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After Chen Yang’s teasing remark, Le Ya froze, afraid to move.

Her anger flared again. “You’re shameless.”

Chen Yang touched his cheek, pretending not to understand her words. “I have one—do you want to feel it?”

Le Ya was on the verge of fainting from frustration.

Fortunately, he didn’t press her further and let her go, though he still draped his school uniform jacket over her shoulders.

Chen Yang pulled out the crumpled note and handed it to her.

Le Ya took it, eyed it suspiciously, then tossed it back at him. “Where did you get this?”

Chen Yang replied, “That’s not important. What matters is what’s written on it.”

Le Ya insisted, “I didn’t write it.”

Chen Yang looked at her. “I know.”

Just as Le Ya opened her mouth to ask more questions, she suddenly grabbed the note again and glanced at it. Realizing something was off, her face flushed with embarrassment, and she immediately stood up.

She tried to leave but was stopped by Chen Yang grabbing her wrist.

Le Ya stammered nervously, “I need to go back and study.”

Chen Yang reminded her, “There’s no studying during the sports meet.”

Le Ya retorted, “I love studying.”

Chen Yang smirked. “Then I should change my name to ‘Study.’”

At his words, Le Ya turned beet red, threw the note back at him, and snapped, “What nonsense are you spouting? Have you lost your mind?”

Initially, she hadn’t caught his implication, but upon reflection, his joke about changing his name to “Study” became glaringly obvious.

Chen Yang, fearing he’d upset her further, stopped teasing.

Le Ya, worried he might continue, asked, “It was just adding a couple of words like ‘keep going.’ Why did you deliberately block me here?”

Chen Yang leaned against the wall. “Say it again.”

Le Ya glared at him, threw the school jacket onto him, and quickly ran off as if someone were chasing her.

Left alone in the corner, Chen Yang watched her fleeing figure, pressing his hand to his mouth as he laughed softly. His laughter grew more unrestrained.

________________________________________

Half an hour later.

Liang Qian was scrolling through his phone when he saw a post on the school’s confession wall. The sip of mineral water he had just taken nearly sprayed out.

Zhao Mingri beside him asked, “What’s wrong?”

Liang Qian turned the phone screen toward him. “See this?”

The photo showed Chen Yang leaning against a wall, with someone lying on his lap—but their face was covered by a school uniform. Only the figure and exposed hands hinted that it was a girl.

The confession wall was now buzzing with questions about who the boy was.

Liang Qian said, “No need to guess—it must’ve been posted by someone from the main campus. Everyone in our new campus knows him.”

Indeed, the comments below were endless.

“The infamous Chen Yang. Asking further is suicide.”

“Don’t bother—he’s not interested in girls.”

“Not interested? Then who’s the girl in the picture? Your information is outdated. Didn’t you hear the confessions broadcasted on the field earlier?”

“Even if you ask, Chen Yang isn’t yours.”

“…”

Liang Qian secretly logged into one of his many alternate accounts—he was obsessed with creating them—and commented, “Maybe they’re dating and you haven’t noticed.”

He guessed Chen Yang probably didn’t know about this yet.

________________________________________

Le Ya returned to the classroom, where only a few people were present.

Coincidentally, Xie Qingyu came back from outside and rushed over to her. “Le Ya, can I ask you something?”

Le Ya nodded. “Go ahead.”

Xie Qingyu scratched her head. “Earlier, lots of people saw you very close to Chen Yang. Did you two… kiss…?”

Before she could finish, Le Ya interrupted, “No!”

Xie Qingyu covered her mouth. “No, no, don’t get so worked up! Look, you used to speak softly. When did you become so agitated?”

Ever since she met Chen Yang, things had changed.

Xie Qingyu had been called away earlier to check scores and only heard about this incident upon returning. She hurried to confirm the truth.

To her surprise, it seemed true.

Le Ya rubbed her ears and said, “Don’t overthink it. Nothing happened. He was just asking about the notes earlier. They weren’t written by me.”

Xie Qingyu asked, “But who made you read them?”

She thought it didn’t matter who wrote them. On the field, all Chen Yang would’ve heard was the voice reading them, and that was likely all he cared about.

Besides, for all they knew, Chen Yang might’ve written them himself.

Though Xie Qingyu doubted his personality would allow such a thing, the thought still amused her.

Le Ya had nothing more to say to her.

Xie Qingyu wasn’t the first to ask, nor would she be the last.

