“Screech—”
The piercing screech of brakes tore through the air.
“Boom—”
A massive impact shattered the car window.
Her leg was pinned immovably under the steering wheel. Excruciating pain ripped through her body as if it were being torn apart, the metallic tang of blood thick in her nostrils.
It hurts so much… It smells awful…
Struggling, she lifted her head. Blood streamed into her eyes, turning her vision a bloody red. Thick black smoke clouded her sight.
The scene lay in shattered fragments, just like her body.
Scraping metal and crashing sounds echoed around her, mingled with people’s screams as they fled.
So noisy…
Her body suddenly turned ice-cold, as if plunged into a block of ice. She shivered uncontrollably. Her consciousness blurred, a skeletal hand seeming to clutch her throat, dragging her bit by bit into an endless black abyss.
No… She struggled, forcing her eyes open to peer ahead. She reached into the void, desperate to grasp something—anything—but her hand closed on empty air.
“No—”
With a sharp cry, the girl bolted upright in bed.
Sweat drenched the bangs on her forehead. Her clear obsidian eyes glistened with unshed tears, her small face ashen, her lips drained of color.
Still not fully shaken from the dream, her heart hammered like a drum. A faint ache lingered in her calves, echoes of the nightmare.
“Knock knock knock.”
A knock came at the door.
“Little Wan, what’s wrong? Another nightmare?”
It was her mother’s gentle voice, tinged with worry.
“Oh, I’m fine.” Jiang Wan pulled herself together, steadying her emotions and forcing her voice to sound normal.
“If something’s up, tell Mom, okay? It’s getting late—you need to head to school to report. Get up now.” Mother Jiang paused, then added softly.
Jiang Wan murmured agreement, rolled out of bed, and got dressed.
After a quick wash-up, she grabbed a few books she might need from the bookshelf. Her elbow bumped another book nearby, dislodging a small notebook tucked inside.
It was a diary.
The girl stared at it blankly for a moment before picking it up. Unreadable emotions flickered in her downcast eyes.
She flipped to the last page. Only two lines were written there.
—My future wife is named Bei Huai. She’s wonderful. I love her so much.
—Go to No. 13 Middle School. Stay by Little Bei’s side. Accompany her. Protect her.
Her slender white fingers brushed lightly over the final line. Whether by illusion or not, her fingertip grew faintly warm where it touched the ink.
Jiang Wan drew her hand back, her gaze pensive.
The handwriting was elegant and refined—unmistakably hers. But she hadn’t written those lines. Sleepwriting was out of the question.
A month ago, she’d suffered a severe illness, drifting in a haze for days. When she finally recovered fully, chunks of her memory seemed gone. That was when she discovered those words in her diary.
Bei Huai?
The name had never surfaced in her recollections. Yet seeing it stirred an inexplicable closeness.
After her recovery, the nightmares began: vivid scenes of a horrific car crash, with her as the dying victim.
One time might be coincidence. But the same dream night after night? That was something more.
It all felt too real. Jiang Wan even wondered if she’d been in a crash and simply forgotten.
Her parents, alarmed by her repeated wake-ups in terror, took her for hospital checks. Nothing was wrong.
She hadn’t breathed a word about the diary to anyone—not even her parents.
Deep down, she didn’t want others knowing this secret.
With no leads, she let it go. Dwelling wasn’t her style.
“Little Wan, you ready yet?” Mother Jiang called from outside.
“Oh, coming.” Jiang Wan hurriedly shoved the diary back onto the shelf, straightened her bag, and stepped out of her room.
Breakfast waited on the table: simple steamed buns, soy milk, and fried dough sticks.
Jiang Wan glanced at the wall clock. Past nine already. Not early at all—good thing it was just reporting day, or she’d be in trouble.
“Mom, I’m heading out.” Mornings killed her appetite; she forced down a few bites of bun, shouldered her bag, and made for the door.
“Hey, hold on.” Mother Jiang called out.
