There are generally three types of people in a school. The first kind possesses a heart of seven exquisite apertures, like Ye Yuhuan, who learns everything quickly.
Then there’s the kind who are completely clueless, like those who study hard every day but whose grades remain stagnant.
The last kind has their seven apertures open, but not all the way. This group often includes geniuses who are top-tier in a specific field, like the math prodigy Tang Ke. But more common are the top students driven by their interests. In fields they find interesting, they learn at lightning speed, but once they venture into areas they dislike, they can take a thousand days to cover a single mile. Song Zhiqing was a prime example. She learned music extremely quickly; the songs she had written in private were enough to fill an album—a high-quality one at that.
But once she was in an unfamiliar domain, like academic subjects, she would undoubtedly be at the bottom of the class if not for Ye Yuhuan’s tutoring. The same went for love. With no one to guide her, Song Zhiqing stumbled forward, only to realize after a long time that she had just been walking in a small circle.
This feeling became increasingly pronounced after she stumbled upon Shangguan Xianxian and Shen Wei’s push-and-pull several times—which was, of course, orchestrated by Ye Yuhuan. It led her to abandon her pursuit plan for a whole month. The question she had asked herself on the night of the opening ceremony remained unanswered, but perhaps her actions themselves were the answer, and she just hadn’t realized it yet.
September passed quickly for Song Zhiqing, but not for Ye Yuhuan. On one hand, she had to accumulate capital just in case. If Song Zhiqing still ended up spiraling out of control, at least she could provide a safety net for her. To do this, she had to sift through the plot points she could interfere with and identify the wealth-making tricks Shen Wei had gained from her rebirth advantage. She felt no guilt doing this; after all, Shen Wei herself had essentially snatched opportunities from others. On the other hand, she had to carefully study the times and places of the female lead’s romantic developments in the plot, so she could bring Song Zhiqing along to witness their love at the right moments. Unfortunately, no matter how many ambiguous scenes she saw, Song Zhiqing remained steadfast, sending Shangguan Xianxian daily messages meant to sway her.
Ye Yuhuan felt it was highly likely she would have to take the most difficult path: going against the protagonist.
She never imagined Song Zhiqing would be so obstinate, but perhaps this was love—something she would never understand.
The day after the opening ceremony, Ye Yuhuan found Shangguan Xianxian to cancel the weekend dinner. Shangguan Xianxian was, naturally, more than happy to oblige. She still didn’t know how to face Shen Wei, and the turmoil from the previous night had added a layer of tension between them.
Shangguan Xianxian didn’t know what Shen Wei thought of her. She didn’t know the truth about their parentage. Funnily enough, Shangguan Xianxian was one of the few who believed she had stolen Shen Wei’s life as a wealthy young lady. But human nature is complex. Although she thought this way herself, she would still be very disappointed if Shen Wei felt the same. Yet yesterday’s events prevented her from asking directly, so the question remained stuck in her heart, becoming a knot of anxiety.
Shen Wei’s September was spent untying this knot and, in the process, growing closer to Shangguan Xianxian. Of course, she had no idea that all of this was being watched by the two voyeurs, Ye Yuhuan and Song Zhiqing. If she had known, she probably would have dropped everything to start her revenge plan against Song Zhiqing ahead of schedule.
Shen Wei couldn’t detect Ye Yuhuan’s carefully designed observation points, but she did discover that several opportunities she had her eye on had been intercepted by an unknown person.
Three promising but not yet famous small companies suddenly no longer needed investment. This in itself was nothing; opportunities were out there, and there was no reason only she should benefit. But the common feature of these three companies was that they all required a relatively small amount of capital. A person immediately came to Shen Wei’s mind. If it was her, then this was no simple coincidence.
Shen Wei had her people investigate, and the results showed that this shareholder was actually a patient with schizophrenia living in a sanatorium. After using some legally gray methods to dig deeper, she found that this person had not only invested in several companies but had also bought lottery tickets and invested in a few stocks.
As Shen Wei had expected, this person was connected to Ye Yuhuan. It was her aunt.
Shen Wei read the report in her hands twice and closed her eyes. Ye Yuhuan hadn’t tried very hard to cover her tracks, nor did she have the ability to do so. If she was as smart as she appeared, she should be able to guess that Shen Wei would be coming for her soon.
How interesting. Previously, due to Song Zhiqing’s unusual behavior, she had temporarily let her guard down around Ye Yuhuan, thinking that no matter her background, she at least wouldn’t oppose her. She never expected that when Ye Yuhuan finally made a move, she would go straight for the root.
To Shen Wei, whose mental age was nearly thirty, Song Zhiqing’s ridicule and ostracism were merely a lingering shadow from her youth. It was Ye Yuhuan’s method of secretly intercepting her capital accumulation that could plunge her future into the same despair as her past life.
October arrived. For Ye Yuhuan, Shen Wei’s matter was no longer her main focus. She had dropped one shoe; now she was just waiting for the other one to fall.
At the moment, something else was troubling her.
She had promised to take Song Zhiqing to experience her favorite form of entertainment, but she had been busy studying business and quickly acquiring initial capital before Shen Wei could react, so she hadn’t had time to arrange anything. Song Zhiqing had already reminded her several times. Now that she finally had some free time, Ye Yuhuan started to worry about what to choose.
Ye Yuhuan didn’t like many things, and most of them were activities best done alone, such as reading, listening to music, watching movies, taking walks, and photography. Unlike Song Zhiqing’s favorites, karaoke and hot pot, which were inherently social. In the end, Ye Yuhuan decided to pick the best of a bad lot—compared to the others, watching a movie seemed slightly more social, even though she preferred to go by herself.
