Chapter 9: A Lifetime, Happy Third Anniversary

In the summer of their second year in high school, the sun blazed fiercely, and the wind whispered through the treetops.

She was a quiet, reserved girl—obedient, pure, and beautiful. Yet her introverted nature made her unapproachable, and she shied away from conversation, always clutching a book as she hid in tranquil corners.

He was the school’s notorious bad boy, wild and uninhibited, yet sharp in his studies and adept at fighting. His striking looks made him the object of many girls’ affections, and wherever he went, he was surrounded by a crowd of friends.

“Hey, hey, hey, Gu Pingsheng, what’s with you? How did our top student offend you? You’ve kicked the ball her way three times in the past few minutes, haven’t you?”

“You should put it this way: Classmate Gu, she’s the star student, and you’re the school tyrant. You shout and carry on, but has she ever paid you any attention? Hahaha…”

“Damn, man, you’ve hit the nail on the head…”

At this age, boys’ budding feelings always came with a hint of curiosity and mischief.

Flexing his wrists, Gu Pingsheng feigned a punch, causing the others to scatter and fall silent.

Still, the ball had to be retrieved.

His uniform was worn carelessly, hands shoved into his pockets, sneakers scuffing the ground as he strode straight towards Wen Zhixia, who sat on a stone bench. The soccer ball lay not far from her side, but she didn’t spare it a glance.

A shadow suddenly fell over her, dimming the sunlight—even the pages of her book grew darker—prompting her to finally look up.

Unexpectedly, she found herself face-to-face with his roguish grin. “Top student, do you look down on me?”

He’d gotten into a fight yesterday, and bruises still lingered on his face, but they did nothing to mar his striking features.

“You’re blocking my book,” she replied.

Her voice, like her demeanor, was soft and cool—so gentle yet somehow stirring, making Gu Pingsheng’s heart itch restlessly.

It was a feeling he’d carried ever since he’d transferred to this school and first heard her recite a perfect-score essay in class.

“Wen, we’re in the same class, after all. Can’t you help me fetch the ball? Did I do something to offend you, or do you just look down on me?” He didn’t step aside; instead, he moved closer, his shin brushing her knee.

Wen Zhixia glanced at him, then at the ball, closed her book, and said, “Last month, during PE class, I fetched your ball once. But since then, every time, you kick it near me. The goal is nearly five hundred meters away from where I sit. You’ve broken the school scoring record, so your skills are impressive. Kicking the ball this way is intentional.”

As if worried he hadn’t understood or that she hadn’t made her point clear enough, she repeated, “So, you’re making me fetch the ball on purpose… and I won’t do it.”

Listening to her calm, logical analysis and her final verdict, Gu Pingsheng wanted to laugh but held it in, raising an eyebrow. “Excellent deduction.” He bent closer, eyes fixed intently on her, lips twisting into a mischievous smile. “Why don’t you analyze for me why I’d want to do that?”

He was too close—his breath brushed her face. Wen Zhixia frowned, turning her head away. “You smell awful.”

Gu Pingsheng: “…”

“Pfft—hahahaha…”

“Oh man, Gu, I can’t hold it in, this is too damn funny…”

They’d been playing soccer for nearly an entire period, sweating in the summer heat. Among boys, no one cared about the smell—but here was Gu Pingsheng, the notorious ruler of No. 2 High, being openly disdained by the class’s famously gentle, soft-spoken girl who never argued or raised her voice. She’d actually rejected him!

It was enough to keep them laughing for a whole year.

Gu Pingsheng’s face darkened, his tone threatening and low. “Is it—that—funny?!”

The others fell silent. Well, it was funny, but who dared say so?

Night fell over Lanhu Manor.

Returning home, Gu Pingsheng immediately saw the warm, dim light in the dining room.

On the table sat a meal, covered and waiting. On the sofa lay Wen Zhixia, fast asleep, beside her a gift bag with elegant handwriting that read: Pingsheng, happy third anniversary.

Gu Pingsheng froze, remembering at last her recent hesitations and almost-spoken words.

He sat beside the sofa, gazing at her long, curled lashes. His slender fingers trailed across her cheek, pausing before moving to her lips.

His fingertip brushed gently over her soft lips, pressing and stroking lightly.

Then, bending down, he covered her mouth with his own, lingering in a tender, unhurried kiss.