Song Yubai was waiting for Ji Qingran to make her move. He waited, and waited, and waited some more—until he was practically having an existential crisis—and still, she was nowhere to be found. Normally, the moment the final bell rang, she’d “coincidentally” bump into him using excuses so absurdly transparent they were laughable. Yet today, she sat meekly in her seat, staring off into space like she’d lost her soul.

Yubai narrowed his eyes, a quiet decision forming in his mind. Fine. If the mountain won’t come to me… I’ll go to the mountain.

The monthly exams came and went. Thanks to a bout of illness, Yubai had missed one of his papers, sending his overall ranking plunging straight down to thirty-sixth place. Although the teachers offered to make an exception and let him keep his usual seat in the front row, he merely curled his lip into a faint smile, replying with utter calm:

“There’s no need for special treatment, Miss. Rules are rules.”

It sounded impossibly noble on the surface, but somehow, the whole thing reeked of a calculated ploy.

I stared at the rank chart, my eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. Ranking thirty-seventh was me. Which meant that cold, ethereal guy was currently slinging his black backpack over one shoulder, taking measured steps straight toward my desk. Every single footstep felt like it was stomping directly on my chest, sending my heart into a wild frenzy.

“Ji, could you move over a bit? I can’t get in.”

His smooth, clear voice drifted down from right above my head. Snapping back to reality, I looked up only to lock eyes with those deep, obsidian orbits. I scrambled out of my seat to let him pass, my palms slick with cold sweat.

Yubai sat down, unhurriedly arranging his textbooks. Though I tried my absolute best to stare straight at the blackboard, my eyes kept going rogue, stealing glances at him. Naturally, as a scion of an elite dynasty, every single gesture he made oozed high-class elegance. Even sitting completely still, he looked expensive.

Back then, I’d been utterly blinded by that aristocratic aura radiating from his very bones, chasing him blindly for two whole years. Looking back now, I realized how insanely naive I’d been. My family was wealthy, sure, but compared to the Song empire, we were just a budget mini-version. Even if he genuinely liked me, crossing the threshold into a family like his was never going to be a walk in the park.

When English class rolled around, Yubai rummaged through his bag before frowning slightly, turning to me. “I forgot my workbook. Mind if we share?”

I could only squeak out a tiny “Sure” and pushed my book to the middle. In that instant, the subtle, clean scent wafting off him drifted over, instantly wrecking my focus.

“Option C,” Chu Nuannuan’s voice rang out as she answered the teacher’s question.

The names of the main leads started spinning in my head like a runaway ceiling fan. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to snap out of it. Stop simping! Keep simping and you’re officially doomed! You need to swap seats, ASAP.

Watching Yubai stand up to answer a question with flawless, razor-sharp logic, I couldn’t help but recall the explicit details from that trashy romance novel. The idea of a guy as cold as ice holding Chu Nuannuan tight, maintaining his noble, aloof composure while uttering dirty, filthy things… ahem. It was practically unimaginable.

Of course, reality would eventually prove that my imagination hadn’t even scratched the surface. He wasn’t just capable of it; he was thoroughly enthusiastic, completely pulverizing every pristine perception I ever had of him.

As class wrapped up, Chu Nuannuan walked over to his desk, offering a soft, comforting smile. “It’s okay, Song. With your talent, you’ll definitely be back at the top next time.”

“Yeah.” He nodded, his response curt to a fault. His voice remained as distant and chilly as the man himself. Even toward the female lead, his attitude was colder than a sub-zero freezer.

Half the time, I even questioned if he actually liked her at all. But one fact remained undeniable: Chu Nuannuan was the only girl he ever allowed near him. As for everyone else—myself included—trying to get close? Yeah, right. Dream on.

Looking back at my history of pursuing Song Yubai, it could be summed up in one word: a absolute disaster.

In tenth grade, the love letters I wrote daily were tossed straight into the trash without a second glance. In eleventh grade, I upgraded to packing him homemade bento boxes for an entire semester, only for my affection to end up in the scrap heap before it ever took root. By twelfth grade, I was pulling every excuse in the book to linger around him, only to have my pathetic little schemes unmasked in front of everyone, utterly without mercy.

The bitterest blow came just a month ago. When I aggressively confronted Chu Nuannuan—who had just become his new desk mate—the man himself caught me red-handed. The look in his eyes that day was cold, indifferent, and dripping with an undisguised disgust that made my face cycle through colors faster than a traffic light.

Before Chu Nuannuan showed up, the seat beside Song Yubai had always been forbidden territory. Countless girls had pulled all-nighters studying just to claim the second-place rank in the grade, only for Yubai to grab his bag and move the second their butts touched the chair. Over time, it became an unwritten rule: whoever placed second had the self-respect to request a seat change to avoid public humiliation.

Yet, Chu Nuannuan was the sole exception. She sat down effortlessly, and he accepted it without a peep. The entire class suffered collective shock, while I burned with a jealousy so intense I nearly combusted on the spot.

That was what drove my failed confrontation, and the moment I realized: this high-and-mighty snow lotus wasn’t incapable of falling in love—his heart was just locked to everyone except the heroine.