The girl halted obediently and turned, puzzlement on her face.
“Be careful on your way to No. 13 Middle School for your transfer. Ask Guanguan if you’re unsure about anything. Thank goodness she’s there—I wouldn’t feel right sending you alone. If anyone bullies you at school, don’t keep it bottled up. Tell us…”
Mother Jiang stepped closer, fussing over the girl’s collar while chattering on.
Jiang Wan listened intently, patient and unruffled.
“You’ve been doing just fine at No. 6 Middle School. Why on earth did you have to transfer to No. 13? Their science program isn’t as strong as No. 13’s, sure, but it’s not that bad…”
Mother Jiang trailed off midway through her words. She knew her daughter all too well.
On the surface, Jiang Wan appeared gentle and easygoing, but deep down, she harbored a stubborn streak. Once she set her mind to something, nothing could sway her.
With a sigh, she stroked the girl’s silky black hair and said warmly, “All right, go on then. Be careful on the way.”
She hesitated for a moment before adding, “Little Wan, why don’t I drive you there?”
No. 6 Middle School was only a few minutes’ walk from home. No. 13 Middle School, by contrast, required a bus ride that took nearly an hour round trip.
Truth be told, she didn’t want Jiang Wan to transfer schools, but her daughter’s persistent pleading had worn her down.
“Mom, I’m not a little kid anymore. If I need someone to escort me, my classmates will tease me mercilessly. Besides, what about your flower shop?” Jiang Wan replied, a touch helpless.
“Don’t worry, everything will be fine. I’ll call you once I’m at school. Bye-bye.” With that, she planted a kiss on her mother’s cheek and waved goodbye with a smile.
Mother Jiang watched her daughter’s slender figure fade into the distance. It was a long moment before she shook her head with an affectionate smile. “This child.”
~~~
No. 13 Middle School.
That’s right—the very No. 13 Middle School mentioned in the diary.
Truth be told, aside from her initial curiosity and a bit of research, Jiang Wan had no intention of following the diary’s instructions.
What a joke. She didn’t even know this Bei Huai. Why should she go out of her way to protect a total stranger?
Yet when she tried to brush it off, an inexplicable discomfort gripped her heart.
It was a vague, aching sensation—bitter and painful. She grew restless, as if she’d let something vitally important slip through her fingers.
In that state, she couldn’t focus on her lessons at all. Stranger still, every medical checkup came back normal.
Later, her best friend Guanguan called to check in, regaling her with hilarious stories from No. 13 Middle School that had her in stitches.
Only after hanging up did she realize her body had felt perfectly fine the entire call—no trace of that heart discomfort.
That was the moment Jiang Wan understood: she had no choice but to go to No. 13 Middle School.
Sure enough, the instant she embraced the idea, the pain in her chest vanished completely.
Jiang Wan despised this sensation of being controlled. Rather than let it drag her along, she’d seek out the truth on her own terms.
To spare her parents unnecessary worry or roadblocks, she cited No. 13’s superior science curriculum compared to No. 6 as her reason and insisted on the transfer.
Fortunately, with Guanguan already enrolled there, her parents—though reluctant—finally relented.
It wasn’t the logistics of transferring that concerned them; it was the distance from home and her safety.
The weather was ideal that day: the sun warmed her skin without a hint of scorch.
With school and work hours keeping most people away, the bus was pleasantly uncrowded. Jiang Wan claimed a seat by the window.
She cracked it open, letting a cool breeze wash over her face. Squinting in delight, she fished a candy from her pocket, unwrapped it, and popped it into her mouth.
The tart sweetness of lemon exploded across her taste buds, filling her mouth with refreshing bliss. She felt instantly more at ease.
“Bei Huai…”
Her cheeks bulged slightly as she murmured the name, gazing thoughtfully at the passing scenery.
What connection could this Bei Huai possibly have to her?
It felt like some invisible thread bound the two of them together.
Roughly twenty minutes later, the bus pulled into her stop.
