The college entrance exam was over.
Shuanglian pushed a small cart, going to the supermarket with Nezha. Standing in front of the shelf, Nezha waved at Shuanglian: “Pick one.”
Shuanglian was so nervous that palms were sweating, the whole body like a steamed pink shrimp. Shuanglian looked left and right, confirmed no one was watching, and picked the one in the very back with fingertips.
Shuanglian whispered: “This one. The color looks nice.”
Nezha smiled at Shuanglian: “Underestimating you, Shuanglian. Thin and flashy. Is cream flavor okay?”
Whenever Nezha smiled like that, nothing good was coming. Shuanglian gripped the schoolbag strap tightly, only wanting to leave quickly, and said hurriedly: “…Let’s see if it fits.”
Along the way, Shuanglian shrank like a quail. Shuanglian wasn’t holding anything—Nezha was carrying it. Nezha was much taller than Shuanglian, but with a tender, youthful face, looking younger than Shuanglian.
Shuanglian habitually carried the red schoolbag. High school was over, but having the bag on the back felt reassuring. Head buried low, after a while, Nezha took Shuanglian’s red schoolbag too, slinging it over Nezha’s shoulder.
With long legs, Nezha walked fast, but long accustomed to Shuanglian’s slow pace, Nezha walked unhurriedly alongside, finding time to stare at Shuanglian’s hair whorl.
Nezha’s home was in the best area of the city. The family was well-off, but Nezha didn’t have a great relationship with the parents, and had moved out to live alone early on.
A standalone villa stood there. The aunt who cooked and cleaned wasn’t around, and the building was empty. Shuanglian had been there a few times. Shuanglian went to the second floor, sat on the bed, at a loss.
As a child, Shuanglian didn’t understand much, only remembered that the boy across the hall was good-looking, and liked following him around. At six years old, Shuanglian showed the true nature of a face-connoisseur, looking at Nezha’s delicate, pretty little face, closing eyes, pouting for a kiss. Little Nezha turned away awkwardly.
Shuanglian was willing to play with Nezha, and they played together as they grew up. Only later did Shuanglian learn that Nezha was a Chaos Demon King—born with more strength than others, quick-witted, stubborn, and fiercer in fights. It seemed there was nothing Nezha wouldn’t do, though Nezha didn’t smoke or drink.
Facing Shuanglian, Nezha also liked playing with Shuanglian. Nezha liked bullying Shuanglian until tears came, but after discovering that Shuanglian would ignore Nezha when angry, Nezha learned to make Shuanglian cry and then coax Shuanglian back.
Later, Nezha restrained a lot. The two little ones often ran hand in hand across the mountains and fields. Nezha came from a good background, but was a wild child at heart, and had stayed at Shuanglian’s hometown several times.
Their friendship lasted long and long, until they grew up. When holding hands, they didn’t know when they looked at each other a moment longer. Shuanglian held those knobby, well-defined fingers, not letting go, heart pounding wildly.
What about Nezha? Did Nezha see it? In that moment of eye contact, Shuanglian only felt something long-planned in those eyes melt open, looking at Shuanglian warmly and gently, spread open, laid out before Shuanglian.
Shuanglian’s heart floated higher and higher. Shuanglian couldn’t even hear clearly whether Nezha wanted to go up mountains or down seas, only thinking to grab Nezha’s hand tightly first, or else Shuanglian would fall.
Then, Nezha happened to let go of Shuanglian’s hand, walked ahead, and crouched down.
Nezha said: “Come on, I’ll carry you on my back.”
Shuanglian climbed onto Nezha’s back, arms wrapping around Nezha’s neck. The white horse flashed by; the boy and girl waded through the small river bend under the bridge. Nezha wanted to catch fish to show Shuanglian.
Their friendship slowly changed. Fermenting, blowing bubbles, crossing the line.
Nezha went to take a shower. Shuanglian sat on the bed, swinging legs, waiting. Wondering what Nezha would wear coming out—maybe nothing at all. But when the bathroom door opened, Nezha had changed into the blue-white school uniform from their high school. The youth’s figure was tall and slender, short hair dotted with water droplets. Nezha’s eye color was a bit different from others, showing a reddish tint in the sunlight.
Nezha dried the hair: “I’m done. Do you want to wash up?”
Nezha glanced at Shuanglian, then added: “The twin ponytails look nice.”
Shuanglian’s face instantly flushed red. Shuanglian had habitually tied them when going out, but forgot that this childhood sweetheart had a yellow core, spouting dirty talk all the time.
Head lowered, Shuanglian slipped into the bathroom, took off the short sleeves and pants. The sound of water rang out; warm water poured over the body. Shuanglian reached for the body wash, only to see Nezha’s men’s body wash.
It carried the scent of lotus flowers. Shuanglian’s hand paused. The person outside heard the water stop, and tapped on the bathroom door with long, slender fingers.
“Almost done. Almost done.” Shuanglian had no choice but to take that bottle of body wash and squeeze a little onto the body. Was it not as fragrant as Nezha’s? Shuanglian couldn’t care too much, sloppily spreading it all over, rubbing up bubbles, washing them away with water.
After washing, the whole body carried that scent—not obvious, but Shuanglian was sensitive, and caught it with a sniff. Reaching for the clothes, the hand froze.
There were no change of clothes. Nezha had thoughtfully prepared a black shirt for Shuanglian.
Not even a pair of pants.
Clearly deliberate—knowing Shuanglian needed to change, deliberately not reminding.
Shuanglian grumbled while putting on the clothes. The shirt hung loose and baggy on the body, obviously a boy’s. Shuanglian let the hair down, the trimmed hair falling to the shoulders.
