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As for the question of who looked better, the answer was self-evident.

At the park exit, Le Ya took a photo of Chen Yang. The background was filled with colorful fairy lights, and he stood bathed in their glow—blurry yet distinct.

A wolf-like boy wearing rabbit ears.

Chen Yang’s expression clearly showed his displeasure.

Le Ya raised her phone, then lowered it again, saying, “Can you smile?”

Chen Yang replied bluntly, “I don’t know how.”

Le Ya pointed to her phone. “A picture without a smile won’t look good.”

Though, with his looks, even without smiling, he could easily outshine others.

Chen Yang glanced at her. “Don’t you think smiling makes me look stupid?”

Le Ya realized he truly had a bad temper. She walked over, tugged the corners of his lips upward, making him look slightly ridiculous. Unexpectedly, she burst into laughter.

Chen Yang lowered his gaze at her. “That funny?”

“No, no!” Le Ya quickly waved her hands. “I just thought of something really funny—it’s not about you.”

Chen Yang twitched the corner of his mouth. “If you stand with me, I’ll smile.”

Hearing this, Le Ya hesitated for a moment, then reluctantly gave a small nod.

She leaned toward Chen Yang’s side, but due to the height difference, she had to adjust her angle.

While she fidgeted around, Chen Yang bent down slightly, bringing himself closer to her eye level.

Le Ya froze.

Chen Yang reminded her, “Aren’t you going to take the picture?”

Le Ya quickly pressed the shutter, capturing their pose. Both wore their respective animal ears, standing close together.

This was probably their first photo together.

After leaving the park, sneaking back into the school gate was nerve-wracking. Thankfully, the security guard was on the phone inside, so the two slipped in unnoticed, crouching low.

Once inside the teaching building, Le Ya parted ways with Chen Yang and returned directly to Class One, where the classroom was being cleaned. Their homeroom teacher, Teacher Jiang, wasn’t present.

As soon as she pushed open the door, the room was lively.

Xie Qingyu saw her and hurried over, waving a broom. “Back from having fun? It’s almost ten o’clock now—was it great?”

Le Ya’s face flushed briefly. “What are you talking about?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Xie Qingyu said innocently, then suddenly realized what she meant and burst out laughing. “Don’t get the wrong idea! Crescent Moon, you’re something else now—you’re already thinking about these kinds of things!”

Le Ya snatched the broom from her hands, sweeping up confetti while vehemently denying it. “I’m not!”

It was just an instinctive response. But after Xie Qingyu pointed it out, she realized her earlier words were indeed quite ambiguous.

Xie Qingyu clicked her tongue twice.

...

When Liang Qian returned from outside, the classroom was nearly cleaned up.

He jumped onto a chair, pulling down several balloons and popping them without warning, which earned him scolding from the girls in the class.

Zhao Mingri egged them on from the sidelines.

A few minutes later, Liang Qian finally returned to his seat. “Has Yang-ge come back yet? What’s this stuff?”

He pointed to the items on Chen Yang’s desk.

On the desk were two hair clips—not ordinary ones like girls typically used, but rabbit ears designed to be clipped onto hair.

The ears were large; one was upright while the other drooped slightly, looking somewhat wilted.

Clearly, they were accessories for girls.

Liang Qian picked them up, puzzled, and asked those nearby, “Who put rabbit ears on Yang-ge’s desk?”

Zhao Mingri glanced at them casually. He felt like he’d seen them somewhere before but couldn’t quite recall. “Probably some girl who placed them by mistake.”

With tonight’s chaos in the classroom, it wasn’t surprising if someone made a mistake.

Liang Qian examined the ears closely, turning them over in his hands for a long time. Eventually, he couldn’t help but ask aloud, “None of the girls in our class would wear these, right?”

He called out to a few girls nearby.

They all nodded, confirming that they wouldn’t wear such things.

Liang Qian sighed deeply, then came up with another theory. “Could it be some girl secretly crushing on Yang-ge left them here?”

He glanced again at the bouquet of flowers on the desk.

The flowers were common—just the kind sold in parks. He’d been there a few times and remembered the flower-selling child.

Both the ears and the flowers were clearly items only girls would buy. And since it was party night, it was normal for a girl to give them as gifts.

Liang Qian picked up the flowers. “This won’t do. Yang-ge can’t find out—I’ll take both the flowers and the ears away.”

Just then, the back door opened, and Chen Yang walked in, bringing a gust of cold air with him.

Liang Qian hadn’t expected him to return so soon. Looking at the flowers in his hand, he said, “Yang-ge, I’ll handle this stuff for you.”

Chen Yang’s gaze paused, his voice low and stern. “Sure, you handle it—and when you’re done, I’ll handle you. How’s that sound?”

Liang Qian: “...”

Why was he so fierce? Although the last three words sounded like a question, Liang Qian couldn’t help but feel like Chen Yang was threatening to tear him apart.

