The male lead, Ethan Carter, and the female lead, Hazel Bennett, go to the same high school. Both top students, they move from mutual admiration to a deep, heart-joining love and finally pledge to get into a top university together—Harvard, of course. It’s a perfect, happy ending.
And none of that happens without the push from the antagonist, Claire Bennett.
Claire comes from a wealthy family, has a circle of followers, and spends her days eating, drinking, and having fun. When she develops a crush on Ethan Carter, she leads her little crew in relentlessly pursuing him, and eventually becomes the catalyst for the sweet couple’s romance.
When I first read that, I scoffed—why would such a well-off, talented rival hang everything on one guy?
Who knew that later… I’d become her.
When I woke up as Claire, I quietly unbraided my hair. My head was a tangled mess of curls I couldn’t bear to look at.
I rifled through drawers until I found the school uniform and put it on. Thanks to Claire’s life, I could still live at home in high school.
No servants staring in surprise at me—nice. I grabbed a steamed bun off the table and ran out the door. You don’t get to be a top student and be late on your first day.
First period was math. The math teacher seemed to live to fire off questions. He had just finished the parabola formula when he called for someone to come up to the board to work a practice problem.
I, Claire Bennett—the low-ranked Claire—decided to make a clean break with the past. I shot my hand up, and amid shocked looks from teacher and classmates, I confidently walked to the board and started solving the problem with flourish.
And that’s how the opening scene came to be.
At the classroom door, Claire’s former lackey Jake North—nicknamed Joey—was calling her name with deep adoration, chanting “Claire!” over and over.
I strode over and snapped at him, “What are you doing? You’re interrupting my study time—can you afford to pay for that?”
Joey, startled by my sudden academic show, blinked and asked, “Claire—weren’t you the one who said to tell you anything about Ethan Carter?”
Sigh. That lovesick, foolish Claire.
I pinched my brow, patted Joey’s shoulder with faux earnestness, and said in a solemn tone, “Joey, listen. From now on, don’t tell me stuff like that anymore. Claire’s goal now is the stars and the sea, okay? At lunch, call the guys over—I’m holding a meeting.”
Joey left puzzled.
Those fulfilling days are always short. Amid the whispering in class, I made it through the whole morning of lessons.
At lunch I found seven or eight guys waiting for me. Riding on Claire’s former prestige, I swept them up and led them to a nearby diner.
This sudden change felt a little unrealistic, so I decided to gently lay out my plan.
After lunch, sipping a cup of goji tea (don’t ask—yes, it’s for health, and no, it won’t help hair), I channeled Claire’s bluntness: “Everyone here’s my people, so I’ll be direct. I don’t like Ethan Carter anymore. From now on, don’t bring me any news about him.”
The guys looked at one another, baffled.
They’re nobodies in everyone else’s eyes—school troublemakers. To me, they’re just young men lost and misjudged. Maybe I could lead them onto a straight path… I paused, then continued: “Claire’s going to buckle down and study, show Ethan’s crew what a real student looks like. You lot—study with me.”
Ignoring the grumbles, I flicked my sleeve and left with my loyal Joey.
Gone were the days of “fights and chaos.” Claire was now a normal 10th-grade STEM student.
Her parents, the Bennetts, were surprised and delighted by the change and showered her with support—and luxury gifts.
On day five as Claire, I ran into Ethan Carter and Hazel Bennett in gym class. As befits leads in a campus romance, they were both stunning. Ethan had a brooding kind of looks; Hazel mixed sunshine with fragile softness.
Isn’t the sunny heroine supposed to charm the male lead? Isn’t the fragile look supposed to make him feel protective? And then there’s Claire’s flashy, attention-grabbing face—lost at the starting line.
The PE teacher was running two classes at once and let everyone pick activities. I noticed Ethan and Hazel chose jogging, so I decisively picked badminton.
That day the wind was out to get us. I shouldn’t have been playing badminton with Joey—the shuttlecock seemed determined to attack.
I powered a serve and the gust blew the birdie out of Joey’s reach. It danced on the wind and, to my horror, landed square on Hazel’s forehead.
In that instant my feelings were all over the map. What rotten luck.
I swallowed the embarrassment and went up to the leads with Joey. Hazel’s forehead had gone bright red where the birdie hit, and tears—big and round—glistened in her almond eyes. My goodness, my heart ached for her… Before I could apologize, Ethan’s low voice sounded, threaded with displeasure: “Claire, was that on purpose?”
What? Does he really think I’m still trying to court him?
Fine—this is on me. Claire’s past antics were stupid and left a bad impression. I bowed and said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect such a strong wind today. I’m really sorry.”
I added, “Ethan Carter, I apologize for my earlier behavior. It caused trouble. I won’t do it again.”
Ethan hadn’t responded yet. Hazel, head bowed, lightly tugged Ethan’s sleeve and said, “It’s okay, don’t be mad. Claire didn’t mean it, and I’m not hurt that much. Don’t be upset over me.”
That tone, that gesture—am I facing a heroine who’s a bit of a manipulative sweet-talk? In twenty-three years I’ve never met a girl like her; I’m inexperienced. Why was I the only one who transmigrated? I need my crew’s backup!
Joey stepped forward: “It was our fault. We can go to the health office with Hazel. We’ll take responsibility.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“It’s fine—everyone’s classmates. Hazel and Ethan grew up next to each other; he’s just quiet. Don’t take it personally.”
Hazel smiled shyly—almost proudly? “Hazel, we’re going.”
Ethan took Hazel’s hand and they turned to leave. Hazel shot me a playful smile over her shoulder.
Joey murmured thoughtfully to me: “Claire, there’s a reason you can’t win Ethan over.”
Claire versus Hazel: first confrontation, total defeat.
Days passed without much drama. The old troublemakers started behaving under my guidance; they followed rules and avoided trouble. Joey stood out and became my good friend. He wasn’t just good-looking—he had a rough exterior with subtle care and he and I clicked.
Soon it was time for my first monthly exam since I arrived. Today I planned to show off, to make those late-night study sessions pay off.
I checked exam room assignments—oh! Room 20. Not bad—Claire scored 794/800, after all.
Then I saw Ethan and Hazel in Room 1, sitting back-to-back—tch, what luck. Wait—there’s someone in front of Ethan: Lucas Reed—grade-ranked number one.
That name didn’t ring a bell.
Joey said offhand, “Oh, Lucas. He’s our grade’s top student, Class 1. Super low-key—comes and goes just for class. Claire, you probably didn’t meet him.”
True. My schedule and Lucas’s never matched.
Morning language arts, afternoon math; the next day, science and English. I’d been stationed in the last exam room, where teachers paid little attention and students slept. Only I stayed diligent, answering carefully. Miraculously, my handwriting matched Claire’s well enough—no one suspected.
Because I did well in that final room, the proctor took special interest and seemed like she wanted to sit next to me the whole time.
After the test, I went straight home—Claire had no female friends besides a ring of guys. Sad.
Bored, I decided to take a shortcut home by bike.
A shortcut can flip your fate.
A fairly long alley, empty, stone slabs slick with moss from dampness. I rode slowly and kept hearing rustling.
Size up Claire’s original physical ability against mine—okay, I’m not scared. I locked the bike and grabbed a thick branch as I followed the sound.
From a distance I saw a child huddled in a corner, sobbing. I sighed in relief and went over to ask.
“Kiddo, why are you crying? Did someone make you cry?”
“N-no… hic… my money… it was stolen by bad guys… they took it… wah…”
The kid tilted up his face—there was a scratch on his cheek.
Who’d rob a kid? No shame.
“How much did they take? I’ll give it back,” I said, digging in my pockets. I had a few hundred.
“That money is dozens—my brother worked for it… he worked so hard,” the boy sniffled, words broken.
His clothes were washed pale from wear. The family probably isn’t well-off. I crouched, wiped his face with a tissue, and comforted him: “Don’t cry—here, I have some money. Take it back. Or I can walk you home.”
He shook his head. “Thanks, but my brother says don’t take other people’s things. Our place is nearby—don’t worry.”
Then voices and laughter came. The boy nudged me: “Sister, go—those are the kids who stole my money.”
It didn’t sound like many of them. I lifted the kid up and put him on a higher step and called the police.
The rest unfolded as you’d expect: just two punks. After robbing the kid they tried to target me. I knocked one down and the police arrived, taking them away. We went to file a report, got the kid’s money back, and then we left.
