1. Chapter 1

"Tsk, today's girl is sweeter than yesterday's—like a perfectly ripe peach, so juicy it's practically bursting,"

Yang Cong gazed downstairs, clicking his tongue enviously. "Our class monitor sure is lucky."

Yan Hao bit into a hard fruit candy, the apple flavor instantly wrapping around his tongue. Yang Cong was still chattering away when he suddenly kicked the table leg. "Can you shut up?"

Yang Cong made a disgusted face and pouted, "Xiao Hao, you're being mean to me."

Yan Hao cast a sinister glance over.

Yang Cong immediately made a zipping-his-lips gesture.

Yan Hao twirled a mechanical pencil, set it down, then twirled it again. After a moment of this, he suddenly asked out of the blue, "What do you think of me?"

Yang Cong was baffled: "Huh?"

Yan Hao swept aside his slightly overgrown bangs: "Let me rephrase—am I passable like this?"

His forehead was smooth and full, his features exquisitely refined.

Yet the vermilion beauty mark between his brows inexplicably added a touch of allure.

Yang Cong raised both thumbs enthusiastically: "Not bad, really not bad at all."

Yan Hao let his bangs fall back down.

Yang Cong rubbed his hands together nervously like an anxious father: "What's going on here?"

Yan Hao sighed: "Spring fever has struck."

Yang Cong made a solemn hand gesture: "Demon! Get out of my boy's body at once! Or I'll make sure you never reincarnate!"

Yan Hao curled his lip: "Idiot."

Someone walked into the classroom doorway—short cropped hair, tall with broad shoulders and long legs, deep-set eyes that were long and sharp, a high nose bridge, thin lips, and well-defined facial features.

With striking looks and an icy demeanor.

Jiang Muxing, the heartthrob of No.1 High School, class monitor of Class 1 (Grade 11), and academic ace.

His face is lethal—one glance from any admirer would be fatal.

Take Yan Hao, for example.

"Crunch"

Yan Hao bit the candy into pieces.

There was less than a month left until summer vacation, after which he would enter his final year of high school, followed by the 100-day countdown to the college entrance exams.

Time waits for no one—he had to act quickly.

After school, Yan Hao was slowly packing up his desk.

Yang Cong already had his backpack on: "Dude, could you hurry up?"

Yan Hao waved his hand: "You go ahead."

"What the hell!" Yang Cong protested. "We agreed to go play games together. What's this sudden change?"

Yan Hao stacked his textbooks together: "I'll bring you Shaomai and soy milk from Four Seasons Brocade tomorrow morning."

"Got it, see you tomorrow," Yang Cong swiftly made his exit.

The fan whirred noisily as it spun.

The classroom buzzed with laughter and playful banter, the scraping of chairs and desks being moved, off-key singing, and the crisp clinking of stainless steel spoons against lunchboxes...

It was quite noisy.

These sounds intertwined to form the unique symphony of school dismissal.

Yan Hao had something on his mind and found the noise irritating. Leaning back against his chair, he absentmindedly clicked his mechanical pencil, watching the lead extend and retract.

From the corner of his eye, he kept glancing toward the broad-shouldered figure sitting by the aisle in the first row of the first group.

Yan Hao sat by the window in the last row of the last group, diagonally across from him—as if separated by an entire galaxy.

The classroom noise gradually faded as both boarders and day students slipped away. Without realizing it, Yan Hao shifted from stealing glances to openly staring. He clasped his hands tightly under the desk, fingers interlaced, then stood up with his math test paper and walked over.

"Class President, there's a problem I can't solve. Could you explain it to me?"

Jiang Muxing closed the English workbook spread before him, his tone indifferent. "Which one?"

Yan Hao pointed with his finger: "This one."

Jiang Muxing glanced over: "Didn't memorize the formula?"

Yan Hao scratched the tip of his slightly upturned nose: "I memorized it, but I don't know how to use it."

