There wasn’t much expression on Xie Chen’s face. Then again, his face had always been like that—calm, almost unreadable.
His features leaned toward the colder side. Most of the time, he was polite, even gentle, with a faint smile that made him seem easy to get along with. But the moment that smile disappeared, the cool distance underneath showed through. Like now—his lips pressed into a straight line, his eyes and brows carrying a faint chill. Yan Zichen couldn’t quite tell if that look meant indifference, like it had nothing to do with him… or if, like himself, Xie Chen had simply been caught off guard by the sudden turn of events.
The truth was, Xie Chen was surprised.
After a whole year of silence, that empty, detached feeling around her was finally fading. The girl who used to tilt her chin up like a proud cat… it felt like she was coming back.
How could someone be this contradictory?
He had no idea what she had heard in the office earlier from the homeroom teacher, or what had stirred her like this. But one thing hadn’t changed at all—her clear, unmistakable hostility toward him.
Otherwise, she wouldn’t have taken the chance to jab at him while praising someone else, after treating him like a stranger for half a year.
After evening study ended, Su Yunluo walked downstairs, books in her arms.
“Su Yunluo—” Yan Zichen ran up from behind her. “I’m really sorry about today. I almost misled you.”
She looked at him, a little surprised. She hadn’t expected him to chase after her just to apologize for something so small.
Seeing how sincere he looked, she returned a genuine smile. “It’s fine. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes.”
Yan Zichen scratched his head, half laughing at himself. “Yeah, but that one was a real mistake. I swear I’m not usually that bad.”
Su Yunluo nodded with a smile. “I know. You’re one of the top three in the grade.”
His ability spoke for itself—of course she knew.
He visibly relaxed and smiled. “Then… if you don’t understand something in the future, you can still come ask me anytime, okay?”
She met his open, straightforward gaze and nodded. “Okay.”
Honestly, she couldn’t have asked for more.
Teacher Song was right. She should be asking more from people who were better.
And after that, she really stuck to it.
As long as Yan Zichen was in the classroom during breaks—and not busy with something else—she would go to him with questions. True to his word, he always helped. And maybe because he still felt a little guilty about that earlier mistake, he was even more careful when explaining things to her than to others, always taking a moment to think before answering.
In this small space between a few rows of desks, she faced two old rivals every day. She couldn’t really connect with the girls behind her either. Even if she tried to act like she didn’t care about anything, she was still human—she still needed some kind of interaction.
So asking Yan Zichen questions became her only way to talk to someone in class.
Gradually, their conversations went beyond just schoolwork. She learned that Yan Zichen didn’t live on campus, just like her—his home was near the school. He had gone to a different middle school in Liang City, and his entrance exam results back then weren’t particularly impressive. But in high school, he had improved rapidly, becoming something of a dark horse.
Su Yunluo thought to herself: well, there’s another example of “late bloomers.”
But she no longer projected the old resentment she once had—back when Teacher Song said those things—onto him. Partly because time had passed, and partly because… she felt that Yan Zichen was genuinely a good person.
Among all the top students she had met, he was one of the easiest to get along with. Truly humble, truly sincere—without even a hint of looking down on others.
At least… much better than his deskmate, who was arrogant at his core but insisted on pretending to be modest.
Yan Zichen even asked her to stop calling him “top student.”
“All that ‘god’ stuff sounds weird,” he said. “It makes me uncomfortable. Just call me by my name.”
Su Yunluo smiled. “Alright. Actually, your name is pretty special too.”
“Oh? How so?”
“It just sounds smart. You’ve got ‘Yan Zi’ in your name.”
Yan Zichen laughed and lifted the composition notebook he had just borrowed from her. “Honestly, when it comes to Chinese, you’re the real ‘top student.’ Can I ask you for help with essays in the future?”
“Of course,” Su Yunluo answered without hesitation.
“Then thanks in advance!”
“You don’t need to thank me. It’s just a fair exchange—only right.”
From the front row, Zhang Yang muttered under his breath, “What does ‘fair exchange’ even mean?”
Shen Nanhao shot him a look full of disgust. “Your Chinese level really doesn’t belong in the rocket class. Haven’t you heard of ‘give me a peach, I return you a jade’? Seriously?”
After insulting Zhang Yang, he turned to Xie Chen and asked, “Man, the way top students write is just different. I can’t even understand half of it. Brother Chen, what does ‘do not guess blindly, do not be absolute, do not be stubborn, do not be self-centered’ mean?”
“That’s a quote,” Xie Chen said lightly.
He had been quiet most of the afternoon, focused on studying. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and slightly hoarse, like he had just woken up.
Su Yunluo was reading the teacher’s comments on her essay when she heard that. She thought to herself—she actually knew this one.
It was from The Analects, “Zi Han.” It meant a person should avoid four things: do not assume subjectively, do not be absolute, do not be stubborn, and do not be self-centered.
At that moment, she had to admit something again, a little helplessly—
Xie Chen really had changed her earlier impression of him.
His Chinese was genuinely good. Someone who could regularly score above 130 in the subject clearly had real skill.
Even… he wasn’t worse than her.
This essay topic was “Personal Growth and Rational Thinking,” and that quote actually fit perfectly. How had she not thought of it?
Shen Nanhao scratched his head. “So what does it actually mean? I still don’t get it.”
Xie Chen looked at him, then at his eager expression. He looked like he wanted to explain properly, but paused halfway.
Instead, he said, “It means a person shouldn’t be driven by emotions, let judgment get clouded, or develop unnecessary bias toward others.”
Around them, people immediately started reacting.
“Wow, that’s a level we can’t reach. Just the reading volume alone is insane.”
“You say it in your own way and suddenly it sounds so much more advanced.”
Su Yunluo frowned.
This guy… just said he was good at Chinese, and now he’s talking nonsense again. Isn’t the main point of that quote about not being biased toward others?
It’s clearly about self-cultivation, okay?
Does he actually understand it, or is he just pretending?
After silently complaining to herself, the bell rang, and she stood up to go to the bathroom.
As soon as Su Yunluo left the classroom, Shi Ranran tapped Yan Zichen on the back and said with a smile, “Second God, I’ve got a suggestion. You should get someone to write a book for you.”
Yan Zichen blinked. “What kind of book?”
“A romance novel, of course. The male lead can use your name, and the female lead…” She glanced casually at Su Yunluo’s seat. “Use hers. Your names already sound so perfect together—Yan Zichen, Su Yunluo. Put them together and you’ve got a whole epic, three-lives-and-three-worlds love story. Probably the tragic kind too.”
Yan Zichen froze. “Are you kidding?”
From the back row, Yang Qingyuan laughed. “Don’t talk nonsense! Teacher Gao already said no early relationships. If there’s even a hint of it, you’ll get kicked out of the rocket class!”
Shi Ranran shrugged. “I’m not making it up. She’s the one who said it—‘give me a peach, I return you a jade.’ And the next line is ‘may our friendship last forever.’ Second God, she’s basically saying she wants to be with you!”
Yan Zichen looked completely stunned. Even someone as quick-tongued as him could only repeat, “Are you joking?”
Shi Ranran let out a small laugh, clearly amused.
She and Yan Zichen used to get along fine, but recently she found him more and more annoying—he had basically become Su Yunluo’s personal question-answer machine.
She was about to say something else when Xie Chen suddenly turned around.
“Shi Ranran,” he asked, “do you know what ‘give a peach, return a jade’ means?”