9 009.

Over the next two days, Zhang Yunyi found herself running into Chen Kuo early each morning, almost always between six and five past six. At that hour, most boarding students were still struggling to get out of bed. Even she found it painful, yet he seemed already accustomed to it. Truly, no one succeeds without effort; those who do must have some real skill.

Early Friday morning, her phone alarm yanked Zhang Yunyi from her dreams once again. She deftly silenced it and, still groggy, got up. When she reached the balcony sink to brush her teeth, she noticed a light drizzle outside. The early September rain brought no chill, but the air felt fresher, carrying a faint scent of grass. As she brushed her teeth, she hesitated about whether to take an umbrella to the playground. She knew herself too well: after three or four days of persistence, if she now gave in to the rain and went back to bed, all her previous efforts would be wasted.

“Three days fishing, two days drying nets,” she thought to herself.

After some contemplation, she compromised—neither braving the rain to the playground nor returning to bed. She swiftly finished her wash, found an umbrella in her drawer, and went downstairs. Habitually, she glanced around but was surprised not to see Chen Kuo. She puzzled for a moment, then realized he wasn’t a machine; it was unreasonable to expect to see him every day. Holding the umbrella, she walked along the quiet campus path to the cafeteria, where the chef had just started work. Most stalls were still closed, leaving few choices. She bought an egg pancake and some steamed dumplings, then headed toward the academic building.

At 6:15 a.m., the teaching building was almost empty. Only a rare few—like early risers waking twenty minutes early to eat or review—were around. Even Zhang Yunyi never imagined she would one day be among such an exclusive group. Remarkable, indeed!

In the corridor, Chen Kuo leisurely cracked an egg. Hearing footsteps approaching from the stairwell, he glanced over casually. When his eyes met Zhang Yunyi’s sparkling with surprise and delight, he unintentionally pressed harder on the fragile eggshell, which shattered instantly.

Zhang Yunyi was genuinely thrilled. She approached him with a spring in her step, her ponytail tracing an arc in the air. “Good morning~”

Chen Kuo was speechless.

He sighed, a little helpless. He had purposely left ten minutes earlier today. “Good morning.”

Behind them was Classroom Three, where other students were eating breakfast. The windows and doors were open, but the strong aroma lingered. An odd thought flashed through Zhang Yunyi’s mind: maybe Chen Kuo ate outside because he worried the smell would bother others. Truly the boss she admired—such good manners.

She had intended to eat at her desk, but seeing him outside, she decided to follow his lead. She opened her plastic bag, took a bite of a dumpling, glanced at his simple yet healthy breakfast—two large meat buns and an egg—and asked, “Are those meat buns good?”

Her mother forbade her from buying meat buns outside, scaring her with tales of lymphatic meat and bits of cardboard mixed in. The description was so disgusting it completely killed her appetite.

Chen Kuo was sparing with words: “Not bad.”

“When do you usually get up, class monitor?” Zhang Yunyi asked casually. “I didn’t see you earlier; I thought I was earlier than you today.”

Chen Kuo’s gaze darkened as he stared into the distance.

He wanted to tell her she could just speak directly if something was on her mind.

But the words stuck in his throat. His silence didn’t seem to deter her as she whispered near his ear, “...Getting up now’s still easy. I wonder what I’ll do in winter.”

Chen Kuo hurriedly finished his egg and moved on to the bun, eating noticeably faster, nearly choking. Zhang Yunyi noticed his expression and quickly poked the milk’s straw open, handing it to him. “Choked, didn’t you? Drink some milk to help it down!”

His reflexes were quicker; he took the milk, touched her hand briefly, and showed a brief look of embarrassment before awkwardly stepping aside. After drinking most of the milk, his expression returned to normal. He turned his head; she was watching him with concern.

His voice lowered several tones. “Thanks.”

Zhang Yunyi breathed a sigh of relief. “Glad you’re okay~”

Senior year was brutal. Even a top student like Chen Kuo was racing against time to this extent. She’d heard many classmates tried to save time even on meals to squeeze out more study hours. The college entrance exam was a battlefield; she admired people like Chen Kuo for their success but never envied them, believing hardworking people deserved good lives.

Fei Shijie burst into the classroom like a gust of wind, hair tousled from skipping grooming. Though he cared about his image, he found a comb in his desk and caught sight of Chen Kuo distractedly drawing a line on scrap paper. Raising an eyebrow, he asked, “What problem’s got you stuck?”

He tried to peek.

Chen Kuo dodged, jaw tight. “Don’t bother me, go away.”

Fei Shijie was puzzled but accepted it. “Alright, the kid’s in one of his moods again.”

