[“Happy birthday,” he said softly, looking at her. “I also wish you eternal luck.”]

“Are you... doing alright?”

When Pei Qiming whispered this question in the somewhat cluttered backstage of the auditorium, Zhou Leqi finally became acutely aware that it had been a long time since she last saw him.

In reality, if you counted carefully, it hadn’t been that long—just a year and a half from July 2012 to January 2014. What could one do in a year and a half? In math, one could only progress from the first unit on sets in the first semester of freshman year to the final unit on inequalities in the first semester of sophomore year—a narrow range, hardly enough to evoke nostalgia.

Yet, Zhou Leqi inexplicably felt that this period had been incredibly long, so much so that she suddenly believed she and the young man in front of her now belonged to entirely different worlds.

She was still a high school student, wearing the childish school uniform, enduring the grueling life of a senior year student, everything exactly as it had been a few years ago. But Pei Qiming already appeared very mature and poised. He had returned from Beijing, from Tsinghua University, and must have witnessed many top-tier sights, making him completely different from her.

She pursed her lips, a surge of complex emotions rising within her. Yet, when she spoke, it was only a simple, “...I’m doing fine.”

And that was all she said.

Pei Qiming seemed surprised that she only responded with that one sentence. An awkward silence hung between them. After pondering for a moment, he asked again, “I saw you online on QQ before—was that really you, or was your account hacked?”

Of course, it was Zhou Leqi herself, but at this moment, she chose to say, “…I haven’t used QQ in a long time.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie, but clearly intended to mislead him.

Pei Qiming nodded, then fell silent again. The air felt somewhat stagnant.

He glanced at her and said with some difficulty, “I’ve always wanted to contact you, but I never succeeded… I’m really glad to see you today.”

This was a restrained expression, yet rich in meaning, seemingly telling her that he had been thinking of her. There was also a vague implication that his return to the school was for her.

Zhou Leqi didn’t know how to respond. After pondering for a while, she finally said, “I’m preparing for exams, so I don’t really keep in touch with friends… I’m genuinely happy to see you too.”

The first half of this sentence was obviously a lie because she had exchanged over twenty text messages with Hou Zihao just last night. However, the second half was partly true—after all, she and Pei Qiming had been classmates for three years, and they hadn’t seen each other for nearly two years. Seeing him now genuinely made her happy.

Pei Qiming seemed quite pleased to hear her response. He smiled, and the atmosphere immediately lightened.

“Yes, you need to focus on preparing for exams,” he continued, following her words. “You... relax a bit. This time, there’s no problem. You were always so excellent—you will surely return to where you belong.”

These words were kind and full of sincere encouragement, which should have comforted Zhou Leqi. But after hearing them, she inexplicably felt pressured, as if she had to work hard to return to her previous position; otherwise, it wouldn’t count as “no problem.”

Of course, Zhou Leqi knew Pei Qiming didn’t mean it that way, and she realized her own heightened sensitivity at this stage. She tried to stop overthinking and calmly replied, “Thank you, I’ll do my best.”

But Pei Qiming failed to notice the strain in Zhou Leqi’s eyes.

What he remembered was Zhou Leqi from two years ago—bright, healthy, and strong. Now, however, she was different. The wounds tormenting her hadn’t healed, causing her brilliance to dim and be overshadowed by gloom.

He still treated her as the person she used to be and happily continued, “We once agreed to get into universities in Beijing together. I’ve always remembered that promise and hoped you’d become my junior. Once you’re at Tsinghua, we can sit in the same classroom again like before.”

“Promise…”

Yes… They had made a promise.

Zhou Leqi and Pei Qiming had been rivals since their first year of high school.

They were both top students in their respective middle schools, accustomed to being admired and praised, used to being the sole most outstanding individuals. Suddenly entering high school and encountering each other was like Tesla meeting King Kong—it was inevitable they would clash.

They clashed fiercely.

Both were dignified academic elites, able to maintain smiles when they met, but deep down, each secretly wished the other would quickly fall out of the top examination room. Each test excited them—they were like fighting cocks, fully committed to winning. Thus, every results announcement was thrilling. That tiny spot on the honor roll, barely larger than a fingernail, symbolized dignity and intellect. The one who ranked first felt refreshed, while the runner-up felt deeply humiliated.

This intense rivalry lasted for a long time. Eventually, they grew tired of fighting and gradually developed some subtle feelings.

Perhaps friendship, or maybe... more than friendship.

At least, Pei Qiming’s feelings for Zhou Leqi went beyond friendship.

