A Sweeter Reunion

Barely Acceptable

The transfer went incredibly smoothly—not only because of the Jiang family’s standing in Wencheng, but mainly because Cheng You’an’s academic file was simply too stellar. Jiang Ping watched the normally stern-faced grade dean grin so wide that the wrinkles stacked up in layers on his face, and rolled his eyes.

“Are you sure you don’t want the advanced class?” the grade dean pressed again and again.

Cheng You’an glanced at Jiang Ping, then obediently shook her head. “No need.”

The grade dean was thoroughly disappointed, but the Class 10 homeroom teacher standing to the side was already beaming with joy and quickly whisked her away. “Come, Cheng, I’ll take you to the classroom.”

Jiang Ping walked beside Cheng You’an, hands stuffed in his pockets, leaning his upper body toward her. “Is being in the same class as me your idea or my dad’s?”

The homeroom teacher was whistling cheerfully ahead. Cheng You’an answered under her breath, “Both.”

Jiang Ping thought there was no need for her to sacrifice herself for his sake. He knew better than anyone what kind of place Class 10 was. But since she was willing on her own, he was perfectly content to let it happen.

“So you just can’t stand being away from me?” He was rather smug.

Cheng You’an wished she could gag him. Fortunately, the homeroom teacher didn’t hear. Her fine brows pinched as she shot him a glare, warning him not to spout nonsense at school.

They had already reached the classroom door when Jiang Ping suddenly leaned in close to her ear and said, “Don’t tell anyone about us.”

Cheng You’an felt a warm gust of breath brush her earlobe. She turned, but he had already straightened up and sauntered ahead, leisurely and loose. She tucked the stray wisps of hair behind her ear and followed the homeroom teacher through the front door.

“Quiet!”

The rowdy classroom finally settled down. The homeroom teacher stole a glance at Cheng You’an, terrified she might find the environment too awful and bolt for another class, and hurriedly motioned her forward to introduce herself.

Cheng You’an stepped onto the podium. Only then did Jiang Ping stroll in through the back door, take the last desk in the second row, and sit down, his chin slightly lifted as he watched her.

She felt a sudden spike of nerves, but her bearing remained poised and open. When she finished speaking, the whole class erupted in enthusiastic applause.

The homeroom teacher was deeply gratified. What a warm welcome the transfer student was receiving.

In truth, what everyone was actually thinking was: Holy s**t, a total babe!

Cheng You’an was assigned a seat in the middle, in the same group as Jiang Ping but four desks away.

Morning study period was devoted to handing back the last final exam papers.

The papers were passed down row by row. Cheng You’an caught a glimpse of Jiang Ping’s paper—utterly disastrous.

The heart that had wavered the night before instantly firmed up a few more notches.

During the break, Ye Yingyue and Sun Xiaoyu came over to greet her. With a few familiar faces already in the class, Cheng You’an felt considerably less adrift.

A week into the term, Cheng You’an had adjusted to the teaching pace and, with Ye Yingyue and the others, grown familiar with the campus. So she began sharpening her blade, ready to set upon… Jiang Ping.

Jiang Ping was stopped at the entrance to the gym locker room. He leaned against the wall, a basketball spinning on his fingertip. “Forgot your bus card?”

Cheng You’an shook her head. A boy passing by called out, “Jiang Ping, that your little sister?”

Jiang Ping had never once mentioned Cheng You’an’s identity. It was Ye Yingyue and the others who had said she was the child of a distant relative, and somehow the rumor mill had twisted it until she became Jiang Ping’s cousin.

Cheng You’an was caught between nodding and shaking her head. Jiang Ping hurled the basketball at the boy, who caught it, cast several extra glances at Cheng You’an, and then walked off laughing and joking.

Jiang Ping checked his wristwatch. “Go wait for me first. We’ll talk after practice.”

Cheng You’an made a small sound of assent. Jiang Ping had no time to deal with her; he ruffled the top of her head in a pacifying gesture. “I’ll treat you to ice cream later.”

Watching him jog away, Cheng You’an smoothed her mussed hair and sighed, heading toward the bleachers. Several rows were already filled, mostly with girls. The moment Jiang Ping appeared on the basketball court, they screamed and waved, a scene on par with a celebrity fan meet.