The officer called for the boy’s brother, Sam Reed, to come pick him up. I headed back to fetch my bike.
Soon, the boy’s older brother came over. I sized him up—still a teenager, dressed simply, with sharp brows and bright eyes. Very handsome.
But the moment he saw me, his brow furrowed.
Huh? What did I do to deserve that?
Sam Reed rushed over and explained everything. Lucas patted his head, then came to nod at me. “Hi, I’m Lucas Reed, Sam’s older brother. Thanks for helping him.”
I scratched my head. “No problem. It was nothing.”
Wait—who was he exactly?
Lucas Reed—our school’s valedictorian?
Thinking that, I couldn’t help glancing at him again. Sure enough, handsome and polite—no wonder he’s first in the grade.
I let out a little laugh. “Hi, I’m Claire Bennett, a student at Waverly High. Are you a student here too?”
Lucas nodded. “Yeah. Thanks again for today. It’s getting late—mind if I walk you home?”
No, no, no. I can’t have too much interaction with the top student. He might notice my flaws.
I waved him off. “It’s fine. You two should head back. My family will pick me up soon.”
“All right. Claire, take care. We’ll head off.” Sam raised his hand. “Bye, sis.”
“Bye.”
Watching the two brothers leave, I made a call asking Mrs. Walker to send someone to pick me up and to fetch my bike.
That night before bed I reviewed the required 3,500-word list for a while, then let my mind wander to how to get on Lucas’s good side. If I became friends with the top student, could I borrow his notes…? High school teachers really are efficient—tests on Monday and Tuesday, results out by Wednesday.
I sat contented in my seat waiting for the teacher to read the scores. After a month of studying from dawn to late night, there had to be some progress.
Our homeroom teacher stood at the podium, flipping through test papers and the grade sheet. After a moment she said, “Our class did pretty well this time.”
Praise me, praise me… “Overall, we rank third among the STEM Track classes. Yang Luo moved up five places to fifth in the grade; Wu Hao moved up three places to tenth; Xu Ningxia dropped ten places—now twentieth. And one more: Claire Bennett.”
The teacher glanced at me and I straightened.
“Claire scored 520 total points this time, ranking 16th out of forty in our class, and 326th in the grade—a huge improvement.”
“Heh, Claire must’ve cheated to jump that much.”
“Who’d she copy off? Everyone in Exam Room Twenty had similar scores!”
“She probably copied from a book—if you don’t know, you don’t. But she still copied.”
A chorus of murmurs rose around me. I didn’t care. Why should I let others decide my worth?
“Next, let’s go over the Chinese paper. Claire, come see me in my office after class.”
After class I filled two pages with notes.
I followed the teacher to her office.
“Claire, did you do this test on your own?”
“Yes. The proctors were all around me. I didn’t cheat.”
“Teachers have always thought you weren’t a bad kid. It’s good that you’ve woken up and started studying. Keep it up. If you don’t understand something, come ask me.”
“Okay, thank you, teacher.”
Before I returned to class, a group blocked my way.
“Hey, isn’t this Claire Bennett who jumped over five hundred places?”
Two girls with twin ponytails sneered.
“Right? Wonder who she copied from. Look at Hazel and Ethan—top of the grade. She’s just panicking.”
Where did these hecklers come from? So clueless… Hazel rushed over and grabbed the ponytailed girl’s arm. “Ayu, don’t say that. Claire worked hard to improve that much.”
Then Hazel turned and smiled at me. “Claire, congrats. What’s your secret? Can you share it with us?”
“You’re too kind, Hazel. What secret could she have? She just copies.”
What kind of comment was that? The third-ranked student asking me for my “secret” while insulting me—accusing me of cheating.
“First, what place I get is none of your business. Second, the teacher didn’t say I cheated—can you accuse someone out loud with no proof? Third, are you upset because I took something from you?”
I’d barely transformed from a loud, hotheaded girl into a diligent, aspiring one, and already someone had to pick a fight.
I said it firmly, then turned to leave.
As I walked away, I noticed Lucas and Ethan standing not far off, clutching their papers. At that distance they probably heard everything.
Ethan looked disdainful; Lucas said nothing.
I worried I’d made a bad impression. I didn’t care what Ethan thought, but Lucas—he couldn’t think poorly of me. I wanted his help.
I forced a smile, trying to look relaxed.
Hazel hurried over and stood beside Ethan. “Claire, Ethan and I are going to the library this weekend. Want to come? Lucas, you should come too—we’ll plan for next month’s English Olympiad.”
Yes—I should go, so I can make things awkward for you guys.
“I’d like that. I want to study with you.”
I smiled faintly.
Lucas’s expression darkened for a beat, then he nodded.
Huh?
Lucas nodding means I might not be able to show off…
The weekend came faster than I expected. Joey and I hadn’t figured out exactly how to be elegantly annoying around Lucas while also frustrating the leads.
Worth mentioning: this would be my last weekend without classes. At my request, the Bennetts had hired a tutor for me.
Perfect—my long-time dream of studying at home was about to come true.
Claire’s look is naturally bright. I wore a simple sweatshirt and jeans. When I reached the library, the other three were already there.
Hazel wore a delicate floral dress, looking ethereal; Ethan had a shirt and slacks, perfectly matched; and my admired Lucas wore a too-clean school uniform—honestly, he looked good in anything.
Hazel grabbed my hand affectionately (I never got why Claire used to chase Ethan and was supposedly Hazel’s rival, yet Hazel was so friendly with me—now I get it, Hazel’s affection is a way to show how different she is from me…). She said, “Everyone’s here. Let’s go in.”
Fake-smile girl, don’t chicken out.
When we sat down it was awkward. Ethan and Hazel sat together at the four-person table, so I had to sit beside Lucas. Would he be uncomfortable sitting with me?
I was still fretting when Lucas calmly sat, took out math problems, and bent his head to work.
All right then—I wasn’t going to be shy. I pulled out my notebooks and started on the problems.
Occasionally I glanced up at Ethan and Hazel, who were in that clingy, flirtatious phase, trading tiny gestures. I didn’t want to watch the cringe-worthy couple, so I turned toward Lucas.
Outside, the maple leaves burned crimson in the sun. The light fell across Lucas’s delicate features—he looked almost unreal, warm in a way that felt like a dream.
By now Joey had told me a lot about Lucas; my admiration for him had grown boundless.
Lucas had held the top spot since the beginning of tenth grade. He was so low-key—never joining activities, always on time to class and then gone. People suspected his family had issues, but nobody knew for sure, only that he came from a poor household.
From the day I bumped into Sam and the way that little kid treated the few dollars like treasure, I’d guessed their situation.
A kid of five or six cherishing a handful of cash his brother earned—my heart went out to Lucas.
On the other hand, Lucas supporting the household while studying hard—wasn’t that a role model I should admire?
I decided I’d add fifty more words to tonight’s vocabulary review.
When I couldn’t solve a problem, my eyes wandered to Ethan and Hazel’s matching cups. I recognized them—the limited commemorative cup from the famous Starbar Café, ridiculously hard to get.
Seeing them use the same blue cup, I guessed they hadn’t managed to snag the pink one.
Aha—my move. If I could make Hazel irritated, I’d get some satisfaction too.
I pulled out my phone and texted Mr. Walker, the Bennetts’ family assistant. “Mr. Walker, can you get me that Starbar commemorative cup? Pink, please.”
At lunch, the three of them talked about the English Olympiad. Claire wouldn’t normally know much about this, but I did—this stuff helps for special admissions, though it’s not as prestigious as the National Olympiad.
Ethan was first to speak. “Registration for the English Olympiad is next week. It’s voluntary. Lucas, will you sign up?”
Hazel nodded. “We can do it together. We can study and prep for the second round.”
You want to drag me into the academic elite’s contest?
Lucas lowered his pen. “I’m not participating. The second round requires travel to Ping City, and I don’t have the time.”
Before Ethan and Hazel could answer, Lucas packed his bag. “I have something this afternoon, so I won’t stay. See you.”
Lucas left right away. I didn’t stay either. I gave a little nod. “Goodbye.”
I didn’t care about the looks Ethan and Hazel shot me—clearly, they didn’t like me.
