Zhou Zhi stood in the shade of the trees, gently fanning her right hand in a futile attempt to catch even the slightest breeze.
Beads of sweat trickled down her cheeks, dripped, and disappeared into the long black hair cascading over her chest.
Her fair skin flushed slightly pink under the sunlight.
Just by standing there, she drew the attention of quite a few people on the field.
Zhao Zhenzhen let out a cold snort, her expression tinged with disdain and resentment, before lowering her head to continue memorizing the notes on her English test paper.
She still harbored some resentment after being doused with cold water by Zhou Zhi last night.
Blame her bad luck—who would have thought this transfer student, who looked more fragile than a dodder flower, wasn’t actually a soft persimmon easy to squeeze?
A stir rippled through the crowd, and more people turned their gazes toward her, whispering among themselves.
Zhou Zhi sensed the shift, looked up, and unexpectedly met the young man’s eyes.
The sunlight was bright, but that silver hair was even brighter—every strand seemed to radiate light.
A few meters away, Ji Xuanxu held two slices of watermelon in his hands, exuding sweetness and chill.
The air grew thin, and Zhou Zhi’s breath involuntarily quickened as she watched Ji Xuanxu walk toward her.
The jeering grew louder.
Zhou Zhi vaguely heard someone call Gu Wan’s name.
In a brief moment of distraction, the young man brushed past her, and when she looked up, she only caught his taut profile, written with coldness.
Then, a familiar voice sounded behind her: “Song Jun, have some watermelon.”
“Huh!?” Song Jun, who had been talking to Wu Ya, shot to his feet, his vision going black for a moment as he nearly tumbled back down.
Even as he held the two slices of watermelon, Song Jun was still completely dazed.
Holy crap, did I get up too fast? Did the sun rise from the west today?
The jeering behind them came to an abrupt halt. Gu Wan’s smile froze on her face, a flicker of embarrassment crossing her features.
But quickly, she turned to smile at the classmates beside her: “A-Xu has always been close with his brothers.”
Wu Ya glanced at Gu Wan, then sharply averted her gaze, an inexplicable emotion churning in her heart.
The class bell rang, and the scattered students immediately filed out from under the shade to form their lines.
“Whoa, Brother Ji! What’s going on with you!?” Xu Yao stared at the watermelon in Song Jun’s hands, his tone shocked, as if he’d seen a ghost.
Ji Xuanxu wiped the leftover watermelon juice from his hands with a tissue, his tone three parts lazy, dark irritation pressing in his pitch-black eyes: “Damn legs, wouldn’t listen to me.”
Xu Yao: “Huh!?”
What does that mean? Brother Ji hasn’t been right lately—not right at all.
He’s even cursing himself now.
The two of them weren’t speaking quietly, and quite a few people overheard.
A slight smile tugged at the corner of Zhou Zhi’s lips.
In the arranged formation, Zhou Zhi stood right in the middle.
The PE teacher had just finished his lecture and was about to have everyone run two laps around the track when Wu Ya suddenly spoke up.
“Teacher, isn’t it a bit much that some girl in our class has her hair down during PE class?”
Wu Ya stepped out of the formation, arms crossed over her chest, her gaze landing unapologetically on Zhou Zhi—the implication unmistakable.
The PE teacher was a young man with a crew cut. He was already irritated by Wu Ya breaking formation during class, but every class had its troublemakers, and they all knew who they were.
With students like that, direct criticism would only backfire. The best approach was to ignore them, to give them the cold shoulder.
Wu Ya refused to let it go: “Hey, teacher, you can’t give the new student special treatment just because she’s pretty.”
“Didn’t you say in the first class that in your lessons, everyone has to wear sneakers and tie their hair up?”
Wu Ya’s gaze shifted, landing on Zhou Zhi.
The girl’s hair was long and black, and even with the big waves curled into it, it still hung smoothly and lustrously over her chest.
The dark hair made her skin look even whiter.
Stifled by Wu Ya’s retort, the PE teacher had no choice but to look at Zhou Zhi. “It’s this hot out—tie your hair up.”
“From now on, in my PE class, everyone must have their hair tied up.”
Perhaps because the new girl looked too obedient and well-behaved, even the teacher’s scolding came out somewhat softened.
Zhou Zhi placed her right hand over her left, her fingers lightly brushing the white elastic hair tie, her lashes trembling slightly.
In the silence, it seemed like everyone was waiting for her to tie her hair up.
The class monitor frowned and urged loudly, “Zhou Zhi, don’t make the whole class wait for you.”
As soon as those words were spoken, the boys in the back row suddenly burst into laughter.
The homeroom teacher’s tone was mimicked perfectly by the class monitor, and the back row started competing to imitate it.
Quite a few people in the class were grumbling.
Originally, they only needed to run two laps and then they’d be dismissed—the remaining time could be spent jumping rope, playing ball, doing practice papers, or memorizing vocabulary.
Now, because of such a trivial matter, they had to stand frozen under the blazing sun.
They resented Wu Ya for meddling.
And they were annoyed at Zhou Zhi for not following the rules.
Over here, Class Two was standing in the middle of the playground, while the other classes had already finished their laps. The unusual situation drew frequent glances from the other classes.
Xu Yao wished he could stick his eyes right over there. When he spotted Zhou Zhi, he couldn’t help but pat Ji Xuanxu on the shoulder.
“Look, it’s Zhou Zhi! What a coincidence, we have PE at the same time!!”
“Pretty girl!”
Xu Yao patted Ji Xuanxu’s shoulder while whistling in that direction.
One shout of “pretty girl.”
Everyone in Class Three, boys and girls alike, turned to look at the middle of the playground.
Ji Xuanxu’s expressionless face stiffened, and a faint, mocking smile unconsciously curled at his thin lips before quickly being smoothed away.
As if it were a golden opportunity, he did the same as everyone else—openly looking at the girl standing in the crowd on the playground.
Exclamations and praises rang out around him.
When he snapped back to himself, a hint of chill mottled his dark eyes.
One after another, many people followed Xu Yao’s lead, calling out “pretty girl.”
Xu Yao felt a chill run down his back and belatedly realized that Ji Xuanxu’s expression was hardly pleasant.
“Ji-ge…” he hesitated, not knowing which of his words had been wrong.
Then he sucked in a sharp breath.
That day in the alley, he’d seen it too—Ji-ge and this pretty girl didn’t get along. They were like fire and water.
Stupid him, getting all excited and forgetting everything.
Sure enough, after that icy glare, he saw the silver-haired boy curl his lip in a cold sneer. “Xu Yao, is your brain wired to the wrong end?”
“You call every girl you see ‘sister.'”
Xu Yao: “…”
Damn.
He knew Ji Xuanxu had a sharp tongue, but he didn’t expect it to be this sharp.
Class Three also burst into laughter, though no one called out “sister” anymore.
Xu Yao rubbed the tip of his nose and gave an awkward chuckle, knowing he was in the wrong, and forced an explanation: “It’s not like I… I just like pretty girls.”
Soft and delicate—his meager protective instincts had suddenly flared up.
Ji Xuanxu stepped away from Xu Yao, his voice lazy: “She’s two months older than you.”
Xu Yao: “You…”
Wait.
Who’s two months older than who?
For a moment, he didn’t know whether to be thrilled that Brother Ji actually remembered his birthday, or astonished that Brother Ji knew Zhou Zhi’s birthday.
No, wait…
Xu Yao looked at Ji Xuanxu, then at Zhou Zhi.
Why did he feel like something was off?
Who gets it? Our high school only let us get mushroom haircuts.