Fortunately, thanks to Chen Yang covering her with the school uniform that day, not many people realized it was her, so she avoided being questioned by many girls.

However, the topic of the notes became a hot subject among the female classmates in her class.

Moreover, homeroom teacher Ms. Jiang also summoned Le Ya to the office to inquire about the broadcast. Other teachers had tipped her off.

Thankfully, the notes weren’t written by Le Ya; she had merely read them aloud. After some reminders, Ms. Jiang sent her back.

Still, the matter lingered for a while.

In the following days, news of the sports meet spread like wildfire. Girls from other classes frequently loitered near Class One’s door.

Sometimes, Le Ya could overhear groups of girls discussing who had been with Chen Yang on the field.

Given how unreliable secondhand rumors were, she chose to ignore them entirely, walking past without acknowledging their chatter.

Class Seventeen was no different.

Girls approached the windows excitedly but left disappointed.

Wu Yami slammed the window shut for the umpteenth time that day, fuming. “They keep asking and asking—it’s driving me crazy!”

She no longer dared to say anything after the shadow of past incidents haunted her. Though no one had hit or scolded her, the fear remained deeply ingrained.

Whenever she saw Chen Yang’s face, the dread resurfaced, lingering long afterward.

She wanted to change seats, but the teacher hadn’t announced any plans to reshuffle.

Thus, Wu Yami endured silently, avoiding turning around. As for Lin Xinqiao, their relationship had completely deteriorated.

On the final morning of the sports meet, only a few finals remained before the afternoon’s award ceremony.

Le Ya sat near the broadcasting table, listening to Su Hui and Su Cheng read notes while playing on her phone.

During a break, Su Hui complained to her, “I’m exhausted. Look at him—so aloof, like he doesn’t belong in this world.”

Le Ya stole a glance at Su Cheng and said, “No, I think he’s pretty good. You’re biased against him.”

She had a favorable impression of Su Cheng—a model student, refined and self-possessed—unlike Chen Yang, who only pretended to be well-behaved.

Su Hui said, “It’s all an act.”

Le Ya asked, “How so?”

Caught off guard by the question, Su Hui tilted her head. When she accidentally met Su Cheng’s gaze, panic struck her. “Never mind—I need to keep reading.”

Le Ya was confused.

Not long after, a shadow loomed above her.

Le Ya looked up—it was Chen Yang. “Didn’t you go to the awards area?”

Suddenly recalling something, she patted her cheeks and consoled him, “Don’t be discouraged if you didn’t win. There’s always next time.”

Chen Yang chuckled softly. “Next time will be after graduation.”

Le Ya gasped, her voice soft and tender.

After all, he didn’t look like the muscular athletes; instead, he appeared slim yet possessed surprising strength at times.

Chen Yang said, “It’s all because of you that I didn’t win.”

Le Ya remembered yesterday’s events. Perhaps the explicit content of the notes had startled him during the race, but she felt wronged too.

Deciding not to argue with him, she thought for a moment and offered, “The notes weren’t mine, but I’ll treat you to bubble tea, okay?”

Le Ya thought herself quite generous.

If it were anyone else, they probably wouldn’t bother with Chen Yang.

Chen Yang lowered his eyes to look at her and replied, “Alright.”

Le Ya was just about to confirm the time when she heard the teacher’s voice over the loudspeaker at the awards podium: “...In first place, Chen Yang from Class Seventeen, Senior Three.”

The announcement was repeated three times.

Le Ya finally snapped out of her daze and looked up.

Chen Yang feigned an innocent expression.

With the sports meet over, the school plunged back into intense review sessions.

Two weeks later, it was time for another monthly exam.

This was the last monthly exam; the next one would be the city-wide mock test. Previously, these exams were just small-scale school assessments, but now they would compete against the entire city.

Le Ya was seated in the first testing room. She had arrived early that morning and spent some time reading before heading out to fetch water.

When she returned, there were just a few minutes left before the bell rang. Chen Yang arrived late, holding a steaming cup of soy milk.

He seemed to be living quite a leisurely life.

Le Ya remarked in surprise, “...What a coincidence.”

Chen Yang pointed to the desk next to hers. “I’m sitting here.”

Le Ya casually glanced at the seating label on the desk, which displayed Chen Yang’s name, class, and seat number.

The seating arrangement for this exam was based on the results of the previous monthly test, mixing students from different classes.

With the serpentine seating layout, she ended up sitting next to Chen Yang, who had ranked first.