I caught up with Lucas by the library steps. I scratched my head. “Lucas, where are you headed? Want me to walk with you?”
“Lucas?” He sounded puzzled.
Oops—I’d accidentally used the respectful address out loud.
“Everyone at school says you’re both smart and nice, so we call you Lucas like a big brother figure. Heh heh heh.” Joey had to drag me into sounding ridiculous at the worst moments.
“No need. It’s not far. I can walk.”
“All right then. Take care, Lucas.”
I watched him go and rode my little electric bike home.
Wow—Mr. Walker sure works fast. In a day he’d delivered a pink commemorative cup right to me.
I happily brewed some goji tea and headed to school.
Side note: when I was in college, my biggest worry wasn’t failing a class—it was losing my hair! Luckily Claire’s hair is thick and healthy. I must protect it before it’s too late.
Today PE combined four classes: ours, Ethan’s, Lucas’s, and another. PE’s tiring, and during breaks everyone goes to the Corner Mart for drinks. Of course I was bringing my pink cup.
I placed the cup beside Ethan, eyes on the prize.
During the break we all sat under the shade, sipping water. I planned to wait until Ethan reached for his cup, then casually pick it up like it was no big deal.
"Hey, look—the cups Claire and Ethan have are the matching couple set!"
Of course, some observant girls had noticed the scene I’d carefully set up. Blind guy, you spotted the key detail!
"No way, I knew it. Those are super hard to get."
The gossip girls started chattering right away.
The boys cheered: "Whoa!"
I pretended to be embarrassed and lowered my head. "Stop—don’t say that. It’s just a coincidence. Seriously, stop it."
The more I tried to explain, the more useless it was.
Boys and girls alike refused to believe me and kept clamoring for sweets.
Ethan, as always, didn’t bother to argue. When I squinted over, Hazel’s face had gone pale.
Ha ha ha—I couldn’t help laughing inside. Always making fun of me, huh? Now look who’s eating dirt.
Joey had just come back from buying drinks and looked puzzled. "Claire, what’s wrong? Why is your face so red?"
No, no, no—this is totally sunburn, not blushing.
PE class ended amid everyone’s teasing, and I happily claimed a small victory over Hazel.
I ran into Lucas again outside school right before the winter break. Joey and I were walking and sipping milk tea when flyers kept getting shoved at us in the mall. After a few rounds, I had a thick stack in my hand and only wanted to refuse the next one.
Joey suddenly froze. "Isn’t that Lucas?"
I turned—sure enough, the guy handing out flyers was Lucas Reed.
Lucas didn’t seem to mind being recognized. He nodded. "Hi."
I quickly took the flyer. "Lucas, you work here part-time?"
Seeing it was an ad for Hot Pot City, I grabbed Joey’s sleeve and grinned, "Perfect timing—we’re starving. Let’s go eat hot pot!"
Lucas nodded slightly and handed out the next flyer.
I didn’t want to bother him while he was working, so I left before saying more.
Sitting in the hot pot place waiting for food, I asked Joey, "Joey, what’s Lucas’s family situation?"
In a low voice Joey replied, "I heard from the homeroom teacher. His parents divorced early. He and his brother live with their mom, but she’s not in great health. Lucas studies and works at the same time."
I took a sip of cola and felt an unexpected hollow. Even my favorite hot pot tasted bland.
Thinking about it, Lucas skipping the English Olympiad might not be just about time—travel costs and lacking someone at home to help were probably huge problems too.
A kid shouldn’t have to shoulder family responsibilities when he should be carefree.
To be honest, feeling zero sympathy would be a lie.
What if—I hired Lucas as my tutor?
I’d noticed him for his notes anyway… This way I could improve my grades and he could get a little relief.
Done deal. After hot pot, I had Joey find out Lucas’s contact info and planned to ask him, and to tell the Bennetts we didn’t need the private tutor anymore.
His contact came up under his real name.
I eagerly hit "Add" and waited for the result.
Waited and waited—I fell asleep waiting.
The first thing I did when I woke up was check the friend request. Of course he accepted—late last night.
So late—was Lucas doing homework or just finishing his shift?
I messaged right away: "Hi Lucas, this is Claire Bennett."
No reply after five minutes. He’s probably busy, so I didn’t keep pestering him.
The day’s classes began with morning reading. I took a sip of tea to soothe my throat and prepared to recite.
A girl barged in, backpack slapping into my water cup. "Splash!"
My cup shattered on the floor.
The girl didn’t even seem to notice and went back to her seat.
I was baffled. Maybe she’d been clumsy, but shouldn’t she apologize?
The shattering sound drew a lot of stares. I calmly grabbed a rag, cleaned up, and went back to my reading.
Morning reading is always loud—kids who missed breakfast sneak food out, boarders tell city-kids about last night’s TV shows, some kids nap with heads on desks. I wanted to study, but the smell of the noodles from the front row wafted over, and gossip buzzed in my ear. "I heard the art festival needs people for a stage play next month."
"Really? That’s gotta be someone like Hazel—good grades and looks."
"Yeah, no hope for the rest of us…"
At lunch I ditched my carefully packed bento and went with Joey for the noodles outside. I twirled sesame sauce evenly on every strand, closed my eyes, and savored it—the pickled beans made my mouth water, the sesame was rich, the noodles had good bite. So good.
Mid-bite, a commotion started. An old man walked in to eat, but he was a little tattered and a few younger diners at the shared table complained he looked unclean. The old man just stood at the doorway and ate leaning against it.
Maybe I’m getting soft with age—I felt tears welling up.
I went over and told him we had an empty seat. The old man waved it off. "No, miss. I’ll finish soon."
I waved Joey over and helped the old man sit and eat with us.
The little diner was crowded. Halfway through my bowl, a fair, slender hand tapped my table. "Mind if I share?"
I didn’t even look up. "Sure, of course."
Wait—was that voice a bit familiar?
I glanced up and saw Lucas wiping his chopsticks with a napkin.
Do I have sesame sauce all over my mouth?
I could read the disgust in Joey’s eyes. Flustered, I wiped my mouth with a napkin, scarfed the rest of my noodles, and said to Lucas, "Go ahead and eat. We’ll go."
Too embarrassing. Joey snorted, "Claire, you get shy around him."
Ugh, the golden-boy aura makes mundane people like me feel small.
I’d almost forgotten about my cup until I heard voices in the restroom. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it was Hazel’s voice inside. "Xiangxiang, what you did wasn’t right."
I Became the Villainess at Harvard
Xiangxiang—she’s the girl who broke my cup?
"You’re too kind, Hazel. Claire treated you like that and still uses couple cups with Ethan—she’s bullying people!"
Oh, so it was on purpose.
I pushed the door open. They both went a little stiff seeing me. I didn’t mince words. "Hazel, I need to make this clear. I liked Ethan before and I’m sorry for the trouble I caused you—my bad. But don’t push me around, and don’t send your friends to bother me. I said I don’t like him anymore. From now on I’ll stay as far away from you two as possible."
Then I turned and left, feeling pretty proud of myself.
Wait—did I forget to actually use the restroom? To avoid more awkwardness I went to the second-floor bathroom.
I cupped my notebook, thinking about the month of notes I’d taken since classes started and felt emotional. If I’d worked this hard back then… never mind. My grades had improved a lot and teachers’ impressions of me were getting better.
Happy!
My homeroom teacher paid me special attention. "Claire, I’ve seen your effort lately and I’m proud. New material you can learn from class, but you need to catch up on the old stuff too. Why don’t your parents hire a tutor? It’ll be easier than studying alone."
I nodded. "Teacher, I was thinking the same. But tutors sometimes don’t match our pace. It’d be best if a top student could guide me."
"True—tailored teaching is ideal. For now, keep working and don’t slack."
Teacher sounded thoughtful.
That night after evening study, I was getting ready to organize materials when my phone buzzed. A message came from a plain black avatar.
"Hello."
Lucas replied. What should I say—something not awkward, not dumb, but friendly?
I panicked. I almost sent a silly sticker, but my stash was too goofy. I searched for some cute ones and fiddled around; ten minutes slipped by and I gave up.
Half a month later, the monthly exam arrived again.
Last time’s score put me in Exam Room 9.
Go, Claire. Work hard—make it to Exam Room 1!
I didn’t know many people in Room 9, but whatever—classmates didn’t want to hang out with me much either.
