Chapter Twelve: Ye Mian, Listen Carefully

The weather outside had yet to clear; sometimes heavy rain poured down, sometimes it fell silent, always leaving people unsure whether to bring an umbrella or not.

As the alarm rang, Ye Mian rolled over, clutching her pillow, and climbed out of bed. Her sleepy, soft face was marked with impressions from the pillow. She slipped on her cozy slippers and walked to the desk, carefully opening the little hill made of stacked tissues. The photo inside had been left overnight and was now completely dry.

Taking up the photo, the gloomy September weather could not suppress the radiant smiles of the two people captured in it. Ye Mian’s eyes curved as she smiled, then tucked the photo away into the cabinet.

The weekend had been fulfilling for Ye Mian.

On her rare days off, she went to the market and bought over a dozen strawberry seedlings, planting them in the courtyard. She squatted beside them for a long while, simply imagining the strawberries that would eventually bloom was enough to keep her spirits high all day.

Having been granted another chance at life, Ye Mian naturally wanted to make the most of it, but how could it ever be that easy? Those heroines in novels who remembered lottery numbers and stock trends were nothing but fabricated wish-fulfillment stories.

Her only advantage was knowing that Jiang Chen would become an extraordinary figure in the future, but that knowledge did nothing to help her current life.

All she wished was to work a little harder than in her previous life, so that her future would be better—this was already enough.

Saturday’s daylight always seemed too brief.

By nightfall, the old district settled into quiet, and only then did Ye Mian pick up her homework and begin to write.

This time, it was a test paper issued by the school. Ye Mian worked through it smoothly, but the final major question was well beyond the syllabus; she spent half an hour trying to solve it, to no avail.

She searched online and found only the answer, not the process—frustrated, Ye Mian picked up her phone, intending to ask in the class group.

Scratching her head, she thought, what’s the use of asking classmates? Everyone’s at the same level.

But there was one person she could ask.

Ye Mian switched from QQ to WeChat, clicked on the tree avatar, and saw their last conversation still there.

She took a clear photo of the question and sent it.

[Good Sleep: Jiang Chen, do you know how to solve this problem?]

Then she curled up with her quilt on the bed, quietly waiting for the top student to reply. If even the number one in their grade couldn’t solve this, she’d have to leave it blank.

Jiang Chen’s reply was unexpected.

[jc: Is it convenient for a video call?]

A video call?

Ye Mian sat up, flustered, and scanned her room—the lights were bright, her clothes neatly arranged in the wardrobe, her desk a bit messy but nothing too bad.

She was too embarrassed to refuse or to keep Jiang Chen waiting. She dropped her pillow, sat obediently at the desk, tidied her hair, and replied.

[Good Sleep: Sure, thank you!]

Even though she’d mentally prepared herself, when her phone vibrated, Ye Mian still jumped.

She reached out to answer the video call.

She saw Jiang Chen sit down with a cup of water.

“Wait a moment.”

Ye Mian nodded. “It’s fine, I’m not in a hurry.”

Then, unable to help herself, she watched him out of the corner of her eye.

He looked a little tired, sitting at his desk, tidying papers. The scattered fringe on his forehead gave him a strangely weary air; under the dim, yellow light, his silhouette was crossed by shadows, unclear and mysterious.

After a while,

Jiang Chen suddenly looked up at the screen.

As if he’d caught her gaze.

It was so abrupt.

Ye Mian clenched her hand beneath the desk; her heartbeat thundered in the quiet connection, deafening in the silence only she could hear, as if the whole world trembled.

After two seconds of eye contact, Ye Mian, pretending to drink water, shifted her gaze with practiced ease. Only when her heartbeat calmed did she return her attention to the screen.

Seeing this, Jiang Chen simply waited patiently.

He sat a little straighter, his face gentle, his beautiful eyes holding the depth of a long night—there was a subtle allure about him, though he had no such intention.

When she was ready, Jiang Chen turned the camera, leaving only a blank sheet of paper and a charcoal pencil in view.

And his hand.

In high definition, his hand was pale, long, and slender, joints clear, the skin’s texture lighter than most.

No trace of color, like the hand of a vampire under a high-definition lens.

The charcoal pencil obeyed his grip.

He outlined the question and diagram, his handwriting clear, elegant, and full of character. Ye Mian watched intently.

“For this question, look—”

Jiang Chen’s pace was unhurried, his explanation even clearer than his handwriting, carefully suited to Ye Mian’s level, the steps filling an entire sheet of paper.

Listening to his voice, Ye Mian’s focus began to drift; thinking of his refined face, she found Jiang Chen almost excessively outstanding.

It took only a few seconds of distraction for her to lose track of the problem-solving steps.

When Jiang Chen finished, he took a sip from his cup and, hearing no response from her, asked in a low voice, “Did you understand?”

Ye Mian’s heartbeat quickened again, heightened by the atmosphere—she felt a guilty, caught-by-the-teacher sensation, her voice grew softer.

“Vaguely… I didn’t quite understand. Could you…?” She paused, feeling too embarrassed to continue.

Immediately, she heard a low chuckle from the young man, transmitted through the phone screen, casual and unhurried.

“Then I’ll explain it again.”

Jiang Chen was very patient, setting aside the filled sheet and taking out another clean paper.

As a gentle reminder, his pale fingertip tapped the page, tinged with helplessness. “Ye Mian, listen carefully.”

Unseen, Ye Mian nodded. “Okay, top student.”

Hearing her mischievous reply, a smile tugged at Jiang Chen’s lips; he repeated the solution steps slowly and methodically, his pace even gentler.

From time to time, he’d ask, “This part, do you understand?”

When Ye Mian replied, “Yes, I got it,” he would proceed to the next step.

Until he had explained the entire question.

Ye Mian looked at the filled manuscript, her hand aching.

In her heart, she sighed—Jiang Chen, with his good temperament and high intelligence, if he isn’t destined for success, who is? If he isn’t fated for wealth, who else could be?

Grateful, Ye Mian looked at the camera and thanked him, “Thank you, sorry for the trouble.”

Jiang Chen turned the camera back, maintaining his relaxed, downward gaze. Their eyes met, his tone languid and casual, “It’s nothing.”

Breath held, the screen frozen.

Ye Mian felt her face grow hot, suddenly at a loss for words.

But hanging up immediately would make her seem callous and ungrateful.

Looking at Jiang Chen’s tired expression, Ye Mian thought she should at least make small talk. “What were you doing just now? Did I interrupt you?”

Jiang Chen’s long eyes lifted, his gaze falling on the “Study Notes” he’d jotted down on the desk, and he answered gently, “No.”