Zhao Mingri couldn’t hide his amusement. Earlier, he had found the items familiar but couldn’t place them. Now, he finally recalled—they were the same ones Chen Yang had pulled out of his pocket when he returned to the classroom.

No wonder they looked so familiar.

________________________________________

The day after the party was a holiday.

Though it was cold, the weather was pleasant. Le Ya brought her sketchbook to the art classroom, having paid for many classes after all.

She hadn’t been there in a long time, and if she didn’t come now, her skills would fall behind. As usual, she sat in the corner.

Just as she opened her paints, Lin Xinqiao walked in.

Their eyes met, and there was an indescribable feeling between them.

In October, Le Ya had seen Chen Yang drawn on Lin Xinqiao’s sketchbook and inwardly teased him.

Now, she and Chen Yang were incredibly close.

But the girl standing in front of her was one of the girls who had pursued Chen Yang.

A wave of emotion welled up in Le Ya’s heart, and the corners of her lips dipped slightly. She couldn’t even explain where this vague sense of unhappiness had come from.

Lin Xinqiao didn’t say a word to her either.

An hour later, after the class ended, Le Ya had completed most of her painting but still hadn’t finished. She figured she could complete it at home that night.

As she packed up her things to leave, she accidentally caught a glimpse of Lin Xinqiao’s painting.

Noticing her gaze, Lin Xinqiao asked, “What is it?”

Le Ya shook her head. “Nothing… I just feel like this person looks somewhat familiar.”

To be fair, Lin Xinqiao’s painting skills were quite good. Her previous portrait of Chen Yang had been incredibly lifelike, and this one was no different. The figure reminded Le Ya of Zhao Mingri.

Though she hadn’t met Zhao Mingri many times, Le Ya recognized him instantly.

Lin Xinqiao tapped her sketchpad. “Yeah, you know him.”

Le Ya remained silent, then heard Lin Xinqiao continue, “I don’t like the guy I used to paint anymore. I’ve moved on.”

Lin Xinqiao had already noticed that Le Ya wasn’t happy.

Perhaps after breaking free from her earlier blind infatuation, she saw things much more clearly now—like Wu Yami’s pretense.

She thought it was ridiculous that she had ever believed Wu Yami.

Although she didn’t know why Chen Yang treated Le Ya differently, there was definitely a reason—it couldn’t just be about her face.

Zhao Mingri had said the same thing to her.

He had long suspected that Chen Yang had someone in his heart—those subtle signs that only close friends could pick up on—but they hadn’t known who it was until now.

Le Ya let out a soft “Ah.”

Lin Xinqiao couldn’t help but laugh at her endearing expression. “Did you feel unhappy seeing me today?”

Le Ya felt a bit embarrassed. “Not really…”

Lin Xinqiao rested her chin on her hand. “Then you’re jealous.”

Le Ya’s ears turned bright red. She had worn her hair down and covered part of her ears with a hat, leaving a small portion exposed.

She looked utterly adorable.

Even Lin Xinqiao found herself charmed by such a girl—let alone boys.

After packing up her things, Lin Xinqiao said, “I only liked Chen Yang for his face before. You can think of it as me being a fan chasing a celebrity. Do you understand what I mean by ‘fangirling’?”

Le Ya followed her out of the classroom. “I do.”

Lin Xinqiao continued, “Then I realized he has a girlfriend, so I stopped being a fan. Now, I’m just a passerby.”

Le Ya found her analogy fitting.

She smiled faintly. “Actually, when I first met you, I had only just met Chen Yang too.”

Lin Xinqiao said, “So some things are just fate. You might think you just met, but maybe Chen Yang has known you for a long time.”

Le Ya thought about it. “Known me for a long time? That doesn’t seem likely.”

Lin Xinqiao chuckled. “It’s not impossible. And how do you know you two haven’t met before? There are news stories online about couples finding old photos of themselves together after getting married. Maybe you two were in the same frame as kids without realizing it.”

Who knows?

Le Ya nodded, choosing not to dwell further. As they passed by a bubble tea shop, she said, “Let me buy you a drink?”

Lin Xinqiao paused, then replied, “Are you this generous with people you’ve just met?”

Le Ya shrugged. “Bubble tea isn’t expensive.”

Lin Xinqiao: “...”

She now understood why girls like Le Ya were so likable. When quiet, her face gave off an impression of sweetness; when she spoke, she exuded cuteness.

Chen Yang had somehow managed to snag such an adorable girlfriend.

With every word, she radiated the vibe of a “little rich girl,” drawing admirers left and right.

Lin Xinqiao was envious.

The three-day holiday passed in the blink of an eye.

Le Ya stayed home for all three days and added Lin Xinqiao as a friend. She found that the girl was actually quite fun to talk to.

Lin Xinqiao recounted everything she had done while chasing after Chen Yang, not forgetting to complain about how cold he had been—didn’t even spare her a glance.

