After Hu Xiujie left with Dou Sheng, the classroom quickly fell silent.

The “Owls” (students) were hunched over their desks studying. Occasionally, the sound of turning pages could be heard, which only served to emphasize the surrounding stillness—so quiet that one could hear the hissing of the electricity in the light tubes.

Xie Lan poked the small owl plushie sitting next to his pencil case and lowered his head to work on his classical poetry reading paper.

He wrote for a while, then put down his pen, glancing at the empty seat beside him. He felt unaccustomed to the absence of a certain guy who was always moving around.

A moment later, the familiar sound of high heels echoed in the hallway.

Just as Xie Lan was about to look up, he heard Hu Xiujie speak outside: “Teacher Ma, watching over self-study, I see.”

Old Ma’s kind voice followed, “I just finished discussing grades with my class.”

Hu Xiujie smiled, “The All-Subject Class A did quite well this time.”

“It was alright, alright.” Old Ma paused. “Have you talked to Dou Sheng yet? What’s going on with him?”

Xie Lan caught the keyword and stopped writing inconspicuously.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed the students around him also pricked up their ears; the motion of turning pages froze mid-air.

Hu Xiujie said, “I’m letting him reflect in the office first while I head to Class 12. Oh, Teacher Ma, I wanted to discuss something with you. It seems this kid doesn’t value this competition class much. How about letting him go to your class for two weeks to clear his head?”

Old Ma’s tone turned even more sincere, “Director Hu, our All-Subject Class A isn’t a landfill for trash either.”

The hallway went silent for a moment. Suddenly, a burst of roaring laughter erupted from the classroom next door. The sounds of people banging on desks and jeering spilled out into the corridor. Before Xie Lan could react, his own class also “exploded.” Che Ziming leaned back so far he was practically crowing on top of Xie Lan’s pencil case.

A door opened in the hallway, and a boy from next door shouted, “Come on! Let Dou-zi come over! The Class 4 branch of All-Subject Class A welcomes you!”

Wen Zisen, who sat near the back door, also opened it directly. “Don’t rush, don’t rush! We’ll give him to you after he finishes the ball game for our class in May!”

The top students from both classes hooted and slammed their desks until Hu Xiujie appeared at the door with a cold face.

It was as if a loudspeaker had suddenly been unplugged; the entire hallway went dead silent.

Wen Zisen gave her a humble smile, reached out to grab the back door handle, and slowly—very slowly—closed the door.

The world returned to a deathly silence until the clack-clack-clack of Hu Xiujie’s high heels disappeared down the other end of the hall.

---

Finally, they endured until the end of the first self-study session. Someone outside shouted that the grade rankings had been posted, and the whole class swarmed out like a hive of bees.

Che Ziming tapped Xie Lan’s desk. “Let’s go! Hey, why did you bring your violin?”

“I need to finish a video at school this week.” Xie Lan put down his pen. “You guys go ahead, I’ll be there in a bit.”

Wait until most people had left before Xie Lan stepped out.

The office was in the opposite direction of the restroom, but fortunately, it was on the same line as the bulletin board for the grade rankings. Xie Lan maintained a calm expression, slowly strolling in that direction.

Dai You, coming back from looking at the rankings, smiled and said, “Xie Lan, checking the rankings?”

“Yeah.” Xie Lan immediately retracted his gaze and nodded calmly. “Taking a look.”

Dai You smiled at him and walked away.

Xie Lan felt a chill in his heart, sensing something subtle in Dai You’s smile—it was possible Dai You had already seen through his intention to eavesdrop on Dou Sheng’s scolding at the office. He could only bite the bullet and keep walking forward.

The students from the two Class A’s checked the rankings quickly, and by now, the crowd had mostly dispersed. Those standing near the bulletin board were unfamiliar faces.

Xie Lan intended to pass behind the crowd, but after two steps, he suddenly paused, spotting a familiar figure.

Chen Ge was wearing an oversized school jacket, left open to reveal a white T-shirt underneath. He looked a bit cleaner than he had half a month ago, and his hair wasn’t as flamboyant.

He was standing at the very back of the crowd, looking indifferent, scanning a certain spot on the ranking list.

A brown keychain-like object was looped around his index finger, spinning around and around—shoo, shoo, shoo, shoo.

Xie Lan instinctively followed his gaze and immediately saw a name at the top of a middle column on the big board.