The good girl in Shuanglian’s parents’ eyes revealed two pale, bare legs for the first time, in front of the boy Shuanglian liked. Walking painfully slowly, Shuanglian looked up and saw Nezha in the school uniform, too embarrassed to raise the head: “Why are you wearing the school uniform?”
Nezha tore open a package: “Doesn’t it look good on me? Don’t I have a certain charm in it?”
It was true. Nezha was always full of energy, as if never tormented by high school studies. Maybe born in Rome, truly no pressure, always spirited and confident, winning first place in every fight.
Nezha laid out a whole bed full, and lifted the chin toward Shuanglian: “Here. Pick what you want.”
There was no need for that many.
“…”
Take the one on the edge and hand it to Nezha. Nezha bites the edge with teeth, twists the tip with fingers, and it opens.
Since it’s already open, not satisfied, wants to hand it over. “Help me, please, good sister.”
Again. Clearly Nezha is younger than you.
Before this, physical contact between them was within the normal bounds of playmates in both parents’ eyes.
Nezha’s parents didn’t care much, as long as the sky didn’t fall. Shuanglian has older brothers and sisters. Though the parents divorced, both felt they owed the youngest daughter, because when the divorce happened she was young and received less attention.
The whole family always felt Li Nezha would lead their daughter down a crooked path.
Fortunately, nothing happened over the years. They could see Shuanglian liked Nezha, so the family turned a blind eye. Grades didn’t drop, no bad habits, no crossing lines—good, good.
Nezha’s bedroom was kept quite tidy, books neatly arranged on the desk. The little demon king’s handwriting was actually decent, grades…
Getting into high school was unexpected, and after three years of high school, the score could get into a decent university—also unexpected.
Shuanglian thought Nezha was dumb, spending so much time fooling around with Nezha, but when it came to studying, Nezha was capable. Occasionally Shuanglian even tutored Nezha.
Now, Nezha wants Shuanglian to tutor. Nezha tilts head, sweet-talking: “Good sister, can you help me with biology?”
Shuanglian lowers head. Everything is hard at the start. They’re similar in age, and haven’t had real contact with each other before.
Nezha hangs around with boys, has heard plenty of talk, but doesn’t like looking at real people—like a blank sheet of paper. Now it’s time for Shuanglian to teach.
Before it even starts, Nezha starts calling “teacher.” Wearing the high school uniform, looking like a real high schooler. Shuanglian’s face flushes red, actually raising the pointer to strike.
Pulled onto Nezha’s lap, Nezha asks: “Teacher? What’s different from a student’s?”
Clearly knowing!
Shuanglian bites her lip. Nezha lifts her onto the desk, sweeping all the carefully prepared study materials for the exam onto the floor. Shuanglian’s slippers fall off, bare feet dangling in the air.
Nezha is eager to learn. Driven by curiosity, Nezha has curiosity about everything. Strange—a little demon king who’s done every bad thing, naturally more restless than other children, curiosity and cruel innocence flowing like rivers and seas, endless.
Nezha isn’t like the well-behaved children of the education system. Restlessness is in the bones, rebellion carved into the marrow. What’s forbidden, must be tried; what’s allowed, must have more. In short, never sitting quietly with other children.
Looking at Shuanglian. A bit pitiful—shirt buttons undone, wrists trembling, fingertips gripping the desk edge, eyes not daring to look, toes occasionally pressing against Nezha’s calf.
Nezha has liked Shuanglian since childhood.
Likes teasing and likes coaxing, likes being good to Shuanglian.
Shuanglian’s temperament is hard to read. Even Nezha doesn’t understand why Shuanglian is being bullied right now.
Had done research before. But asking Shuanglian to teach—Shuanglian would always agree.
Sure enough, with one “I don’t understand,” Shuanglian obediently uses both hands, cupping it to hand to Nezha, telling Nezha it’s useful, that it serves a function in human history.
“Thank you, teacher, I’ve learned.” Nezha says, like a newborn child. “May I ask how breastfeeding works?”
Shuanglian’s world collapses, dizzy. An eighteen-year-old girl—how could she be someone’s mother!
Nezha and his father seem to have a grudge. But his mother actually loved him quite a bit—only there were too many real-world factors, and that love was gradually replaced by other things. She had more than one child, so she couldn’t waste too much time on a rebellious third son.
After all, there were two older brothers, each outstanding. Then a younger daughter came. Nezha was neither the eldest nor the youngest.
The Li family genes were indeed good. Nezha was blocked in one aspect of academics, but had talents elsewhere. Discovering that Nezha had earned the first pot of gold early and achieved financial freedom—how could Shuanglian not be envious.
A birthday wish from long ago: “If I could be with Nezha, I’d be willing to win tens of millions in the lottery.”
At this crucial moment today. Nezha pulls out her note.
Dressed neatly, school uniform worn properly. Nezha unfolds the note, smiles at Shuanglian: “Today’s two wishes could have been fulfilled at once.”
Holding up the opened package: “Tens of millions are packed inside.”
Good student Shuanglian—how could she listen to such words. Vaguely deceived, stepping backward, barefoot on the carpet, following Nezha’s lead.
Clumsy movements, taking several minutes, sweating from anxiety, finally getting the chosen item onto Nezha.
The remaining hurdles were harder.
Taking a deep breath, hands pressing into the soft blanket, then knees, inching closer. The room was filled with lotus fragrance. Wrapped in the lotus scent, looking down at Nezha from above.
Position climbed higher, but her heart was about to leap out of her throat.
Nezha covers eyes with one arm. Living up to expectations, grown into a great beauty—she can clearly see the defined Adam’s apple, the smooth jawline, and the thin lips pressed together.