Maybe because of previous gossip, the proctor seemed to focus on me and paced around in front of me a lot. Eventually they cooled off and started watching the others more strictly.
At Waverly High they tabulate results fast. The morning after the exam, the class reps started whispering news from the office.
"The essay got a full score—apparently Hazel's," the Chinese class rep said dramatically.
"The English essay got full marks too—Lucas's," piped up the English rep.
I daydreamed—if Lucas were my tutor, it would ease his financial pressure and, as a classmate, he’d understand my study progress better and be able to guide me more easily.
Then the homeroom teacher strode in, and the classroom went silent like a paused recording. Mr. Walker handed out the tests and began reading the results.
The top spots were still held by the usual overachievers, their rankings only shifting slightly.
"Tenth place, Claire Bennett. Grade rank 103, total 578."
Mr. Walker pushed up his glasses and looked around. "Claire has put in a lot of effort this month, and it’s paying off. If you have time, study hard—results don’t ignore those who work."
When the scores were announced, he motioned for me to come to his office.
In his office, Mr. Walker smiled kindly. "Claire, you did well this time. Effort brings reward."
I scratched my head and smiled sheepishly.
"Teacher said there's something else to discuss with you."
"Yes? What is it, teacher?"
"This is the situation—do you know Lucas Reed from Class A? His family isn't well off. Since you were looking for a top student to tutor you, the teacher thought—"
I was over the moon. "I know him, ma'am.
I can do it!"
The teacher looked a little puzzled.
"No, no, no. I mean, if Lucas is willing to tutor you after class, I'd be really honored.
I just don't know if Lucas would be willing?"
"That would be great. I'll talk to Lucas later.
You can go talk to him first."
"Mm, thank you, ma'am."
I bent to thank her. Every teacher seemed willing to clear the path for their students' futures, to remove obstacles.
Lucky for me, every teacher I met was kind.
"Alright, back to class now."
The teacher waved me off.
"Okay."
That night after homework, I soaked my feet and thought about how to talk to Lucas.
Should I be direct or play it safe and build rapport first?
"How to talk to Lucas" suddenly felt harder than the last problem on my math test.
At least I could handle the first part of that last question… I searched online for "how to message someone on WeChat." The results were a step-by-step guide to using WeChat… I opened the chat and noticed Lucas's avatar looked different—there was a smudge of white at the very top of the otherwise black background. I rubbed my eyes, dug out eye drops from under my pillow, and gave my eyes a drop.
Yep, I wasn't imagining it. There really was a bit of white.
"Hi, Lucas."
Play it safe.
"Hi."
He replied fast. Happiness.
"Lucas, did Mr. Zhao mention me to you?
He… asked if you could tutor me.
I mean no other intention—it's just that you're so good at studying and I've always wanted to get into a college I like."
I sent that too quickly; it sounded off.
"Mr. Zhao told me. Okay."
Huh?
Joy hit me so suddenly I kicked over my foot soak and soaked the carpet.
Ignore that for now, I typed: "Great, Lucas.
When can we talk about scheduling?"
"Okay. Tomorrow at lunchtime in the cafeteria."
As always, Lucas's answers were succinct.
I fought the urge to send a sticker and replied politely, "Okay, see you ~"
I wondered if that little "~" conveyed my enthusiasm… I never knew morning classes could feel so long. God knows how anxious I was about lunch.
From morning reading to lunch was four hours and forty minutes.
Luckily the morning classes were all review of exam papers, and the top students were showing off as usual. Sometimes the teacher called me to the board to write out a solution.
I did much better on this month's test than last, so there were fewer snide comments.
When class was over, the girl in front of me, Emily Hart, turned back and leaned on my desk, her eyes sparkling. "Claire, I think you're really amazing. Keep it up!"
Then she shyly turned away.
Aww—she was the first girl in class to encourage me since I came here.
When the lunch bell rang, everyone slammed their books shut and hurried to the cafeteria.
To be fair, Waverly High's food was indeed great—lots of variety, especially the braised chicken leg. It stuck in your mouth, unforgettable.
I sprinted too. Lucas was probably busy; I had to grab a seat first. No time to call Joey—he could eat himself.
The cafeteria was a sea of people. In the crush I lost my direction and had to go with the flow.
Honestly, I thought Lucas's idea was odd—how could you discuss things in a noisy, crowded cafeteria?
But he must have his reasons.
Yep, total Lucas-filter.
From a distance I spotted him sitting in a corner and pushed my way over.
I flashed a big smile. "Lucas."
He looked up and smiled faintly. "Sit."
"Mr. Zhao told me everything. If it's okay with you, I can come three evening study sessions a week for tutoring."
I quickly nodded. "My schedule's flexible, Lucas. You decide."
I swallowed nervously.
He smiled again. "Did I scare you?
Don't be nervous."
I shook my head like crazy. "No, no—you're really nice. I'm not nervous—I'm just hungry. Yes, hungry."
"Then I won't disturb your meal. Meet me at the school gate after classes tomorrow."
He slung on his backpack and left.
Wait—what about tutoring fees?
Forget it. Let Mr. Zhao handle that—he'll sort it.
The braised chicken leg sold out, of course. I grabbed a bowl of noodles, ate fast, and went back to class.
The classroom was quiet at lunch. Some students napped with their heads down, others pored over mistakes in their notebooks.
Occasional rustling pages made the room even quieter.
I rested my head on the desk, watching sunlight slant across the blackboard, curtains swaying. With a top student tutoring me in evening study sessions, the future looked bright. For a moment it felt like the peaceful passage of time.
Waverly's evening sessions were mainly for boarding students; commuters weren't required.
I used to skip daytime classes whenever I could, let alone evening study.
I politely declined Joey's invitation in the afternoon and waited at the school gate for Lucas.
Some people just draw your eyes no matter the crowd. Even with all the kids in uniforms, I only saw Lucas's thin, straight-backed figure—everyone else blurred into the background.
We went to a quiet coffee shop off campus. It was one of those places where a coffee allows you to sit all day. The downside? It was expensive—ridiculously so.
I spoke up before he did. "Lucas, what do you want? I have a membership card—buy one get one free for a limited time."
"No, just go order whatever you want and then we'll start."
He began taking out his books.
"Okay."
I ordered two drinks: "One standard milk tea, less sugar, extra ice, add red beans, pearls, taro balls, and pudding.
And one cocoa milk, room temperature please."
Milk tea without toppings is boring.
I brought the drinks back and nudged the cocoa milk to him. "Hehe, this one's on me, Lucas. Try it."
He glanced up. "Thanks."
Before I could enjoy my over-the-top milk tea, Lucas set a stack of A4 papers in front of me—neat, sharp handwriting across them.
"This is a composite test I made from first-year material. Do it first, and I'll see what to target in tutoring."
"Um… okay. I'll start."
I braced myself. I thought we'd go over concepts first. Talk about awkward.
I picked up my pen and flipped through—math, physics, chemistry, biology—plenty of questions, but looks like three hours to finish.
I started writing like crazy. Lucas browsed his own materials. From my college calculus experience, I saw integrals and differential stuff—so he really was elite.
Time flew while I worked through problems. When I had finished most of it, it was completely dark. I stretched and my stomach unfortunately growled.
Lucas hadn't moved much; he kept reading.
I set my pen down. "Lucas, I'm almost done. Can I go get some food and come back to finish?"
"Sure."
He said it without looking up.
I left, turned left toward the corner store, bought two sandwiches, then grabbed snacks on a whim.
I pushed a sandwich toward him. "Lucas, you didn't have dinner either—have one."
"No, thanks."
Okay then.
After finishing my sandwich I went back to the questions.
At 8:30 I handed the papers back. "All done."
Lucas packed up. "Okay, I'll look them over. Do you have a place convenient to study?"
I tilted my head. Going home wasn't an option—too awkward. Where else could we study without being disturbed?
"Let's go to the study room on Spring Lime Road. We can talk freely there without worrying about making noise.
They offer monthly passes and it's well soundproofed."
"Okay."
Lucas's favorite word was "okay." We packed our bags and walked out. I headed east; he went west.
I shoved the snack bag into his hand. "Thanks for today. Take these back for Sam Reed—consider it my thank-you."
Before he could refuse, I bolted.
At home, my parents praised my effort. Dad said, "Go ahead and study. I'll talk to your teacher—won't let Lucas be wronged."
