After that incident, Jiang Wan had no interest left in practicing her basics. She changed her shoes and headed down from the rooftop.
Bei Huai, however, stayed put.
“Aren’t you going to class this afternoon?” Jiang Wan couldn’t help turning back to ask.
Class was about to start any minute now.
“New student, aren’t you being a little nosy?” Bei Huai narrowed her eyes and tilted her chin up slightly. Her gaze was cold and impassive, and her blank expression only made her seem even more aloof.
Seeing the girl’s obvious look of surprise, she suddenly felt a twinge of boredom.
Sure enough, it was the same old story.
Everyone who knew her thought she was moody and unpredictable.
One moment they might be chatting just fine, and the next she’d turn ice-cold and act like they were strangers.
Because of her weird personality, hardly anyone wanted to get truly close to her or try to understand her.
People were self-preserving creatures, after all. Who’d risk getting near someone who might lash out at any second?
Even her little bros only knew her on a superficial level.
Cen Jin called it all pretentious bullshit, mocking her for barricading her personal space like a fortress and then whining that no one broke through.
But Bei Huai kept at it anyway.
Just watch—this girl in front of her would soon start pulling away because of her coldness, too.
That was what Bei Huai told herself, her expression growing even frostier.
But why…
She’d seen this coming from a mile away, so why did it piss her off so much?
“Jiang Wan.”
Bei Huai: “??? What?”
“Jiang Wan—my name comes from the line in that poem 【Sinking Green River Evening】.” Jiang Wan met Bei Huai’s eyes, speaking each syllable with utmost seriousness.
Bei Huai: “…” What poem was that? She’d never heard of it.
She was suddenly at a loss for words. This reaction was nothing like what she’d expected.
“Why are you telling me this?” Uncomfortable, she reached up to touch her hair. It felt coarse and rough under her fingers, so she dropped her hand with a grimace.
Not long ago, she’d had a brain fart and dyed it that garish Kill Matt style just to spite Yun Manzhu. Her hair quality was trashed, and Cen Jin had roasted her mercilessly for it.
The main goal had been accomplished, though. Just picturing Yun Manzhu’s sour face when she first saw the dye job made Bei Huai feel a rush of satisfaction.
“You keep calling me ‘new student.’ I figured you might not know my name.” Jiang Wan gave a gentle smile, her eyes softening in a way that was almost too much.
She acted like Bei Huai’s earlier iciness hadn’t fazed her at all.
Bei Huai had never met a girl with such unshakable patience. After a beat, she waved it off, signaling that she got the message.
Jiang Wan nodded, looking pleased, and started to leave. But after just a few steps, she turned back. “Next time we meet, don’t call me new student anymore. Just use my name.”
“Trouble.” Bei Huai shooed her away with an irritated flick of her wrist.
The moment the girl’s figure vanished completely, the annoyance melted from her face.
“Jiang Wan…” she murmured to herself, the corners of her mouth twitching upward without her realizing it.
As if she didn’t know the name. She’d learned it the very first time they met.
—”You’re that transfer student named Jiang Wan, right…”
The Discipline Director’s words echoed in her head. It was the first time she’d realized just how sharp her memory could be.
Her phone suddenly rang.
“Sister Huai, house party at Lan Yuan—Chengzi and the crew are all here. You coming?” It was one of her little bros on the line, a rich kid who lived for throwing ragers and get-togethers.
“Nope.” Bei Huai shot him down without a second thought.
“But Sister Huai, what are you up to this afternoon? Tong Baifeng said she invited you too, and you bailed.”
She considered it for a second before replying with two words: “Class.”
Little bro: “Huh???’
“Hanging up. Bell’s about to ring.”
“Wait—” Before he could get another word out, the line went dead with a busy signal.
“So, is Sister Huai coming or what? Speak up!” someone nearby prodded.
The little bro clutched his phone, lost for words. He could’ve sworn he’d misheard.
Prodded by the group, he finally stammered, “Sister Huai’s not coming. She said… she’s going to class.”
Everyone: “???”
~~~
Jiang Wan headed down from the rooftop and went straight to change. As she stepped out of the bathroom, she ran right into her desk mate.
“Jiang Wan, you know how to dance? That’s awesome.” Mi Shuyun immediately spotted the practice clothes and dance shoes peeking out of her bag.
