“Boss, one more strawberry-flavored milk tea, please.”
Putting away her phone, Jiang Wan said to the boss of the milk tea shop.
She hadn’t expected it, but Classmate Bei Huai liked strawberry flavor—it really didn’t match her appearance at all.
With that thought, she couldn’t help curving her lips.
“Huh, Wanwan, I don’t even like milk tea, so there’s no need to buy me one.” Guanguan walked over with the ice cream she’d just bought and looked at the girl in confusion.
“Who said it’s for you?” Jiang Wan rolled her eyes at her in annoyance.
Guanguan tore open the packaging, licked her ice cream, and muttered softly, “Then who are you buying it for?”
After saying that, she seemed to imagine something bizarre. Her pupils dilated as she pointed at Jiang Wan with utter heartbreak and despair. “Confess! Do you have another little puppy on the side now? You don’t love me anymore!”
Jiang Wan: “…”
Jiang Wan helplessly rubbed her forehead. As the strange gazes from the people around swept over them, she absolutely did not want to admit that this fool was with her.
She took the finished milk tea, paid, and walked away.
Guanguan pitifully followed right after her again.
Unable to bear “someone” staring at her with resentful eyes the whole way, Jiang Wan could only tell the truth. “Alright, that’s enough already. This is for Bei Huai—to thank her for accompanying me on the piano last night.”
Hearing this, Guanguan perked up with joy again. A few seconds later, though, she looked over in confusion. “Wanwan, when did you and Bei Huai get so close?”
In her impression, someone like Bei Huai didn’t seem like the type who would help others—especially not for just an ordinary cup of milk tea as payment.
“You think I’m close to her?” Jiang Wan asked irrelevantly.
“What else? Before you, I’d never heard of her helping anyone. Even if someone fell right in front of her, she’d walk past expressionlessly without a second glance.”
“I think… she’s actually a really good person.” Jiang Wan glanced at the milk tea in her hand. Recalling the girl’s adorable flustered expression from before, she couldn’t help smiling.
Guan Shaorong: ???
“That’s just because you haven’t seen her beat someone up. Goodness, she’s brutally savage.” Even though Guanguan didn’t think Bei Huai was as terrifying as the rumors made her out to be, she certainly didn’t consider her a good person.
At best, she was a ruthless one who knew her limits and had principles.
“Bei Huai wouldn’t hit people without reason,” Jiang Wan said seriously.
In her eyes, Classmate Bei Huai was just a pretty girl who was a little tsundere, a little cute, and not all that fond of studying.
Guan Shaorong: “…”
She had no idea how many rose-tinted filters this was.
“Sigh, whatever.” Guanguan waved her hand dismissively. It wasn’t that she trusted Bei Huai—it was that she trusted Cen Jin, and she trusted Jiang Wan.
She figured anyone Cen Jin was willing to befriend couldn’t be all that bad. As for Wanwan, honestly, Wanwan’s judgment of people was way better than hers.
After returning to the classroom, Jiang Wan set the milk tea down on Bei Huai’s desk. She thought for a moment, then wrote a sticky note and stuck it to the rim of the cup.
Satisfied with her work, she nodded and turned back to her seat to wrestle with her physics problems.
Physics was her Achilles’ heel. There was no other way around it—maybe she just hadn’t gotten the hang of it yet, so she could only spend extra time puzzling through it.
As for why she didn’t switch to liberal arts, Jiang Wan said rote memorization was her biggest weakness. Even formulas were a struggle to commit to memory, let alone all the massive knowledge points crammed into the politics textbooks.
Her memory wasn’t as good as Guanguan’s, either. Every time she watched Guanguan tackle a liberal arts comprehensive paper, filling page after page until her hand cramped, Jiang Wan felt genuine admiration.
And that only made her more determined to stick with sciences.
Before Jiang Wan could finish even one tough physics problem, she keenly noticed the classroom growing much quieter.
The moment she looked up, she saw the girl sauntering toward her—one shoulder slung with a black bag, radiating an effortless cool and badass vibe.
“Didn’t you say… you’d come back to school later?” Jiang Wan blinked and asked hesitantly.
This was way too fast.
Bei Huai frowned and shot her a sideways glance. “What, you don’t want to see me?”
“How could I? It’s more like a pleasant surprise.” The girl’s eyebrows curved into a smile, her pear dimples flickering faintly on her cheeks, making her look all the more sweetly obedient.
The afternoon sunlight filtered through the leaves outside the window, dappling across Jiang Wan’s body in soft patches. A gentle breeze stirred, lifting the fine strands of hair by her ears.
Bei Huai gazed at the scene and suddenly felt an indescribable sense of tranquility.
She wished she could freeze the moment right there.
From her angle, she had a perfect view of the tiny fuzz on the girl’s face… and that bright red mole just above her right ear.
Vibrant as fresh blood.
Bei Huai’s gaze flickered, a strange impulse surging in her heart—she wanted to reach out and pinch it.
She imagined the girl’s ears must be soft, too.
But in the end, she reined in the improper urge.
Her face taut, she strode back to her own seat without another glance at Jiang Wan.
Her gaze swept across the desk, where a cup of milk tea sat alongside a sticky note.
The note read: The milk tea is very sweet. I bet Classmate Bei Huai’s smile is sweet too.
A smiley face was doodled below it.
Tch, she never drank milk tea, and she hated sweet things even more.