As the teacher entered with the exam papers, Le Ya quickly returned to her seat and exhaled deeply.

The first subject was Chinese.

After finishing her answers, Le Ya reviewed her work. With about ten minutes left, she accidentally glanced at Chen Yang and found him staring directly at her.

She quickly turned her head away.

________________________________________

The next morning, Le Ya arrived a bit late. On her desk, she found a carton of breakfast milk—the same brand she usually bought.

She touched it—it was still warm.

Looking toward Chen Yang’s desk, she noticed his pen was still there, but he wasn’t. He must have come early and then stepped out.

By the time the bell rang to start the exam, Chen Yang returned to the classroom.

Le Ya tried to hand the milk back to him, but he tossed it back onto her desk. Just as she reached for it again, the teacher reminded the class, “It’s time for the exam. No more distractions.”

Her face flushed red, and she lowered her head.

While the exam papers were being distributed, Le Ya discreetly glanced at Chen Yang. He sat properly, looking every bit like a model student.

For a moment, she was mesmerized.

Chen Yang suddenly turned his head. “Spying on me?”

Le Ya shot him a glare, looked down at her desk, and muttered something under her breath.

From across the aisle, her voice was too soft for him to catch. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, and stared at her intently.

Le Ya felt her ears burning under his gaze.

The teacher approached with the exam papers and tapped the desk. “Focus on answering your questions. What are you still looking at? If you keep this up, you might as well leave.”

Chen Yang lazily straightened up.

Once the teacher returned to the podium, Le Ya couldn’t help but humph at him.

Chen Yang licked his lips. The little girl’s temper had grown recently; her lively and animated demeanor made him want to lock her away.

In a place only he knew.

Where only he could see her.

Throughout the subsequent exams, whenever she returned from outside, she always found something waiting for her on her desk—either a drink or a snack.

Each time, Le Ya tried to return them, but eventually, she gave up and simply consumed them to avoid wasting time pushing them back and forth.

However, Chen Yang always finished answering his questions quickly.

Whenever Le Ya completed her paper, she would inevitably catch Chen Yang resting his cheek on his hand, watching her. She couldn’t warn him without risking accusations of cheating.

After a few exams, she grew accustomed to it.

When the final English exam ended, cheers erupted throughout the teaching building.

Since classes normally ended around five or six o’clock, but it was only four now, everyone was free to leave early. They could return for evening self-study later.

Liang Qian came running down with his bag slung diagonally across his shoulder. He saw Chen Yang standing motionless, seemingly lost in thought.

Waving his hand, Liang Qian called out, “Yang-ge, what are you looking at?”

At this, Chen Yang withdrew his gaze and glanced at him. “Something wrong?”

Liang Qian shook his head. Of course not—he just wanted to ask if Chen Yang had any plans after school, so he came over to check.

Following Chen Yang’s earlier line of sight, he looked over.

Over there, Le Ya was still packing up her things. From where he stood, he could see her profile. Every time she bent her head, her hair slid down, covering her ears.

Her black hair contrasted strikingly with her fair skin.

Liang Qian chuckled mischievously, munching on sunflower seeds. “Not to mention, Yang-ge, why don’t you just go up instead of secretly watching?”

As soon as he finished speaking, Le Ya bent down to look for something in her desk drawer. When she stood up abruptly, she bumped into the table.

Though no sound could be heard, it looked painful.

Before Liang Qian could say anything else, Chen Yang silently walked over.

________________________________________

Le Ya sat there, texting the family driver to pick her up in half an hour.

She touched her head—it still hurt where she had bumped it.

The collision had been quite painful. She had dropped a pen earlier and hadn’t found it yet. It wasn’t in her desk drawer either—it had disappeared.

Some students were still in the classroom, playing on their phones or waiting for others. A portion had already left, while the rest busied themselves with their own tasks.

Chen Yang tapped on the window.

The sound of the glass being struck was crisp. Le Ya turned her head and asked, “Is there something you need?”

Chen Yang didn’t reply but pointed instead.

Le Ya carefully considered, then walked over and opened the window, repeating her earlier question.

Chen Yang curved his lips. “You promised this yourself earlier.”

With one knee on the chair, Le Ya tilted her head slightly upward to meet his gaze. “Did I agree to something last time?”

She recalled the bubble tea incident and said, “Do you want bubble tea today? Hurry and go buy it—I need to go home afterward.”