After spending more than a day together, the two had warmed up to each other. Mi Shuyun even started greeting Jiang Wan first thing.
“It’s nothing special—just a hobby I’ve practiced a bit.” Jiang Wan smiled.
“You’re so lucky. I can’t do anything like that.” A mix of admiration and wistfulness filled Mi Shuyun’s eyes.
She seemed to remember something and quickly said, “I think the teacher posted a file in the class group about sign-ups for the New Student Welcome Party. If you’re interested, you should check it out.”
After thanking her desk mate for the reminder, Jiang Wan parted ways with her.
By the time she got back to the classroom, Bei Huai was already seated at her desk.
Compared to everyone else, her reaction was a refreshing change.
Jiang Wan felt a mix of surprise and delight.
She wanted to say hello, but seeing Bei Huai with her head down typing away, she decided not to disturb her.
Once she sat down, Jiang Wan pulled out her phone and opened the class group. Mi Shuyun had added her the day before.
She scrolled through the files and found the sign-up form, though hardly anyone from Class 6 had signed up.
After reading the details about the event, Jiang Wan felt a spark of interest. Plus, it would give her a legitimate excuse to ask the teacher for a dance practice room—no need to bother Guanguan.
With nothing holding her back, she signed up.
As she exited the form, her finger slipped, and she tapped into the group members list. She glanced at it casually, ready to back out, but then froze.
She scrolled back up and carefully examined the list from top to bottom, not missing a single name.
Strange… Bei Huai wasn’t there.
Everyone else in the class group had their names listed—except her.
Excluding the teacher, it was supposed to be a group for all fifty-eight students, yet Bei Huai had been deliberately left out. And not even the teacher seemed to mind.
Jiang Wan set her phone face down on the desk, a heavy discomfort settling in her chest.
Before she could dwell on it, the bell rang for class.
Mi Shuyun came rushing in. She started to say something to Jiang Wan, but her eyes flicked toward Bei Huai. Her face fell, and she clamped her mouth shut, hurrying to her seat without another word.
The class was English. Jiang Wan turned around and whispered, “Do you have your book?”
Bei Huai glanced at her and gave a nonchalant “Mm.”
She did have one somewhere, but she had no idea where she’d left it. Her desk was completely bare—no books in sight.
Well, almost. There was that math test from the placement exam. She remembered getting it back after handing her blank sheet straight to Jiang Wan.
Now it was covered in writing from top to bottom.
She gave it a quick look and shoved it back into her desk with a blank expression.
Big deal. It was full of answers, but she still couldn’t make heads or tails of it.
Damn it, she regretted coming to class.
No book, and bailing now would just make her look like an idiot. Fine, she’d catch some sleep instead.
Just as she started to lay her head down, the girl in front of her passed back an English textbook.
“I figured you didn’t have one. Here, use mine. I cleared it with my desk mate—we’ll share.”
The girl’s voice was soft and gentle, like a puff of cloud or a drifting feather. It brushed against Bei Huai’s heart, leaving it itchy and tingly.
With a straight face, she took the book. Great. Now she couldn’t even nap.
The book was brand new. Bei Huai knew it was Jiang Wan’s fresh issue from the teacher, already marked up with preview notes.
The handwriting was neat and refined, easy on the eyes—nothing like her own wild scribbles.
But it didn’t matter. In the drone of the English teacher’s voice—like a hypnotist’s lullaby—she drifted off to sleep anyway.
She had no idea how long she was out, lost in a haze.
A gentle nudge on her arm finally roused her.
Bei Huai woke up cranky, the kind who could bite heads off. She lifted her head irritably, a curse on the tip of her tongue—only to meet the girl’s warm, crystal-clear eyes.
For an instant, it was like she’d been plunged into a soothing hot spring.
Every inch of her felt utterly relaxed and at ease.
“You… what?” The profanity swerved away at the last second.
“It’s that hypnotic. You slept through the whole class.” Jiang Wan smiled at her, her tone light and teasing, without a hint of reproach.
Bei Huai sat up straight and stretched lazily. Coming to class wasn’t such a bad call after all—at least the sleep had been good.
“Refreshed now. I’m outta here.” She rolled her neck a few times and stood to go.
“Wait.” Jiang Wan called out quickly.
So she’d come to class just to nap?
“What?”
“I didn’t see you in the class group. Want me to add you?”
