Xia Fu softly whispered his name, her hand hidden beneath the desk, carefully brushing the fabric of his casual pants with the back of her nails. At the same time, her other hand gripped the spine of her notebook tightly, inching it closer to his view.

On the clean sheet of paper, she had clearly written the correct answer, with the page and paragraph number marked helpfully beside it.

[Normal Distribution, P112-3]

To ensure Fang Jingcheng could see her handwriting right away, Xia Fu had enlarged her elegant script, scrawling in a rushed style that looked like a child’s stick-figure drawing.

So this is what a top student is like?

Turns out she was pretty quick at passing notes too.

Fang Jingcheng, surprised, found himself amused. He was used to chasing those cool, untouchable beauties, and typically, top students never bothered to hand him answers. The first step of his interactions was always getting teased after a teacher’s criticism, followed by the girl advising him on his studies after class, as he made an effort to meet her expectations.

It was an old routine, but it worked.

After all, who doesn’t like the plot of a bad boy with tattoos who changes his ways?

Unfortunately, he only stayed proactive when he was pursuing someone, like Gatsby chasing that faint green light across the bay, savoring the long fifteen-hundred-meter chase, showing a patience and resilience that others could never imagine.

Without the need to pretend, Fang Jingcheng was naturally relaxed.

…So this was her response to my earlier doodle?

How agreeable of her; it certainly made things easier.

Thinking this, he picked up his textbook and casually read aloud the correct answer:

“I think it’s supposed to be the normal distribution, and here’s the standard explanation….”

Their first collaboration took place in secret, under the desk, and their cooperation was flawless. Professor Zhang looked up and assumed that the wealthy second-generation student was actually smart.

Just then, Professor Zhang’s phone buzzed with a message, informing him of some urgent business to attend to, and he had little interest in grilling Fang Jingcheng further.

With a dignified nod at Fang Jingcheng, he announced in a deep voice that the lesson was on pause:

“Good answer. This section ends here. Let’s take a fifteen-minute break before continuing.”

The moment Professor Zhang left, it was as if he’d dropped a stone into still water; as soon as he stepped out, the deathly silent classroom came back to life.

Fang Jingcheng opened his backpack and pulled out some snacks he had prepared earlier, smiling at Xia Fu.

“Want some cookies? I woke up late this morning and grabbed a few snacks in a rush. If you’re sleep-deprived, a bit of sugar could help.”

Two consecutive nights of poor sleep had made the dark circles under her eyes even darker.

Helping someone cheat for the first time, and right under the teacher’s nose—this was way more thrilling than doing someone else’s homework. Her heart was still pounding.

She clutched her chest, staring blankly at the gift box in front of her.

Another unfamiliar item.

The smooth, white box was printed with elegant gold patterns, with a ribbon inscribed with English letters tied at the corner, making it pretty enough to serve as a jewelry box.

In Xia Fu’s limited understanding, expensive things were always good. The weekend leftovers were long gone, but just looking at the packaging, she could taste that flavor of wealth she’d savored at the banquet hall all over again.

Xia Fu wasn’t one to refuse food, but since Fang Jingcheng might not have eaten much either, she cautiously asked:

“Are you sure? Isn’t this your breakfast?”

“Of course. Consider it a thank-you gift for helping me. Without your answer, I’d have gotten a lecture during break and wouldn’t be able to eat anyway.”

“No flavor you prefer?”

Fang Jingcheng tugged lightly at the corner of the bow, letting the ribbon slip from his fingers as the box opened, revealing a selection of chocolate-covered palmier cookies, flower-shaped butter cookies, and hazelnut-studded shortbread.

Xia Fu remembered watching a fantasy movie with her roommate before; in it, the evil White Witch had enticed a young warrior with nothing but a box of glittering candies.

Ji Xiaowei had said that was just an exaggeration for artistic effect, but eating delicious food really could make someone blissfully happy.

As the milky flavor melted in her mouth, Xia Fu felt her heart melt right along with it.

Fang Jingcheng watched the girl, lost in thought.

Look at her; she was so happy her eyes were practically squinting.

Nibbling on a cookie in one hand and cupping the crumbs in the other, she looked just like a hamster.

But her pen skills weren’t nearly as nimble as a little critter’s. She’d been in such a hurry earlier that her pen’s ink had left a long smudge across the side of her finger.

He squinted at the ink stain and pushed the entire box of cookies her way.

“If you like them, you can have them all.”

“This is enough,” Xia Fu said, licking the remaining crumbs off her lips. She carefully smoothed out the wrinkles in the cookie wrapper, dusted off the crumbs, and seemed to be planning to tuck it into her book as a bookmark.

Although the printed design on the paper was pretty and delicate, she remembered something even cuter.

Then, glancing up quickly at Fang Jingcheng, she nervously asked:

“Can I keep that piece of loose-leaf paper? Your drawing is so cute—I want to keep it as a bookmark.”

The unexpected request left Fang Jingcheng momentarily stunned.

“Sure,” he replied, tearing off the page without hesitation and handing it to Xia Fu.

On the pale-yellow sheet, one side featured an adorable little cat doodle, and on the other was Xia Fu’s answer.

Silently, Xia Fu traced the page with her fingers, feeling the faint grooves left by the pen. Good, she thought, the evidence was back in her hands.

She placed the doodle on her lap, admiring it, and the satisfaction from the sweets temporarily helped her forget the unpleasantness Bao Zhiwei had brought. But he wasn’t about to leave her alone.

“Xia Fu, have you thought about the group for the modeling competition yet?”

A shadow loomed over her, and when Xia Fu looked up, she saw the man standing in front of her, she wasn’t sure when he’d gotten there.

She instinctively held her breath.

Ever since that “photo incident,” on top of finding Bao Zhiwei annoying and a pain, she now felt an indescribable fear toward him—as if she were walking along in her nightgown, and his shadow emerged from the dark, hands creeping from behind to grasp her ankles, and covering her mouth.

How terrifying.

Xia Fu froze, desperate to scream and run.

No way she’d team up with Bao Zhiwei.

If he found out during training that she’d reported him, wouldn’t she be in serious danger?

It was all because she’d always walked with Bao Zhiwei before; her counselor and dorm supervisor’s misunderstandings about her had only deepened.

If they were to argue on the street, would people just see it as a “lover’s quarrel” and decide not to step in, leaving her stranded?

This thought left Xia Fu feeling not only fearful but also a bit disheartened.

“Sorry, but I’d rather not team up,” she said.

“You saw how it went last time, right? I’m really not good at presenting; you had to help me fix the model all along. I feel terrible about it.”

“I’d rather not team up,” she repeated.

Bao Zhiwei paid no mind to her refusal, and Xia Fu could only hope that by constantly putting herself down, he’d eventually give up.

“How come? You were so eager to answer in class today,” he replied. “I think you’re improving.”

The man continued rambling on, and Xia Fu didn’t dare to look him in the eye.

His shadow grew heavier, like a dark cloth draping over her, paralyzing her.

She dropped her gaze, resorting to silence as her final resistance. In her sight was her lap—and that unfinished doodle.

Staring at the little cat’s cheerful face, Xia Fu made up her mind.

“I’ve already got a team.”

She spoke each word slowly.