Recalling how half the staff had greeted them the last time she went to karaoke with Song Zhiqing, Ye Yuhuan hesitated, wondering if she should book the entire theater. Then she felt it was too exaggerated. Not only would it seem like she was punching above her weight, but it would also make Song Zhiqing, who had read too many yuri novels, misunderstand and think she was about to confess. The awkwardness from last time was still fresh in her mind.
In the end, she decided to just pick a good movie.
When you’re with a friend, just being comfortable should be enough, right?
And so, on the first day of the National Day holiday, two people whose parents were not at home made plans to go see a movie together.
In addition, the long-postponed hot pot meal was officially added to the schedule.
During the holidays, Ye Yuhuan stayed in the small apartment her mother had left her. It was mainly because it was close to her aunt’s sanatorium, and sometimes her aunt wanted to come home, which would be inconvenient if Ye Yuhuan was living at the school.
Ye Yuhuan had sent Song Zhiqing her location yesterday. With a driver at her disposal, Song Zhiqing arrived early in the morning, right downstairs from Ye Yuhuan’s apartment. At that moment, Ye Yuhuan had just woken up.
She couldn’t help it. This month, she had been taking online business courses from a foreign university. Since she was teaching herself from scratch, Ye Yuhuan often had to pull all-nighters. This left her looking tired the next day, and without school classes to regulate her schedule, she had ignored her biological clock on the first day of the holiday.
When Song Zhiqing called, she was fighting with her third alarm.
Ye Yuhuan told Song Zhiqing to come up first, explaining that she still needed some time to get ready.
Listening to the sleepy voice on the phone, Song Zhiqing couldn’t help but frown. She wondered what Ye Yuhuan had been busy with lately; she always looked like her life force had been drained.
Ye Yuhuan lived in an old-style building without an elevator. Normally, a young lady like Song Zhiqing would never even glance at such a building except in the news. But Song Zhiqing’s childhood experiences on film sets meant she had seen much shabbier places. Now, stepping into this kind of building again, she felt a gentle sense of nostalgia, as if reliving her childhood.
Ye Yuhuan’s apartment was on the third floor. Soon, Song Zhiqing knocked on the door. When Ye Yuhuan opened it, she was still in a post-slumber daze. There was even a tiny smudge of toothpaste foam at the corner of her mouth. Dressed in loose plaid pajamas, she looked nothing like the cool, aloof top student from school. Instead, she seemed rather sweet and adorable.
Like a little white bear.
Ye Yuhuan’s voice was also surprisingly soft. “Ah, you’re here. Have a seat. I’ll get you some fruit. I’ll be ready in a moment.”
To be honest, Song Zhiqing used to scoff at the idea of “contrasting cuteness.” She believed that if you liked someone, you liked them for who they were. How could you simultaneously like the opposite of their personality?
But watching Ye Yuhuan’s profile as she diligently washed fruit for her—she still hadn’t noticed the bit of toothpaste foam by her mouth, and the morning light fell on her, her loose pajamas outlining an exceptionally soft silhouette—Song Zhiqing suddenly felt that her past self had been a bit too loud.
Contrasting cuteness was actually… super adorable!
As for Ye Yuhuan, with no one to point it out, she didn’t notice the smudge of toothpaste on her mouth until she returned to the sink to continue washing her face. Since it had been there for a while, it had gradually dried into a tiny, comical-looking speck.
Ye Yuhuan quickly finished washing her face, rushed over to Song Zhiqing, and demanded, “Why didn’t you tell me just now!”
Ah, she even used a soft “ya” sound. It seems Ye Yuhuan is still in that state.
Song Zhiqing was secretly delighted. She answered very gently, “Because I thought it was cute, so there was no need to point it out.”
Ye Yuhuan’s ears instantly turned red. She ignored Song Zhiqing and turned to walk quickly back to her room to change.
Left alone in the living room, Song Zhiqing looked around the old apartment. The place wasn’t large, but it had a faint warmth to it. She said “faint” because the objects that exuded this warmth were clearly aged. The photos were starting to yellow, the decorations were no longer bright. The only new things in the entire apartment were the books, which were the only trace of the current Ye Yuhuan.
Song Zhiqing sighed. She had intentionally come early today to see if Ye Yuhuan’s home was as plain as her dorm room. The reality was worse than she had imagined: Ye Yuhuan had once been vibrant, only becoming subdued later.
The few group photos in the living room were all from when Ye Yuhuan was a child. She had a bright smile, nestled in the arms of a woman with gentle, refined features. Song Zhiqing picked up a photo to examine it closely. Her own childhood was the noisy, bustling world of a film set. What was Ye Yuhuan’s childhood like?
What had stolen her former radiance, turning her into the pool of calm, deep water she was now?
Song Zhiqing felt a burst of inspiration. She took out her phone and jotted down a few strings of melody. When it came time to name the folder, Song Zhiqing pondered for a moment, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. Finally, she left a line of text: A Child-like Adult—To Ye Yuhuan.
Just then, Ye Yuhuan came out. In contrast to her cozy, homey attire from before, she was now wearing capri jeans and a loose, round-neck shirt. Her long hair was draped over her shoulders and back. She looked gentle yet abstinent, as if deliberately compensating for the childishness she had accidentally shown earlier.
Song Zhiqing couldn’t help but cover her lips to hide a smile.
That name really is fitting.