Mother Jiang had overstated it a tad. No. 13 was farther from home than No. 6, granted, but not by much—even in traffic, it never exceeded half an hour.
After disembarking, Jiang Wan approached the Security Office window, explained her situation to the guard, and was granted entry.
Stepping onto the grounds of No. 13 Middle School, she was struck by how much larger it was than she’d pictured, its facilities and buildings impeccably modern.
No surprise there. As a private institution, it boasted generous funding, elite faculty, and state-of-the-art teaching environments and equipment. That prestige drew in children from prominent families.
Class must have been in session; the campus lay deserted.
Jiang Wan felt no rush to head straight to the Discipline Office. With so few people around, it was the perfect chance to explore.
And explore she did. Private schools truly were a world apart—ornate rockeries, serene ponds, elegant pavilions, winding corridors, the works.
After a leisurely stroll, she decided to ask for directions to the Discipline Office. But in her search for someone—anyone—she drew a blank. She’d covered half the campus without spotting a single soul.
Jiang Wan’s sense of direction left much to be desired, and before long, she’d veered off course, uncertain of her whereabouts.
Just as she resolved to retrace her steps, voices drifted from not far ahead.
Someone was there.
Her eyes lit up, and she quickened her pace toward the sound.
In Ning City, September brought perfect sunshine and a gentle breeze that carried just the right amount of warmth.
Green ivy sprawled across the perimeter walls, forming a verdant barrier visible from afar.
A group of teenagers clustered beneath the wall, laughing and trading playful insults as they let their youthful energy run wild.
“Feng Xing, you gonna make it or what? Hurry up already—you’re taking forever!” A girl down below yelled up at the boy perched astride the wall, her tone a mix of laughter and scolding.
He twisted around, flashing a cheeky grin. “How do you know if I can or not unless you give it a try?”
“Get outta here!” She shot him a glare.
Jiang Wan came to a halt, eyeing the group with a furrowed brow.
Were they… skipping class by hopping the wall?
Her gaze swept over them before locking onto the girl at the edge—the one with the most striking beauty.
Tall and leaning casually against the wall, the girl stood out with her short red hair, the boldest splash of color in the bunch. Far from clashing, it softened the chill in her features and lent a spark of fiery intensity.
Her eyes were deep-set, the outer corners tilting upward in a sharp, predatory arc, while her lips drooped just slightly in a world-weary pout. Half-lidded, hands jammed in her pockets, her face was a mask of aloof indifference—cool, distant, effortlessly lazy.
Jiang Wan stared, momentarily lost. In all her years, she’d never seen anyone quite like her.
Such blatant rebellion and flair.
She stood there so casually, yet her presence set her utterly apart from the others.
Utterly one of a kind.
“Hey, Sister Huai. That little chick’s got some nerve, staring at you like that.”
The girl who’d been razzing Feng Xing earlier bounded over to Bei Huai’s side. She sized up Jiang Wan from a distance with a critical eye, smirking as she teased.
Bei Huai said nothing, her gaze fixed indifferently on a pebble at her feet.
She wasn’t blind—that blatant stare was impossible to miss.
If it’d been some dumbass guy with no manners, she’d have laid into him without a second thought.
But no, it was just some little girl… Tsk. Whatever.
Whiny tears from a kid like that would just be a headache.
With that in mind, she lifted her eyes languidly.
Across the moderate distance stood a petite girl in a neat school uniform, backpack slung over her shoulder as she pressed against the opposite wall, watching them in silence.
She was quiet as could be.
Small and delicate, her palm-sized face was dominated by a pair of bright almond eyes—clear and innocent, like a fawn peering from the woods.
Crisp clothes, silky black hair, porcelain-smooth skin.
The picture-perfect good girl. The kind of straight-A student teachers adored.
And yet here she was, sneaking out during class? Or maybe just late?
Bei Huai tilted her chin up, a flicker stirring in her previously still gaze. Her lips curved into a playful smirk.
“What’re you looking at?” she asked.
