Chapter 22

Zhong Yao and Qi Yu agreed to meet at a milk tea shop near her home. She only agreed to go after confirming that she would be paying.

The whole way there, she was extremely nervous—she’d never gone out alone with a boy before.

Back in Yunshui Town, her only friend had been Sun Shiwu. After what happened with Tan Xiao, she never dared get close to any boy again.

And Qi Yu wasn’t your average boy—he came with complications. She should’ve kept her distance. But he’d helped her a lot and even got punished because of her. Zhong Yao felt she should show her gratitude somehow.

The milk tea shop across the street was even fancier than she’d imagined. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, glowing star-shaped lights dangled dreamily, and standing in front of them was a boy in a baseball cap and face mask.

Remembering how he’d jokingly called her “the classmate I barely know” in his text, Zhong Yao suddenly stopped in her tracks, a little hesitant to go over.

But just then, Qi Yu looked up and caught her right away.

There seemed to be a smile in his eyes. Zhong Yao felt like he might have smiled, but with most of his face covered by the mask, even if he had, she wouldn’t be able to tell.

Her phone buzzed again—it was another message from him:

[If you keep staring at me, I swear, fans are going to swarm this place. Wanna bet?]

Only then did Zhong Yao hurry across the street. Qi Yu didn’t linger—he turned and headed into the shop without another word.

She thought he might be mad about the rumors going around and quickly followed after him, saying,
“Qi Yu, it’s not what you think.”

“Hmm?” Qi Yu paused and looked back at her in confusion. “What do I think?”

Zhong Yao felt a little embarrassed. “I mean… the stuff our classmates are saying.”

She explained, “I never said we weren’t close. I just briefly mentioned how we first met.”

“Oh, that?” Qi Yu chuckled softly.
“I hear like 800 made-up stories and gossip bits every day. Some even say I like guys.”

Zhong Yao: …

So that text message earlier—was he just messing with her again? Just like the flower stunt?

“…Oh,” she muttered and pursed her lips, suddenly not in the mood to deal with him.

Qi Yu seemed to pick up on her mood and asked, “Are you mad?”

“I’m not that petty,” she turned her face away. “Where’s Tang Yiming? Stop standing around. Let’s find him already.”

Qi Yu feigned surprise:
“Did I ever say he was coming?”

Huh?!

Zhong Yao turned to him, eyes wide. Her foxy-looking eyes were practically round almonds now.
“You mean it’s just the two of us?!”

“Is that a problem?” Qi Yu countered.

Well… technically, there wasn’t a reason it had to be a problem.

Zhong Yao swallowed her nerves and said,
“Fine, I guess. You go order the milk tea, I’ll go find a seat.”

But Qi Yu told her he’d already reserved a private room—just to avoid being recognized by fans. They could place their order inside.

As they walked down the hallway, Zhong Yao’s mind was spinning:
How should she find an excuse to leave quickly?

Doing punishment reflections alone with Qi Yu in a private room… felt way too awkward.

But to her surprise—

The moment the private room door opened, Tang Yiming’s confused voice rang out:
“Yu-ge, you took forever just to answer a phone call?”

Then Song Shi rushed up to her, shouting,
“Yaoyao! You’re finally here! I was stuck with just the two of them—I’m going crazy!”

…?

Zhong Yao was stunned.

Qi Yu… tricked her again!

She glared at him, cheeks puffed in indignation. Unable to hold back, she even stomped on his foot.

Tang Yiming & Song Shi: …What’s going on here?

While the two boys exchanged bewildered looks, Zhong Yao had already taken Song Shi’s hand and dragged her to the sofa.
“Forget them—let’s just start our homework.”

But in no time, Zhong Yao noticed that Song Shi was also writing a reflection.

Turns out, she had been punished too—for sneaking out of the Jiade Academy by climbing over the wall.

The tiny bit of frustration Zhong Yao had felt earlier vanished. She suddenly asked,
“Song Shi, is it really okay for you to be out today?”

A part of her wondered if Qi Yu had asked Song Shi to come on purpose, just so she wouldn’t have to be alone with two boys. Even though he always had a sharp tongue and liked teasing others, Qi Yu could be pretty reliable when it counted.

“No worries,” Song Shi said cheerfully.
“Thanks to our dear celebrities, that parent-child variety show we were on got super popular. I’m basically a D-list celebrity now. Getting time off is a piece of cake!”

“But,” Song Shi suddenly changed the subject, frowning, “how do you even write a reflection letter? I’ve never written one before.”

Zhong Yao had assumed Song Shi was a good kid. Guilt was just starting to rise in her chest—until Tang Yiming laughed and said,
“Well, of course not! Our dear Miss Song usually sends people to the hospital and gets the parents called in. Who has time for something as troublesome as writing a reflection?”

