After Jiang Luxi returned home and finished dinner, she didn't head to bed right away. Instead, she sat at her desk, carefully planning next week's revision material for Cheng Xing. This was her first time tutoring middle school subjects. Over the summer, she had only taught elementary school students at a local tutoring company, which had been a different challenge altogether.
Tutoring wasn't just about understanding the material—it was about teaching it in a way that ensured the student understood. Mastery of a subject didn't automatically make someone a good tutor. The real test was whether the student grasped the concepts you explained. And Jiang Luxi doubted her ability to pass that test.
She couldn't forget how she had failed during the summer. One particular student, a stubborn and mischievous girl, had refused to learn from her. That failure still stung. Jiang Luxi wished she could be like other tutors—confident, in control, and able to teach effectively. If she could manage that, she could raise her tutoring fees. But most of the kids she tutored were troublemakers, and she simply couldn't handle them.
It wasn't that she didn't want Deng Ying to pay her more. She just felt she wasn't worth it.
"Little Xi, it's getting late. You have school tomorrow. Go to bed early," her grandmother called from the other room.
"I know, Grandma. I'll sleep soon. You go ahead," Jiang Luxi replied, her voice calm.
But "soon" stretched into 11 p.m.
She pulled the cord of her bedside lamp, extinguishing the dim light. Darkness enveloped the room, with only a faint glimmer of moonlight filtering through the window.
Jiang Luxi crawled into bed, and before long, quiet sobs emerged from beneath her blanket.
September 19, 2010—her mother's birthday.
Across the room, her grandmother stirred. She sighed deeply. Every year, around this time, Jiang Luxi cried herself to sleep, her sobs muffled by the blankets. Her legs might have been weak, but her hearing remained sharp.
"My dear granddaughter, don't cry. Let's not cry anymore," her grandmother whispered, slowly getting out of bed and shuffling over to Jiang Luxi's side.
"Grandma!" Jiang Luxi couldn't hold back anymore. She collapsed into her grandmother's arms, tears streaming down her face.
Cheng Xing woke up and glanced at the alarm clock beside him: 5:40 a.m. He still had ten minutes before it rang, but he didn't bother going back to sleep.
Ancheng had a rhythm unlike the South, where people stayed up until midnight or later. Here, people ate dinner early and went to bed early—usually by 7 or 8 p.m. The benefit? Waking up early and feeling refreshed.
After washing up, Cheng Xing grabbed his bag and stepped outside. The sky was still dark, dotted with stars and faint traces of moonlight.
At the school gate, he spotted Jiang Luxi.
"Morning," he greeted, walking over to her.
Under the soft glow of the gate's light, her red-rimmed eyes and weary expression were apparent.
"Didn't sleep well?" Cheng Xing asked, his tone casual but observant.
"No," she shook her head, her voice soft.
"Did you cry?"
Jiang Luxi turned her face away, avoiding his gaze. "No."
"Okay." Cheng Xing nodded, his voice calm. "So, you didn't sleep well and cried."
Jiang Luxi stood silent for a moment before saying, "I'm going up first."
She walked toward the teaching building. Cheng Xing exhaled softly and followed.
At the classroom door, Jiang Luxi handed him a one-yuan coin.
"What's this for?" Cheng Xing frowned, looking at the coin in confusion.
"The steamed dumplings were three yuan, not two," she explained. "I don't need your pity or lies."
"I don't know what you're thinking, but if it's just pity, don't bother. If you have any other intentions, please stop," Jiang Luxi said firmly, her eyes steady.
"I just want to help you," Cheng Xing replied, his voice sincere.
"No one helps others for no reason," she retorted. "Before senior year, we barely spoke. Why now?"
Cheng Xing remained silent, his thoughts racing.
From her perspective, his repeated kindness must have seemed suspicious.
Because she was right—before senior year, there had been no interaction between them. Should he tell her, In a past life, you helped me, and now I'm repaying that debt?
"Don't tell me you're doing this out of the goodness of your heart," Jiang Luxi challenged, her eyes narrowing. "Can you honestly say you have no ulterior motive?"
"I can't," Cheng Xing admitted, staring at her tired yet captivating face.
Because even repaying a debt was a motive.
"Aren't you interested in Chen Qing? Why are you bothering me? Are you one of those guys from cheesy romance novels, juggling two girls or chasing drama?"
Cheng Xing chuckled. Leaning against the railing, he looked at the slightly annoyed girl before him and said, "I never thought that the usually quiet, aloof, and high-achieving Jiang Luxi would read stuff like that. First of all, there's nothing between me and Chen Qing. I don't like her, at most we're just friends. Second, I've told you many times—I'm not trying to pursue or provoke you. Third, I used to think you were an enigma, impossible to grasp. But now I realize you're just a person—albeit much more interesting than the rigid, emotionless, bookworm Jiang Luxi I had imagined."
"Finally, let me just say this: helping you is simply because I want to be friends with you. Stop overthinking things all the time. Otherwise, one day you'll annoy me so much with your suspicions that I might actually start pursuing you," Cheng Xing joked.
"You wouldn't succeed," Jiang Luxi said seriously, meeting his gaze.
"Come on, it's best not to say things like that," Cheng Xing laughed. "Since you've read those cheesy novels, you must know that men have a natural desire to conquer."
She pursed her lips but didn't respond.
Cheng Xing pulled out his homework. "Here's the assignment. Correct it now while it's quiet. If I hand it in later, people might talk."
Jiang Luxi took the workbook but found it too dark to read. She moved toward the hallway, intending to use the stairwell's light.
Before she could, a bright beam illuminated her path. Cheng Xing had turned on his phone's flashlight.
With the light shining on the workbook, she started correcting it. She leaned over the windowsill—a spot teachers often used to observe students. The phone's light not only illuminated the pages but highlighted the smooth contours of her face. Her high ponytail, her delicate neck—everything was visible.
Cheng Xing found himself captivated.
Jiang Luxi finished correcting the homework. "All done. No mistakes."
She turned to see Cheng Xing staring.
"It's finished," she said coldly.
"Ah, okay." He snapped out of it, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry, got distracted."
Jiang Luxi said nothing and walked to the other side of the room.
Cheng Xing rubbed his head, confused. He had seen plenty of beautiful women before, yet this moment stirred something deep—like a shadow from his past overlapping with the present.
Perhaps it was because she had given him hope at his darkest time.
Sometimes, we forget when we've helped others.
But when others help us, that memory lingers. And when it's someone of the opposite sex, it lingers even longer.