Everyone slowly shuffled out of the teaching building, chatting and horsing around in the flag-raising square. The dean of students urged each class to line up with a shrill, high-pitched voice, sharp enough to cut through diamonds.

The girl up ahead, busy putting on her school jacket over her overalls, seemed to be Zoe Young, the same Zoe Young who had exchanged a smile with her that morning.

Upon meeting again, Charlotte Lee could hardly remember what kind of girl Zoe Young really was, though she vaguely recalled that, as a child, Zoe Young had once left her at a loss for words.

But that was all in the past. Back then, she really didn’t know how to hold back.

Zoe Young got into Brightstar High School, and her entrance exam score was even 2 points higher than her own.

Come to think of it, Zoe Young also chose the liberal arts track.

At this thought, Charlotte Lee suddenly felt a bit panicked. Accepting praise requires a certain amount of composure, and she—

Charlotte Lee, can she really be number one in the grade?

Charlotte Lee’s bright mood was suddenly and inexplicably washed away by a downpour.

There was someone else. Ray Cindy—that dark and cold girl, who, like Zoe Young, had also transferred from Class One.

But even if neither of them was strong enough to surpass her, there were still top students from the regular classes joining the liberal arts class. Who knew if a dark horse might appear? If, in the end, Charlotte Lee failed to live up to everyone’s expectations, what would people think of her?

Her thoughts swirled in a chaotic mess, leaving her finally restless and irritable.

“I announce that the Brightstar Middle School flag-raising assembly now begins!”

Jason Carter’s voice sounded just like the dean’s, as if they were sisters.

This was what Charles Johnson had said back in their first year, after Jason Carter was chosen as the flag-raising assembly host. At the time, Charlotte Lee just lowered her head and smiled, not joining in, but secretly admiring how clever the line was. When she looked up, she caught Jason Carter’s cold smirk and immediately blushed. Charles Johnson was a bit effeminate and plain-looking, but he had a natural, unshakable pride and warmth, always speaking with sharp insight. Jason Carter wisely never argued with him, but instead made things difficult for the then self-protective Charlotte Lee at every turn.

If you’re angry, you should show it to those who will give you a satisfying reaction. Charlotte Lee was just such a person.

The more she craved everyone’s friendliness and approval, the more Jason Carter became a heavy stone on her heart, reminding her every Monday morning, with that tape-recorder-like voice, that someone disliked her—a lot, a lot.

Even during the flag-raising and national anthem, many people were still chatting. At times like this, the loudspeakers would work only intermittently, as if the earlier good sound quality had been reserved for Jason Carter. Many students still hadn’t removed their baseball caps, and the national anthem was sung in three different parts.

“Next, please enjoy the speech under the flag, ‘Golden Autumn September, Brightstar High School People Set Sail,’ delivered by Thomas Chase from Class 2, Grade 2.”

Thunderous applause. It seemed rare for this to happen; usually, everyone was daydreaming or chatting, especially those in the back half of the field. But this time, the students all showed their support. Even the loudspeakers cooperated, carrying a steady and clear voice across the quiet square.

Charlotte Lee lowered her head and smiled. While everyone craned their necks to look at the tiny figure on the flag-raising platform, her gaze drifted away, looking unconcerned, but her ears were nervously catching the pleasant sound of his voice. That steady and clear voice was just like the person himself.

She had gone to find him that morning, postponing their agreed meeting time again and again, hoping to receive a text from him asking about it. But none came, so she had to rush out of the classroom before the flag-raising to run to Class One. His classmates came and went at the door, all looking at her with gossipy expressions. Charlotte Lee wanted to be noticed, wanted rumors about her and Thomas Chase, but didn’t want it to seem like she was the one pursuing him—so she wished even more that Thomas Chase would come to her classroom door and say, “Can I see Charlotte Lee?”—then, amid the teasing laughter of those around, she would move to the door with a calm but slightly blushing face and say to the handsome boy at the door, “What is it?”

So she borrowed things from him, hoping Thomas Chase would come to her class to retrieve them. But every time Charlotte Lee texted Thomas Chase to come get something, he was always busy, so Charlotte Lee had to put on a considerate act and deliver it to Class One herself, exchanging a few polite words before hurrying away.

