Early Monday morning, the campus was quiet with only a few early arrivers waiting at the school store, and boarding students leisurely walking to the teaching building while eating breakfast.
Tao Zhi sat at the school gate holding a bottle of water, her head tilted lazily as she propped it up, yawning as she took out her phone to check the time.
Thirty seconds left.
Twenty seconds.
Tao Zhi turned her head toward the school gate.
Song Jiang came charging in like a motor-powered rocket, leaping over the iron gate with the form of a sprinting athlete: “Scared the hell out of me!”
The students entering nearby jumped back two steps in surprise.
Tao Zhi looked at him expressionlessly: “You’re late.”
“I overslept,” Song Jiang panted, defending himself. “Besides, I’m not late, I made it right on time.”
One of the things this ancestor hated most was waiting for people.
But strangely enough, she loved making others wait for her.
“Fine,” Tao Zhi reluctantly accepted, tossing him the breakfast bag beside her. “What did you want to see me about?”
“Nothing really, just that you haven’t been coming out to hang these past couple days, so I’m checking on you,” Song Jiang said through a mouthful of bun. “Don’t you have to read your self-criticism today?”
“Mm.”
“Did you write it?”
Tao Zhi took out a piece of milk candy from her pocket, unwrapped it and popped it in her mouth: “Nope.”
Song Jiang’s chewing paused: “?”
Tao Zhi also stopped walking: “?”
“Hold on, boss,” Song Jiang swallowed his bun, “You’re not even writing self-criticisms anymore?”
Tao Zhi sighed: “Ji Shi Yu, my friend.”
Song Jiang looked at her warily: “What are you up to now?”
“In all these years, how many self-criticisms do you think we’ve written?”
Song Jiang thought about it, then said precisely: “At least eight or ten.”
“There you have it,” Tao Zhi said listlessly. “Anyone who doesn’t know what to say without a script after writing so many self-criticisms must be an idiot. It’s always for the same thing anyway, I’ve memorized all the variations by heart.”
Song Jiang, who had just last week dutifully written and painfully read aloud a self-criticism for fighting: “…”
The two of them chatted as they entered the teaching building. Tao Zhi’s classroom was upstairs, and she habitually entered through the back door, immediately seeing Jiang Qi Huai’s back upon pushing it open.
Tao Zhi was somewhat surprised – Her Highness the Princess had arrived quite early today, not cutting it close to the morning self-study bell.
The class was filled with people eating breakfast, chatting, and finishing homework, but Jiang Qi Huai remained completely unaffected, head lowered, pen moving swiftly across his test paper.
He was always like this when doing problems, his whole being emanating a “you worthless people don’t come near me” aura, so strong that even Li Shuang Jiang, the most active person in class, didn’t dare say a word to him.
Tao Zhi bit the candy in her mouth and quietly walked over to stand behind him, bending slightly forward, head extending to look at the test paper on his desk, silent and stealthy.
Jiang Qi Huai sensed someone approaching almost instantly.
He whirled around.
Tao Zhi hadn’t time to react, her head still suspended above his shoulder, instinctively turning her eyes to meet those light brown eyes and freezing for a moment.
Those clear eyes were different from their usual indifference. As he looked at her, his gaze was sharp and cold, full of wariness, with an almost palpable icy hostility.
Tao Zhi wanted to retreat, but for some reason, in that moment, her whole body froze in place as if paralyzed.
Their noses were only centimeters apart, his eyelash curves right before her, she could even feel his warm breath.
And her mixed scent of shampoo, shower gel, laundry detergent, and whatever else combined into sweetness.
They stared at each other for several seconds before Tao Zhi suddenly said: “I’m going cross-eyed.”
The sweet scent mixed with a hint of milk spread around Jiang Qi Huai’s nose.
“Then can you move?” he said expressionlessly.
That murderous tension from a moment ago had completely vanished, replaced by his usual annoying “who are you,” “why should I care,” “get away from me” attitude.
Tao Zhi didn’t move, looking at him while tilting her head, saying lazily: “I didn’t realize Your Highness had such nice skin. What’s your skincare routine?”
“…”
Jiang Qi Huai’s eye twitched.
He’s going to get angry he’s going to get angry he’s going to get angry.
Tao Zhi knew when to quit, straightening up with a couple of happy bounces, the frustrated mood of the past few days suddenly cured in this moment.
“Haven’t done your homework?” She pointed at the physics paper on his desk: “Wasn’t this assigned on Friday?”
The Affiliated School’s academic god · Class 1’s model student · textbook-level test paper destroyer · Jiang Qi Huai hadn’t done his homework.
Tao Zhi thought this was as shocking as Song Jiang getting first place in the grade.
Jiang Qi Huai didn’t respond, turning back to continue writing.
Tao Zhi didn’t press further. She returned to her seat, put down her bag and unzipped it. After searching for a while, she pulled out that physics paper, then found a pen from her desk drawer.
With two clicks, she pushed out the ballpoint pen tip, turned around to sit straddling her chair, put her paper on Jiang Qi Huai’s desk, and started copying just like that.
Very naturally.
Jiang Qi Huai had finished half this paper, and she started copying from the multiple choice questions at the beginning.