He had fallen in love with her.

Coincidentally, he discovered this feeling on the same day as Hou Zihao—during that Hundred-Day Oath Ceremony in the spring of 2012.

The representative excellent student of senior year was competitively selected based on cumulative scores from every exam from freshman to senior year. That year, Zhou Leqi was first, with a total score just seven points higher than Pei Qiming, who ranked second. Those few points cost him an important honor.

However, when he saw that girl shining brilliantly as she spoke under everyone’s gaze, he found no jealousy or resentment in his heart. He simply appreciated her… more and more.

He didn’t confess to her or reveal his feelings, as both were rational people. He knew even if he poured his heart out, she wouldn’t agree to anything before the college entrance exam. Therefore, he chose to temporarily hold back this heart-stirring confession and instead use a promise to connect with her.

“Let’s get into universities in Beijing together,” Pei Qiming said to Zhou Leqi in the summer of 2012. “Let’s go to the best universities, become the best people, and live the best lives.”

It was a short statement, but he was essentially promising her a lifetime.

He didn’t know if Zhou Leqi at that time understood his true meaning, nor did he dwell on it. He simply watched himself sink into her bright and beautiful smile at that moment and heard her say, “Alright.”

That smile stayed with him for a very, very long time.

Until the college entrance exam, until he alone reported to Tsinghua, until he completed a full cycle of seasons in the Tsinghua campus, until this very moment when he stood before her again.

He still remembered... and was still hesitating whether to replace this wonderful promise with the confession he truly wanted to make.

Should he?

Or... should he wait a little longer?

Wait until after her college entrance exam—what if it distracts her? Besides, they hadn’t seen each other for over a year. They needed to get reacquainted before confessing.

Yes, wait a little longer.

Having decided, he just then received her response.

“Oh, the promise,” she echoed. “I... I’ll try my best.”

At that moment, Pei Qiming’s attention was almost entirely focused on whether to confess, so he didn’t immediately detect her wavering and visible stiffness, nor her awkwardness and nervousness. He had no idea that the girl standing before him was almost completely losing confidence.

He still wanted to talk to her a bit more or invite her to dinner, but before he could speak, she said, “I need to leave... I have a lot of homework to catch up on.”

This left Pei Qiming momentarily stunned.

Rushing to finish homework... for university students, this state was already somewhat unfamiliar.

He hastily nodded, immediately replying, “Oh, alright. It was thoughtless of me—let’s meet again next time. I’ll stay here until the start of the semester, probably returning to Beijing in late February.”

Zhou Leqi nodded, agreeing, “Alright, alright.”

Then, looking up at him, she said, “Then I’ll leave now.”

Before he could say “goodbye,” she had already turned and walked toward the backstage exit. Her figure looked thinner than before, but her swaying ponytail remained the same as ever.

Beautiful, nostalgic.

Missed.

“Leqi—”

Zhou Leqi heard Pei Qiming call her name again.

Deep down, she felt a bit apprehensive about facing him. Though she couldn’t articulate why, the feeling was strong. Still, she had to stop and turn to look at him again.

What appeared before her... were several beautiful English letters.

“Lucky.”

...A necklace.

For a moment, she was speechless. She looked up at Pei Qiming holding the necklace, hesitantly asking, “This is...?”

“Happy birthday,” he said gently, looking at her. “I also wish you eternal luck.”

What is luck?

Luck was the most beautiful blessing her parents gave her when she was born into this world as a child.

They gave her the name “Leqi,” a homophone for “Lucky.” They hoped her life would be smooth and trouble-free, ideally experiencing happiness without any major setbacks.

She once believed she was truly lucky—born into a well-off family, loved by her parents, excelling academically, and having a good social circle... Everything was wonderful.

But suddenly one day, “luck” deserted her. In a short time, she lost everything. Even the conditions that once constituted “luck” now starkly highlighted her “misfortune.” She mourned and suffered, and now finally accepted the fact that she wasn’t truly a “lucky” person, perhaps even unluckier than others.

However, one cannot remain immersed in such self-pity forever. Even knowing she lacked luck, she still sought traces to convince herself, “You’re overthinking it. You’re actually still quite lucky.”

These traces encompassed a wide range—unexpectedly getting another bottle when buying iced tea, occasionally winning five yuan in a lottery, or randomly guessing the right answer on an exam.

Many, many things—she had always been easily satisfied.

Yet, no matter how broad she made this scope, it couldn’t include being seen by others during times of emotional turmoil—even if that person was Hou Zihao.