Science Class 12, Chen Ge, Total Score: 528, Grade Rank: 352, Up 198 places.

While Xie Lan was stunned, he saw Chen Ge twitch the corner of his mouth and say faintly, “That’s it?”

As he spoke, he turned to leave. The spinning motion of his finger stopped, and he caught the object in his palm. It was a familiar fuzzy brown little owl, standing next to a “Pride” sign.

“Xie Lan?” Chen Ge saw him and raised an eyebrow. “Checking the rankings?”

Xie Lan snapped back to reality and hummed in response. “Congratulations.”

“It’s just whatever. Not as good as you; your math and physics scores are seriously badass.” Chen Ge gave a casual smirk. “I’m off.”

Xie Lan watched him walk away and couldn’t help but look back at the board. It had only been a bit over two weeks since “that incident,” yet Chen Ge was rising fast. In terms of the scale of improvement, Xie Lan was first, followed closely by Chen Ge.

For some reason, watching Chen Ge soar up the rankings gave him a localized hallucination—as if he were catching a glimpse of the Dou Sheng of years past.

But it wasn’t quite the same; he couldn’t put his finger on what was different.

---

Xie Lan gathered his thoughts and continued toward the office.

Hu Xiujie’s office seemed to possess a built-in purification function; few people ever passed within several meters of it. Xie Lan walked silently to the outside of the office. The door was ajar, and it was quiet inside.

He stood by the side of the door and peeked in stealthily.

Dou Sheng was indeed there, standing by the windowsill in his usual manner, his gaze drifting carelessly toward the view outside.

Hu Xiujie took a sip of tea and placed it on the table. “Do you plan to just hold out against me here? Do you really want me to pluck you out of the competition class and put you in another class to make you happy?”

Hearing this, Dou Sheng sighed softly and turned his head. “Teacher, let’s be realistic. You couldn’t possibly be that reckless.”

Hu Xiujie’s eyes narrowed. “Then what right do you have to be reckless? Been called a ‘Study God’ for two years and now you can’t be bothered with a small midterm exam?”

“I really wasn’t.” Dou Sheng let out an “ah,” rotating his ankle with his toe on the ground. “I’ve apologized so many times. My legs are going numb from standing.”

“Better if they snapped!” Hu Xiujie immediately scolded.

Dou Sheng was speechless. With a faint sigh, he turned back to look out the window.

After a long while, Hu Xiujie’s anger subsided slightly, and she stared at him intently.

“Dou Sheng.” Her tone softened. “There must be a reason for not testing well. Tell your teacher—is it related to your father’s situation?”

Father?

Outside the door, Xie Lan stiffened, instinctively looking toward Dou Sheng.

Dou Sheng’s expression also froze for a moment. He pulled his gaze back from the window, looking stunned for a while before smiling helplessly. “Not at all. That’s such old news. My mom only mentioned it when I first enrolled so you’d know; you don’t need to remember my dad’s death anniversary every year.”

Death anniversary (Jiri).

Xie Lan was stunned for a moment. He instinctively pulled out his phone, typed “jiri” in pinyin, and copied the first suggested word into the dictionary.

The definition was exactly as he had anticipated.

His heart sank unexpectedly.

Hu Xiujie likely didn’t know about the affair involving Dou Sheng’s father; she just happened to notice the date and thought Dou Sheng’s mood had been affected.

She sighed. “I didn’t ‘remember’ it on purpose. I puzzled over it for a whole class and couldn’t think of any other reason. I just happened to recall that business, and looking at the date, isn’t it tomorrow? You’re a good kid. If you’re feeling down, you can talk to your parents or teachers. You have all those friends and netizens, too. If you have emotions, don’t bottle them up, and don’t make a joke out of your grades, understand?”

“Tomorrow…” Dou Sheng’s eyes suddenly seemed distant, as if he were staring at a point in the air.

His expression was still peaceful, but his fingers hanging by his side curled inadvertently. After a long while, Dou Sheng returned to his senses and laughed carelessly as usual. “Forget it, Teacher, don’t overthink it. I’ll confess: it was for Xie Lan.”

Outside the door, Xie Lan suddenly froze.

He instinctively turned around, withdrawing a step from the door crack, his back pressing against the cold wall of the hallway.

Hu Xiujie sounded surprised. “Xie Lan?”