Alright, dad—wait until I get into a 985.
Somehow my dad and Mr. Zhao reached an agreement. From then on I was steady: classes by day, Lucas's review sessions at night.
My first attempt at Lucas's test was hideous. With all my high school plus four years of college knowledge, my math and biology were still a mess.
Lucas made a full tutoring plan: in-class focuses, out-of-class expansion, exam problem-solving strategies.
A full binder of plans made my head spin, but knowing my math used to hover in the eighties pushed me to stick with it.
Sometimes for tough problems I'd message him online.
Not imagining things—his avatar changed again, now one-fifth white and four-fifths black. What did that mean?
My friendship with the girl in front of me, Emily Hart, improved a lot. She's calm on the outside but goofy inside.
Thanks to Lucas, I could explain simpler problems to Emily sometimes. She even brought me lunch.
Oh, the arts festival next month is casting actors. The script is some damsel-in-distress princess and her true prince?
I bet Sam Reed wouldn't even want to read that. Who came up with this immature idea?
What era is this where a princess needs a prince to save her? If she's a real princess, she fights with me—get it done.
Emily shot me a glare. "Say that again."
Oops. I forgot she's the drama committee head, and she has a hand in this kiddie play.
"Who came up with such a creative idea? It brings us back to the joys of childhood, adds fresh elements, and shows the spirit of today's kids. It seems simple, but it's actually leading us to the purest parts of our hearts!
Amazing!"
Yeah—if my great-aunt hadn't raised the script like she was about to hit someone, I couldn't have improvised that fast.
"Ugh, gross.
Listen, Ethan's playing the prince, Hazel's the princess—those two are so annoying."
I won't lie: the farther I follow Lucas down the study path, the more the names Ethan Carter and Hazel Bennett set my teeth on edge. They always come with my little cup and Hazel's thinly veiled jabs.
Everything was already cleared up back in the bathroom—how could Hazel still be uneasy?
Ethan's not much better. Every time he sees me he turns away. I was just delivering a book to Joey, not visiting you.
"Whatever. I won't say anything about those two."
I curled a lip.
Jake's eyes lit up. "Claire, that kids' play still needs a stepmother. Wanna—"
"You just admitted it's a kids' play, hahahaha—hold on, a stepmother?"
"Yeah, there's a mean stepmother who torments the princess. You should play her and make Hazel's role crystal clear."
"Nope, I don't act."
I waved her off. I was tempted, but what if I ruined it? Better not.
Later in the study room I told Lucas about it and he smiled, "I think you'd be great for it."
Wait, little bro—am I ugly now or what?
Why do I have to play the stepmother? Can't I be the princess?
Lucas kept doing problems and said, "It'd be good. Try it."
…Lucas, you weren't like this before.
Still, on a moonless, windy night I called Jake: "Jake, help me lock down the stepmother part. I want it."
"Got it. That's the only role left."
At the first rehearsal, when everyone gathered and I saw the surprise in Ethan and Hazel's eyes, I was ecstatic. Surprise, boys—your stepmother has arrived.
The first half of the play revolves around how the stepmother treats the princess—fake slaps, punishing her by skipping meals, making her do all the chores.
So deliciously fun.
Honestly, Hazel looks so frail and delicate that she practically begged to be pitied when dressed up.
But prince hasn't come onstage yet, so don't even look at Ethan down there.
Watch me—stepmother is right here.
Of course fake slaps never turn real—that would be humiliating. Being high and mighty while Hazel bows and shows respect? I'm already thrilled.
After rehearsal everyone was thirsty. I walked to the table and, "oh!"
Acting like I accidentally bumped the table, I tilted my arm and knocked Hazel's cup off. Yes, on purpose. I can afford to replace it.
"What are you doing?"
Ethan accused me before Hazel could react.
"Sorry—really not on purpose, no—" I offered a small smile.
"She's not mean about it, Claire. It's okay."
Hazel tugged at Ethan.
"I'm truly sorry. Here—I've got a new one to give you."
I pulled a pink matching cup from my bag. I came prepared.
Hazel's face flushed as I slid it to her. "This one matches your Ethan's cup—cherish it. Don't let your girlfriend break it again."
Ethan looked a bit dumbfounded. "What do you mean?"
"Congrats on the happy couple—may you have a long life and many kids."
They were all lovey-dovey but refused to be direct; I made it clear today.
Then I slipped away—my signature move.
That night I exaggerated the story for Lucas and he just shook his head amused: "You."
Yeah, Lucas and I were getting closer. Besides study stuff, we'd joke about class, get snacks for Sam, though Lucas didn't accept them often.
Lately I was happy. Every afternoon I got an hour to watch Hazel grovel before me—pure bliss.
Even though the stepmother finally gets driven out, who cares? Even with hatred clear in Hazel's eyes, I kept up the role—"Go wash my clothes."
Hazel had talked to the publicity team about a replacement, and Jake was covering for me, and Hazel refused to give up being the princess. I didn't cross any lines, so nothing changed.
At the final rehearsal I saw Hazel breathe a sigh of relief.
The arts festival came on the weekend. I asked Lucas early, "Lucas, my show is tomorrow—are you coming?"
He shook his head. "I'm taking the day off. Not going."
"Oh."
A little disappointed, but I understood.
During the performance I peeked at the audience. Joey waved a glow stick for me, but Lucas really didn't come… The show was a hit and ended perfectly. The most popular actor? Me—the stepmother.
Is the stepmother type just more popular?
I can't figure it out. But beating Hazel made me so happy I went home glowing.
My monthly test scores kept climbing—300s to 100s, down to the 90s. Winter arrived, finals were next.
The night before the test I sat in the study room reviewing math. Math either clicks or it doesn't.
The heat was cozy; I stood at the window, sighed, and doodled a rabbit to relax.
Lucas said quietly, "Don't worry. You'll be in the top fifty this exam."
Top fifty at Waverly High basically guarantees a good university. I had to keep pushing.
I turned and smiled. "How'd you know I was nervous?"
"You usually look up and stare around after twenty minutes. Today you looked up three times in ten."
"That's 'cause math's hard!"
Lucas ignored me.
Finals passed quickly. Winter break began and the New Year approached—red lanterns hung everywhere, festive all around.
When I got my final results I was thrilled: year 36, fifth in class. Lucas was right. I thanked him and myself—daily morning reviews in the car, correcting mistakes at lunch, evening tutoring with Lucas, and burning vocabulary before bed. Hard work pays off.
Near New Year's, my dad told me he'd arranged for Sam's mom to get some light cleaning work at his company. I liked that—Lucas is proud and wouldn't accept charity. Helping his mom find a job she can do was better.
Dad also said they planned to set up a scholarship at school to reward students like Lucas who are poor but determined.
I, of course, dragged Joey with me to wish Lucas a happy new year. Joey's grades had risen under my help too.
With a heads-up to Lucas, Joey and I went to his house carrying health supplements for his mom and snacks for Sam.
Sam called us brother and sister sweetly.
The house was small but tidy—Lucas was the same.
Joey and I saluted. "Thanks for looking out for us this year, Lucas. We hope you'll keep looking out for us! Wishing you all the best!"
Lucas spoke calmly but with a smile in his eyes: "Then I wish Claire moves into the top ten next year. Jake moves into the top two hundred."
"Done—thanks for the good luck."
Little Sam laughed happily.
I hoped we would be this happy next year and the year after.
During break Lucas didn't slack on supervising me. Up every morning at seven to memorize classical passages. Math and science at eight. English and literature in the afternoon. Nightly video calls where he checked and explained the day's problems and previewed new material.
His avatar had more white hair showing—about a third this time.
I couldn't help asking: "Lucas, is there a pattern to your avatar changes?"
"Can't say."
Fine, I won't pry.
Second semester of tenth grade, the class vibe got more intense. Even those who used to not study chilled out a bit.
By day I'd study with Jake, chat with Jake at lunch with Joey, and see Lucas at night. Life felt full.
Thanks to both myself and Lucas, I overperformed on the opening placement test—twentieth place, the edge of the top twenty. I was practically a class big shot.
People joked with me and asked my study tips. I smiled and said I hired a tutor.
Lucas is my secret weapon—I couldn't tell everyone. He wouldn't want the news spread anyway.
In March and April monthly tests I hovered around twentieth, sitting in the same exam room as Lucas and his friends.
