She entered the classroom on the last second of the bell, relieved to have made it in time.
The lecture hall was packed. It was exam week, and everyone was overwhelmed, yet the number of auditors hadn't dwindled at all. She sighed in admiration—no wonder it was Shen Xiushi; his pull was unmatched.
She had grabbed a cap on her way out and was wearing it now. Her head was small—an astonishing 49.5 cm, even smaller than Lu Siyu's—and her face was covered by the wide brim, revealing only a sliver of her icy, fair chin and her delicate, sharp jawline.
Her shoulders were slender, her waist narrow, her neck long. The special grace she'd developed from learning ballet as a child made her look like a high-end magazine spread as she walked in—cool and enigmatic.
Guan Qianru had saved her a seat in the last row by the hallway door and waved. "Honey, over here!"
Just as she sat down, she got scolded. "Seriously, you almost came late again. Have you forgotten what happened last time?"
Cheng Buxi's mind wasn't there. She brushed it off. "It's hard to get a cab near the old campus."
Someone with sharp ears turned around. "What happened last time?"
Sister Guan was about to spill everything, but she caught sight of Cheng Buxi's clenched fist and grinned. "Nothing."
The person snorted dismissively and turned back. The latter visibly relaxed.
"Don't worry, you're not late, right?" Sister Guan looked her over like a piece of art, surprised by her performance yesterday. Who knew someone so beautiful and gentle could be so tough underneath?
But she felt guilty for not backing her up in the dorm last night, so she pulled out two fluffy bread rolls from her bag. "Here, your favorite cloud bread."
Cheng Buxi knew her rough demeanor, so she took them graciously. But then Guan leaned in and asked mischievously, "Who was it who got caught by Professor Shen for being late and had the door personally opened for her? What did that feel like?"
Meeting Cheng Buxi's sharp gaze, Sister Guan laughed even more.
Cheng Buxi was already flustered. "It felt like dying, okay?" She tore open the bread and took a bite.
She chewed, frowned. It was cherry-flavored.
Not as good as Yuji's cherry cake, but the cherry taste was strong.
Sister Guan laughed even harder.
...
The other day's lateness incident: she had been stopped by Jiang Yang from the neighboring Institute of Technology. He was a notorious playboy, a rich second-generation with too much money and a decent face. His ex-girlfriends were as numerous as stars on a Christmas tree. She was ten minutes late that day, and when she called for permission at the door, Shen Xiushi opened it himself.
The entire hall was packed, and hundreds of eyes were on her.
At that time, Shen Xiushi had just been hired as a teacher. His status at school was akin to a national treasure. Cheng Buxi had prepared to be scolded, but he just told her to sit down—right under his nose.
In public, he was as warm as jade, but Cheng Buxi knew he was a schemer.
She thought the matter was over, but it ended up on the campus wall. The comments were all: "How dare she be late to Professor Shen's class? Too arrogant..." "Thinks she's the campus belle and can look down on Director Shen? Tsk tsk..." "So many people want to see him, and she doesn't know how lucky she is..."
Although the post was deleted within hours, she gained fame that way. She didn't want to go through it again.
...
She noticed the entire first row was empty, looking rather formidable. That was unusual. She opened her notebook and asked what was going on. Guan Qianru said someone was coming, but it was hush-hush.
Whoever was coming wasn't her concern.
Cheng Buxi's body was here, but her mind was elsewhere. She couldn't read a single word of her open notebook, her eyes uncontrollably drifting to her phone screen.
A battle raged in her head... ten seconds later, she lost.
She opened the chat page.
[You've added Zhòng Shù. You can chat now.]
This person's avatar was a teru teru bōzu, blurry and old, clearly used for years. It contrasted sharply with his rebellious, roguish charm.
They hadn't spoken since adding each other. She was in the wrong, so she should initiate, but she didn't know how to start.
She typed and deleted, typed and deleted, her arched brows slightly furrowed, her clever mouth pursed in frustration, revealing a healthy, vibrant water-red color.
Something was off.
After some hesitation:
TvToee: [Excuse me, how much do I need to pay for that shirt?]
Unexpectedly, the reply came quickly.
He must have been waiting by the phone, as if expecting her message. Hopefully, it was just a coincidence, her wild imagination.
Zhòng Shù: [It's you.]
Even through the screen, she could imagine his handsome, cynical face, speaking in a thick North City accent with a roguish tone, smiling in a carefree but strangely alluring way.
Cheng Buxi's heart pounded. This was new to her, like a breeze ruffling a calm spring pond.
She typed back quickly: [It's me.]
He didn't hide his interest. [I've been waiting for you for ages.]
Cheng Buxi: "..." She bit her lip, the tips of her ears blushing.
He might have been a top hunter in a past life, specializing in catching sly little white foxes like her—those with some skill, but not much.
He leisurely sent a photo of the little white cat lying on the hospital surgery table, its leg professionally bandaged and no longer bleeding. The other cat that had run off was also lying quietly on a soft pad, licking its fur.
By coincidence, Cheng Buxi also spotted the tricolor cat she had rescued in the corner of the photo. The tricolor cat was more seriously injured, and the doctor had ordered a week of observation. She'd have to visit again.
All the rescued cats had been fed and were recovering after treatment.