Chapter 9: Eye Contact  

Upon hearing this, Song Xingran’s eyes curved into crescents as she chattered away like a string of firecrackers: “Little Jasmine, Little Jasmine! I know him so well! We were originally classmates, but after one exam, he got transferred to the Elite Class.”  

As she spoke, she let out a soft sigh, her eyes filled with regret. “My Lord of Zero just flew away like that! No way—I have to work hard and break into the Elite Class so I can see him every day.”  

Before she even finished speaking, she suddenly looped her arm through Lin Yumo’s, her tone carrying a hint of coquetry. “But I can’t bear to leave you either! Little Jasmine, why don’t you push yourself too and come with me?”  

Then, deflating slightly, she muttered, “But getting into the Elite Class isn’t that easy. The odds are just too slim…”  

Listening to these words, Lin Yumo felt an indescribable emotion stirring in her heart.  

She lowered her gaze in thought, her lashes casting delicate shadows beneath her eyes. *Does Song Xingran like him?* The thought crossed her mind, and she unconsciously bit her lower lip. Finally, she looked up, her voice soft but earnest. “Xingran, do you like him?”  

“Of course!” Song Xingran answered without hesitation, crisp and straightforward.  

Lin Yumo’s fingers tightened slightly, her heart lifting in suspense.  

But then Song Xingran blinked and continued, “But right now, it’s the kind of liking a fan has for their idol! I like all beautiful things—just like how I like you.”  

She suddenly leaned in closer, lowering her voice with a mischievous grin. “Though I *am* genuinely curious about his abs. I heard they’re insane! Too bad he never takes his shirt off during basketball games. No chance to feast my eyes.”  

Lin Yumo froze for a moment, lowering her gaze to hide her surprise.  

She never would have guessed that this seemingly adorable girl in front of her could say something so bold so casually.  

Song Xingran rested her chin on her hand, her tone full of regret. “I wonder if we’ll run into him today.”  

Hearing this, Lin Yumo’s heart trembled violently. *See him again?*  

Her thoughts drifted uncontrollably, the image of that boy in her memories growing clearer.  

After a long pause, she sighed softly in her heart, a ripple of warmth spreading through her. *That’s good.*  

As she and Song Xingran continued chatting, the classroom gradually filled up. When the quartz clock at the back of the room struck 7:55, the clamor of voices ebbed away like a receding tide.  

The homeroom teacher, Mr. Zhang, adjusted his black-framed glasses, the cold glint of the lenses sweeping over the gaps between desks where students had been whispering.  

The sound of his knuckles rapping against the lectern wasn’t loud, but it instantly froze the air.  

“Quiet,” Mr. Zhang said softly, tapping the lectern again. The students below immediately fell silent.  

He picked up a form in his hand, glanced at it, and said, “Which one of you is Li Xuanxuan?”  

As soon as he finished speaking, a quiet girl with a low ponytail stood up, the collar of her military training uniform still creased from being unironed.  

Watching the slight tremble in her fingertips, Lin Yumo suddenly remembered her past self, curled up in the back of the classroom. “Teacher, it’s me.”  

Mr. Zhang adjusted his glasses, looking at Li Xuanxuan. “Good. For now, you’ll be this class’s acting monitor. After the semester starts, we’ll hold elections for class officers.”  

“Understood, teacher.” Li Xuanxuan sounded surprised, the tips of her ears flushing pink, but she agreed nonetheless.  

After appointing the monitor, Mr. Zhang continued, “Alright, everyone, start filling out the attendance forms that were just handed out.”

When the attendance sheet was being passed around the desks, Song Xingran suddenly leaned in to whisper in her ear: “Little Jasmine, your handwriting is so beautiful!”

The warm breath brushing against her earlobe made Lin Yumo realize her signature had somehow become fluid and graceful, completely unlike the crooked scrawl from her past life.

After the attendance sheet made its round and returned to Teacher Zhang’s hands, he examined it briefly before smiling. “Alright, students, it seems everyone is present.”

As he spoke, he picked up a piece of chalk and wrote his name and phone number on the blackboard. “My surname is Zhang. I’ll be your homeroom teacher for the next semester, and possibly for the next three years for some of you.”

“Now, let me explain the current class structure at our school. There are 18 classes for first-year high school students. Since the academic tracks haven’t been divided yet, there are two Elite Classes. After the arts and sciences division, there will be one Elite Class for each track.”

Pushing his glasses up, Teacher Zhang continued, “You’ll understand the specifics better after studying here for a while. Now, form two lines—girls in the front, boys in the back.”

No sooner had Teacher Zhang finished speaking than Song Xingran’s fingers hooked onto Lin Yumo’s sleeve. “Little Jasmine, wait for me. I want to stand with you.”

Pulled along, Lin Yumo smiled softly. “Alright.”

