In the span of a single second, Fei Chaichai's inner world went through a rollercoaster of emotions.
First came the struggle—"Would pretending to be blind even help now?"—then the chagrin—"Great, I'm going to be mistaken for a pervert again"—and finally, resignation—"Whatever, once a pervert, always a pervert, so be it."
Still, the mess that needed cleaning up had to be cleaned up.
Fei Chaichai lifted her head.
The sound of keyboard clacking had already stopped.
The printer began to hum as it worked.
Afternoon sunlight poured across the windowsill, and Li Yuyuan sat amid a canopy of light and shadow, watching her with an air of unhurried ease.
Fei Chaichai immediately sucked in a breath, put on a smile, and tried to smooth things over: "What I meant was, you're so young, but your range of knowledge is way too broad—how do you know everything? Does your company usually provide training in animal first aid?"
Li Yuyuan remained as languid as ever, and hearing that she was just making casual conversation, he didn't brush her off either. He replied, "Personal hobby."
Personal hobby?
Fei Chaichai perked up, genuinely curious: "Your hobby is treating sick little animals?"
Li Yuyuan: "My hobby is dissecting the corpses of little animals."
"…???"
So he was the real big pervert!
Fei Chaichai instantly forgave herself for her earlier unintentional act, pulled out the printed payment slip, stuffed it into her bag, and wrapped up this little diversionary performance: "Thanks for today. Hope your business thrives, your life is full, and bye-bye now."
With that, she scooped up the piglet and, without a trace of hesitation, hurried out of the consultation room—but a small drawing booklet slipped from her bag and landed open on the desk.
A breeze blew, and the pages rustled one by one until they stopped at the two most recent pages.
One page showed a withered tree, every stroke of its branches a reflection of her mood—frustration, confusion, and an anger that had poked right through the paper.
The other page was bright with color and rich in imagery, with a caption: Brother Homeland said that if he gets so busy he forgets to eat again, he won't be surnamed—
The last character was hidden beneath a drifting flower petal.
The wind kept blowing.
The moment the petal was swept away, the rare warmth in Li Yuyuan's eyes dimmed, and a hint of irritation at having his mood spoiled by filth flickered across his otherwise composed features.
Just then, the front desk guy finished his work and came over to check on things. The moment he spotted the "old familiar notebook" on the desk, he fussed, "Oh, this notebook—the girl's already lost it twice. Give it to me, I'll return it to her. If nothing unexpected happens, she'll be back in a couple of days."
He reached out to take it.
But the booklet was snapped shut with a smack.
The petal caught between the pages was crushed, its juice seeping out and blurring the character "Qu."
Li Yuyuan tapped the cover lightly with his fingertip, leaned back, and said in a low voice, "Something unexpected will happen."
Front desk guy: "?"
Behind the playground of Nanhua Girls' High School was a small grove of trees.
There had been no path there originally, but where there were enough secret lovers, a path was made—one that led to an abandoned classroom at Peiguang Boys' High School.
Monday, seven in the morning.
The sun hadn't clocked in yet, but the young couple was already stealing moments for sweet nothings in the midst of their busy schedule, the groaning chair bearing the weight of two people.
Just as their lips were about to meet, the boy suddenly stopped, his hair standing on end: "Babe, do you feel like… someone's been staring at us the whole time?"
The girl thumped his chest: "Stop it."
"I'm serious."
"…"
The girl's smile vanished, and she buried herself in his arms: "D-don't scare me!"
The two huddled together, and as if steeling themselves with some kind of resolve, they both looked toward the window.
Inside the dimly lit classroom, few objects remained intact. The red velvet curtains had aged especially badly, hanging on the wall like dried bloodstains.
Which made the bloodless face behind the curtains all the more striking.
Her hair hung loose and disheveled, and she was lying on the windowsill, staring back with a pair of big, dark, gleaming eyes, asking with concern: "Why'd you stop kissing?"
The air went silent for a second.
Then two screams rang out: "—Ahh!!"
The couple who had been clinging to each other sprang apart instantly, as if they'd seen a ghost, stumbling and scrambling in opposite directions.