Cheng You’an couldn’t help but look toward the court. The boy dribbling the ball wore a black headband, his skin pale, his features arrestingly handsome with a trace of arrogance—instantly recognizable, the very image of a Japanese manga male lead straight from a girl’s comic. Apart from academics, he truly did possess capital to be proud of.

Forty minutes later, a shadow fell across the page of the book on her lap. Her pen paused, and then her right earbud was plucked out.

She flinched back instinctively and looked up. Jiang Ping stood on the steps, his wristband-clad hand pressing her earbud into his own ear. His expression shifted from darkly sullen to something utterly indescribable.

He glared at Cheng You’an. “So you’re telling me I played an entire game, and you didn’t watch a single second—just sat here doing English listening exercises the whole time?”

Cheng You’an had never planned to watch him play basketball in the first place, but his wounded, accusatory tone made it impossible to hold her ground. Her fingers twisted unconsciously around the earbud cord. “I… I don’t understand the game.”

This excuse was barely acceptable.

Jiang Ping handed the earbud back, his voice laced with scorn. “Calling you a bookworm really wasn’t wrong.”

Cheng You’an pursed her lips, not daring to retort.

Jiang Ping’s eye fell on the red thermos beside her seat. He picked it up casually. Before Cheng You’an could stop him, he had unscrewed the lid and taken a sip, his dark brows furrowing. “Goji berries?”

Cheng You’an said, nettled, “It’s for building blood and qi.”

Jiang Ping made an “Oh,” then tipped his head back and drained the lukewarm wellness tea in one long swallow.

When Cheng You’an got it back, the cup was empty.

“Go wait for me outside the locker room.” Jiang Ping turned and descended the steps, giving her no chance to reply.

Cheng You’an gathered her books and walked down from the bleachers, simmering with indignation.

Jiang Ping stood beneath the hoop, glancing sideways. The slow-moving figure of her back, like a put-upon little turtle, made the corner of his mouth curl upward.

By the time Cheng You’an finally caught up with Jiang Ping, everyone on the court had cleared out.

Jiang Ping pushed open the locker room door and tossed back, “Come in.”

Cheng You’an hesitated outside for a moment before following him in.

It was her first time inside; everything stirred her curiosity. So there wasn’t just lockers here, but a restroom and shower stalls too.

When Jiang Ping emerged from the restroom, both hands were wet—clearly just washed.

Cheng You’an, afraid he would make her wait again, seized the moment. “Jiang Ping, it’s already been a week since school started. You need to start tutoring. You can’t just head straight to the gym every day after class… Don’t come so close… Ah—”

Jiang Ping stripped her backpack off and tossed it onto a table. The weight lifted from her shoulders, but her heart lurched upward. His tall frame loomed over her like a beast poised to strike. She retreated step after step, only for her heel to catch on a basketball net bag. Her center of gravity pitched backward; she was about to slam into a locker when Jiang Ping’s hand shot out, grabbed her shoulder, and yanked her hard against his chest.

Cheng You’an clutched his shirt, still shaken, and just as she steadied herself, his voice dropped down from above.

“You reminded me.”

“Reminded you of what?”

“A whole week without touching you.”

Cheng You’an’s mind detonated. She let go in a panic and tried to bolt, but his arm blocked her escape.

Jiang Ping bent down, his gaze roaming over her small face. “Missing me?”

What was there to miss in someone she saw every single day?

It was only when his hand slipped under the hem of her shirt, pushed aside her bra cup, and grabbed her t**s, kneading them, that she realized what he had meant.

Her face flushed crimson with shame. She tried to pull his hand away through the fabric. “Don’t talk rubbish.”

Jiang Ping ignored her feeble hand entirely. His other hand slid up under the hem of her school skirt, his fingertips tracing slow circles along the inside of her thigh.

Cheng You’an pressed down on her skirt in alarm. “Hey—what are you doing? This is the locker room!”

Jiang Ping leaned in. She turned her head away, but the next second, a wet warmth met her earlobe, and half her body went rigid.

His scalding breath fanned over the shell of her ear, his lips closing around the soft lobe. “I haven’t been late, left early, or skipped class once since school started. Since you’ve delivered yourself right to my doorstep, I’ll just collect a little interest on the side.”