[Midway, he couldn’t resist kissing her again, a gesture both comforting and tender.]

That speech brought Hou Zihao both fortune and trouble: the fortune lay in how it moved Zhou Leqi, while the trouble was that it also made her angry.

“Why did you keep looking at me during your speech?”

That evening, on the bus ride home, she couldn’t help but act upset with him.

“Teacher Pan was sitting just two rows ahead of me—he definitely noticed!”

If one were to examine her complaints carefully, it would become clear that Zhou Leqi wasn’t entirely serious. She had been touched by some of his words and actions that day, or perhaps by a certain look he gave her that stirred her heart. But she didn’t want to reveal too much vulnerability when they were alone together, so she masked her awkward feelings by throwing a small tantrum.

Hou Zihao knew she wasn’t truly angry because he’d seen her genuinely mad before, and it certainly wasn’t as calm as this. So, he felt confident enough to brush it off lightly. “He didn’t notice, trust me. Teacher Pan kept glaring at me the whole time—how could he have noticed anyone else?”

Still dissatisfied, she pointed out, “But everyone else laughed. They all figured it out…”

This was harder for him to dismiss, so he tried to divert her attention, abruptly changing the subject. “Do you want to read some essay books? I bought a new one yesterday.”

With that, he pulled out a thick book titled The Latest Collection of Full-Score College Entrance Exam Essays from his backpack.

Zhou Leqi pouted and turned her head toward the window. He sighed, about to put the book away, but she turned back and snatched it from him.

Childish, really.

He chuckled quietly to himself.

The next morning, on her way to school, Zhou Leqi noticed a large group of people gathered around Yan Lin’s desk. Everyone seemed to be congratulating him, and Yan Lin’s usually cold face bore a rare smile today, even his eyes brighter than usual—a clear sign of his good mood.

Hou Zihao hadn’t arrived yet, so Zhou Leqi turned to ask Ge Ao, who was busy copying homework, “What’s going on?”

She glanced behind her at Yan Lin.

Ge Ao, amidst his frantic copying, looked up briefly at Zhou Leqi’s subtle cue.

“Oh, you mean Yan Lin?” He continued copying as he spoke. “His results from Tsinghua University’s independent recruitment exam came out—he crushed it. They gave him a 60-point discount. He’s guaranteed admission to Tsinghua as long as he scores above their adjusted cutoff.”

Zhou Leqi froze, then suddenly understood.

Right. Around this time every year, universities released their independent recruitment exam results. First, there was a registration phase where students submitted materials, usually in February. If they passed the initial screening, they could take written tests and interviews in March. Based on their performance, universities offered varying levels of score reductions: 5 points, 10 points, 20 points, 40 points, 60 points, or even direct admission based on the first-tier cutoff.

It was extremely rare for top-tier institutions like Tsinghua to offer a 60-point reduction. Those who competed for such opportunities were among the best students nationwide, and Yan Lin must have been extraordinary to secure such a significant advantage. All he needed now was to score 60 points below Tsinghua’s regular admission threshold, essentially guaranteeing his acceptance.

It was practically as good as being admitted already.

Of course, this was great news. Zhou Leqi wanted to congratulate him, but at that moment, she suddenly thought… where was Hou Zihao?

Had he participated in the independent recruitment exams?

When Hou Zihao walked into the classroom that day, Zhou Leqi immediately cornered him. With her arms crossed, she stared at him sternly, making him uneasy. Before he could even ask what was wrong, she said, “Come with me for a moment.”

Then she led him to the underground parking garage.

Upon reflection, nothing pleasant ever happened between them in this place, especially since Zhou Leqi clearly looked stormy today, which made Hou Zihao even more uneasy.

They stood under a single incandescent light. After a brief silence, he finally couldn’t hold back and asked, “What’s wrong? Why are you upset?”

She didn’t speak, just crossed her arms and glared at him. Her gaze was anything but kind. After a while, she finally confronted him. “Did you participate in the independent recruitment exams?”

Hou Zihao was taken aback. Now he understood why she was angry.

He coughed slightly but didn’t answer, avoiding her piercing gaze.

Zhou Leqi’s temper flared instantly.

“You didn’t go?” Her voice rose sharply. “Such a hard-earned opportunity—and you actually didn’t go?”

What was the independent recruitment exam? It was a lifeline, a safety net for all candidates.

Was the college entrance exam fair? Absolutely. Arguably, it was one of the fairest systems in society. But the risks were enormous. No one could guarantee they’d perform at their true level during the exam. Too many factors could influence the final score, and the consequences were monumental—it could alter someone’s entire life.

That’s why the independent recruitment exam mattered so much. All outstanding students aimed to participate, seeking score reductions to increase their chances of admission. No one would willingly give up such a precious opportunity—it was treated like a prized possession.

She wanted to participate too, but she no longer qualified since she wasn’t a current senior. Moreover, subconsciously believing it didn’t concern her, she naturally hadn’t paid attention to the process. Coupled with her poor mental state recently, she hadn’t bothered to inquire about the exam’s progress.

Who would’ve thought… Hou Zihao didn’t attend the selection.