“Tang Yiming! Are you looking to die?!”
Song Shi kicked him, and the two of them started bickering again like sworn enemies.

Zhong Yao couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy. She thought their dynamic was actually pretty fun. Although she and Shiwu had grown up together too, she had always been too quiet—maybe she’d made things less fun for Shiwu.

If Shiwu hadn’t been friends with her, would she have ended up with a childhood friend like Tang Yiming instead?

“What are you daydreaming about?”

Qi Yu, who had been quietly watching them from the side, suddenly sat down next to her and asked,
“What about you? Do you know how to write one?”

Zhong Yao had never written a reflection before either, but she lifted her phone and said,
“If I read a few sample essays, I’ll figure it out.”

…?

The two who had been fighting suddenly froze. Tang Yiming gaped in shock.
“Wait, are you telling me model students write reflections based on templates?!”

Song Shi also stared at her as if she’d just discovered a new species.

Only Qi Yu chuckled, unable to suppress a smile, then kicked Tang Yiming’s chair.
“Don’t act like it’s such a big deal. Get writing already.”

The room finally quieted down, leaving only the soft sound of pens scratching against notebooks.

Eight hundred words for a reflection—long but not too long. Zhong Yao struggled through it, but once she finished, a new problem arose.

The parental signature.

“Song Shi, does your school require a parent’s signature?” Zhong Yao suddenly asked.

“Nope,” Song Shi replied. “At Jiade, we’re all about independence and accountability. If you mess up, you take responsibility yourself—parents usually aren’t bothered.”

“That just proves how ‘extraordinary’ you are at Jiade,” Tang Yiming teased, then turned to Zhong Yao. “You weren’t even told to bring your parents in. Don’t tell me you’re really going to be that dumb and hand it over to them for a signature?”

As he said that, Zhong Yao watched him pick up his pen and boldly sign “Tang Hongshen” in large, sweeping strokes—completely different from the childish writing above it.

“…Wait,” she said in disbelief. “You forged your dad’s handwriting?”

“Heh heh heh.” Tang Yiming beamed proudly.
“When Yu-ge had someone design a signature for him, I had the guy make one for my dad’s name too. Ever since seventh grade, every teacher has believed this is my dad’s real signature!”

…

Zhong Yao felt like her entire worldview had shifted again. She turned to look at Qi Yu and saw him calmly sign “Qi Cheng” at the bottom of his page.

Then he said coolly,
“My dad’s been famous for so long he’s almost retired. Nine out of ten of his fans can recognize his signature.”

“Actually, Uncle Jin’s signature is pretty well known too,” Tang Yiming added encouragingly.
“Try searching ‘Jin Chuan signature’ on Weibo. You’ll find examples from every stage of his career. You’re so good at drawing—you could copy one easy!”

That evening, while having dinner with Jin Chuan, Zhong Yao hesitated multiple times.

It wasn’t that she was afraid he’d think writing a reflection was embarrassing. Deep down, she simply wasn’t sure if he’d be willing to sign his name in her notebook—because that would risk exposing her as his illegitimate daughter.

All her transfer paperwork had been handled by his manager, She Rui. He probably wouldn’t be willing, right?

“Do I have something on my face?” Jin Chuan finally asked, visibly uneasy from her constant stares.

Zhong Yao quickly lowered her head.
“No… I thought I saw something weird.”

?

Jin Chuan felt something was definitely off—she was distracted, barely touching her food.

But what could a 14-year-old girl possibly be worried about? Why would she stop herself from speaking?

He tried probing gently:
“Are you out of allowance money?”

Zhong Yao instantly deflated. In the end, she just didn’t have the courage to ask. If he said no, things might become awkward between them forever.

“I have money. It’s just that Song Shi said we kind of look alike, so I was staring.”

She made up a lie, stuffed a few more bites of food in her mouth, and quickly escaped upstairs.

Jin Chuan saw through her lie immediately, but he didn’t call her out. He just sighed softly.

The kid’s distracted mood left him feeling unsettled as well. Even in the media room, he couldn’t focus while reviewing footage.

Around 10 p.m., there was a knock on Zhong Yao’s door.

It was the first time Jin Chuan had ever knocked on her door at night. She opened it just a crack in her pajamas and asked,
“What is it?”

Standing one step away, the man handed her a photo.
“You should take better care of this from now on.”

Zhong Yao was stunned.

It was the photo of her and her mom that she’d lost during Mid-Autumn Festival. She had searched the entire villa three times and assumed it had been blown away by the wind. Who would’ve thought Jin Chuan had picked it up—and only now returned it?