Two neat lines quickly formed in the classroom, as orderly as the black and white keys on a piano.

The tip of Teacher Zhang’s leather shoes tapped rhythmically against the floor. Adjusting his black-framed glasses, his gaze swept over each youthful face. “Wait here for a moment. I’ll go check on something.”

With that, he turned and pushed open the classroom door, disappearing into the hallway.

Lin Yumo lowered her eyes to her interlaced fingers. The sleeve of her military training uniform brushed against the jasmine tattoo on her wrist, sending a faint tingling sensation through her skin.

From the end of the corridor came the commands of Class Six forming ranks, mingled with the sound of synchronized footsteps. The noise was lively, filled with chatter and movement.

Song Xingran quietly sidled half a step closer, her warm breath tickling Lin Yumo’s ear. “Little Jasmine, what do you think Teacher Zhang is doing?”

Before she could finish, Teacher Zhang returned.

Surveying the neatly lined-up students, his voice turned serious as he pointed to the class placard in Li Xuanxuan’s hands. “Follow Class Six to the sports field and assemble in the designated area.”

Chalk dust drifted onto the edge of the podium. He paused, his eyes scanning the restless lines. “It’s fine if you don’t remember each other’s names yet. ‘Class Seven’ will be your shared memory for the next half-month.”

A unified “Understood!” echoed through the classroom.

As the synchronized footsteps of Class Six resounded in the hallway, Lin Yumo could hear the pounding of her own heart.

The moment Li Xuanxuan turned with the placard, sunlight shattered into golden flakes across the characters “First-Year Class Seven.”

Under the camphor trees at the edge of the sports field, Class One’s formation stood as sharp as a blade.

Lin Yumo’s gaze traversed the sea of bobbing heads, landing precisely on the figure holding the class placard.

Chi Miao’s profile was chiseled by sunlight, the shadow beneath his military cap brim accentuating the sharp line of his nose. His fingers tightened slightly around the flagpole, the prominent knuckles reminding Lin Yumo of the same elegant grip he’d used to take a water bottle during a basketball game in her past life.

Memory and reality overlapped in that moment. The boy carried a hint of youthful innocence, his handsome features tinged with an icy aloofness, like the unreachable moon atop snow-capped mountains.  

You’ve forgotten what you looked like at fifteen, but I’ve remembered for you.  

Song Xingran gently nudged Lin Yumo’s wrist, whispering excitedly, “It’s the Lord of Zero! Little Jasmine, look—that hottest guy is Chi Miao!”  

Chi Miao stood bathed in the midsummer sunlight, his military training uniform outlining the slender frame unique to youth.  

For a fleeting second, as if sensing something, he turned his head—his gaze cutting through the noisy crowd—  

And met Lin Yumo’s eyes.  

Her heart skipped a beat, butterflies fluttering wildly in her chest, yet her expression remained unchanged as she calmly averted her gaze.  

When she looked up again, a perfectly measured smile curved her lips. Maintaining an even pace, her lashes cast delicate shadows like butterfly wings on her cheeks. Her hair gleamed, and the sliver of skin exposed at the nape of her neck dazzled like fresh snow as she walked past the assembled classes with effortless grace.  

Whispers surged like waves as she passed other groups: “That girl is so pretty!” “Is she from Class Seven? Her aura is incredible.”  

The murmurs about “Lin Yumo” scattered like dandelion seeds in the morning breeze.  

Suddenly, she recalled her reflection earlier—shoulders sculpted by yoga, skin nourished by Patterns, and those clear, spring-like eyes that no longer shied away.  

…  

Camphor leaves curled tightly under the scorching sun as Class Seven settled into their designated spot. The scent of rubber from the track mingled with the camouflage-clad figures around them.  

Lin Yumo noticed the sweat stains fanning out in dark green at the collar of the instructor’s uniform.  

When the principal’s speech crackled through the loudspeakers, she subtly adjusted her posture. The habitual hunch from her past life, a relic of slouching, had been quietly corrected through yoga and her Magical ability. Now, her shoulder blades rested naturally, making the uniform’s shoulder seams appear crisp and sharp.  

Song Xingran seized the moment to inch half a step closer, her hair brushing Lin Yumo’s hand as she muttered under her breath, “This speech is more sleep-inducing than math class…”  

“Attention!” Instructor Fang’s command sliced through the drawn-out address like an unsheathed blade.  

His sharp gaze swept across each student’s face before he continued, “My surname is Fang. You may address me as Instructor Fang. For the next two weeks, I will be responsible for your training. I expect full cooperation from everyone—understood?”  

“Understood!” The Class Seven students chorused, their voices echoing across the field.  

“Good.” Instructor Fang gave a slight nod. “Starting now—attention! At ease!”  

Sunlight filtered through her training cap, casting dappled patterns on her face.  

Military training had begun.