Chapter 13: If I Go Bald, Will You Still Love Me? (13)

Lu Zhizhi had just come downstairs. Watching Bai Yao and Lu Xiaoran’s retreating figures, she found her understanding of those two deepening even further. Bai Yao was the very image of a spoiled heiress—arrogant and domineering. In just a few short days at school, Lu Zhizhi had seen many students fawning over Bai Yao, just as Lu Xiaoran did.

The school’s negative atmosphere was easily explained—it was full of people like Bai Yao. It reminded her of her previous school, where pretty girls spent their days chasing after boys and social ties were hopelessly tangled.

Lu Zhizhi had noticed Bai Yao leaving Room 302. Bu Zhongyao, who had been so warm and welcoming at her orientation, now seemed withdrawn. She’d heard that Bu Zhongyao had been downcast since returning last night, and knowing that she and Bai Yao didn’t get along, Lu Zhizhi surmised Bai Yao had only come by to kick her while she was down.

With genuine concern, Lu Zhizhi knocked on the door of Room 302. When it opened, she sought out Bu Zhongyao and said, “I just saw Bai Yao. Did she come to pick a fight with you? I’ve heard she wields a lot of power here, that she’s always got a bunch of minions trailing after her, and that plenty of boys have questionable relationships with her. If she ever gets those cronies—or any of the boys—to bully you, I promise I’ll help you.”

Lu Zhizhi’s indignation grew. “A girl as insidious and malicious as her—”

“Insidious and malicious?” Bu Zhongyao was sitting at her vanity, casually grooming herself, only half-listening to Lu Zhizhi’s rambling. But at those words, she finally turned and addressed her.

A girl with shoulder-length hair sat on the bed, playing with her phone. She heard Lu Zhizhi’s words and quietly rolled her eyes.

Lu Zhizhi felt a little uneasy. “Yes, people who rely on family background and underhanded tricks, who manipulate others through men behind the scenes—they’re insidious, malicious, despicable…”

Bu Zhongyao set her brush down with a thud and let out a soft laugh. “And who are you to say that about Bai Yao?”

Lu Zhizhi stood frozen.

The short-haired girl smirked. This new student really was hopelessly naive—coming to a school like this and understanding nothing of its rules for survival.

Lu Zhizhi kept denouncing Bai Yao as insidious, malicious, and despicable, but little did she know that Bu Zhongyao herself was no stranger to such tactics.

After all, virtues like honesty and kindness would never secure you a peaceful existence here.

Bu Zhongyao considered Bai Yao her archrival. She’d spoken ill of her often enough, but it was different when someone else did so. When Lu Zhizhi belittled Bai Yao, it was almost as if she were belittling Bu Zhongyao herself.

In all these years, this was the first time anyone so hopelessly naive had appeared at their school.

Bu Zhongyao smiled. “That author, ‘Green Pepper Stir-Fried with Ham,’ the one at the heart of the latest plagiarism scandal online—wasn’t she the one who wrote a novel about someone named Song Xueyao? They say the title, the characters, everything matched someone else’s work.”

She rose, approaching Lu Zhizhi with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “And when the original author found out, she apologized, claiming she’d only borrowed ideas to attract readers, hurriedly edited the text, then denied everything.”

Cold sweat broke out on Lu Zhizhi’s face. “I…I…”

“Who would have thought we had such a literary giant in our ranks,” Bu Zhongyao sneered. “Lu Zhizhi, why pretend to be so pure and innocent? We knew all about you the day you set foot in this school.”

The incident had caused quite a stir online. Many readers, rather than supporting the original work, praised the plagiarized version, insisting it was better. But those supporters all seemed to run into inexplicable trouble soon after—some went mad, others lost their wits. As her fear grew, Lu Zhizhi had transferred schools at her family’s urging.

Lu Zhizhi felt cold all over, unable to say a word.

Yes, she had written a novel online, but it had only been borrowing, not plagiarism! Why were the people here all so sharp-tongued and cruel?

Why did everyone have to bully her, even in a new environment? Why was the world so malicious toward her?

Step by step, Lu Zhizhi retreated, then fled the room.

Outside the dormitory building, Lu Xiaoran knew Bai Yao would be busy tutoring her boyfriend again and sensibly excused herself first. As the editor-in-chief of the school magazine, she had a feature on the school’s history to research.

During the week, Bai Yao chose the tutoring location, but on weekends, it was up to Shen Ji. Compared to Bai Yao’s choices—library, study room, and other normal places—Shen Ji was anything but conventional.

