4 004.

Chapter Yunyi was indeed praying fervently to all the gods and Buddhas, but it was utterly useless. As the class bell rang, the math teacher entered, clutching a thick stack of test papers under one arm and a cup in the other. Clearing her throat, her sharp, hawk-like gaze swept across the listless students in the classroom as she sternly commanded, “Class begins!”

“Good morning, teacher,” half the students muttered weakly, their voices barely carrying any energy, as if only half-alive.

The math teacher assigned a hefty pile of worksheets and was here to review the problems today.

Zhang Yunyi glanced at the papers, then lifted her head to look at the teacher, her mind adrift and confused, as if listening to an ancient text in an unknown language. Her body reacted swiftly; whenever her eyes nearly met the teacher’s, an instinctual animal-like reflex forced her to immediately lower her gaze.

She desperately wanted to follow the teacher’s train of thought, but before she could grasp one problem, the lesson had already jumped to the next.

Forty-five minutes of class…

Zhang Yunyi thought bitterly to herself, she was wrong—she had truly been wrong. Every time there was a group meeting before, she found it agonizing, but at least then she could close her ears; now, she had to force herself to listen.

This was the longest forty-five minutes of her life.

She would spend her entire life healing this.

The dismissal bell sounded like heavenly music; she revived on the spot, elbowed Xu Shishi gently, and whispered, “Did you understand everything?”

Xu Shishi stretched lazily, “If I understood everything, would I still be your deskmate?”

Zhang Yunyi was speechless.

The homeroom teacher didn’t believe in peer support; seating arrangements were strictly based on academic rankings. They were already in senior year, and top students were hardly saints who could save everyone—they had their own studies to worry about. They rearranged seats once each semester, yet Zhang Yunyi and Xu Shishi were never separated; they were either deskmates or sat directly in front or behind each other.

Seeing Zhang Yunyi’s face like a bitter melon, Xu Shishi teased, “What’s wrong? Planning to turn over a new leaf?”

Zhang Yunyi hated the heavens. Even if she could be reborn, couldn’t she choose to go back to the day the college entrance exams ended? Why torture her like this?

She clenched her teeth and said, “I’m going to wash my face.”

No, if her exam results turned out terrible, not only would her parents want to come after her with knives, she wouldn’t be able to bear it herself.

She rose, her face heavy with resolve, and walked out. Starting today, from this moment, she would wash her face with cold water every class to regain her composure. She decided to give herself at most one month to bring her intellect back to senior year levels—otherwise, she was doomed.

As she rushed out of the classroom, the boy at the desk behind, Shen Mingrui, who had been dozing, asked, “What’s wrong with the top girl? What’s got her so shaken?”

Xu Shishi shrugged, “Mind your own business when it comes to our beauty.”

Yet Zhang Yunyi’s mental state was not uncommon among senior students; others were also struggling—some filled entire sheets of scratch paper with answers for multiple-choice questions, only to find none of the options matched, then cried out in despair, “Lord, take me away!”

Zhang Yunyi followed her memory to the restroom, passing many students coming and going. In later years, when chatting with friends about their school days, she was always amazed—though breaks were only ten minutes long, it felt as if they could accomplish so much in that short time.

Among a crowd of cheerful students, she was like a shadow. At the sink, she turned on the faucet and splashed water on her face; her bangs quickly became soaked.

“Zhang Yunyi!”

Someone arrived to wash their hands and called out to her with surprise.

Zhang Yunyi turned her head and forced a smile, “What a coincidence.”

This was He Nuo. They had been classmates before the science and arts split in the first semester of senior year and had even shared a dorm during military training. They had been quite close for a while, but after being placed in different classes, they rarely saw each other. Still, when they did meet, they chatted happily.

“Are you alone?” He Nuo asked.

“A bit bored, just washing my face.”

He Nuo was in the arts class. Zhang Yunyi had been torn over whether to choose arts or science; she wasn’t particularly weak in any subject, and her parents didn’t dare decide for her, so they specifically came to the school to consult the homeroom teacher.

The teachers were responsible, reviewing her monthly test scores several times and advising her to take science.

To Zhang Yunyi, it was all the same—a cut from the same cloth.

“It’s pretty hot,” He Nuo said, her hand stained with ink from taking notes. “You don’t know how stinky the boys in my class are; I have to put menthol balm under my nose just to breathe!”

Menthol balm?

Zhang Yunyi perked up, “Does it really help?”

“It clears your nose, but it smells way better than sweaty boys!” He Nuo complained, “I really suspect the boys don’t bathe. They’re filthy.”

Zhang Yunyi laughed, “Why don’t you tell them that?”

“They say it’s ‘manly scent’,” He Nuo made a dramatic gagging gesture.

Zhang Yunyi could only give up.

The boys she liked were all sporty types. Whether it was to keep a good impression in front of her or just because they were naturally clean, they always appeared neat and fresh. Her taste was simple—she liked straightforward, simple-minded fools who were tall, long-legged, cheerful, humorous, and direct.