Bei Huai pondered this with a blank expression, but her hand deftly peeled off the note and slipped it quietly into her pocket.
“Aren’t you going to drink it, Classmate Bei Huai?” At some point, Jiang Wan had turned around, tilting her head with curiosity as she gazed at her.
“Is it not good? Tell me what you want to drink or eat next time, and I’ll get it for you.”
“Are you that free? Do your problems.” Bei Huai’s face remained wooden, her tone stiff and unyielding. Her attitude toward Jiang Wan was downright nasty—enough to make even the silent Mi Shuyun feel sorry for her.
Yet Jiang Wan didn’t get angry at all. With her usual good temper, she acknowledged it mildly and turned back to her work.
Bei Huai, however, stared at the girl’s back, inwardly debating whether she’d been too harsh just now.
As she wrestled with the thought, she took a sip of the milk tea.
It really was very sweet.
But… She hesitated, touching the corner of her mouth.
Then she lowered her hand.
Jiang Wan had guessed wrong, she thought. Her smile wasn’t sweet at all.
This was a self-study period with no teacher overseeing the class. Halfway through, Jiang Wan suddenly let out a sigh.
“This problem is so tough. Do you know how to do it?” Bei Huai overheard Jiang Wan asking her deskmate, her voice laced with disappointment.
“Sorry, I don’t either.”
“I’ve been stumped on it for half the class. Whatever—I’ll go ask the teacher.” With that, Jiang Wan grabbed her worksheet and headed out of the classroom.
Bei Huai’s keen eyes spotted that it was a physics sheet.
Was it really that hard?
She felt puzzled.
She remembered junior high physics being pretty straightforward. Was high school physics on another level?
Jiang Wan didn’t return after more than ten minutes.
The classroom was hushed, everyone buried in their homework.
Unable to sit still any longer, Bei Huai slipped out the back door, remembering to grab the milk tea on her way.
She needed to drop off a USB drive at the Academic Affairs Office. As she passed the basketball court, a booming voice called out.
“Sis!”
Bei Huai shot a sidelong glance, eyeing the lanky idiot who ditched his game and jogged over with clear impatience.
Her demeanor was icy.
“What?”
Had she known he was playing here, she would’ve taken another route.
Bei Qi wiped the sweat from his brow, his face lit up with excitement. “Sis, my birthday’s in a few days. You coming?”
It was such a stroke of luck running into Bei Huai at school. He wasn’t about to miss the chance to chat more.
His texts and calls usually went unanswered.
Even in public, unless he said hi first, she’d breeze past like they were strangers.
“No.” Bei Huai flung the word over her shoulder without breaking stride.
“Fine. Hey, sis, how’d you know I was thirsty? Thanks!” Bei Qi’s eyes locked onto the milk tea in her hand, and he grinned, reaching out to take it.
Bei Huai sidestepped neatly. Frowning, she snapped, “Back off.”
“My bad, sis.” Bei Qi straightened up at once, standing obediently as he watched her figure recede into the distance.
The boy lingered there, staring off, his bright, sunny smile slowly fading.
His friends couldn’t understand it. Why did he keep chasing after Bei Huai when she treated him so coldly, bending over backward to please her?
Her reputation was toxic enough that it could rub off on him, even as his half-sister. Most people would steer clear, but not Bei Qi—he just kept at it like a fool.
Bei Huai’s infamy rang through No. 13 Middle School. Even down in the Junior High Division, Bei Qi had heard all about his sister’s “exploits.”
Few people at school knew they were related, though.
No one realized that, deep down, Bei Qi had always seen this half-sister of his as exceptional—a true role model.
Sadly, hardly anyone remembered her days of glory anymore.
She’d once been the perfect, obedient child: top of her class from elementary through junior high, racking up awards, shuttling between endless cram classes like a top spinning without end.
No one ever asked if she was tired, miserable, or happy.
Aunt Yun had always pushed her to excel even more, to be the best.
Then, after junior high graduation, everything changed.
Overnight, she transformed into someone they didn’t recognize.
Rebellious. Cold. Truant. Fighting. Smoking. Drinking.
She did it all—the full repertoire of delinquent behavior.
It was as if she were defying Aunt Yun, rebelling with every fiber of her being.
But no one cared. Aunt Yun was angry, sure, but she never once thought about the reason for his sister’s change. Dad went even further by directly abandoning her, pretending she didn’t exist.
But Bei Qi still remembered. He remembered how his sister had patiently taught him to do his homework and played with him.
He still remembered how beautiful his sister looked when she smiled back then, unlike now, when she forced a smile that never reached her eyes.
He still remembered how his sister had once asked him helplessly and confusedly how she could make Mom like her the same way she liked him.
Yeah, why was that? Aunt Yun treated even him—this boy who wasn’t her biological son—so well, yet she was so cold to her own flesh-and-blood daughter.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t answer and could only watch helplessly as his sister shed tears.
Bei Qi sometimes wondered just how exhausting it must be for his sister to struggle alone in the darkness.
But he really didn’t know how to help her.
His strength was far too weak and utterly insignificant in front of those worldly adults.
But…
Just now, he suddenly noticed that his sister seemed to have changed. The desolation in her eyes was gone, replaced by faint specks of light glimmering within them.
He thought, this was probably a good sign.
He couldn’t save his sister, but maybe… someone else could.