He had a mercurial temperament. One day, he’d pick the rooftop of the classroom building where the wind would whip Bai Yao’s carefully styled hair into chaos, all in the name of “feeling the freedom of the wind.” Another time, he’d choose the back window of the cafeteria, claiming the smell of food inspired him, though on that occasion, the kitchen was serving pickled fish and Bai Yao felt as if she herself was being marinated.

Yet, no matter how absurd his choices, Bai Yao always went along with him, joining in his mischief.

This time, the address on Bai Yao’s phone led her to the abandoned multi-purpose building. The thought of all the dust there made her grimace, but she still donned a beige wide-brimmed hat and a mask, bundling up tightly before heading over.

The moment she stepped through the iron door, she was greeted by brilliant flashes of red.

Clusters of vibrant roses climbed the stair railings, ascending floor by floor. By the time she reached the fourth floor, the flowers had crept along the corridor walls to the very end. The building, once blackened and scarred by fire, now bloomed with life—flowers and green leaves bringing color to the ashes, as though something living burned fiercely amid the ruins.

Astonishment and delight mingled in Bai Yao’s heart as she followed the trail of flowers to the art room.

The door was ajar, yielding easily to her touch.

The moment her white sneakers crossed the threshold, she paused, stunned by the vivid spectacle before her.

Just last night, by the faintest light, this art room had appeared to her as a charred, ruined cage. But now, the walls and ceiling were awash with the colors of a radiant sunset, painted so boldly and beautifully that the entire room seemed an illusion, a fantastical world come to life.

For the first time, Bai Yao realized how powerful art could be—that even the wildest fairy tales could become real.

She tilted her head back, gazing up at the sun half-hidden in the painted clouds, the last rays of the day spreading all around. She reached out, as though she could grasp that warm light.

And someone did grasp her hand.

The boy behind her took her hand in his, drawing close with a gentle laugh.

Relaxing, Bai Yao leaned back against his chest, pulled off her mask, her eyes reflecting the dazzling colors. Lost in this dreamscape shaped by light and color, she turned to him after a long while, excitement sparkling in her voice. “Did you paint this?”

Shen Ji’s eyes curved with delight as he nodded. His fingers played with a lock of her black hair, just like a child proudly awaiting praise. “Yao Yao, do you like it?”

Bai Yao nodded enthusiastically. “I love it, it’s beautiful!”

Overcome with excitement, she spun around, jumping up and clinging to him, not caring about her skirt or her image. Even when her hat fell to the floor, she didn’t notice. “Shen Ji, you’re amazing! How did I not realize before how talented you are?”

Shen Ji held her securely, a hint of childish pride on his face. “There’s a lot I’m good at—painting is nothing. I can build with blocks, put together puzzles, no matter how broken something is, I can fix it.”

He certainly wasn’t like Xiao Hong, who would match the head of one corpse to the body of another.

Bai Yao asked him, “Did you come here to paint after leaving my dorm last night?”

“I did,” Shen Ji replied. “I wanted to finish it early so you could see it sooner.”

He must have spent ages on it, probably without resting.

Bai Yao cupped his face. “What made you suddenly want to paint?”

Shen Ji nuzzled her hand contentedly. “I thought you’d like it, so I wanted to paint it.”

He still remembered how, yesterday, Bai Yao had picked up the shattered drawing board and pieced it together in that chaotic room. That painting was no good; this one was better.

The painting he made for her had no cages, no traces of fire—just a vast expanse of vibrant color.

It was like the colors in her eyes.

Bai Yao pressed her lips together, sniffling, her eyes turning red as she buried her face in the crook of his neck and pinched his waist. “Don’t do this! If you keep this up, I’ll start to think you’re really in love with me!”

Shen Ji blinked in confusion, then kissed her softly on the ear. “Yao Yao, I do love you.”

He loved her so much, he wanted to devour her.

Bai Yao mumbled, “Liar.”

She still hadn’t received the notification that her mission was complete. There could only be one reason—he didn’t love her enough yet.

She lifted his face, firm and insistent. “You have to love me even more, understand?”

He nodded obediently. “Alright.”

But if his love reached its peak, would she suddenly complete her mission and be transported out of this world?

Looking at his pale, flawless face, Bai Yao hesitated. “No, you’d better not love me too much after all!”

Shen Ji looked completely lost. For all his cleverness, he could never quite grasp what girls were thinking.

Bai Yao swung her legs and declared, “Kiss me—make it exciting.”

Shen Ji’s eyes lit up, and as Bai Yao’s lips parted, he bent down, and the two became entangled in a warm, breathless kiss.

The sunlight today, indeed, was wonderfully warm.