Qi An’an saw Jiang Lu looking over with a blank expression. His dark eyes gave nothing away— no joy, no anger. She raised her smiling face and waved the pen in her hand. “There were too many books, they just fell off by themselves. I didn’t do it on purpose, hahaha……”

It was her.

A flash of surprise passed through Jiang Lu’s eyes, but it was so quick it was hard to catch. Qi An’an didn’t notice it. In her eyes, Jiang Lu merely glanced at her with that same blank face, then calmly turned his head away as if nothing had happened.

As expected of a genius, he would never waste a single expression unless absolutely necessary.

Even though he looked like the kind of person who wouldn’t talk to her, Qi An’an didn’t mind at all. Just being deskmates with her favorite boy made her immensely happy.

She carelessly tossed her pen into the pencil case, slapped the lid on, and cheerfully began tidying up her books.

Jiang Lu’s gaze lingered on the pencil case for a couple of seconds before shifting back. He resumed working on his exercises with his usual indifferent expression. But after a short while, his pen paused in place.

Today felt entirely different.

His new deskmate had such a strong presence that he found it hard to ignore. She seemed to be in a great mood, radiating joy like a cheerful puppy wagging its head. Even while sitting in her chair, she couldn’t sit still, swinging her legs back and forth in an incredibly distracting way.

In the past, his surroundings were always dead silent. People who sat next to him would never make any noise. They’d even quietly shift their desks and chairs a bit further away, as if keeping their distance would let them breathe fresher air.

But that wasn’t a bad thing. He had grown used to that quiet and felt at ease in it. Unlike now. Something had been disrupted, and it left him unmoored.

He disliked it, yes, but somehow it wasn’t quite the same kind of dislike he was used to.

Jiang Lu lowered his eyes, forcing his attention back to the textbook. He subtly turned his body away to block out the liveliness beside him.

Yet, just as things quieted down for barely a minute, a small hand reached into the corner of his vision. A fair, slender index finger poked gently at his sleeve.

Jiang Lu put down his pen. “What are you doing?”

A moment ago, Qi An’an had been basking in the joy of sitting next to her cub, and it wasn’t until now that she suddenly remembered the important matter she had forgotten. She pulled out a box of band-aids from the side pocket of her backpack and handed it to Jiang Lu. “Jiang Lu, your hand is injured.”

That morning, even though Jiang Lu hadn’t come off worse in a group fight, he wasn’t made of iron. After knocking down those thugs, scrapes and bruises were inevitable. His hands were especially striking— well-proportioned with elegant lines— so the wounds stood out even more.

But eye-catching as they were, he clearly didn’t care. He left them exposed without any treatment whatsoever. The novel mentioned that Jiang Lu had scar-prone skin. In the end, his hands, his face, and even his heart were covered in marks that could never be erased.

Qi An’an pushed the band-aid box toward him again. There was nothing to be done, mothers always had a lot to worry about.

But taking care of her precious boy was a mother’s duty. How could she just watch Jiang Lu get scarred like that? When her precious girl arrived later on, Qi An’an wouldn’t even be able to explain it!

The corner of the little box grazed the back of his hand, sending a tingling itch through his skin. Jiang Lu’s fingers instinctively curled. That small box of band-aids seemed to carry some kind of magic. His gaze fixated on it for a solid three seconds before he finally frowned and looked at Qi An’an.

Jiang Lu wasn’t that old, but he had long experienced the warmth and cruelty of the world. His sharp eyes saw through most people. Yet even he couldn’t find any hidden agenda or flirtation in Qi An’an.

Her eyes were clear. She really just wanted him to treat his wounds. That was all.

Jiang Lu paused for a moment, then looked away. When he spoke, his voice carried a deliberately cold and distant tone, “No need. Thanks.”

“But your hand is still bleeding! And you’re not even taking care of the wound. You can’t just leave it like that!” Qi An’an kept her voice low, since others were still doing self-study, but her worry was clear.

Jiang Lu said, “It’s none of your business.”

He picked up his pen again. His movement tugged at the wound on his knuckle, and blood began to seep out once more. Just looking at it made Qi An’an feel pain. Seeing his nonchalant attitude, she couldn’t help herself and reached out to grab his pen.

“Look at you! Keep your hand flat. Stop writing for now.”

Jiang Lu hadn’t expected Qi An’an to snatch his pen, but she really did manage to pull it from his hand. Since the cap wasn’t on, the tip dragged across his palm, leaving a glaring black line.

Jiang Lu: “……”

Qi An’an felt a headache coming on. Ever since she transmigrated into this neurotic girl’s body, it was like bad luck kept piling up. Everything she did turned out to be a mess.

“……Sorry, I didn’t mean to. You should go wash your hands after class…… but be careful when you do, don’t let water touch the wound.” With a pitiful expression, Qi An’an fumbled around his desk for the pen cap, snapped it on, and handed the pen back to him. “Here. I’m returning it.”

Her voice, sweet by nature, sounded even softer and more delicate when she kept it low. And the words she spoke— things no one had ever said to him before— carried a natural gentleness.

Jiang Lu accepted the pen without saying a word, a rare sense of confusion stirring in his chest.

Just now, she had reached across his desk, fixed the pen, and handed it back— all without a trace of disgust or hesitation on her face. It felt strangely natural.