In the blink of an eye, only Fei Chaichai was left standing outside the window.
Sigh.
Still too shy, they were.
With a look of disappointment, she dusted the dirt off her hands, hopped down from the crate, shook her head with a sigh, and walked out of the grove.
Before morning reading began, the teaching building was quiet.
In Class 6, Senior Year 3, only Qiao Xiaoyu was there.
The moment she saw the queen of last-minute arrivals, she rubbed her eyes in surprise: "Chaichai, why are you here so early?"
Fei Chaichai pulled out a chair and sat down, her mood heavy: "To watch young couples kiss."
It was her signature method of lifting her spirits.
But—
"My dear Chaichai, can you please pick a more dignified method?" Qiao Xiaoyu sat down beside her and urged her earnestly, "Every time you catch a whiff of a couple and go running off, now everyone's saying you're the moral education office's lapdog!"
Fei Chaichai went "huh," not too thrilled with this new persona: "But I'd rather be a kitty cat."
Qiao Xiaoyu: "…Is that the point here!"
Whether it was the point, Fei Chaichai didn't know.
She propped her cheeks with both hands and said wistfully, "I can't eat pork, so can't I at least watch the pigs run?"
Mentioning pork reminded her of last week's failure, making her even more melancholy. She flopped down onto the table with a thud.
It was rare for such a natural optimist to be this listless.
Qiao Xiaoyu realized the seriousness of the problem and stopped lecturing her, offering human concern first: "What's wrong? Did rescuing No. 71 not go smoothly last week?"
Before getting an answer, she denied it herself: "No, that's not it. Even if it didn't go well, you wouldn't be this down. It's not like you've never failed before."
Indeed, it wasn't that serious.
Fei Chaichai turned over to face Qiao Xiaoyu and revealed the real reason: "I ran into No. 108's younger brother."
"Really!" Qiao Xiaoyu hadn't expected this storyline to have new developments, and she was even happier than Fei Chaichai. "That's so exciting! Why are you still making a sour face?"
"…That's exactly the problem!" Fei Chaichai slapped the table and stood up. "Even though he's No. 108's younger brother, their personalities are completely different. One is the friendly big brother next door, and the other… hmph, the big brother boss of the neighborhood!"
The former was gentle and considerate, full of compassion.
The latter, just like his tattoos, was dangerous and thorny.
Aside from the face, every other point landed precisely outside her aesthetic preferences—only a head of bleached hair away from being her most hated type of man.
From Fei Chaichai's clearly defined tone of love and hate, Qiao Xiaoyu could easily tell who was the "big brother boss of the neighborhood," and she grew even more curious: "What did he do to get you this angry?"
That question hit the nail on the head.
Fei Chaichai immediately launched into a passionate retelling of her miserable experience last week, her emotions so vivid that she attracted the attention of classmates who were filing into the classroom one by one.
Everyone stood or sat around, and after listening to her story, they all cared about the same question: "So how old is he exactly?"
"Are you asking about age or—" Fei Chaichai picked up smoothly, then after realizing, spat, "Pfft, that's not important. Anyway, I never want to see this man who's harder to figure out than a math problem again!"
"But you can figure him out by touch," the classmates eagerly offered suggestions. "Since you can't touch No. 108 right now anyway, why not feel up his younger brother for a taste of something new?"
"…No." Fei Chaichai refused outright.
Although her usual behavior seemed casual, she actually had very firm principles—she only touched candidates for her destined soulmate: "My life is too precious to waste on a defective product."
At the same time, leaving room for maneuver was also one of Fei Chaichai's principles.
After delivering her declaration of independence, she cleared her throat and said with slightly diminished confidence, "But if I really can't find any other leads in the end, I'll go beg him again."
She could bend and stretch as needed, so everyone stopped worrying and scattered.
In the chaos, a lilting "Chaichai" came through, startling Fei Chaichai, who had just been about to sit down, into immediately springing back up and whipping her head around to find the source.