The little girl leaned on his desk, her movements quick and efficient, her eyes scanning and marking letters, copying with great skill.
Jiang Qi Huai paused, raising an eyebrow: “You dare to copy my paper?”
“What, you wouldn’t deliberately write wrong answers on your own paper just to mess with me, would you?” Tao Zhi didn’t lift her head as she started copying the fill-in-the-blanks, mimicking what Tao Xiu Ping had told her before: “What good would it do you to hurt me at such a cost to yourself?”
Jiang Qi Huai had already started on the long-answer questions. Tao Zhi finished copying the multiple choice and fill-in-the-blanks, then propped up her head, clicking her pen, waiting beside him as he wrote.
He solved problems very quickly, his eyes scanning once to mark a few key points before he started writing, seemingly requiring no thought at all. Tao Zhi watched and copied his style – wherever he underlined, she also drew two lines underneath, copying and pasting very thoroughly.
The two of them finished two long-answer questions one after another when Li Shuang Jiang came bouncing in humming a song with a bun in his mouth.
Even though Jiang Qi Huai’s speed was already terrifyingly fast, solving problems was still slower than simply copying homework. Tao Zhi was getting impatient waiting for him to write when she saw Li Shuang Jiang and her eyes lit up: “Little brother!”
“Boss!” Li Shuang Jiang played along enthusiastically, “What’s up, boss?”
“Did you do the physics paper?” Tao Zhi asked.
“Yeah, hold on, let me find it,” Li Shuang Jiang said while unzipping his bag to search. “Wouldn’t it be more reliable to just copy from Huai bro?”
“He writes too slowly,” Tao Zhi said casually.
Li Shuang Jiang stood in the aisle, pulling out the paper to hand over. Tao Zhi patted his shoulder: “Good brother.”
“I’d die for you, boss,” Li Shuang Jiang said solemnly.
Tao Zhi took the paper, and as she turned her head, she saw Jiang Qi Huai looking up at her.
Tao Zhi felt a bit unnerved by his stare, shaking the paper in her hand: “What?”
Jiang Qi Huai didn’t speak.
Tao Zhi tilted her head, face full of questions.
Jiang Qi Huai lowered his head again, writing swiftly: “Do what you want.”
Tao Zhi blinked twice, belatedly realizing that there seemed to have been a barely noticeable emotion on Her Highness’s blank face just now.
— Why aren’t you copying mine?
What did that mean?
Was he upset that she said he wrote slowly?
He was unhappy that she wasn’t copying his?
Was this the incomprehensible pride and stubbornness of top students?
Tao Zhi wanted to laugh. She put Li Shuang Jiang’s paper underneath, didn’t look at it, and again propped up her head waiting for Jiang Qi Huai to write.
“If you’re going to copy, turn around and copy,” Jiang Qi Huai suddenly said, “Don’t take up my desk.”
Tao Zhi flopped down lazily: “I’m just waiting for you to finish.”
“I write slowly,” Jiang Qi Huai said flatly.
“…”
Tao Zhi rolled her eyes, somewhat exasperated: “I just said that casually because I copy quickly, why are you being so petty?”
Her words only made it worse – Jiang Qi Huai picked up a book from the side and “plop” covered up the long-answer question he had just finished.
Tao Zhi: “…”
“My only virtue,” Jiang Qi Huai said indifferently while underlining the next problem, “is being petty.”
“…”
Why did those words sound so familiar?
Halfway through morning self-study, the preparation bell for the flag-raising ceremony rang. Everyone in class stopped writing, zipped up their uniform jackets and walked out.
Tao Zhi had to read her self-criticism on the flag-raising platform. She was so familiar with this procedure that she hardly felt anything anymore, casually walking up from Class 1’s line.
The Director of Teaching stood beside her, clearing his throat disapprovingly at her casual attitude.
Tao Zhi quickly straightened up her posture, walking ramrod straight to the microphone.
Only then did the Director step down from the platform.
The playground was packed with people, students occasionally whispering to each other below. Tao Zhi looked around, her expression solemn: “Teachers and fellow students, hello, I am the class monitor from Class 2-1.”
“During PE class last week, I happened to see a senior from Class 3 doing evil deeds and bullying the weak. I couldn’t help myself and gave her a beating, causing significant damage to both her mind and body,” Tao Zhi said flatly. “To save her some face, I won’t name names.”
“…”
Teacher Wang’s forehead veins twitched, the Director’s face turned green, neither knowing whether they should go up and stop her.
“But my behavior was undoubtedly wrong. Faced with such campus bullying incidents, I set a bad example, so I hereby self-criticize—”
“I shouldn’t have used violence to solve violence, but at the same time,” Tao Zhi paused for two seconds, “I hope everyone will learn from this and not repeat such actions, understanding that bathrooms are not lawless zones – justice warriors are everywhere.”
Dead silence.
Jiang Qi Huai silently curved his lips. Beside him, Li Shuang Jiang couldn’t hold back and let out a “pfft” of laughter.
Finally, Tao Zhi gave a respectful bow: “That’s all, thank you everyone.”
Author’s Note: Qi Huai: Jealousy
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