Jiang Muxing drew an auxiliary line: "Got it now?"

Yan Hao shook his head: "Still don't."

Jiang Muxing lowered his head to write out the solution process, his handwriting neat and decisive.

Yan Hao couldn't help but glance at the exposed nape of his neck peeking above the school uniform collar, at those thick lashes casting shadows downward, at the slight pursing of lips while solving problems, at the hand holding the pen—his gaze wandered restlessly as his Adam's apple bobbed, his mind hopelessly distracted.

Jiang Muxing set down his pen and began explaining the problem. Once finished, he simply reopened the exercise book without another word.

"I don't get it," Yan Hao murmured, slumped over a pile of books, the toes of his sneakers scuffing against the floor. "Can you explain it again?"

Jiang Muxing said calmly, "If your mind isn't on it, explaining a hundred times won't help."

Yan Hao took a guilty breath, accidentally biting his tongue in the process. The sharp pain made him furrow his brows slightly, but he forced himself to appear calm. "Monitor, what do you mean by that?" he asked

Jiang Muxing turned his face slightly, lifting his eyelids lazily.

Yan Hao was so startled he held his breath, adrenaline surging as his heart pounded wildly. The sound was deafening, echoing in his ears, leaving him utterly flustered. He grabbed the test paper and bolted.

He didn't notice a corner of the test paper was still under Jiang Muxing's arm. When he yanked it, he pulled too hard and heard a sharp "riiiip" sound.

"......"

Yan Hao vigorously rubbed his burning ears a few times, trying to appear nonchalant as he said, "Class President, my test paper got ruined."

Jiang Muxing pulled out the piece tucked under his arm.

Yan Hao reached out to take it but didn't leave. Summoning his courage, he said, "Can I borrow your tape?"

Jiang Muxing handed him half a roll of tape.

Yan Hao sat down in the seat across the aisle, carefully piecing together the test paper. He tore off a strip of tape, tilting his head as he brought it close to his mouth. Just as he was about to bite it off, he changed his mind and said, "Monitor, lend me your knife for a second."

A small blue knife was tossed over.

Yan Hao pulled out the blade to cut the tape. He was still thinking of conversation topics when two people walked in through the back door, carrying lunch boxes that brought with them the aroma of food.

The two of them were taken aback when they saw Yan Hao darting to the front row.

When they saw him return the tape to the class monitor, their expressions were downright bizarre.

The evening glow wove a vast net, enveloping the school in its tender and lingering embrace.

Yan Hao was unlocking his bike in the shed, moving deliberately slow. Only when Jiang Muxing approached did the gloom in his eyes fade away.

Jiang Muxing's car was old, just like the shoes on his feet, but both were impeccably clean.

Yan Hao wanted to talk to him, but the atmosphere was disrupted again—this time by the girl who had confessed under the camphor tree that afternoon.

Jiang Muxing placed the black chain lock into the front basket: "What's up?"

The girl, noticing the presence of a third person, grew somewhat shy and spoke very softly, "I've thought it over—we can be friends."

Jiang Muxing's face remained expressionless.

The girl's beautiful face paled, her red lips trembling as she asked, "Not even as friends?"

Jiang Muxing replied, "I'm sorry."

Tears welled up instantly in the girl's eyes. "Then... if I hadn't confessed, if I hadn't told you, if I'd kept my feelings hidden—could we have stayed friends?"

Jiang Muxing pushed his bike out of the shed.

The girl reached out to grab his school uniform, but the moment he turned his gaze on her, she recoiled in fear and withdrew her hand.

"Jiang Muxing, what kind of girls do you like? I can work hard to become that type—I know I can do it."

"It's meaningless."

Jiang Muxing finished speaking and rode off on his bike.

The girl was crying, her tears falling like pear blossoms in the rain, a sight so pitiful it tugged at the heart. Yan Hao handed her a pack of tissues and hesitantly asked, "Classmate, how long have you liked my class... our class monitor?"