She was utterly enraged, torn between anger and helplessness. In her panic, all she could do was lash out at him. “Why didn’t you go? With your grades, you could easily get into Tsinghua or Peking University. Wouldn’t securing a score reduction be beneficial? Do you think you’re guaranteed success in the college entrance exam? What if something goes wrong? What if you end up like me?—Hou Zihao, are you insane?!”

Her furious voice echoed through the empty garage.

And he remained silent.

This silence was meaningful for both of them. It gave Hou Zihao a chance to prepare his words to console her, while also giving Zhou Leqi a moment to sort through her thoughts.

In that brief silence, she realized something about herself: her anger stemmed not only from his missed opportunity but, more importantly, from her fear. She now understood—he hadn’t gone to Beijing for the independent recruitment exam because of her.

He knew she was lonely and pessimistic. He worried that if she found out everyone else had secured score reductions except her, she’d feel even worse—crushed, spiraling deeper into despair. He feared her sadness and didn’t want her to dwell on it.

So, he chose to stay by her side.

He voluntarily gave up that potentially life-saving safety rope, stepping onto the precarious bridge of the college entrance exam without any guarantees, just like her. He faced the same risks of falling and shattering, betting everything on one throw of the dice.

And yet, he didn’t have to be so passive.

He could’ve been like Yan Lin, securing even greater score reductions.

He…

She felt overwhelmed by his sacrifices—they were too much to bear.

And then he pulled her into his arms again.

Broad and warm, like an early April spring.

“I’m not crazy, and you shouldn’t overthink it,” she felt him gently patting her back, his voice soft and low. “I was just too lazy to prepare all those materials and too lazy to go to Beijing for the exam—you know how lazy I am.”

Here we go again.

Once more, he used his nonchalant attitude to mask his endless devotion to her.

How could she believe him? She couldn’t relax; instead, she was so moved that she began crying uncontrollably.

She clung tightly to his waist, burying her face in his chest and sobbing loudly. “Liar, you’re such a liar… You did it all for me…”

“How can you sacrifice so much for me?”

She was losing control of her emotions, but he remained calm. She heard him sigh softly, then comfort her with even gentler words.

“Alright, alright, I’m a liar,” he gently stroked her hair. “But it’s already done. Can you stop crying now?”

As he slowly lifted her chin, he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Impossibly tender.

Her vision blurred with tears, her heart a chaotic mess. She gripped his school uniform shirt tightly, stubbornly looking up at him and asking, “So what’s your plan now? What if something goes wrong during the college entrance exam? Do you know how guilty I’d feel if something happens? I’m telling you, I’m under even more pressure now!”

At this, he couldn’t help but laugh—a helpless, charming laugh. He raised an eyebrow, as if organizing his thoughts, and after a moment, spoke to her earnestly.

“First, I’m confident. I’ve studied hard and prepared thoroughly, so I’m certain I’ll succeed in the college entrance exam. There’s no ‘what if.’”

“Second, the score reductions come with major restrictions. I don’t want to go to Tsinghua, and I’m not interested in the majors Peking University offered discounts for. So, I decided to directly take the college entrance exam and choose my major freely afterward.”

“Third, this was my decision. I discussed it with my parents and teachers beforehand. I’ll take full responsibility for the consequences. It has nothing to do with you, so don’t burden yourself unnecessarily.”

After saying this, he pinched her cheek. “Okay?”

Like hell it was okay.

How could it possibly be okay?

Zhou Leqi didn’t believe a word of his excuses. She knew he had no other reason for doing this—he did it all for her, entirely for her.

But she also knew he was right. The situation was what it was now, and no amount of regret could change it. So, she had no choice but to try convincing herself to accept the outcome while praying he’d excel in the college entrance exam.

Lost in thought, she let him silently wipe away her tears. Midway, he couldn’t resist kissing her again, a gesture both soothing and tender.

She allowed him to draw close for a moment, but then, as if struck by a thought, she pushed him away and interrogated him. “You said you’re not interested in the majors Peking University offered discounts for. Have you decided what you want to study yet?”

He shrugged. “Nope—have you?”

Her frustration flared again at his unreliable answer. She glared at him, her tear-filled eyes sparkling. Even in anger, she looked more like she was sulking than intimidating.

He kissed her eyes gently, then listened as she said, “I want to study finance… I need to make a lot of money in the future.”

She wanted to earn money to support her mother and buy a house in Beijing on her own.

She wanted to live a life free from financial worries.

He completely understood what she was thinking, no further questions needed. He quickly replied, “Alright, then I’ll study that too.”

He would always stay by her side.

This response reassured her, and a small upward curve finally appeared at the corners of her lips. But moments later, she frowned again. “But Peking University’s Guanghua School admits very few students each year. What if we don’t get our first-choice major?”

That was indeed a problem.

He pondered for a moment, then said, “Even if that happens, it’s not a big deal. I can study medicine. My dad’s a doctor, so if I struggle, he can give me extra help.”

Surprised by this revelation, she asked, “You want to be a doctor in the future?”

He smiled, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, being a doctor isn’t bad. Last time, my dad treated that thug’s dislocated joint at the police station, and you couldn’t take your eyes off him. That’s when I thought being a doctor would be nice. Plus, whenever we argue, I can just treat someone’s dislocation, and we’ll make up in no time.”

She burst out laughing, gradually cheering up. Her crescent-moon-shaped eyes were adorable, lifting his spirits even higher.

She playfully hit him. “You wish.”