She had been pursued by many since childhood and knew all too well how boys expressed their affection—some were eager to please, some acted fierce and picked fights, but it was all just clumsy ways of saying the same thing: Charlotte Lee, I like you.

But the boy standing on the flag-raising platform, with his handsome yet slightly distant smile and his polite but measured concern, left Charlotte Lee both fascinated and troubled.

This boy’s heart was like a lottery ticket—no matter how much she guessed, she could never be sure of the answer.

Maybe he just admired her.

Or maybe he didn’t even admire her, just being polite.

Charlotte Lee looked up at the clear September sky. She remembered how, as a child, she mistakenly thought she liked Andrew Lane. The adults always joked about it, and over time, she came to think of Andrew Lane as hers, that she would marry Andrew Lane and boss him around for life—later, when they talked about this so-called “childhood engagement,” they both laughed until they couldn’t stop.

Back then, if Andrew Lane was even a little distracted or cold to her, she would cry, scream in frustration, and chase away any boys or girls around Andrew Lane she didn’t like. That clear and domineering way of liking or disliking someone was something she still missed.

Unfortunately, growing up, she realized it was all an illusion.

Because she met Thomas Chase.

It turned out that liking someone could make you mute, could teach you to hide your feelings. She would never rush up and shout, “Thomas Chase, why didn’t you say hi to me? Thomas Chase, why are you talking to those girls? They’re so annoying…”

Teenagers’ hearts are like layers of clouds. That cloudless, childlike state of mind would never come again.

“Brightstar High School students have once again won the laurels in the recent college entrance exams, and we, the successors about to embark on a new journey, will surely live up to our mission and write a new brilliant chapter for Brightstar High School…”

The school needed a high college acceptance rate, and students needed a good future. There was really no such thing as a “mission”—it was just cooperation. Parents were the clients, students the products. It was that simple. Charlotte Lee lowered her head again, restlessly scuffing the tiles with her toe, quietly thinking about her conversation with Thomas Chase that morning.

“Your new class has already had a meeting, right? How does it feel?”

“Pretty good. The homeroom teacher is a man, teaches history, seems pretty strict, but I think he’s quite experienced at managing a class…

His name is Lucas Walter, do you know him?”

“Oh, I know him. Back in first year, he once borrowed our class for a public lesson. He’s a very good teacher.”

“Hmm… really? That’s great.”

The sharp-tongued Charlotte Lee had nothing more to say.

There were rarely long silences between her and Thomas Chase; he always had a way of ending the conversation before any awkward pause could settle in.

“The flag-raising is about to start, you’d better get back.” Maybe thinking that was too abrupt, he added, “You look really pretty with your hair down. It’s a pity the school doesn’t allow it.”

A good-looking smile, a casual tone, ambiguous words with no real ambiguity—Thomas Chase’s clean turn and walk away replayed in Charlotte Lee’s mind over and over. Charlotte Lee played with the ends of her hair, a sense of humility she’d never felt before rising in her heart.

She’d read somewhere that loving someone is a very, very humble thing—especially when the other person doesn’t love you back.

Charlotte Lee looked up one last time at the person giving the speech, then lowered her head deeply.

Too far away.

Applause rang out again.

“Damn, it’s probably another poetry recitation. This stupid school never does anything new.”

The hoarse mutter from the girl behind made Charlotte Lee frown. But it was true—there was nothing new. A poetry recitation was inevitable; the only question was whether Lily Hughes would have a new male partner.

“Next, please enjoy the poetry recitation ‘The Name Buried in My Heart.’ Let’s welcome Lily Hughes from Class 6, Grade 2, and Andrew Lane from Class 2, Grade 2.”

Charlotte Lee stood there, speechless—Andrew Lane, poetry recitation!

At that moment, the field erupted in surprisingly enthusiastic applause and cheers. Andrew Lane had always been popular among the boys. Though he was also a clean-cut, good-looking guy, he and Thomas Chase had completely different temperaments.