"It's been a long time," the girl said between sobs. "At the freshman representative conference when he went up to speak, I... I just..."

Yan Hao pursed his lips—he wasn't as early as him.

For girls pursuing Jiang Muxing, the difficulty coefficient was extremely high—it depended on personality, knowledge, looks, figure, and feelings. For guys, none of those factors mattered; they could only wait for a miracle.

Yan Hao waited and waited, and in the blink of an eye, the second year of high school was almost over. Time had flown by so fast that it left him unprepared and filled with panic.

Gazing at the distant figure, Yan Hao's eyes brimmed with light as he mounted his bike and swiftly pedaled to catch up.

Jiang Muxing exited the school gate and turned onto the left path.

Yan Hao also turned that way, heading in the same direction, automatically tuning out the pedestrians and vehicles on the road. It was as if there were only the two of them, leaning on each other at the tail end of their youthful years.

With that thought, Yan Hao's lips curled into a smile. Passing by a cold drink shop, he turned his head and grinned, "Class President, let me treat you to something."

Jiang Muxing remained silent.

Yan Hao grabbed the back of his bike, refusing to let him leave.

Before long, two bicycles stood parked by the roadside, two youths side by side, drinking salted soda in silence.

Yan Hao bit the straw, pressing his tongue against it. "They call it salt soda, but it's not really salty—it's sweet."

Jiang Muxing watched the sunset. "All drinks have sugar added."

Yan Haokan was captivated by the boy watching the sunset, picturesque and unreal in his beauty. "Class monitor, are you that short on money?"

Jiang Muxing continued to gaze at the setting sun.

Yan Hao wiped the sweat from his eyes with the back of his hand. "I've seen you working at a restaurant."

Jiang Muxing showed no reaction.

Without hesitation, Yan Hao added, "I've also seen you coming out of an education center."

Jiang Muxing tilted his head slightly, looking at him.

Yan Hao's breath hitched, suddenly at a loss for words.

After a long silence, Jiang Muxing spoke, his voice cold and detached: "What do you want to say?"

Yan Hao took a couple of sips of soda to calm his nerves: "Well, the thing is... I was admitted to No.1 High School through family connections. That means I only scored enough to qualify for the paid admission threshold—my foundation is nowhere near as solid as yours or other students who got in on merit."

"About that problem you explained to me after school—I really didn't get it, couldn't follow along in class either, always zoning out."

When saying the last few words, Yan Hao unconsciously smoothed his bangs to cover his eyes.

Jiang Muxing lowered his head to check his watch.

Yan Hao knew he had a tight schedule and needed to work part-time, so he quickened his pace, his back drenched in sweat. "Among all the subjects, I'm best at English, decent at science, average in Chinese, and absolute trash at math—probably because it loves me too deeply."

"My dad hired me a tutor before—some old-fashioned geezer. There was a generation gap in communication, so we quit not long after."

Yan Hao wiped the sweat from his palm onto the soda bottle. "Later, they assigned a younger teacher, but our personalities just didn't click."

A few girls came to buy drinks, shyly glancing at Jiang Muxing while whispering things like "so tall" and "so handsome."

Yan Hao's train of thought was interrupted, leaving him in a daze.

Jiang Muxing checked his watch for the second time, looking rather impatient. "I have to go," he said.

"Wait a minute!"

Yan Hao inhaled the faint scent of soap from him, lowered his gaze to his shoes, and spoke softly, "Class President, you're top of the grade, always first in academics. We're classmates, the same age, the same gender—I think we'd be really compatible."

Jiang Muxing seemed not to have heard clearly, his brows furrowing as he said, "Speak louder."

Yan Hao licked his dry lips and raised his voice slightly. "What I mean is, my dad has high expectations for me, and I urgently need a tutor. How about you give me one-on-one lessons? I'll pay you for them."