“Thank you.” Zhong Yao took the photo, but didn’t ask anything more.

Jin Chuan didn’t leave immediately. He added,
“Little Radish Head, there’s a famous quote… something like, ‘Communication is the ladder of human progress,’ right?”

Only then did Zhong Yao realize—he was trying to reach out, trying to show concern. For a moment, she almost turned around to get her reflection paper.

“It’s ‘Books are the ladder of human progress,’” she corrected, then shut the door with a bang.

She thought, maybe staying on these peaceful, distant terms with Jin Chuan was enough. She didn’t want to risk ruining that fragile harmony.

While Jin Chuan lay in the media room, sighing over the girl’s stubborn pride, Zhong Yao was already scribbling at the end of her reflection paper, forging a signature.

——

The next day, during recess,

Li Yandong, who was supposed to be the first to go onstage to read his reflection, had called in sick. He Lingli told Zhong Yao that it was because he’d been scolded so badly in private that he didn’t dare show up to school for now.

Zhong Yao didn’t say much about it. She just nodded and nervously rushed backstage to wait for her turn.

Writing a reflection was one thing—but standing in front of thousands of students to read it aloud was a whole different kind of terrifying. She was afraid she’d get so nervous, she’d stumble over her words.

On the podium, Shen Qingqing read her reflection aloud with dramatic intonation, full of emotion—as if she were giving a public speech rather than admitting fault.

Zhong Yao couldn’t understand it. How could someone stand in front of the entire school and own up to a mistake with such ease and composure? Didn’t she feel ashamed at all?

She herself was just standing there, and her palms were already slick with cold sweat…

“Zhong Yao,” Qi Yu suddenly called her name.

She kept her eyes locked on her reflection letter, silently wishing she could memorize it word for word. Distracted, she only responded with a vague “Mm?”

Qi Yu asked, “Do you know why Tang Yiming and I barged into the office yesterday?”

Zhong Yao paused and finally looked up at him. “Wasn’t it just to stand by me?”

She had assumed it was simply friends sticking together in tough times.

But the boy curved his lips into a smile. “You’re the type of good student who always listens to your mom. Without someone like me leading the way, would you even know how to get through a public apology on the podium?”

Huh?

Zhong Yao froze.

Just then, Shen Qingqing stepped down from the stage.

“Watch closely and take notes,” Qi Yu said, patting her shoulder like a teacher, before walking up onto the stage.

Instantly, the crowd erupted in thunderous applause, even a few cheers—like the boy was there to receive an award, not deliver a reflection.

Qi Yu cleared his throat and said lightly, “Don’t do that,” before beginning to read.

He wasn’t as theatrical as Shen Qingqing, but neither was he as arrogant as Zhong Yao had imagined. In fact, his attitude was surprisingly decent. His voice was deep and smooth, and whenever he reached a more thoughtful part of the letter, he’d lift his head and almost seem to be engaging with the students below.

He ended smoothly, and once again the audience responded with a wave of applause. Zhong Yao stood below, stunned.

Since when did a disciplinary assembly feel like an honors student sharing tips on academic excellence?

She passed Qi Yu on her way up, still confused, and only realized the full situation when she saw the school administrators nearby—faces pale with fury.

For some reason, she suddenly remembered the time she didn’t wear her uniform and the head of discipline had threatened to let all of Qi Yu’s fans into the school to photograph him.

At that moment, she understood: this was exactly what made celebrities both lovable and infuriating.

The thought made her want to laugh, and with that, all her nervousness disappeared.

Zhong Yao had grown up in the south, and her voice—like a gentle drizzle over Jiangnan—was soft and slow. She confessed her mistakes with sincerity and calm, sounding more earnest and proper than either of the two students before her.

The nearby teachers all nodded approvingly.

The head of discipline felt that the current atmosphere was ideal—nothing like the chaos caused by Shen Qingqing and Qi Yu. At last, a proper reflection!

He grew more and more satisfied until—

Just before the troublemaker Tang Yiming could begin his own speech, he abruptly announced, “Let’s not waste more of our exercise time. The rest of the students can read their reflections in class.”

What?!

Tang Yiming was dumbfounded. First, he was left out of the gossip. Now, he wasn’t even important enough to deliver his reflection in public?

The crowd burst into laughter.

“Quiet, quiet!” the head of discipline called out. Then he added, “Zhong Yao’s reflection was especially sincere and profound. Her homeroom teacher should hold onto it. We’ll post it on the school bulletin board for a week before returning it.”

As the music for the radio calisthenics began, Qi Yu and Tang Yiming both froze in shock.

Crap! If Zhong Yao’s reflection gets posted, won’t it reveal her connection to Jin Chuan?