On her first day after transferring schools, Nan Zhi was picked on by the dean of students.
Pei Yanyu, the school's resident troublemaker, kicked the door open. His temple was injured, and his gaze was as cold as ice.
He casually stepped in to help her, leaving the dean speechless.
Nan Zhi thought it was just the kind of righteous intervention you saw at schools in the north.
Until she was locked in the dance studio and sprained her ankle. He kicked the lock apart and carried her out.
“Did you cry?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“No.”
He let out a sigh of relief and handed her a handful of sickeningly sweet strawberry candies. “I just happened to buy them.”
Only later did she learn that he never ate candy.
And she had no idea that, deep in his desk, he kept a secretly taken photo of her from the day she enrolled.
On the back, in sharp, small handwriting, was a single line:
“Zhizhi, a mole on the tip of her nose, a little nuisance from the south.”