While listening, Le Ya couldn’t help but smile, though part of her mind wandered to the present.

What Lin Xinqiao described felt like an entirely different world from what she had experienced. If Lin hadn’t mentioned it, she wouldn’t have believed it.

That night, lying in bed after returning from the studio, Le Ya sent Chen Yang a message on WeChat: “Do you remember Lin Xinqiao?”

Chen Yang replied instantly: “Who?”

Just one word.

Le Ya pouted. He didn’t even remember a girl who had chased him for so long—how heartless.

But despite her thoughts, the corners of her mouth unconsciously curved upward.

She uploaded the photo they took at the park onto Weibo, along with a newly completed painting. Most of the comments focused on the photo.

“Are you dating now?”

“Aww, this makes old ladies like me so happy. When will I find a boyfriend like that?”

“I think your ears are swapped.”

“Same here, hahaha. Crescent Moon should’ve been the one wearing bunny ears, but she dared to wear wolf ears instead—laughing so hard!”

Le Ya ignored the last comment.

On the first day back from break, quite a few students were late for morning self-study. An entire row stood as punishment, reciting texts loudly.

Xie Qingyu nudged Le Ya. “You’ve been very happy these past two days?”

Le Ya touched her face. “Is it that obvious?”

“It’s beyond obvious,” Xie Qingyu rolled her eyes silently. “Very, very obvious.”

Le Ya whispered, “Maybe because nothing’s been bothering me lately.”

Xie Qingyu didn’t believe her.

After a moment, she added softly, “Oh, by the way, did you know I saw Su Hui and Su Cheng arrive at school in the same car today?”

Le Ya casually replied, “Maybe they ran into each other on the way.”

Xie Qingyu hid her face behind a book. “Impossible. That car belongs to Su Hui’s family. When have Su Hui and Su Cheng ever come to school together?”

Le Ya recalled the broadcast incident. “They might have known each other before—maybe they’re relatives.”

Su Hui had introduced Su Cheng to her once, and although it wasn’t obvious, she could tell that Su Cheng seemed to take care of Su Hui.

Xie Qingyu nodded. “Maybe.”

When Xie Qingyu saw them, Su Hui had quickly run off after getting out of the car, as if she didn’t want anyone to know she knew Su Cheng.

But both shared the same surname Su—it was possible they were relatives.

After morning self-study ended, Le Ya went to the water room to fill her bottle.

As she came out, she saw Zhao Mingri and Liang Qian arguing outside. She overheard fragments of their conversation, which vaguely mentioned Chen Yang.

Le Ya approached. “Is Chen Yang here?”

The argument between Liang Qian and Zhao Mingri abruptly stopped. After a long pause, Liang Qian stammered, “Yang-ge is in the office.”

Le Ya nodded. “Oh.”

Without sensing anything amiss, she turned and left.

Only after Le Ya returned to Class One did Liang Qian dare to breathe a sigh of relief. “Scared the life out of me. Too tense.”

Zhao Mingri said, “You can’t keep hiding the truth forever.”

Liang Qian scratched his head. “I’ll hide it as long as I can.”

Le Ya didn’t suspect Liang Qian’s words at first, but after two consecutive days of not seeing Chen Yang, she began to realize something was wrong.

The second day was the monthly exam. Both she and Chen Yang were assigned to the first examination room, but when the test began, the first seat remained empty.

After the Chinese exam ended, Le Ya specifically checked the desk. Sure enough, Chen Yang’s name was pasted there.

She assumed he had simply missed one subject, but to her surprise, Chen Yang’s seat remained vacant throughout the entire exam—from the first Chinese test to the final English test. He never showed up.

It was as if he had vanished.

Her messages went unanswered, and even her calls wouldn’t go through.

A sense of unease rose in her chest. After the final English exam ended, she intercepted Liang Qian and Zhao Mingri in Class Seventeen. “Why didn’t Chen Yang show up for the monthly exams?”

Liang Qian, who had been standing by the window putting things away, turned around upon seeing her and reflexively said, “He took leave.”

Le Ya pressed, “Really?”

Liang Qian had always assumed Le Ya was a naive, sweet girl—until today, when she stood before him.

He rarely encountered someone like her: petite, yet surprisingly resolute, with clear, honest eyes.

Liang Qian forced a grin, feigning nonchalance. “He’s sick, so he didn’t come to the exam. He’ll return once he’s better in a couple of days…”

But under her unwavering gaze, his voice grew weaker and weaker.

Le Ya’s hands clenched slightly. “I want the truth.”

Zhao Mingri nudged Liang Qian’s back and sighed. “See? I told you we couldn’t hide it. Why’d you insist on lying?”

Liang Qian snapped back, “And you didn’t stop me, you idiot.”

Hearing their exchange, Le Ya tensed up. Something bad must have happened.