There was Zhang Jia, hugging a pillar with a dreamy smile on her face, handing her something.
Fei Chaichai took it and looked—it was the sketchbook she had lost at the pet hospital last week. She quickly pressed: "Who gave this to you?"
"A…" Zhang Jia struggled to describe it precisely, "a man who looks like he's not to be messed with, but who also really wants you to like him."
Fei Chaichai: "?"
That didn't sound like it had anything to do with No. 108.
"Ah!" Suddenly, Zhang Jia remembered something else and added, "He also asked me to tell you, um… um…"
"Tell me?" Fei Chaichai's breath hitched in her throat.
But Zhang Jia had been too busy staring at his face earlier, and it took her a long time to piece together the full sentence: "He said—don't waste your precious life begging a defective product."
The words clearly came from Zhang Jia's mouth, but what Fei Chaichai heard was another cold, indifferent voice.
The tone was lazy and infuriating.
"…"
No way.
A face instantly surfaced in Fei Chaichai's mind.
She immediately sprinted out of the classroom to confirm.
In the long corridor stretched a sea of school-uniform blue.
Late girls with backpacks burst through the morning glow, rushing toward their classrooms.
Among the bustling figures, a flash of withered black that existed outside the blue flickered past the corner at the end of the corridor.
Ever since returning from the corridor, Fei Chaichai's head hadn't left the table.
She lay on it all day.
Between classes, classmates came by one after another, but without exception, they opened their mouths, then shook their heads and walked away.
Getting caught badmouthing someone behind their back—and that someone possibly being your future brother-in-law—was something no one really knew how to comfort her about.
Fortunately, Qiao Xiaoyu was experienced.
In the evening after class, she ran back in from outside, bursting with excitement: "Chaichai, quick, look what I got you… Hey, where'd she go?"
The seat by the window was empty, with only a lonely drawing tube left behind.
The owner of that drawing tube was sprinting toward the Xinghe precinct, her face showing not a trace of dejection—only the pain of a stiff neck from sleeping wrong.
Actually, she had been a bit sulky in the morning, but she had quickly talked herself into feeling better.
Since Li Yuyuan had cut off any path for her to beg him, the only time they would ever meet again in this lifetime would be at her wedding with No. 108. If he still dared to disrespect her then, she would crush him with her status as his sister-in-law!
With that thought, Fei Chaichai felt much more at ease. She flopped her head onto the desk and settled in for a peaceful nap.
She would have been even more at ease if her uncle-in-law hadn't suddenly called, asking her to pick him up from the police station.
Fortunately, Xinghe Precinct was very close to Nanhua Girls' High School.
Before going in, Fei Chaichai ducked into the convenience store at the entrance. Grabbing a shopping basket, she quickly made her selections according to her uncle-in-law's instructions.
Passing by the refrigerated drink case, she remembered to pick out a bottle of oolong tea for herself.
The last one was placed deep on the top shelf.
Fei Chaichai stood on her tiptoes and reached for it.
Her fingertips had just barely grazed the bottle when a hand suddenly appeared in her field of vision, grabbing a bottle of water at the same time.
The air inside the refrigerated case was cold.
So was this hand.
The knuckles were well-proportioned and slender, flawless in every way, but a chill seeped through the skin. The blue veins on the back of the hand were clearly visible, all converging toward the wrist.
Fei Chaichai inexplicably recalled the tattoo she had seen last Friday night.
It was beautiful, sure.
But one look told you it was a man's hand.
In the 0.01 seconds before she touched him, Fei Chaichai quickly withdrew her hand, avoiding a potential allergic reaction.
However, this reflex looked to others more like she was treating that hand as if it were a ferocious beast, desperate to keep her distance.
A far cry from the enthusiasm she'd shown chasing after someone for a little taste the other night.
"What's the matter."
The owner of the hand didn't pause his movements, nor did he yield, taking the only bottle of oolong tea.
His voice continued as well.
The words were still as flippant as ever, but his tone was no longer as careless as before—it sounded inexplicably cold: "Only into tender tofu?"
Fei Chaichai: "…?"