The sunset spilled through the corridor, casting a warm glow.

The classroom lights were off, but her figure was still clearly outlined. Her soft black hair was tied into a ponytail, occasionally swaying. The loose-fitting school uniform revealed her slender neck.

In this monochrome classroom, she was the sole splash of color, transforming the world into something vivid.

Chen Yang’s breath hitched.

Reaching in, he pulled her waist upward.

The classmates in the room froze, staring dumbfounded. Some took out their phones to snap photos.

Whispers erupted. Students from various classes—both the main campus and the new campus—were present, and the news spread rapidly.

Chen Yang held her waist tightly.

Le Ya, who had been near the edge of the chair, was suddenly lifted up. Startled by the sudden movement, she didn’t react immediately.

A faint, clean scent lingered near her neck, intoxicating.

Le Ya assumed he was upset about something and patted his back gently. “Are you crying?”

Her voice was soft.

She guessed perhaps his exam results had been disappointing, causing him emotional distress. There had been such cases in the past—students who even contemplated jumping off buildings.

Le Ya didn’t realize how utterly adorable she appeared at that moment.

Unable to suppress his laughter, Chen Yang chuckled softly, his chest vibrating in a way that made him appear as though he were crying.

Le Ya thought for a moment, recalling words teachers used to comfort students. In a gentle tone, she consoled him, “If you didn’t do well this time, you can study harder next time. It’s just one exam—don’t take it to heart.”

She reached into her school uniform pocket and pulled out a few candies, intending to give them to him.

After all, she had never comforted anyone before.

“Don’t focus too much on grades,” Le Ya placed the candies in her palm. “Here, have some candy.”

Chen Yang raised his head to meet her gaze.

Le Ya didn’t see any tears or signs of crying and was momentarily confused. “You’re not crying?”

Chen Yang smiled. “Am I that fragile?”

Le Ya’s face flushed red.

With the monthly exam just over, she couldn’t think of any other reason.

Le Ya pushed him gently and whispered, “Let me go. We’re still at school, and there are other classmates in the room.”

Chen Yang teased, “Are you stopping your comforting words?”

Le Ya blushed once more.

Suddenly, Chen Yang extended his finger, lightly brushing her rosy, moist lips.

His fingertip, calloused from years of guitar practice, grazed her skin gently—not painful, but eliciting a tingling sensation. Instinctively, Le Ya bit her lip.

Chen Yang’s fingertip was caught between her lips.

He muttered under his breath, “Damn.”

He wanted to push further, but he guessed Le Ya would explode in anger, ruining the moment.

Le Ya finally snapped out of it, quickly pulling his finger away and turning her face aside. Her ears burned red as she avoided his gaze.

Chen Yang wanted to pinch her cheeks, but she dodged.

He sighed in disappointment, retracting his hand.

Le Ya scolded, “I need to go home. I’ll be late if I stay any longer. If you pull something like this again, I’ll tell the teacher.”

Recalling the incident, she unconsciously licked her lips.

Chen Yang’s eyes darkened, his expression unreadable. His voice was hoarse as he said, “Le Ya, do you know you’re seducing me?”

Le Ya blinked in confusion. “What?”

Precisely this kind of innocence and naivety, juxtaposed against his darker thoughts, made Chen Yang cover his forehead, strands of hair slipping through his fingers.

He let out a bitter laugh. A princess living in an ivory tower—how could she understand someone like him, struggling in the mud?

Le Ya didn’t know what he was laughing about.

One hand braced on the windowsill, the other resting on the glass, she spoke softly. “I should go now.”

Chen Yang lowered his hand, his dark eyes fixed on her. Without a word, his palm once again found her slender waist, tightening slowly. The fabric of her uniform was clutched in his hand.

Le Ya gasped in shock. “Ah...”

The girl in his arms had long, delicate eyelashes that trembled slightly. Her pale cheeks flushed red, her skin so fine that tiny hairs were visible. Her clear eyes reflected only his figure.

Chen Yang suddenly leaned in.

A shadow fell over her. Le Ya hadn’t expected this and instinctively grabbed the exam paper from her desk, holding it up as a shield.

And it truly blocked him.

Chen Yang kissed the exam paper.

The school, to save materials, had printed the test on thin paper. The single sheet couldn’t block the sensations—it pressed tightly against her lips.

He gently bit down, precisely capturing her lips. The smell of ink wafted through, unable to mask the softness beneath.

Separated by only a sheet of paper.