Chapter 17

Li Ye frowned as he read the letter, and his deskmate Wen Leyu kept glancing sideways at him.

But due to her good upbringing, she never actually peeked at the contents of the letter.

Yet Li Ye’s suppressed rage and the way he furiously scribbled on the back of the letter made Wen Leyu intensely curious.

What had Lu Jingyao written to Li Ye that made this kind-hearted boy so furious?

Finally, the little spy could no longer hold back; she quietly and slowly stretched her neck forward, like a stealthy cat creeping to catch a mouse.

But at that moment, Li Ye had already finished writing and folded the letter, turning just in time to face Wen Leyu head-on.

Wen Leyu froze, snapped her neck back with a “whoosh,” sat bolt upright, and frantically scribbled on her pen, appearing like a model student diligently studying.

This little beauty is interesting.

Li Ye’s inner irritation instantly melted away by more than half.

He propped his chin on one hand, elbow resting on the desk, and gazed at Wen Leyu as she wrote intently, his eyes pure and calm, like admiring a beautiful, vivid painting.

Wen Leyu seemed unaware; her pen never stopped, though a faint blush slowly crept onto her cheeks, breathing life into her unnaturally pale skin.

“What are you writing?”

Li Ye didn’t press further; the girl was already embarrassed—he needed to ease the awkwardness with kindness.

Wen Leyu indeed sighed in relief, pushed her notebook toward Li Ye, and wrote a note on a slip of paper.

“I’ve prepared some exercises for you. If you don’t understand anything, ask me.”

Li Ye took Wen Leyu’s large scratch paper notebook and saw page after page of dense English exercises. “Why do you want me to do these? Is it Teacher Ke’s idea?”

Wen Leyu paused, quickly snatched back the note, and prepared to write another message for Li Ye.

But Li Ye couldn’t help whispering, “Your handwriting is indeed beautiful, but can you just speak to me?”

Wen Leyu froze again—this time for several seconds—before whispering softly, “Aren’t you planning to take the college entrance exam for Jingcheng... Qingbei? I thought I could help you.”

In truth, Wen Leyu’s voice was pleasant, but something in her past had turned her into a “little mute.”

And when she mentioned Li Ye “going to Jingcheng,” she had clearly corrected herself mid-sentence—she’d probably meant he was going to find Lu Jingyao.

Li Ye smiled inwardly and nodded. “Thank you. I accept your help—but you must accept mine too.”

Wen Leyu blinked. “What kind of help?”

Li Ye pulled out his own notebook and began writing math problems on it.

“I’ll give you a test too. If you don’t know how to solve anything, ask me.”

Wen Leyu grew curious, unconsciously extending her elegant neck again to watch Li Ye’s pen swiftly scribble out problem after problem.

At first, she felt confident—every problem Li Ye wrote was instantly solvable to her.

But when he reached the third page, she grew serious.

Because she’d never seen these problem types before.

“Can you solve all these problems?”

“Of course.”

“Then what was your score on the college entrance math exam this year?”

“…………”

Li Ye stopped writing and looked at Wen Leyu’s curious face. “Can we not ask questions like that?”

Wen Leyu stared blankly at Li Ye for a moment, then her eyes flickered, and she nodded firmly.

In that instant, Li Ye felt as if he were seeing again the cat he’d raised in his past life.

Foolish, adorable—but secretly... incredibly clever.

“Jingyao, you’re so smart! Just a hint from Qian Shun’s senior brother, and your poem was actually published?”

“Yes! Jingyao’s talent is the best I’ve ever seen. Our Qingya Literature Society will rely on you to carry it forward...”

In a club room at Jingcheng Foreign Languages College, Lu Jingyao was surrounded by a circle of senior students, blushing deeply, embarrassed and flustered.

Back in Qingshui County, she had loved discussing poetry and literature with Xia Yue and the others; when choosing clubs in college, she naturally joined this one called “Qingya.”

After several months of familiarity, Lu Jingyao gathered courage and submitted a piece to the college magazine—and it was actually published.

Then came the mortifying scene: several senior members showered her with unearned praise.

Especially a few of them stared at her as if they wanted to devour her—their overly enthusiastic attitudes made her deeply uncomfortable.

“Cough, cough. Today’s publication of Jingyao’s work is a major event for our Qingya Literature Society. I propose we all go out for dinner, okay?”

“Good!”

“Absolutely!”

“Let’s go! Tonight’s wine and good company—no one leaves until they’re drunk!”

The club members rushed out for dinner, finally freeing Lu Jingyao from the suffocating ordeal of being smothered in flattery.

But then she began to worry again.

Dinner cost money. Last time the Qingya Literature Society dined out, everyone chipped in over two yuan—more than a tenth of her monthly scholarship.

Since she needed to save money to send home, for a week after that dinner, Lu Jingyao survived on steamed buns and salted vegetables.

Today, though she’d earned five yuan and fifty fen in manuscript fees, she’d planned to save ten yuan to send home for household help—but now, if they went out again, she wouldn’t have enough.

“Come on, Jingyao, what are you thinking about?”

He Xue, another member of the literature club, looped her arm through Lu Jingyao’s and pulled her to catch up with the others.

Lu Jingyao snapped out of it. “Oh, uh, nothing. Let’s go.”

He Xue walked on, excitedly listing dishes: “Finally someone’s treating! I’m going to eat my fill—braised pork, braised pork hock, sweet-and-sour fish...”

Lu Jingyao’s heart lightened, her steps quickening slightly. “Really? Who’s treating today?”

He Xue turned, puzzled. “Of course you are! You’re not going to deny your responsibility after earning manuscript fees, are you? Our club’s tradition is whoever earns manuscript fees pays for dinner!”

“..........”

Lu Jingyao’s steps grew heavy, as if her legs had suddenly filled with lead.

【I’m paying? It’s me?... When did I say I’d pay? This club tradition... what does it have to do with me?】

【Braised pork, braised pork hock, sweet-and-sour fish... each dish costs at least four or five fen, up to eight or nine fen. With these club members’ appetites, each person could polish off three dishes like it was nothing.】

【Not to mention the alcohol—they drink like there’s no tomorrow. Cheap baijiu is three or four fen a bottle; the good stuff costs several yuan. How many bottles will they drain before they’re “not leaving until drunk”?】

【And beer is even worse—two fen a bottle, and you need several just to feel anything...】

In less than a second, Lu Jingyao calculated the total cost of tonight’s dinner: at least thirty yuan, and she’d have to spend every grain coupon the school had issued her for months.

She regretted it—she regretted joining this Qingya club, regretted publishing her poem in the magazine.

Thirty yuan! Her monthly scholarship was only twenty-two yuan and fifty fen, and she had to carefully scrape together part of it each month to redeem her brother’s bicycle.

Right now, Lu Jingyao couldn’t even afford twenty yuan, let alone thirty.

“Hey, Jingyao, what’s wrong? Why so pale? You’re not upset about the money, are you?”

“Ah? No no... just got a chill from the wind.”

Lu Jingyao kept her head down, lips tightly pressed, trudging forward, her mind a tangled knot of distress.

She wanted to refuse—but feared being mocked.

But if she went, where would she get the money to pay?

Lu Jingyao felt as if she’d been thrown back over a year.

Her home’s roof leaked worse and worse; her mother’s cough grew more violent—but the family had no extra yuan to spare.

Then, a boy had entered her life, punching a hole through the gloomy sky and pouring down brilliant sunlight.

And today—where was her sunlight?