“Yeah.” Dou Sheng stuffed his slightly trembling right hand into his pocket and leaned lazily against the windowsill. “My mom should have explained—Xie Lan didn’t come back to the country on a whim. To put it nicely, it’s ‘returning to the motherland’; to put it realistically, he’s a person in a foreign land. How pitiful is a little kid in a foreign land? The slightest thing triggers his emotions and reminds him of sad things. It would be too miserable if he were split into a different class. That’s what I thought, and my mom gave her silent approval.”

Hu Xiujie was shocked: “Your mom approved? Your mom approved of you intentionally failing to stay with him? And you yourself don’t care about a major exam like this?”

Dou Sheng hummed an affirmation.

He paused and then said in a low voice, “I don’t have many complicated motives. I just wanted to… stay with him.”

As he spoke, he stood up straight, took his hand out of his pocket, and bowed politely. “It really won’t happen again. Teacher, I’m truly sorry.”

Xie Lan didn’t hear a word of what Hu Xiujie said afterward. He stood silently against the wall for a moment, then turned and walked away noiselessly before Hu Xiujie could release him.

“To stay with him.” Perhaps if Xie Lan had heard this phrase a few days ago, he would have only felt moved. But once “improper” feelings had sprouted, these few casual words were like a small pebble dropped lightly, stirring the heart of a teenager—like a sudden, panicky mountain flood in the depths of his soul with no way to escape.

The coldness of the wall seemed to crawl up his spine, yet he could not press down the burning heat at the tips of his ears. As he passed by the crack in the door, he caught a glimpse of Dou Sheng smiling faintly while talking to Hu Xiujie. Outside the window, the parasol tree leaves swayed gently in the night; Dou Sheng’s silhouette was cast onto the window by the light, upright and resilient.

---

Dou Sheng only returned shortly before school ended. Che Ziming saw him coming and joked, “Escaped from the tiger’s mouth?”

Dou Sheng smiled. “Barely survived.”

He returned to his seat, smiling as he poked the head of the little owl next to Xie Lan’s pencil case. He opened his large white sketchbook and continued practicing drawing those Digimon, saying nothing else until school let out.

On the way back to the dorm, Xie Lan walked beside Dou Sheng with his violin on his back. Dou Sheng finally spoke: “Drawing Digimon tonight made me think of when I watched the show as a kid. It’s full of memories.”

Hearing him mention his childhood, a flicker of unease crossed Xie Lan’s heart. However, when he turned to look, he only saw a faint smile, with no readable emotion.

Since coming back from the office, Dou Sheng was indeed a bit different from usual. The feeling was faint—perhaps he wasn’t even aware of it himself, or he was trying hard to hide it—but Xie Lan felt it quite clearly.

After a long pause, Xie Lan asked, “Which one do you like?”

“They’re all about the same…” Dou Sheng squinted in the wind and laughed again. “Wizardmon, I guess. For a while, I felt like we shared the same spirit. Wizardmon was killed by a strike to the chest to protect Gatomon. Tsk, going through fire and water for the most important person… that’s so cool.”

Xie Lan nodded. “Then draw Wizardmon for the hand-drawn video too. Draw a few more frames of him.”

Dou Sheng hummed in agreement.

Back at the dorm, Dou Sheng opened his iPad and began formally working on the draft. Xie Lan studied Chinese and Biology as usual. When the lights went out at 11:30 PM, he packed up his materials and climbed into bed. Dai You and Wang Gou were still whispering about a math problem in their beds. Dou Sheng was focused on his drawing.

That handsome hand held the stylus, quickly sketching on the glowing screen; simple and fresh lines of Digimon monsters began to take shape frame by frame.

The dorm was pitch black; Dou Sheng had dimmed the brightness a bit. After a while, Xie Lan couldn’t help but pull out his phone and tap on the chat box with Dou Sheng.

Has-Disease (Xie Lan): You seem a bit too quiet tonight. Are you unhappy?

Not long after he sent it, he felt his pillow being poked by something. He looked up to see it was Dou Sheng’s stylus.

Dou Sheng lowered his voice: “Didn’t someone peek through the door crack at the office? Why ask when you already know?”

Xie Lan was startled. “You knew?”

“I noticed the moment you arrived.” Dou Sheng smiled. “Even though cats walk without a sound, once you’ve lived together long enough, you get a ‘feeling.'”

