary Long. So if anything looked off in the chat history, he'd spot it at a glance.

And the only person who knew his lock screen password was Sister Yameng. He'd happened to get drunk again yesterday, and she was the one who helped him back to the hotel.

Lu Li wasn't stupid. He only had to think a little to figure out what had happened.

Sister Yameng had always been against puppy love. After seeing Dumb Goose's message last night, she'd definitely gotten suspicious. The two of them had probably clashed on WeChat. Otherwise, Zou Yameng wouldn't have deleted the chat history.

As for proof?

Dumb Goose not replying all day was the best proof there was.

By the time he got back from shopping with Sister Yameng, it was already five in the afternoon. Normally, Chuanhai No.1 High School would already be out by then, and Chu Jingyi should've seen his messages.

But the Dumb Goose who usually answered every call had completely broken character this time. She ignored every one of Lu Li's messages.

When he opened her Moments, he saw she'd posted something that morning before school.

"Seriously had nothing better to do!"

This girl wouldn't openly curse someone out on Moments. So this line could only be self-mockery.

What had happened?

What could make Chu Jingyi think she was "seriously had nothing better to do"?

When women got angry, it usually came in two types.

The first was loud and fiery. That kind of anger was like a summer storm. It came fast and went fast.

The second was the silent kind. No words, no response, no outburst. That was real anger.

Chu Jingyi was usually the first type. She wore a stern face at school every day, and she'd nag nonstop when students broke class rules.

Lu Li rubbed the edge of his phone, trying to read the girl's thoughts.

People often thought the simpler someone was, the easier they were to understand. That wasn't really true. Simple people often acted from very pure motives, with little influence from outside factors. That made them easy to guess, but hard to guess right.

He put away his phone and walked out of the hotel, only to run into Sister Yameng.

"Li, it's time to eat. Where are you going?"

"I'm going to buy a gift."

"...?"

*

Monday.

It had been exactly one week since Lu Li left without saying goodbye. Class 1 of second-year liberal arts was running as usual, and Chu Jingyi kept everything in the class in perfect order.

She liked keeping herself busy. It let her feel the satisfaction of putting in effort. Some people stayed busy to live, while others lived to stay busy.

The class monitor took the attendance sheet down from the classroom door and checked it carefully. Sure enough, only Lu Li's box was still left unticked.

Chu Jingyi crossed out Lu Li's line. Right then, a familiar voice came from behind her.

"Class Monitor, don't cross it out. I'm not late!"

It was Lu Li.

More than three days had passed since Chu Jingyi's talk with Zou Yameng. Counting the days, Lu Li should've been back by now. So technically, he hadn't broken his promise.

But there wasn't the slightest expression on Chu Jingyi's little face. She gave Lu Li a cold glance. When she spoke, her lips barely moved.

"It's already eight. That's one absence."

"Class Monitor, are you mad?"

"No."

"Then why didn't you reply to any of my messages these past few days?"

Chu Jingyi couldn't help putting both hands behind her back, her index fingers twisting together.

"I was busy these past few days. I didn't check my phone after I got home."

"Really?" Lu Li looked visibly relieved. "I thought you were mad. Haha."

Seeing that he could still laugh, Chu Jingyi's eyes showed a faint trace of resentment.

"What right would I have to be mad?"

He skipped class to go be lovey-dovey with his girlfriend. As for her, Chu Jingyi was just a classmate. Just a class monitor. What right did she have to be angry?

The more she thought that way, the more aggrieved Dumb Goose looked.

She gave a light huff. Her tall figure turned away, and she ignored Lu Li completely, taking the attendance sheet toward the teachers' office.

For some reason, Lu Li followed after her. And he kept talking the whole way.

"Wow, the spicy meat in Lingyue City is seriously good. I had an absolute feast these past two days. Class Monitor, you have to try it if you get the chance. Oh, and also, did you watch Lingyue's Six-Province Table Tennis League..."

He just kept rambling and rambling.

With her back to him, Chu Jingyi pouted.

Of course you had a great time, she thought. I was the one running around handling your long-leave paperwork. I was the one exhausting myself everywhere.

She couldn't help cutting him off.

"What does it have to do with me how things were for you in Lingyue? Why are you telling me all this?"

"Oh, right." Lu Li nodded thoughtfully. "Then I'll head back to class first."

And he actually turned around and left.

A wave of grievance surged up in Chu Jingyi's chest. She felt like a complete clown for all the running she'd done between the academic office and the teachers' office these past two days.

She'd been rushing all over the place for Lu Li's sake. But this guy had lied to her without a shred of guilt, and now he was brushing her off like none of it mattered.

She hated Lu Li.

She never wanted to be friends with him again.

As for Lu Li, he went back to the classroom and sat down at his seat. His unnamed deskmate even teased him.

"I thought you'd dropped out."

Lu Li was just about to answer when he suddenly felt someone lightly tug at his collar. He turned around and saw An Baili, looking half-asleep as usual.

"What is it?"

His attitude toward An Baili was much worse.

"This is for you. I think you'll need it..."

She handed him a stack of bound papers. Lu Li flipped it open, and his brows rose slightly.

It was a set of indie game development proposals. It covered several of the most profitable games from his previous life.

Game development wasn't something you could start on a whim. At this point, the industry already had a systematic, industrialized process. From market research to target users, from choosing an engine to actual production, the barrier for indie developers had only gotten harsher.

But An Baili's document could drastically shorten the development cycle.

Based on memories from the previous life, she'd arranged every step of game production into a plan. She'd even dug out key points that Lu Li himself had forgotten.

To Lu Li, this document was practically priceless.

What ordinary people usually called intelligence was often just memory. The faster you remembered, the more you remembered, the smarter you seemed.

An Baili belonged to the type with strong memory and weak comprehension.

She could always imprint scenes from daily life into her mind in perfect detail. Lu Li had always thought An Baili was a genius in the usual sense of the word, not just in music.

This thick stack of papers had all been written out by hand, stroke by stroke, by An Baili herself.

Lu Li could even find cookie crumbs caught between the pages. He could almost picture her burning the midnight oil, nibbling little cookies while she worked.

She probably had never studied this seriously in her life.

An Baili looked at him expectantly and said in a small voice, "I started writing this before school even began. Can it help you?"

Yes.

More than help. Way more than help.

Lu Li said nothing. His hands felt heavy, and so did his heart.

The girl's handwriting was neat and delicate. Every stroke was careful. Even her mistakes weren't scribbled over in black blobs. She'd draw a clean slash through the wrong character and write the correct one beside it.

For one brief moment, Lu Li really wanted to do what he used to do and pull An Baili into his arms and kiss her like crazy.

But the moment that thought rose up, a flash of fire appeared in his mind—

the flame from the lighter in An Baili's hand.

He told himself:

Lu Li, don't get fooled again.

He forcibly looked away and pushed the document back in front of An Baili, the one that held half a month of her sleepless effort.

"It's not useful. Keep it. It just takes up space."

He could clearly see An Baili freeze.

That hopeful expression stiffened on her face, like she'd turned into a stone statue.

Lu Li couldn't bear to look, so his gaze shifted aside. He tried to make himself seem like a cold, heartless bastard.

No one could step into the same river twice. The world kept moving forward.

He should make a clean break with An Baili too.