Why didn’t she find his things dirty?

……

Qi An’an had no way of knowing what was going through Jiang Lu’s mind. He didn’t glance in her direction again, let alone speak to her.

It seemed unlikely that he’d accept the band-aids outright. She would have to be sneaky about it. Qi An’an drew a big smiley face on the band-aid box. My precious boy, you have to grow up happy. Mommy’s sugar supply depends on you!

Then, as she turned to grab a book, she quickly and deftly slipped the box into the side pocket of Jiang Lu’s backpack.

Qi An’an sneaked a glance at Jiang Lu. She kept fidgeting in her seat, certain he couldn’t be bothered to pay her any attention and likely wouldn’t notice her small movements. Still…… he really lived up to the novel’s repeated description of him as having immortal-like looks. From his jet-black hair to the smooth line of his jaw, his side profile was just ridiculously perfect.

Everything about him was great— except that he ran too fast. The moment the bell rang, Jiang Lu slung his bag over his shoulder and walked out, not even giving her the chance to say the words, ‘Let’s walk home together.’

Oh well. There was always tomorrow. A qualified mother wouldn’t bicker with her cub.

────ρя


The residential compound Jiang Lu lived in was very old— so old that even the sign at the entrance had its paint peeling off. He turned from the main road and entered the gate. Just as he reached the building he lived in, he suddenly stopped in his tracks.

At the secluded corner up ahead stood a boy and a girl, both still young and dressed in school uniforms. Their hands were secretly linked. Though the place was quiet with barely anyone passing by, they still looked around nervously.

Then the boy leaned down and planted a quick kiss on the girl’s lips. It was brief and barely a touch before they broke apart, both of them shyly turning their heads away— hearts racing, youthful, and innocent.

Jiang Lu stood at a distance and saw it all without warning. His face turned a little pale. He seemed like he wanted to pretend nothing had happened and continue on his way, but after just a few steps, he bent over clutching his stomach, dry heaving violently.

He leaned against the tree trunk, veins bulging from his forehead with the effort. He had known from early on that something about him wasn’t right. His aversion to romantic or sexual affection— whether between men and women or otherwise— bordered on pathological.

When he was little, he had witnessed his mother in bed with different men more than once— sometimes on the couch in the living room, sometimes in her bedroom. At those times, all he could do was lock himself in his room and vomit until his head spun.

People thought he was filthy. He didn’t even deny it. These eyes of his had seen too much filth. He truly was dirty, inside and out.

Once he regained some strength, Jiang Lu rinsed his mouth and walked forward slowly. Just as he neared the entrance to his building, he suddenly caught sight of a car parked by the side of the road.

It was a Mercedes-Benz, its glossy surface gleaming, exuding a kind of curated luxury. It was the sort of car no one in this neighborhood could afford to drive. And based on where it was parked, it was clear its owner was nearby.

That queasy feeling he’d just managed to suppress came surging back all over again.

Without a word, Jiang Lu turned and walked away, forcing himself to breathe in the fresh air.

He kept walking until he exited the compound and reached the main road. The street bustled with life. Groups of people were chatting and laughing, and there were parents holding their children’s hands as they listened to the day’s stories.

Everything was peaceful and full of life. And it only made him feel even more out of place in the world.

A buzzing filled his ears, and cruel words long buried deep resurfaced at the worst moment.

“He’s dirty. We should’ve thrown him into the garbage dump. Dirty things belong with trash.”

“School? What for? I didn’t give birth to you just to pay your tuition.”

“That’s your son? Tsk tsk tsk……”

“You really know how to give birth. Such a pretty kid. It’s strict right now, but in a couple of years, when he’s older, bring him to me.”

……

Yes, he didn’t belong. He was a freak, a bastard born of a wh*re, trash with tainted blood that could never be washed clean.

Jiang Lu shut his eyes and couldn’t hold it back anymore. He bent over and retched several times. Bracing himself with both knees, he gasped for air, when suddenly something fell from the side pocket of his backpack.

The packaging was familiar. It was a small box of band-aids. But this one was different. A silly little smiley face had been drawn on the box.

He had no idea when Qi An’an had slipped it in.

Jiang Lu stared at it in a daze for a while, then slowly reached down and picked it up. He stood silent for a long time. Lifting his hand, he was about to toss it into a trash can nearby. But halfway through the motion, he paused, and his hand gradually lowered.

In the end, he placed the band-aids back where they belonged.

Jiang Lu wandered aimlessly in a random direction. As he got close to the school again, he saw a familiar figure walking toward him.

Qi An’an held a paper bag of fried chicken tenders in her left hand, stabbing one with a bamboo stick and lifting it to her mouth. A set of jianbing guozi^[1]street food, specifically a savory crepe hung from her right wrist.

For some reason, Jiang Lu stopped walking.

Qi An’an hadn’t noticed him at all. Her cheeks puffed slightly as she chewed, utterly focused on her food. It wasn’t until she swallowed that bite and went to poke another piece of the chicken that she finally saw him standing a short distance away.

Qi An’an froze mid-bite, her eyes going wide and round.

She looked kind of dumb.

Jiang Lu looked away, but the nausea that had stubbornly lingered in him this whole time suddenly seemed to ease, just a little.