When I saw Ethan and Hazel, I looked straight ahead and pretended they didn't exist. Jake told me they'd even had an argument about something; whatever it was, it didn't concern me.
After May Day came the sports meet. I'm a tug-of-war seed player—strong hands.
I signed up excitedly. At lunch Joey told me he'd signed up for the 400-meter relay.
"Got it—I'll cheer for you."
I stabbed my chopsticks into a chicken drumstick and started eating.
Joey whispered, "Lucas signed up for a ten-thousand meter run, did you know?"
"What? Ten thousand meters? What kind of endurance is that?!"
The chicken drumstick hit the table.
"Yes, everyone can cheer for me then," Lucas's voice came from behind.
Being caught gossiping about someone from behind is mortifying…
The opening ceremony started under an overcast sky. Every sports day I remember seems to be on a cloudy day.
The principal stood on the stage with his hands on his hips speaking. Mid-speech he urged students to use all their time to study. Old Mr. Zhao gave a look and everyone pulled out the required 3,500-word list and started reciting silently.
The long opening ceremony ate up the whole morning. My tug-of-war match was that afternoon, and since I hadn’t done any special prep, I just leaned back in my chair for a quick nap.
Wearing only a short-sleeve felt a bit chilly. I was sleepy and didn’t want to reach for my uniform, so I curled up a little and dozed off.
When Jenny woke me, I realized someone had thrown my jacket over me.
“Jenny, did you do this?”
“No—I saw a boy come by and put it on you when I got here.”
“That would be Joey.”
I stood up, stretched, and the sports monitor shouted for the tug-of-war teams to line up. Jenny followed me, cheering.
Coach Zhao organized the lineup while everyone who wasn’t competing gathered around to shout encouragement.
Sports day really brings out class unity. No matter what’s happened before, when you’re giving it your all on the field, everyone in class roots for you.
Coach Zhao said earnestly, “I’ll count one, two. When I shout, you pull with this chant—hard!”
Our first round was against Class 16, the notorious athletics-heavy class. They had fit kids in every slot.
The outcome was predictable: before Coach Zhao could get his chant going, they pulled with one solid heave and won.
I could only feel the rough rope scrape across my palms.
Coach Zhao looked sheepish. “A little awkward there.”
We switched positions for the second match against Class 16. This time, following Coach Zhao’s command, we managed ten seconds of resistance before losing.
Coach Zhao clapped the sports monitor’s shoulder. “Listen, next time let someone else draw for your team.”
The whole class laughed.
That afternoon Joey had a race—he was the anchor. I held his gear at the finish line for him.
“At the sound of the starter, the athletes explode forward like arrows, their vigor showing the strength of youth. Two legs have already crossed; Jake’s class holds a strong lead. Jake’s running—he’s close! Coming to the finish—excellent! He’s first!”
My impromptu commentary had the judges in stitches. “You should read the announcements from the stand next time,” one teased.
“No thanks. Leave it to the better people,” I said, playing it modest.
I helped Jake back to the rest area, handed him water and a jacket—fully on nurse duty. “Claire, you’re getting more and more girly,” Joey teased.
I smacked his leg. “Thanks for the compliment.”
Lucas’s race wasn’t until the next day—the ten-thousand meter only had a final. Not every class has someone for that, ours included.
Twenty-five laps around the track is no joke. Anyone who finishes is impressive.
To me Lucas was already superlative: smart, kind, and an athlete to boot.
I watched him in his white shirt and black shorts, steady lap after lap, his pace even—so like his usual calm, composed self.
Nothing seemed to faze him—family pressure or personal troubles. He just kept moving forward with quiet determination.
I didn’t know how many setbacks he'd endured, only that he always left me with the impression of brave forward motion.
Thinking that way made my eyes sting unexpectedly.
With one lap left everyone started sprinting. Lucas picked up speed and crossed third. Some classmates rushed to steady his breathing. I watched from a distance as he gave a small smile—bright and brazen in that youthful way.
Youth is really something beautiful.
On weekends Lucas would sometimes give me half a day off to relax.
I’d set my sights on Sam, the six-year-old—soft and pudgy like a rice cake. Whatever I suggested, Sam would nod and say yes. You can’t pass up such a loyal little follower.
So on Sunday afternoons I’d either game with Joey or go hang out with Sam for a bit.
Lucas spent weekends doing odd jobs—always busy. I admired him. He used every spare minute productively, yet his grades stayed at the top. That was unattainable for me.
He later told me he usually worked after school, came home around eight or nine, then did homework and read until midnight.
Junior year passed smoothly. I even brushed the edge of the top ten sometimes. Classmates’ impressions of me shifted; they’d ask me to explain a problem or show off a bit.
As for Ethan and Hazel—well, they still studied hard, routinely second and third. I heard they both reached finals in various competitions. Maybe they’ll place, maybe not. Who cares? If Lucas doesn’t go, neither do I. I’d just focus on the college entrance exam.
Seniors had finished their exams and left. We were the oldest students now; the school doubled down on morale speeches: study, study, and study.
Summer came. Afternoons I still did assignments with Lucas.
Compared to when he used to tutor me in everything, now I only needed help with math. Usually we’d finish our work and then he’d pull out questions he’d made for me to practice and explain.
One evening, despite the sinking sun it was still hot. Sweat dripped down as I rushed into the study room for air conditioning and bumped into a girl leaving.
“Sorry, sorry! I’m in a rush,” I apologized, picking up books.
The name on the notebook froze me: Hazel.
Great. Running into her again.
Hazel looked surprised too. “Claire? What are you doing here?”
“Studying. You too?” I smiled politely. As if this place is for chicken legs only.
“Claire, what’s up?” Lucas walked over at that moment and called to me.
“Nothing. Ran into a classmate.”
“Then let’s go in,” Hazel said, pointing. “You two studying together?”
Lucas replied coolly, “Yes. I tutor Claire. If that's all, we’ll head in.”
He tugged my backpack to signal I should follow. I didn’t make a thing of the small scene.
After our session I bought two cold Cokes at the corner and Lucas and I sipped them—refreshment after sweaty work. That summer, besides the thick plane trees and the cold Cokes, felt like the whole world.
Senior year officially began.
Coach Zhao and several teachers gave motivational talks. I watched Coach Zhao’s mouth crack at the corner. People stopped coasting; every problem had to be nailed down.
I’d studied chemistry in college originally and my chemistry scores were still good. Coach Zhao appointed me chemistry class rep.
My first monthly exam cracked the top ten. My parents were ecstatic—thanking Coach Zhao and Lucas over and over.
Hey, they should thank me too. Without my initiative, even ten Lucases wouldn’t lift things that fast.
Senior year brought a mountain of work and mandatory evening study. I stopped going to Lucas’s extra tutoring on weekday evenings, though on weekends he still marked classic problems for me.
When I told my dad about it, he patted his chest and promised, “Leave it to me. No problem.”
Coach Zhao later said Lucas initially refused financial help from my dad—scholarships or living allowances—until my dad and Lucas’s homeroom teacher talked to him for a long time and he agreed.
My dad even offered to cover Lucas’s college fees, saying he could repay later if he wanted.
Everything looked warm and wholesome. At Christmas, Jenny, Joey, and I dressed as Santa, pockets full of little gifts for Sam and surprise mock-tests for Lucas. We burst into Lucas’s house shouting, “Surprise!”
He opened the door and we jumped out, startling him. When he saw our painted faces he sighed, then smiled and welcomed us in.
We handed out presents. Sam sat in the center, hugging everything with glee.
“I didn’t bring gifts for you guys, so have an apple,” Lucas said, offering a washed apple to me.
Crunching sounds filled the room as we sat by the window, watching glittering street lights paint soft halos on everyone’s faces.
Me, Lucas, Joey, and Jenny—four friends supporting one another, working toward the same goal. We didn’t count what we gave or received. We were just kindred spirits helping each other along.
As the first mock exam approached, I noticed people whispering when I walked by. When I turned, they pretended nothing was happening.
It bothered me, but studying was more important, so I didn’t dwell on it.
At lunch Jenny stormed over, slammed her hand on the table. “That idiot is driving me nuts.”
I forked a shrimp from my lunch and looked up blankly. “What happened?”
She gulped water. “I’ve been wondering why everyone’s whispering. Hazel—and her lackeys—are saying you seduced Lucas so he tutors you!”
