Probability theory had always been a hot course in the college, with its fundamental principles not only applied in finance for risk management, option pricing, and portfolio optimization but also woven into daily life—weather forecasting, insurance, quality control, and, more recently, the games that Xia Fu’s roommates had been obsessing over. She wondered if the summer-limited prize pool really had the SP character her friend was so desperate to get.

To meet students’ enthusiasm, the Academic Affairs Office had brought in Professor Zhang, a specially recruited “young scholar.” Rumor had it he’d done his undergrad at F University and, due to outstanding grades, had been recommended for a master’s and Ph.D. abroad. He studied under a field expert, published numerous papers in top journals, and, even before finishing his postdoc, had been promoted as an associate professor at his alma mater.

Perhaps because of his overseas experience, Professor Zhang valued communication and practical skills. He was the one who once sighed over Xia Fu’s tendency to hide behind her teammates during presentations.

This year’s mathematical modeling competition, organized through his connections with international schools, wasn’t about the usual topics like pipeline pressure control or customer profiling at department stores. Instead, major companies from S City were invited to share real datasets, allowing students to start from actual scenarios and build predictive models.

In the finals, contestants wouldn’t just be facing their mentors; there’d be company executives present, ready to ask questions on any interesting points. Besides theory, competitors’ language and presentation skills would be tested live.

With a golden internship opportunity ahead, Xia Fu had prepared thoroughly before class, laying out her stationery. She preferred paper notes over newfangled digital cloud notebooks and still held onto her high school habit of compiling mistake collections with appendices. So, on her desk, aside from her slightly worn textbooks, were her densely filled notebooks.

“Focus, you nerd! Even if nothing else goes well, aren’t you pretty good at studying?” She cheered herself on, staring at her materials like a soldier reviewing their weapons before heading into battle.

In contrast, Fang Jingcheng’s desk was strikingly neat. Laid before him were only a textbook with his name on it, a blank loose-leaf notebook, and a pen that spun effortlessly in his fingers—a smooth-flowing rollerball pen perfect for sketching little cartoons.

After all, he wasn’t exactly here to study. His family had paid high salaries to a team for building quantitative financial models, and weekly reports were something he’d been dragged into a few times by his father, so he had a decent grasp of the basics but no real passion for it. For now, just opening the book to today’s page and spinning his pen was enough.

Xia Fu, however, was listening intently. She sat upright, taking notes, occasionally glancing at the professor with anticipation, resembling a little animal eagerly awaiting food from an automatic feeder, ready to spring into action once fed.

Leaning on one hand, Fang Jingcheng observed her with a sidelong glance. His other hand doodled away, and before he knew it, a frizzy-haired hamster was standing upright on his paper.

“Alright, it’d be dull if it were just me talking,” Teacher Li said, putting down the chalk with a smile. “Anyone interested in solving this problem? Extra participation points available!”

Xia Fu’s hand shot up immediately. 【Look at me, look at me, look at me】 her enthusiasm seemed to practically burst out of her.

Very good, full of spirit. Fang Jingcheng added a spiral line beneath his hamster to indicate standing up.

Xia Fu got two chances to answer, and although she stammered through both, her answers were spot-on. But when she raised her hand for the third question, Teacher Li laughed and stopped her, “Ah, it’s good to be proactive, but we need to let others have a turn too.”

“Alright, the guy with the glasses in the back, how about you?”

His joking tone drew chuckles from the other students. The quiet laughter sounded like the brush of a mouse’s tail across her ear, making Xia Fu cringe, her face flushing.

Wasn’t it him who’d said she should sit at the front and be more active? How did being low-key turn into being overlooked, while raising her hand made her seem like she was showing off? Was there a cooldown period for answering questions or something?

People were more complicated than she had ever imagined. Xia Fu bit her lip, lowering her raised hand under the desk.

The worst part was hearing the name of the boy Professor Zhang had just called on—Bao Zhiwei. The realization made her want to hide her head in her hands and escape from the awkwardness.

“Xia Fu.”

Lost in her thoughts, she was startled by a voice. She turned her head, puzzled, to see Fang Jingcheng sliding his loose-leaf notebook toward her.

In just an hour, Fang Jingcheng had managed to create his own “Secret Garden Coloring Book.” The once pristine pages were now adorned with whimsical sketches—everything from a bookworm hamster to a howling Chihuahua, even the log-normal distribution formula transformed into an elegant, ribbon-like script that wrapped around the page.

On the side facing her, a cute cat held up a sign. Unlike the traditional lucky cat, this one was sweet-looking and fluffy, with a tiny rose on its collar.

The wooden sign it held bore a simple message: 【You’re amazing】

Wow, he was pretty incredible himself—was he really not an art major? Staring at the kitten, which looked adorable enough to grace a cookie tin, Xia Fu’s embarrassment eased a bit.

Noticing this, Fang Jingcheng added more words to the page:

【Don’t worry about the teacher; these easy questions are meant for those who risk failing the finals. You could try answering the tougher ones. You look well-prepared, so it should be no problem for you.】

Despite his serpentine hand tattoo and oversized silver rings, Fang Jingcheng’s notes were neatly penned in cursive. His looks alone were striking, but the way he wrote under his drawings, head down in quiet concentration, made him look like a poet drafting a verse.

Xia Fu had never exchanged notes with anyone; her usual fate was just to be in the way when stray notes flew across the room and hit her on the head.

Feeling oddly flattered, she checked that the teacher was still busy talking with Bao Zhiwei before picking up the loose-leaf paper and leaving a neatly written reply:

【Thanks, :)】

She added a simple smiley face.

Being cared for in her moment of embarrassment made Xia Fu feel much better. But should she keep raising her hand? Would Professor Zhang give her a hard time again?