He makes it sound so mystical.

Xie Lan paused before saying, “Does that thing about your dad affect you?”

“I can’t really say if it does or doesn’t.”

Dou Sheng sighed and put away the iPad. He lay prone on the bed, propping his forearms on the pillow, head-to-head with Xie Lan across the bed rails. He whispered, “Normally, I really don’t think about it. Every year, it’s nothing more than feeling a bit low around that day. You can’t control that kind of thing, you know? But this year was an exception. I had actually forgotten about it completely—awkward. Old Hu overthought it and ended up reminding me instead.”

He spoke lightly, but looking at those eyes where the light flickered slightly, Xie Lan still felt a stinging pain in his heart.

After a long while, he said, “That dance cover video—I agree. We’ll do it together. Will that make you feel better?”

A spark of light instantly gathered in the eyes opposite him. Dou Sheng’s lips curled up. “Then it’s a deal. No backing out.”

“Yeah, it’s a deal.” Xie Lan sighed. “What else can make you feel better?”

“Agreeing to that is enough to satisfy me.” Dou Sheng rolled over to lie flat, then added after a pause, “The rest is the self-healing part. I’ve decided to put on headphones and listen to a couple of violin pieces. Goodnight, Er-Mao (Cat No. 2).”

“Yeah, goodnight.”

Xie Lan watched from above as he tapped open a music app. Then, Dou Sheng tilted his phone slightly—clearly not wanting anyone to see his playlist.

Xie Lan instinctively rolled back to lie down, no longer looking at his phone.

But as he lay there, he couldn’t help but daze off. Dou Sheng rarely hid anything from him. Usually, he browsed Weibo or private messages right in front of him without any evasion.

That movement to hide the screen reminded him of a long time ago, the night he accompanied Yu Fei to take the black cat to the vet. Dou Sheng had mentioned he had a friend who played the violin, and “played very well.” When asked for a name, he had said “Private collection, no sharing.”

Xie Lan felt a subtle sourness in his heart and instinctively pulled out his phone.

Has-Disease: That ‘celebrity’ you like… it couldn’t be that violin-playing friend of yours, could it?

The phone above his head vibrated. Dou Sheng’s movements paused for a long moment before he replied.

Doctor-Dou: You guessed it. I forgot I even told you I had a friend who plays violin. What’s up?

Has-Disease: Nothing, just suddenly thought of it.

Xie Lan stuffed his phone under his pillow and rolled over, suddenly feeling a subtle sting.

Just as Che Ziming had said, he had become a “Lemon Spirit”—if you squeezed him, sour lemon juice would practically run down his wrists.

Even though “celebrity crushing” was unrealistic and, strictly speaking, posed no threat to someone with “impure intentions” like him…

It still felt very unpleasant.

That was the violin he was talking about. Dou Sheng had once told him very seriously: Someone like you who fishes for three days and dries the net for two can’t compare to that person.

The memory of Dou Sheng’s self-righteous tone that day resurfaced. Xie Lan suddenly sat bolt upright.

The bed frame creaked loudly.

Dou Sheng was startled. He took off his headphones and turned to look at him. “What’s wrong?”

Xie Lan stared at him fixedly, saying nothing.

“What is it?” Dou Sheng’s expression turned serious, and he instinctively propped himself up. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Accompany me to find a place to practice the violin,” Xie Lan said.

Dou Sheng was stunned. “…Now?”

---

The window on the first floor of the dorm finally came in handy. No teachers were out catching people tonight, and Xie Lan climbed out quite nimbly with his violin on his back.

It had been a clear day, and the night weather was equally good. The night sky was a deep blue, with a gentle breeze that felt refreshing with every breath.

As Xie Lan pushed open the small door to the rooftop of the administration building, he was a bit worried. He looked back and asked, “Are there really no security guards in this building?”

Dou Sheng couldn’t stop laughing. He sat down casually on the edge of the roof, letting his legs hang through the railing and swinging them gently.

“There are no guards. This building is usually empty, and at night there’s not a soul. Since we’re already here, just play your violin in peace.”

Xie Lan felt relieved. He opened his violin case near the railing, carefully applied rosin to the bow, and tucked the instrument under his chin.

Dou Sheng pulled out his phone and said with a grin, “Er-Mao looks so good. I’ll be your photographer.”