I almost spat out my shrimp. “What?”
“They say they see you and Lucas going on dates all the time, that you cling to him to get him to tutor you, and that’s why your grades jumped. They even say Lucas gives you the actual exam questions!”
“Who actually believes that nonsense? Lucas wouldn’t hand me the exam. No way,” I said, baffled.
“You don’t get it. People care about one thing these days: the relationship between the aloof genius Lucas and you. It’s juicy.”
I scoffed. “Everyone’s got nothing better to do, apparently.”
Hazel was at it again—causing trouble. Had she been kicked by a donkey?
After lunch Jenny and I went for a walk to digest. In the gazebo we spotted Ethan and Hazel—seeming to argue—with Hazel wiping away tears.
Jenny and I exchanged looks. Eavesdropping felt wrong, so we decided to leave.
I turned and saw Lucas carrying the class homework over. I pointed to the pavilion and hissed, “Don’t bother them!”
Lucas handed his stack of assignments to Hazel to hold and grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the pavilion.
No, no, no—I don’t want to rip anything up right here, Lucas. We don’t necessarily have the strength to take those two on!
Ethan and Hazel smoothed themselves out as we approached; Hazel’s eyes were red-rimmed.
Lucas remained cool and composed. “There’ve been rumors around school lately. Everyone knows what’s what. Ethan and I are just good friends. Your problems aren’t his business, so don’t drag him into this.”
“Lucas, you’ve got it wrong, we’re not—” Ethan started to explain.
“I hate Claire!” Hazel snapped, finally dropping the whole sad, delicate act.
Lucas didn’t listen to any more excuses. He turned and pulled me away.
Wait—I didn’t even get to say anything!
The mock exam replaced the final this time, and it brought surprises. Hazel, who usually ranked third, must’ve been distracted by boys—she slipped out of the top ten, and I squeezed in.
Ethan privately came to me once to apologize on Hazel’s behalf.
“Listen,” he said, “I don’t want to hear about whatever you two have. Don’t parade that in front of me; it gets on my nerves.”
Later, when Hazel asked around, I learned the whole backstory.
Ethan had casually said Claire had improved a lot—almost catching up with him and Hazel. Hazel decided Ethan was paying attention to me, assuming I’d pestered him again, and so she pulled all kinds of petty stunts.
Please—why would I care about Ethan when I’ve got a friend like Lucas?
New Year was coming up, and the Bennetts’ company had its annual charity event to help underprivileged families. Since Lucas was doing well, I figured he’d have a good New Year, so I happily went with my family to Claire’s mother’s hometown to celebrate. It was the best way to relax before college entrance exams.
Right before the New Year bells rang, Lucas messaged: “Are you home?”
I snapped a picture of the snowy town outside my window and texted back, “Hehe—Happy New Year, Lucas. I came home to Snowhaven!”
After a long pause he replied, “Happy New Year.”
Huh?
His profile picture had turned mostly white, with only a sliver of black left.
One semester to go—whew, I had to work even harder!
Lucas and I only managed to meet every couple weeks. My classroom was on the third floor; his was on the first. We barely ran into each other.
Everyone was grinding for the final push. Hazel and Joey ranked around a hundred in the grade now.
Old Mr. Zhao wasn’t just strict about our studies—he was our counselor, making herbal teas for stress and playing the stern-but-loving guardian.
The AC blew cold air while sweat still dripped from everyone’s brows. Cicadas creaked outside—those sounds marked the last stretch before the entrance exams.
The day before the exams school gave us the day off. We packed and took a breath.
No one dared overindulge. I had a simple home-cooked meal and triple-checked my pencil case, admission ticket, and ID before bed.
Even though it was my second time taking the exam, I was still anxious. The Bennetts kept quiet, not wanting to jinx me—only telling me not to be nervous.
A notification sounded.
It was Lucas: “Wishing you success.”
I replied, “May all your wishes come true.”
The memories the exams gave me were white pages and dark-blue pen strokes. One sheet after another, stitching into a lifetime.
Sitting in the exam hall I wasn’t as nervous as I thought. I followed the steps—skip what I couldn’t do and come back later.
After finishing the last subject, English, I finally relaxed, like an eighteen-year race hitting the finish line.
Outside, parents clamored, pacing—sweaty and anxious.
I walked out dazed with the crowd.
Someone grabbed my backpack. Lucas had worked his way through the throng to my side, smiling brightly. “We said we’d celebrate together.”
“Yeah. It’s over,” I breathed, relieved but strangely hollow.
That night everyone celebrated like crazy.
Lucas, Joey, Hazel, and I went to the barbecue stall we’d booked. Lucas had recommended it—amazing food. The owner, whom we called Mike, was a big-bearded, generous guy who’d helped Lucas before. He surprised us with twenty extra lamb skewers.
We didn’t drink. We ate, drank Coke, stared at the stars, and laughed out loud. The soft starlight and our young, messy joy became one of our best memories.
We partied until midnight, then the Bennetts arranged rides to take us home.
I couldn’t sleep once I was in my room. I started sorting my books—saying goodbye to high school.
I sat and stared at the pile of corrected mistakes and notes stacked nearly half as tall as me. Beside those were the notes Lucas had organized for me—slightly shorter, a different hand.
Every page was Lucas’s effort: understanding where I was weak, fixing my mistakes, categorizing exam problems. That night I fell asleep next to those notes, dreaming of endless green hills.
The first day after the exams I woke early. My phone buzzed—Joey asking if I wanted to go out. No way, I’m exhausted. I rolled over and went back to sleep. Lucas was going to work through the summer. Even though he’d accepted the Bennetts’ financial help and promised to repay, he still planned to work.
I spent the break playing games and taking milk tea runs with Hazel.
When the exam results came out the score site lagged and choked. I refreshed until my hands were red.
When it finally came up, the number in bright red was 661.
Tears exploded from me—not tears from joy exactly, but tears of release. Years of waiting had an answer.
Phones blew up. Everyone called to compare scores. Joey was my instant scoreboard—if he knew it, I’d know it.
“Claire! Claire! What’d you get? I got 585, Hazel 579—Lucas is a monster, 695!” Joey shouted into the phone.
“I got 661!” I answered, tears still streaming.
The next day we all went to school to finish enrollment. The mood was bittersweet—three years together, about to split. We were wistful and sentimental.
I cornered Lucas at the school gate and gave him a giant hug to congratulate him. He stayed calm. “You did well.”
“Only thanks to your tutoring,” I said.
Lucas told me, “Wait for me at the gate when you’re done.”
“Okay,” I agreed, unsure why he wanted that.
Lucas ended up the city’s top STEM scorer this year. Ethan had 685, Hazel 677, and I was sixth in the grade with 669.
Old Mr. Zhao slapped my shoulder, proud. “That’s my girl. I knew you had it in you!”
I hugged him back.
At our final class meeting there was joy and tearful goodbyes. Mr. Zhao took off his glasses to wipe his eyes and said, “After this class I’m done with seniors—I’m moving to teach freshmen. I’m getting old.”
“Never, Mr. Zhao!” we cried, pounding the desks.
And just like that, high school ended.
At noon I waited at the front gate for Lucas.
He came with his backpack on and said as we walked, “Claire—if I asked you to let me tutor you in math forever, would you agree?”
Huh?
I froze—was that Lucas asking? Was he deliriously happy today?
“Think about it and tell me in a couple days,” he said with a smile, then kept walking.
In that moment I saw Lucas in every scene that mattered: bent over math problems in the cafe, running laps on the field, handing out flyers under the sun, smiling with New Year blessings, the faint smile under starlight. I rushed and blurted, “Yes! I’ll say yes!”
He looked back, eyes bright with sunlight. “You sure?”
I blushed. “Sure. I’ll need help with college calculus anyway.”
He ruffled my hair. “I got you.”
Our decision to be together got Joey and Hazel’s blessing—and the Bennetts’ too. Mr. Bennett was proud. “I always thought this kid had it in him. Claire, you’ve got an eye for quality!”
Lucas’s profile picture turned completely white. I didn’t know why; whenever I asked, he just changed the subject.
When it came time to pick colleges, Lucas chose City University for Finance; I picked a nearby Polytechnic for Chemistry, continuing the field from my previous life. Hazel went south to study marine biology; Joey stayed in the province to study mechanical automation.