“No need.” Bei Huai shot it down without a second thought.
She knew the class didn’t want her around—hated her, even. But she couldn’t care less about them.
“Then give me your WeChat. That way, if something important comes up, I can let you know.” Jiang Wan kept her voice casual, though her heart was racing.
It was the first time she’d ever asked for someone’s contact info so directly.
Bei Huai stared at her for a few seconds, like she could see right through her, but said nothing. Jiang Wan started to squirm under the gaze, about to backpedal and say never mind.
She watched as the girl grabbed a pen and jotted down a string of numbers right on her own test paper.
“My phone number. WeChat ID’s the same.” Bei Huai capped the pen with a flourish, delivered the line with cool detachment, and turned to leave.
Staring at the girl’s retreating back, Jiang Wan inexplicably felt like laughing.
Where the hell did she pick up this wannabe bad-boy routine?
Jiang Wan carefully copied down the number before turning back around.
Mi Shuyun stared at her for a long moment before whispering, “Jiang Wan, you… you’re not afraid of her?”
In her eyes, Jiang Wan’s boldness was straight out of that fearless newborn calf charging a tiger—actually daring to ask for Bei Huai’s WeChat. They must know each other, though. Anyone else would’ve gotten a much frostier reception.
She’d heard the stories: back when Bei Huai was a freshman, no one knew just how intimidating she could be. Some boy, dazzled by her looks, tried asking for her WeChat. She smashed him in the face with a book and gave him a bloody nose.
After that, no guy dared try his luck.
“Why should I be afraid of her?” Jiang Wan shot back, somehow more puzzled than her friend.
“She… she’s mouthed off to teachers, beaten up classmates, runs with a pack of delinquents. How’s that a good person?”
“But what does any of that have to do with me?” Jiang Wan replied slowly.
Her smile remained as radiant as ever, but her words turned Mi Shuyun’s entire impression of her upside down.
“Whatever she’s done in the past, in my eyes, she’s a good person.”
Double standards were just human nature. Jiang Wan didn’t give a damn about rumors. She only trusted what she saw with her own eyes.
~~~
In the Lounge Bar.
Bei Huai slouched at the bar, idly tapping her phone screen. Every few seconds, she’d dip into WeChat, only to back right out again.
“No way. You skip class to drink with me, and now you’re glued to your phone? Am I invisible over here?”
Cen Jin took a delicate sip of her cocktail, clearly peeved by Bei Huai’s distraction.
She cut a striking figure—tall and leggy, with sharp, defined features and a face that screamed high fashion. Her outfit screamed boss babe from head to toe. Even rolling her eyes came off as effortlessly gorgeous.
“Say… if a girl asks for your WeChat but never actually adds you, what do you think that means?” Ignoring the complaint, Bei Huai propped her chin on one hand and asked with dead seriousness.
“Pfft.” Cen Jin couldn’t hold it in and burst out laughing.
“So that’s why you’ve been blowing me off?” She tsked twice. “Which bombshell beauty’s got our Sister Huai all twisted up? Not bad, not bad at all.”
Bei Huai shot her a glare. “I’m being serious.”
Seeing Bei Huai wasn’t joking, Cen Jin straightened up and gave the matter some actual thought.
“One: she lost a dare.”
“Definitely not,” Bei Huai said without hesitation.
Cen Jin slanted her a look and pressed on. “Two: she was asking for a friend.”
“Absolutely impossible.”
“Three: playing hard to get.”
Bei Huai fell silent this time, furrowing her brow in deep contemplation, as if pondering the riddle of the ages.
“But she has no reason to do that.”
“That’s exactly the point—you’re hooked now, aren’t you?” Cen Jin wore a smug, worldly-wise grin.
“Really?” Bei Huai still sounded skeptical.
“Guaranteed.” Cen Jin pounded the bar for emphasis.
“So, who is she? Do I know her?”
Bei Huai gave her a cold once-over and spat out a single word.
“Scram.”
Cen Jin: “…” Used her up and tossed her aside like trash.
Classic Bei Huai.
~~~
Class 6, Grade 2 High School.
The girl in question, Jiang Wan, let out a string of sneezes. Even her deskmate shot her a concerned look. “You okay? Coming down with a cold?”
She blew her nose into a tissue and muttered under her breath.
“A cold? Nah, shouldn’t be.”
