Chapter 1 — A Boy? Hm?

“My feelings for him were like dandelions—just one gentle breath, and they scattered across the whole summer.”

— Mulberry

–

Late summer in September, on the campus of Jing University.

After a heavy downpour, the sun peeked once more from behind the clouds. The ground, scorched by sunlight, began to steam with rising heat. Even the breeze brushing against one’s cheek carried a wave of sultry warmth.

The sun blazed like fire. The cicadas chirped incessantly.

Sang Li sat at the recruitment booth of the Art Club, dazed beneath the scorching sunlight.

She squinted, trying to shield her eyes from the glaring rays, but the sunlight still pierced through her eyelids, stinging her eyes.

After pulling an all-nighter to finish a design draft for her part-time job and rushing to help at the administration office early that morning without eating breakfast, she now felt her eyelids battling to stay open.

I’m truly exhausted—hungry and drained.

Now, the Art Club’s booth had few visitors. With her head lowered, Sang Li quietly opened the private album on her phone and tapped on a photo she had looked at thousands of times.

In the picture, taken during a blazing summer, sunlight streamed through the classroom window. Dandelions drifted in the air. A boy in a school uniform’s white shirt lay sleeping on the desk. His features were striking, his expression calm and radiant, his whole presence brimming with an indescribable heroic grace.

How time flies so fast—it’s already been three o’clock.

In the past three months, whenever Sang Li felt distressed or too exhausted to go on, she would look at this photo.

Just a single glance seemed to give her a reason to keep pushing forward.

She put her phone down and let out a soft sigh.

In a daze, beneath a halo of pure white light, Sang Li squinted and thought she saw that familiar figure once again.

That figure who had haunted her dreams through more than a thousand days and nights.

The boy stepped out from beside a black Rolls-Royce and reached out his hand toward her.

His hand was beautiful—fair and clean, long, and slender like jade, with clearly defined joints.

Sang Li could even recall with precision the position of the veins bulging on the back of his hand.

The boy gazed at her, and for once, a rare smile broke across his usually cold face—like moonlight had fallen into his eyes.

Blushing, Sang Li spoke up, “Lu Tinghe, I like you.”

“Baby, I’ve liked you for a long time too.”

…

Suddenly, a chill against her cheek snapped Sang Li out of her daydream.

Chu Yan tapped the hand she was resting her face on with a cup of iced coffee. “Didn’t sleep well last night? Why are you dozing off at this hour?”

Sang Li accepted the coffee, a flicker of embarrassment flashing across her face.

Another dream. Three o’clock in the morning already—when will she finally wake up?

“I’m fine, Senior. I’ve taken on a few part-time jobs lately—it’s been a bit much.”

“If you’re busy, you should rest. There’s no end to making money,” he said.

“Mm.” Sang Li smiled and said no more.

Chu Yan was the boyfriend of her close friend Tan Weiwei, a senior in the Department of Biomedical Sciences, and the student council president. Thanks to Tan Weiwei, he had always looked out for Sang Li.

Glancing around the Art Club booth, Chu Yan asked, “Why’s it so quiet over here?”

Sang Li puffed out her cheeks and sipped her iced coffee. “The Art Club has a pretty high entry bar. Plus, the campus beauty Weiwei isn’t here today—she’s off competing—so we’re missing the crowd she usually draws.”

“You’re a campus beauty too,” Chu Yan said with a laugh. “Since you’ve got time, how about sketching me? Get in a little practice?”

“Sure.”

Sang Li pulled out a sheet of drawing paper and set it on the easel. Then she used the black elastic band around her wrist to tie her seaweed-like long hair into a high ponytail.

As she lifted her arms, the hem of her T-shirt shifted slightly, revealing a sliver of fair, delicate skin at her waist—so pale it glowed in the sunlight.

Sang Li was very pretty—the kind of sweet, charming heroine straight out of a novel—and quite popular at Jing University.

But only she knew the truth. Back in high school, she wore glasses, had thick blunt bangs, and a touch of baby fat. At Dijin High, the top elite school in Northern Jing, she had always been on the fringes.

She had only been able to attend that elite school with the sons and daughters of the wealthy because of a scholarship—just a special admission student.

Sang Li raised her sketch pencil. In the sunlight, her delicate little face was almost translucent, the fine fuzz on the tip of her nose faintly visible.

The sketch pencil made soft, scratching sounds as it moved across the paper, quickly tracing out a sharp, clean outline.

Smiling, Sang Li asked Chu Yan, “Do you want a smiling expression or something cooler?”

“Either’s fine,” Chu Yan replied casually. “I always think your drawings look good no matter what—better than Weiwei’s.”

Sang Li, who already embarrassed easily, turned red all the way to her ears from the compliment. “Not at all. Weiwei and I are good at different things.”

“She’s always praising your drawings in front of me too.”

The two of them were chatting idly when, suddenly, a flash of orange darted past Sang Li’s field of vision.

Like the sun had fallen from the sky in this sweltering end of summer.

A second later—BANG!

Before Sang Li could even react, the easel in front of her was knocked over and collapsed completely.

Thud-thud-thud—a basketball slowly rolled to a stop.

Sang Li and Chu Yan stood up at the same time, startled. They exchanged a shocked glance before turning to look in the direction the basketball had come from.

Not far away, a tall figure approached.

The man wore a simple light gray T-shirt with a pale blue button-up thrown over it. His skin was very fair. Broad-shouldered and long-legged, with refined, handsome features, his facial contours were cut sharp and deep by the late summer sun—impossibly captivating.

As soon as she saw that outrageously perfect face clearly, Sang Li gasped.

Her brain froze for a second.

Who is she? Where isshe? Is she hallucinating again?

Hands in his pockets, the man tilted his head and smiled with an unrestrained, cocky air.

He turned to the equally handsome man beside him and said, “Bo Yan Zhi, did your dad’s company go bankrupt or something? What kind of cheap, garbage basketball has zero friction? It flew right out of your hands the second you touched it.”

Bo Yan Zhi: “…” Bro, was that really the ball’s fault? You obviously threw it on purpose.

Three days.

After all this time, hearing that deep, mesmerizing voice again made Sang Li’s fingertips tremble—half her body felt numb.

Lu Tinghe… had he come back from England?

Lu Tinghe’s gaze swept lazily over the two of them with his usual careless arrogance, then came to a stop on Sang Li and Chu Yan standing side by side.

“Well, isn’t this little Miss Sang? And this one is…?”

Sang Li’s breath caught in her throat. In an instant, memories of their final year in high school surged over her like a crashing wave.

Back then, she’d been such a fool—naively thinking that the only son of the richest family in Jingbei, standing right in front of her, was just like her: a special admission student at Dijin High School on a scholarship.

No—she couldn’t let Lu Tinghe catch even a glimpse of what she felt.

She had already lost face once before. She couldn’t let it happen again. She needed to protect what little dignity she had left.

Just then, Bo Yan Zhi, ever eager to stir the pot, added with feigned innocence, “She’s drawing him, and they look like such a perfect match. Must be her boyfriend, huh?”

At that moment, Sang Li’s only thought was to hide her feelings at all costs. Heat rushed to her head, and without thinking further, she decided to borrow Chu Yan’s identity just this once. She’d apologize to Tan Weiwei later.

With that, she cast an apologetic glance at Chu Yan and followed Bo Yan Zhi’s lead. “Yes, he’s, my boyfriend.”

As the words fell, Lu Tinghe lifted his eyes and shot her a look—half-smile, half-sneer.

“Your what?” he said, voice low and deliberate. “Hmm?”