We spent most weekdays in our own classes and used weekends to hang out—study together, mostly. Calculus was brutal.
Over breaks the four of us still met. Who cared about Ethan and Hazel’s drama? As the rival female lead in the original story, my job was to live my own life—what they did was none of my business.
Most things in the world are answered with a simple “None of my business” unless they involve me. The one person who would stay with me forever was Lucas.
Lucas pursued grad school through recommendation; I struggled my way into his university to continue chemistry. Later, I chose to go straight into a doctoral program—serving the nation’s research was my lofty goal.
After Lucas finished his master’s he started working; talent shines anywhere.
At twenty-six we finally made it official.
It was a sunny day and everything felt perfect. Looking at him beside me, I thought: having him by my side for the rest of my life was enough.
Lucas’s extra: The first time I saw Claire, Ethan hissed beside me, “That’s Claire.”
She was waiting on a bike at the gate—at the time I knew that bike probably cost as much as a year of our family’s living expenses.
The second time was when I got a call to pick up Sam; the police said a girl had reported something. I didn’t expect Claire—she didn’t look like someone who would help others. She seemed different than before, almost afraid of me.
The third time, Claire surprised everyone by leaping up hundreds of ranks.
People whispered she must’ve cheated. But I remembered the shy little smile she gave that night, and somehow I thought maybe she really had studied hard this time.
The fourth time, we studied together in the library.
Faced with Hazel’s little jabs hidden behind her back, Claire didn’t lose her composure. When she left, she even asked if she should walk me out.
She didn’t know the place I was headed wasn’t somewhere a rich girl could go.
The fifth time, we had PE together. Claire carried the matching couple’s cup that Ethan had — I thought she must really like him.
Sixth time, seventh time, eighth time… once you start paying attention to someone, that’s how liking begins.
I watched her stand up for others, help an elderly person sit down. When she saw me, her expression went blank, and there was still a smear of sesame paste at the corner of her mouth — adorably clueless.
Later, Mr. Zhao and my homeroom teacher arranged for me to tutor her and told me Claire was very willing. I agreed.
But Claire seemed unusually respectful toward me, not as casual and comfortable as when she was with Jake.
Why was that?
During those tutoring sessions with Claire, I was genuinely happy. Watching the little unconscious movements she made while doing problems, I realized she really wasn’t like the rumors had said.
We grew closer. Later, Claire invited me to see her in a stage play. I knew she’d taken the stepmother role just to spite Hazel, which made me grin.
I had other work that night, so I declined, but I still rushed over before it started to watch her act all imperious on stage, then slipped out before it ended.
She was a sweet girl, careful in everything she said and did, afraid of showing off in front of me and bruising my pride.
At the New Year of tenth grade, she and Jake came to wish me well. I outwardly treated them the same, but I added a little extra blessing just for her.
By senior year’s New Year, I stood under her building to give her the first greeting. She told me she was going home to Snowport for the holidays. That night, walking under the fireworks, I found myself missing her.
I used to worry she’d think I liked her for her money, but this silly girl never cared about that. She even confessed that at first she’d only been deferential because she wanted my notes; she said it proudly, like it was a clever move.
Claire was like a shaft of light in my life, cutting through the darkness.
Every time I changed my profile picture, it was because she’d brightened my heart again.
When she’d ask me questions, I wouldn’t tell her the truth — otherwise she’d be unbearably proud.
Luckily, later my wish came true: I could keep her safe in my palm and cherish every day with her.
In the first year of marriage, Claire was still a little dazed, hardly believing she’d somehow taken someone as outstanding as Lucas home.
Though we’d known each other for a decade and were now closest of all, Claire still felt a little shy around Lucas in some situations.
For example, when a complex math proof in a paper needed support, Claire held it out to him and asked for help. The smile in Lucas’s eyes made her blush.
Don’t say people don’t do strange things when pushed — math is just stubborn.
The second year, Lucas was already making waves at Claire’s father’s company; everyone praised his performance.
Claire finished her PhD and stayed on as a researcher, pulling all-nighters in the lab. Lucas would often wait outside the research building for her.
Everyone in the chemistry department knew that Senior Claire from Lab 304 had a ridiculously handsome boyfriend who always waited for her.
One day Lucas stood by the flowerbed waiting for her. Claire dashed out, breathless, and Lucas asked with a grin, “Why are you off work so early today?”
A junior passing by shouted, “Senior, why don’t you introduce your boyfriend?”
Before Claire could answer, Lucas gently said, “Not boyfriend. Husband.”
The chorus of “oohs” around them made Claire embarrassed, but she planted her hands on her hips and announced, “Yes, this handsome man is my husband.”
By the third year, Claire began teaching. Honestly, who would’ve expected we’d ever be teachers?
With a lighter research load, Claire had time to try cooking for Lucas. Even though Lucas could cook perfectly, food made by your own wife always feels different.
Housework was simple: one person cooks, the other washes dishes; someone sweeps, someone mops. That year Claire had more time, so she did a bit more.
Joey once came over and teased, “Claire, you’re doing too much. In other houses, the husband handles everything.”
Claire scratched her head. “You know how hard Lucas used to work. If I have time, I’ll do more. I want him healthy so we can be together a long, long time.”
Lucas, overhearing from the doorway, got a little teary.
In the fourth year, Lucas’s company planned a trip. Claire didn’t want to go at first, but when she saw the disappointment Lucas tried to hide with his head down, her heart softened, and she took vacation days to go with him. (Think about it: someone as outstanding and handsome as Lucas bowing his head, disappointed but holding it in — who could help but care?)
Lucas introduced her to everyone: “This is my wife, Claire Bennett.”
His eyes were full of love and pride that wouldn’t be contained.
That day everyone saw the usually composed Mr. Reed taking photos of his wife, holding her umbrella, carrying her bag — a smile they’d never seen before. People called it a big helping of couple goals.
In the fifth year, Claire was tidying at home and found a book on her bookshelf she’d never seen. Standing out among the chemistry journals, it had no title and no author — the first page was filled with Lucas’s sharp handwriting.
“Some day, today Claire couldn’t do a math problem again. She chewed on her pen and I wanted to laugh.”
“Some day, Claire’s performance was wonderful; she was so imperious she seemed like a little princess.”
“Some day, Claire cooked today. Though it wasn’t great, I ate it anyway.”
The thick book was Lucas’s diary, entry after entry. Claire read it all afternoon.
When Lucas came home, he found his beloved leaning against the bookshelf in the sunlight, head bent over the pages. Seeing him, she ran to him and hugged him, whispering, “Thank you for loving me so much, Lucas. I love you too.”
In the sixth year, their little one, Liam, was born. Everyone came to see the newborn. Lucas rushed to Claire’s side, eyes rimmed red; he grabbed her hand. “Claire, you went through so much.”
Claire, breezy as ever, waved her hand, “It’s okay!”
Lucas couldn’t help but laugh through his tears.
By the seventh year, Liam had Claire’s eyes and Lucas’s temperament. He could sit and stare at picture books for ages.
Lucas often watched Claire play with Liam, a tiny bit jealous, nudging her to pay him more attention. Claire smiled, “I’ll be with Liam through his childhood, but I’ll be with you until we’re old.”
Lucas was perfectly satisfied.
In the eighth year, Claire led a research project with her advisor. One day the advisor said the investor would come at noon and asked Claire to prepare a brief presentation. She prepared thoroughly, and when Lucas — in shirt and slacks — walked in the door, she couldn’t help laughing, but she still finished the presentation professionally.
Lucas, all serious, said, “Professor X explained it very well — clear and accessible. Even an outsider like me understood.” Then he applauded.
In the ninth year, Liam started kindergarten. Lucas volunteered to handle drop-off and pick-up. On the way home he held Liam and said, “Liam, you’re growing up now. You should be an independent little man. Tonight you don’t need Mom to coax you to sleep.”
Liam protested, “Dad, are you making me independent so Mom will stay with you more?”
Lucas thought, This kid’s pretty sharp.
In the tenth year, Claire’s smile was still warm and open, a little carefree. She’d cuddle snacks and binge shows in her downtime, pull all-nighters editing papers, and she was always Lucas’s little girl.
Ten years flew by, but it didn’t matter. They had many more tens of years ahead, side by side, until the end of their lives.