—

The next day was Saturday, and while classmates were elated, Zhang Yunyi was not. After dinner, she walked with Dai Jia to help settle her stomach but kept rehearsing a classical text, stumbling over the words. “...Wood... wood straight in the string, bent to form the wheel, its curve within the compass.”

Dai Jia frowned. How could she still struggle with first-year classical Chinese? Then she recalled it was only the first round of review—normal enough.

For Zhang Yunyi, it wasn’t something she’d learned two years ago but much earlier. The text was tongue-twisting. Just reading it fluently a few days ago had been a challenge, let alone memorizing it.

Xunzi, how I hate you!

Yet her effort bore fruit. With Dai Jia’s friendly reminders, she forced herself through the recitation, smiling outwardly while cursing inwardly. This miserable life was unbearable; her mental state was worrying, and friends noticed her long spell of craziness.

Dai Jia hesitated, then gently said, “Actually, there’s still more than half a year until the entrance exam.”

They had been classmates for over a year, but this was the first time she’d seen her like this. Privately, she, Xu Shishi, and Shen Mingrui speculated how much longer Zhang Yunyi could keep this up—it was frightening.

Zhang Yunyi closed her eyes in anguish. “Yeah, only 245 days left!”

Dai Jia was speechless.

What to do? The kid was really losing it.

After a pause, Dai Jia offered, “How about I borrow some comics from Mi Xin later, and we ask the class monitor for leave so I can keep you company in the dorm?”

Surprisingly, Zhang Yunyi was tempted for a moment but shook her head. Seeing Dai Jia scrunch her nose like she’d swallowed bitter coffee, Zhang Yunyi laughed, feeling warm inside. She squeezed Dai Jia’s hand. “Don’t worry, I know my limits.”

Just a college entrance exam! She refused to be cowed. Having conquered it once, she’d do so beautifully again!

—

After playing basketball, Chen Kuo hurried to the dorm for a shower, then went to the cafeteria for a meal. With his heavy exercise, he had a large appetite. Well-fed and refreshed, he returned to class. Before sitting, he heard Fei Shijie chewing meat floss bread mumble, “Someone came looking for you, wanting to ask for leave.”

At those words, Chen Kuo suddenly relaxed, feeling a “finally” moment.

His first thought: it must be Zhang Yunyi.

He pulled out his chair and sat down. As class monitor, he had responsibilities but didn’t mind reasonable, moderate leave requests. His frown eased; he reached for his phone to play a game and relieve stress but remembered the recent disastrous ending and dismissed the idea for now.

At that moment, Zhang Yunyi and Dai Jia entered through the front door. Passing Chen Kuo’s desk, she casually smiled and said, “Class monitor, finished eating too?”

Chen Kuo nodded quietly, waiting for her to continue.

But she had no intention of stopping. After the greeting, she walked straight to her seat. In those few seconds, no one noticed the flicker of confusion on Chen Kuo’s face.

Zhang Yunyi, sipping water through a straw, was completely unaware. She was pleased with the progress so far. Even if she wanted to stick close to the boss, she had to pass the college entrance exam first. Otherwise, she wouldn’t even meet the basic requirements for a job application.

She had a plan and her own pace.

Having met the boss early four mornings in a row, she was sure the deepest impression she left would be “diligent.” How’s that not winning at the starting line of the professional world? Heh heh heh.

“Brother Kuo.”

A bespectacled boy stopped at Chen Kuo’s desk, smiling broadly. “Want to talk to you about something!”

Chen Kuo already guessed what it was. Calmly, he looked at him, pulled a test paper from the bookstand, and spread it out. “Speak.”

“I want to ask for leave during evening self-study.”

Chen Kuo’s expression remained calm. “What’s the reason?”

Why bother with reasons for leave?

The boy wanted to hide in the dorm and watch a game. He hadn’t expected much, just trying his luck. When Chen Kuo pressed for a reason, he perked up—this was a sign of softening! But caught off guard, he hesitated, then tentatively said, “I’m not feeling well?”

Click.

Chen Kuo snapped the pen cap shut, glanced at him, and said coldly, “Go back to your seat. Leave denied.”

The boy slumped his shoulders, mumbling, “Brother Kuo, you’re so heartless.”

Though he looked well enough to star in an ad for blood-nourishing supplements, he’d said he wasn’t feeling well—why was the class monitor so uncaring?

Fei Shijie nearly spat out his bread. “Nonsense! At least Kuo treats everyone the same!”

“That makes it worse. That’s terrifying!”

Chen Kuo was annoyed by their noise. He closed the test paper. “Keep babbling and see what happens?”

The group quickly dispersed, finally giving him some peace.