“No need.” Xie Lan glanced at him, then paused before saying, “This is a ‘comfort version’ of Butterfly that I rearranged. I’ve never played it for anyone. You’re the first audience member. Just listen.”

Dou Sheng was taken aback. “Comfort version?”

“Yeah.” Xie Lan held his bow ready. “The way to play it came to me on the way here. Let’s try it.”

Dou Sheng looked a bit dazed. After a long while, his gaze softened, and he hummed an okay.

“Then I’ll listen attentively and won’t film.”

Xie Lan took a light breath and placed the bow on the strings.

Butterfly was originally an intense, high-energy melody. Usually, a violin cover would amplify the heroic and moving aspects, much like the previous HBlood. But there was another way to play it. If one lowered the pitch by half a step and extracted the main melody from the fast-paced segments to re-interpret them, it would become low and gentle. As the melody progressed and the range widened to bring out the depth of the low notes, childhood memories would emerge in the softest possible way.

The low, melodious sound of the violin was carried slightly far by the night breeze from the top of the administration building. Dou Sheng sat a few meters away from Xie Lan, watching him with a tender gaze.

The wind blew Xie Lan’s hair and clothes slightly to one side. His eyes were fixed on the strings, his gaze calm and focused. Usually, when Xie Lan played, his feet would sway with the melody, but perhaps today’s piece was too gentle; he stood very steadily in the wind. Only his right hand, drawing the bow, opened and closed lightly, upright or tilted, tugging at one’s heartstrings.

In Dou Sheng’s memory, this anime was indeed something his family of three had watched together. He would never forgive the person who betrayed the family, but on very rare occasions, he would remember his childhood—those times before the betrayal had happened.

He remembered he had even memorized the Chinese lyrics to Butterfly: “I want to turn into a butterfly, spreading my wings and flying high on the breeze. Right now, I just want to see you quickly. Put the worrying things aside; if I forget them, it doesn’t matter.”

When he was a kid, he didn’t understand why such a high-energy song had such “strange” lyrics. but looking at Xie Lan playing now, everything suddenly clicked.

He curled his lips into a light smile toward Xie Lan’s silhouette. Xie Lan tilted his bow, and the melody morphed into a strain of sorrowful emotion, flowing quietly in the night wind. Dou Sheng listened for a long time, eventually turning his head and blinking to suppress the stinging heat in his eyes.

A moment later, the violin music ceased. Xie Lan packed up his instrument and sat down on the ground beside him.

Xie Lan asked, “How was it? Should we use this version for the K-rank submission?”

Dou Sheng smiled and hummed. “It couldn’t be better. When the violin arrives tomorrow, let’s come back here at night.”

“Back here?” Xie Lan was surprised. “Didn’t you say you wanted to find a lunch break to go to the grass?”

Dou Sheng shook his head. “The scene just now… was better.”

The boy playing the violin under the soft night light was perhaps an image he would never forget.

Xie Lan hesitated for a moment before nodding. After a pause, he added, “No matter how well that celebrity you like plays the violin, it’s ultimately unrealistic. When you’re unhappy, you still have to listen to me play.”

Dou Sheng was startled and turned to look at him. “You dragged me up here because of that?”

The wind blew Xie Lan’s hair forward; he brushed it back and said calmly, “Not entirely. I just thought you looked quite pitiful, liking someone so distant. I had to comfort you on her behalf.”

Dou Sheng didn’t speak for a good while. After a long silence, he turned his head and gave a low laugh.

“Then… I’ve received it.”

Xie Lan sat with him by the railing, swinging his feet and enjoying the wind for a while. Then he suddenly said, “By the way, I just remembered something you said before. Do you really think that person plays much better than me? Are you serious?”

“Hmm?” For a moment, Dou Sheng didn’t realize when he had said such a thing, and he tilted his head to look at him.

Xie Lan’s expression was somewhat helpless. “I’m not saying I’m the best—there are definitely many people better than me. But I think if she’s a celebrity, the violin should only be a hobby for her, right? Actually, my level among hobbyists is still considered…”

“You play better,” Dou Sheng interrupted him.

Xie Lan paused, his dark eyes instantly flashing with a hint of teenage smugness and the pride of “I knew it.”

But he quickly cooled his face and said, “No messing with me.”

“I’m not messing with you.”

Dou Sheng smiled faintly. “No one plays better than the you of right now.”