Her sharp-tongued cousin bluntly summed it up in two words: “Blockhead.” Expanded, it meant someone simple-minded and strong-limbed but slow-witted.

“Zhang Yunyi, let’s go~”

He Nuo’s friends arrived, and the two said their goodbyes.

Zhang Yunyi couldn’t remember if the small shop nearby sold menthol balm. If not, she would ask others if anyone had some to spare. Not understanding the lessons was fine; she just had to force herself to listen and get into the student mindset!

The walk back to the classroom required a detour.

She was psyching herself up and didn’t notice the attention she drew as she passed by other classrooms.

Each grade had many classes. Although the arts and science classes weren’t strictly divided, they rarely mingled and information rarely spread. Science students didn’t care who was top in the arts class, and vice versa.

“Who’s that pretty girl who just walked by?” a boy whispered.

“Class 3, I think her last name is Zhang?” A few idle boys chatted about the girls, ready to gossip more when suddenly one boy hushed them. Everyone looked puzzled, then saw a boy walking by expressionless.

That would be fine on its own.

But as he passed them, he slowed noticeably and glanced at them carelessly.

Adolescent boys were easily provoked; even a glance could rile them up.

“What’s he looking at?!”

The boy who spoke lowered his voice. “He’s the class leader of Class 3. Don’t say anything.”

Some class leaders were protective and had a strong sense of class honor. They were talking about girls from Class 3 and happened to be overheard by their class leader…

“Ugh, are those two even talking?”

“No, they’re not…”

Top students were always the teacher’s favorites. In this crucial year, even if they had restless thoughts, the teachers would press them down like the Buddha’s palm.

“Then why is he looking at them?!”

Though the words were bold, their faces were pale. Before the teacher arrived, the group dispersed.

Back at her desk, Zhang Yunyi didn’t waste time. She carefully picked up her pen and wrote:

1. Menthol balm (send mom a message after school to buy some at the pharmacy; bring some home during vacation) (remind after school)

2. Instant coffee and an opaque cup

3. Exercise to stay alert—run a few laps around the track daily, morning or night (?) (to be decided)

Her plans were sound, but barely ten minutes into the second class, she felt sleepy again.

Xu Shishi multitasked—her ears listened intently to the teacher’s explanations, her brow furrowed to appear focused, but her pencil was sketching on paper, the tip scratching softly. Zhang Yunyi’s thoughts drifted to her, deciding to sneak a quick glance.

Later, she kept in touch with Xu Shishi, chatting three to five times a year whenever the mood struck.

Whoever felt like it would send a message first: “Are you there, treasure?”

Zhang Yunyi didn’t recall what major Xu Shishi studied in university, but it had nothing to do with art. After graduating, Xu Shishi found a job, which she described as “just making enough money to keep the vital signs going.” After two years, she quit and moved to a remote city, paying the down payment for a small apartment with all her savings to paint full-time.

That sister was truly gifted at drawing sensual art.

Many people commissioned her; she never disclosed her annual income, but she could easily support two grown sons.

Zhang Yunyi secretly edged closer, stealing a glance with admiration, thinking how her physique utterly outclassed hers!

The lines were simple; the characters had no facial features.

The boy's arms encircled the girl from behind, his chin resting on her head, his hands firmly restraining her.

Who wouldn’t find that thrilling?

Xu Shishi sensed her gaze, smiled faintly, and whispered, “Is it okay?”

“Perfect!”

If she were seventeen, Zhang Yunyi might have blushed. At that age, still innocent, when novels described intimate contact between male and female leads with something as simple as “a ripple stirred in the water glass on the bedside table,” she would have secretly smiled.

But now, she was no longer interested in anything less than a speeding car.

Still, she had to admit that her aesthetic for the opposite sex was deeply influenced by Xu Shishi’s drawings. Having seen many of her works, she agreed that boys had to be tall, with broad shoulders, but not muscular.

Later, the boys she liked and her boyfriends all fit this type.

Hearing Zhang Yunyi’s single-word praise, Xu Shishi smiled contentedly—the smile of one who felt truly recognized.

She forgot, however, that painting required inspiration—either from films or from real life. When she first started drawing people, it was during PE class in the first semester of senior year. Sitting on the bleachers with her sketchbook, she scanned the playground until her gaze fixed on a girl with a ponytail, slightly tilting her head, talking to a boy. Occasionally, the girl would say things like, “Class leader, I really, really don’t feel well,” or “I’d faint if I ran 800 meters.” The boy would glance at her and nod. The girl, feeling relieved, would dash off like a shadow, graceful and light-footed, as if the successor to the legendary “Lingbo Weibu” footwork.

Xu Shishi’s pencil paused as she tried to capture the scene.

“But…” Zhang Yunyi cautiously glanced at the math teacher, who was writing formulas on the blackboard. Taking advantage of the teacher not turning around yet, she spoke rapidly, “Be bolder. Don’t rest the chin on the head; that pose is stiff. How about lowering the shoulders?”

Breath spraying on the girl’s neck and such—hehe.

Xu Shishi’s eyes lit up. “Great idea!”