Chapter 2: There Is a Price to Pay for Bullying

“Lin Siqing, look at this—what do you think it is?”

“Ah!”

Soaked through, Lin Siqing returned home, only to find Lin Chaoyang and Fu Chun, fresh from their wedding, busy packing for their honeymoon the next day.

He appeared so abruptly before Lin Chaoyang, but Lin Chaoyang barely spared a glance at his bedraggled state, indifferent to how he had ended up this way.

Lin Siqing, for his part, cared nothing for whatever comforting words Lin Chaoyang might offer.

Fu Siqiao, having changed into a cotton, rabbit-patterned nightdress, stepped out of her room and nearly collided with Lin Siqing.

He fixed his gaze on the culprit before him, his eyes so cold and sharp they sent a chill down her spine.

As Fu Siqiao passed by, Lin Siqing coolly tossed her a warning: “I won’t forget you, Fu Siqiao.”

Fu Siqiao froze, her courage spent entirely on her act of retribution. The thought of making an enemy of Lin Siqing, of having to face him in the days ahead, filled her with dread.

Timidly, she glanced at Lin Siqing, just in time to see him slam his door with such force that the piercing sound grated on her nerves.

Lin Chaoyang was about to give his troublesome son a proper scolding but was stopped by Fu Chun.

He always deferred to Fu Chun, so, setting Lin Siqing aside, he returned to packing, for nothing was more important than their honeymoon.

Fu Siqiao crept into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, retrieved a bottle of milk, unwrapped a straw, and began to sip it slowly.

As she drank, a notification sounded on her phone—a new post on Nantong High School’s campus network.

“Amazing! Breaking news from Nantong High: the new campus beauty, Xu Zhixing, takes the crown by a landslide!”

Attached was a photo of Xu Zhixing: eyes like a phoenix, slender willow-leaf brows, a face as delicate as a peach blossom, yet with a hint of heroic spirit—a stunning beauty whose charm seemed to eclipse almost every other face in the crowd.

Xu Zhixing, Nantong—wasn’t that the very school she was about to attend? And in Class 1, Year 1, no less. So tomorrow, she would see this legendary beauty with her own eyes?

“Qiaoqiao, come help your mother pack.”

“Coming!”

Nantong High School boasted the finest campus in all of Canzhou. From the school gate, a straight path led to the academic building, separated only by a dense forest.

Legend had it that this forest was a grove for wishes, planted by upperclassmen; those who wished here would find their dreams of university come true.

However, rumor had it that wishes only worked if made together with the one you liked.

Fu Siqiao set out with a simple crossbody bag and her hair pulled into a neat, high ponytail tied with a red elastic—a picture of fresh, sweet youth.

She was accustomed to the stares of boys as she passed, though her naturally timid nature made her avert her gaze in embarrassment.

Arriving late, Fu Siqiao hoped to slip quietly into the classroom unnoticed.

Her plan nearly succeeded; hardly anyone noticed her, as if she were invisible.

The seats by the window were crowded with students, all clamoring for a glimpse of the beautiful new girl and eagerly vying for her contact information.

Xu Zhixing, brows knitted, swept a cold gaze over the crowd. “Back off.”

Her tone was far from friendly, yet the others seemed only more eager. Xu Zhixing was the classic icy beauty—her rebuke only fueled their excitement.

But she was not one to be trifled with. With a sudden, commanding shout, she sent the crowd scurrying.

Even the most unwilling retreated before her steely glare.

At last, peace returned. Xu Zhixing rubbed her ears, still buzzing from the commotion.

Just then, a sweet-faced, shy girl sat down quietly beside her.

Fu Siqiao hadn’t expected that arriving only half an hour late would result in every seat being taken—except the one beside Xu Zhixing.

She had no choice. But whoever sat there would have to deliver love letters to Xu Zhixing every day.

And so, this tiresome task fell to Fu Siqiao.

She scratched her head in regret, chiding herself for her naïveté in thinking being late wouldn’t matter.

Xu Zhixing paid her no mind, nor did Fu Siqiao intend to start a conversation. Being seatmates was trouble enough; she wanted no further entanglements.

Xu Zhixing, still irked by the earlier chaos, laid her head down to rest and soon drifted off to sleep.

With her seatmate fast asleep, Fu Siqiao was restless.

A boy slipped her a note, asking her to pass it to Xu Zhixing.

Fu Siqiao was reluctant but, not wanting to offend anyone on the first day, quietly slipped the note into Xu Zhixing’s desk.

Seeing this, others followed suit, passing her love letters to deliver. There were so many that the narrow gap beside Xu Zhixing’s desk could hardly contain them all.

Sensing something, Xu Zhixing turned, revealing more space in her desk. As it was only the start of the school year, there were few books, just enough room for Fu Siqiao to tuck the letters away.

As the last letter was put in, Xu Zhixing woke.

She stretched gracefully, propping herself up with both hands.

The pile of letters slid out. She paused only a moment, then swiftly gathered them all and tossed them into the trash.

The boys of the class sighed in disappointment.

“Is it really right to treat everyone’s feelings like that?” Fu Siqiao couldn’t help but ask.

Xu Zhixing arched a brow, her gaze cold and unyielding.

“Isn’t it only natural? I’m simply getting rid of things I despise.”

Fu Siqiao was stunned. Did she hate the boys’ confessions, or their presumption?

Whatever the reason, Xu Zhixing was not someone to cross.

Fu Siqiao understood—she must not provoke Xu Zhixing. As for delivering love letters, she resolved to stop; after all, her efforts were unappreciated.

Outside, cicadas droned as sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting its glow on Xu Zhixing’s delicate profile—a beauty that few could rival.

Just then, their homeroom teacher, Zhang Kaiguo, strode into the classroom. With a protruding belly, black-framed glasses perched on his nose, and a stern expression, he exuded authority.

“Ahem.”

He cleared his throat, sweeping his gaze across the class before speaking.

“There are thirty-six students in our class, yet one is still absent. Who might that be?”

“Sorry, teacher, I’m late.”

Lin Siqing entered, a lollipop dangling from his lips, meeting Zhang Kaiguo’s gaze with an air of nonchalance.

His dark eyes glimmered with mischief, his short black hair neatly trimmed, and the blue-and-white uniform accentuated his fair skin.

There was no denying that Lin Siqing was strikingly handsome—the excitement among the girls made it clear they were already abuzz over this suddenly-appeared heartthrob.

But, for all his appeal, he remained out of reach.