This was new territory for Xia Fu. Her family had never intended to invest much in her education, and her middle and high schools were in a small town nearby. Back there, Xia Fu was a rare gem, so to boost their university admission rates, the school had waived her tuition and meal fees, as long as she maintained a top-ten ranking. This allowed her to avoid the alternative path of working after vocational school.

During those days, she had adored a teacher named Li, her science class’s homeroom teacher. Due to her strictness, Teacher Li had earned the nickname “Miss Merciless,” though Xia Fu knew the truth. Teacher Li would call her to the office to give her a sweet carton of milk whenever her grades improved. One summer, she even took Xia Fu on a brief trip to S City. They spent a day touring universities and walking through free cultural districts before heading home that evening.

S City at night was beautiful. From a fast-food spot on the fifth floor of a mall, they could look out and see neon lights, the steady stream of stylish people coming and going like jewels in a glistening, expansive jewelry box.

“Take a good look, Xia Fu. If you study hard, you’ll be able to live in a place like this and always have enough to eat.”

With the juice from her double-patty burger bursting in her mouth and the taste of golden cheese rich with milk, Xia Fu glimpsed the future she wanted.

She loved studying, loved learning, and it might just be the one thing that could give her everything. That night, a seed took root in her heart.

Teacher Li had helped her a lot, and without her and the principal’s insistence after the college entrance exam, she might have ended up at the teacher’s college closest to her home, eventually getting married, tutoring her younger brother’s children for free.

For her care, Xia Fu had never considered anything beyond studying. Though her parents grumbled about how her teachers only saw her as a way to get Education Bureau rewards, Xia Fu still appreciated Teacher Li and had even used her part-time wages to buy her a silk scarf.

But college was different from high school; not everyone would take care of her just because she got good grades. Now that everyone started from the same point, every opportunity had to be earned by her own efforts.

After listening quietly for a while, Xia Fu admitted that even though Professor Zhang’s attitude grated, his teaching level was undeniable. Deep down, she still enjoyed learning; this was her strength.

Answering questions wasn’t embarrassing; if she could do it, she should raise her hand.

There was only one top spot in her major, and Bao Zhiwei had outscored her midterm by a few points. Xia Fu was determined to get extra participation points to pull ahead by the final.

After a twenty-minute break, Xia Fu raised her hand again, “Professor, I know this question.”

As the lesson progressed, Professor Zhang’s questions became increasingly challenging. This time, there was no competitor behind Xia Fu. Hours of studying had worn down most of the class’s focus, and a few people were even sneaking in some phone time. The room was silent.

Professor Zhang glanced at her for a moment, but he didn’t mention “letting others have a turn” this time.

“Alright, let’s hear your thought process.”

Xia Fu’s clear voice echoed in the lecture hall as she correctly answered and took her seat.

On her desk, yet another cute cat awaited her. This one stood triumphantly on top of a little cartoon person, waving its paws with a smug look. Beside it, a speech bubble read:

【Isn’t that great? Now he has nothing to say.】

Could that bespectacled figure be Professor Zhang?

Hilarious.

The comical sketch had Xia Fu’s mouth curling into an involuntary smile.

No, making fun of the professor was not what a good student should do—what if Professor Zhang saw her from the podium?

Realizing this, Xia Fu quickly covered her mouth, glancing guiltily toward the front.

Despite her swift reaction, Fang Jingcheng caught the trace of a smile. She had a dimple, faint as a little bird’s mark on snowy ground.

Inwardly, Fang Jingcheng whistled to himself. He figured he’d left a slight impression on her now.

Seeing that Xia Fu wouldn’t be admiring his drawings anytime soon, Fang Jingcheng kindly put away his teasing for the moment. Watching her profile, he stopped sketching and instead began to fiddle with his pen.

His fingers moved with serpentine grace as the pen twirled, like a lever between his knuckles, balancing before his pinky hooked it back into his palm. The black tattoo on his hand seemed to dance, his moves reminiscent of a snake charmer with a hissing cobra.

With his striking silver hair, almost celebrity-like looks, and a spot in the front row, Professor Zhang had noticed him the moment he entered the classroom. He was old enough to recognize these “little ancestors” sent to class to “polish up their resumes.”

But Xia Fu’s responses had caught Professor Zhang’s eye. So every so often, his gaze drifted to the first row, where Fang Jingcheng sat idly twirling his pen, much to Professor Zhang’s irritation.

That flashy fingerwork had him itching to send Fang Jingcheng off to a street magic show.

Unable to hold back any longer, Professor Zhang pointed at him, “To measure the maximum potential loss of an investment portfolio at a given confidence level, which formula is generally recommended? You, the young man in the front row—would you care to answer?”

Fang Jingcheng propped himself up on the desk, lazily straightening. Despite the ambush, his face remained calm and composed, without a hint of fluster.

“Hmm—Professor Zhang, could you give me a moment to think?” He let out a confused hum, studying the commonly used formulas written on the blackboard. His earnest expression almost looked like he was seriously contemplating.

But in fact, Fang Jingcheng was thinking of something entirely different: Ah, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, the tiger-catching rhyme… Which one was his lucky number today?

Knowing he wasn’t favored as a poor student, he had plenty of coping strategies. Moments like this called for a pretend pensive expression, a candid “I don’t know,” and a sincere apology to let the teacher exert his authority and move on.

“Fine, take your time. Don’t give up at the first sign of difficulty,” Professor Zhang replied, leaving him standing as a gentle reminder.

Just then, as Fang Jingcheng was about to roll the dice in his mind, he felt a slight tickle on the side of his leg.

“Fang Jingcheng.”

The young man looked down, his gaze catching the slim fingers of the girl beside him.