Chapter 30

The nickname "Pot Lid" stuck with Ding Xian for quite a while; even some of Zhou Siyue's friends knew about this Miss Pot Lid.

Soon after, those boys from Eighteenth High School at the entrance also learned Ding Xian's nickname. Several times when they met outside school, they couldn't help but tease her, "Hey, Siyue's Pot Lid."

Boys were thick-skinned, and their jokes knew no bounds. Ding Xian could only dodge and avoid them. Subconsciously, she felt she couldn't get along with that group of delinquent boys. Although one of them was very handsome – even Kong Shadi couldn't help but mention it several times – that boy didn't talk much. Each time, it was others who joked, while he stood to the side, smoking, a mocking smile playing on his lips.

That boy was also a legend. According to Zhou Siyue, he used to have good grades, but after his parents divorced, he stopped studying. He even skipped the high school entrance exam and was eventually forced into Eighteenth High School by his aunt.

Entering Eighteenth High School was practically like stepping into a vocational high school. Regular universities were out of reach, unless he went to an art school instead.

Kong Shadi always thought it was a pity. So handsome, if he were at Third High School, he'd be a popular figure.

The pool hall was dimly lit. Song Ziqi, holding a cue stick, fished out balls from various pockets and arranged them into a triangle. As he did, he said with a hint of disdain, "One mountain cannot hold two tigers. I'm enough for Third High School, why do we need so many popular figures?"

Kong Shadi spat disdainfully, "Who do you think you are? Zhou Siyue might be, but you're not even a tiny bit of one."

Song Ziqi muttered, "Dead girl." Then, as if venting his anger, he swung the cue. The balls scattered like blooming flowers. Ding Xian felt that his fierce gaze must have been imagining the balls on the table as Kong Shadi's head.

Zhou Siyue finished selecting a cue stick, handed it to her, tilted his head slightly, and gave her a look, "Give it a try."

Under the dim light, Ding Xian inexplicably felt that both his gaze and voice had softened.

He was dressed too handsomely today, which made Ding Xian feel that her "pot lid" haircut was an eyesore. Several times she rushed to the restroom, wanting to tie all her hair up, but Kong Shadi patted her chest and promised her that it looked absolutely good like this.

At that age, lacking aesthetic judgment, she decided to trust Kong Shadi for now.

She originally thought he and Song Ziqi would play a game first, but unexpectedly, he was full of gentlemanly grace and didn't leave the two of them out. He handed the cue stick directly to her, "I don't know how to play yet."

The boy leaned against the pool table, bent down to retrieve the blue chalk, and said softly, "I'll teach you."

As soon as she heard he was teaching, Kong Shadi clamored to join, but Song Ziqi pulled her away, "You wait. How can he teach two at once?"

"Can't you just teach me?"

Song Ziqi rolled his eyes at her, "Sis, you can only teach someone if there's an experienced player accompanying them, understand? You two just randomly hit the balls, how long would that take to teach?"

"Tsk, you just have an itchy hand and want to play yourself."

They were arguing fiercely over there.

Over here, however, he was already teaching her hand-in-hand.

Zhou Siyue picked up pool quickly. The first time he went out to play with Song Ziqi and Jiang Chen, he immediately grasped it. He didn't need anyone to teach him. After a few games, neither of them was a match for him. He was now in a 'lonely seeking defeat' state; playing against him always resulted in a loss, and if you were unlucky, he could even clear the table in one shot.

The teaching process was quite effortless. Ding Xian could understand what Zhou Siyue said, but she failed in practical application every time. She'd push the cue, swing into the air, and not even touch the ball.

Zhou Siyue crossed his arms over his chest, sighed, re-scattered the balls on the table, positioned the white and black balls, and aimed at the pocket, "Come on, try again."

Ding Xian, with a surge of energy, holding her breath, swung the cue forcefully—

Another air swing.

Zhou Siyue leaned against the table, encouraging her with a very patient and gentle gaze.

Her hand lacked strength; as soon as she moved the cue, her hand would shake. When it shook, she couldn't aim accurately at the white ball, and her shots easily went awry, usually resulting in the white ball spinning in place a couple of times. Zhou Siyue mostly taught by speaking from the side of the table, occasionally using his hand to correct her posture. As soon as he leaned closer, Ding Xian would get incredibly nervous, her heart pounding, her ears turning red. She secretly glanced at him, the boy's gaze intently fixed on the balls and cue stick on the table, and her posture.

"In math, there's something called the hemisphere method, ever heard of it? The correct hitting point is on the extension of the line connecting the center of the pocket to the center of the object ball, about one ball's distance from the object ball's center. Aim for that point, and you can usually sink it." Zhou Siyue leaned down slightly, explaining as he placed the white ball and object ball on the table, his finger casually tracing a line between the two balls. He then subtly turned his head to look at Ding Xian, "Understand?"

His gaze suddenly swept over, and their eyes unexpectedly met in the air, lingering for one second, two seconds...

Zhou Siyue slowly straightened up, put his hands back in his pockets, and looked at her with a half-smile, his voice teasing, "Your pot lid..."

Hmm?

"Has split."

It took a long while for Ding Xian to realize that what he meant by 'split' was—it had parted down the middle.

"..."

'I, I, I, I, I really want to stab you to death with this cue stick.'

Ding Xian glared at him, then quickly smoothed her hair with her hand. After two rounds of teaching, her progress was unremarkable, but she was just happy to play. She enjoyed her own shots, and occasionally, when she accidentally sank a ball, she would happily hold up the cue stick for half a day, then look back at Zhou Siyue as if asking for praise, her eyes signaling—'How was that? Not bad, right?'

Zhou Siyue was quite generous, even though her playing was terrible, he still cooperatively gave her a thumbs up, "Impressive."

Under Zhou Siyue's blindly flattering teaching method, Ding Xian's pool skills showed no improvement whatsoever. Song Ziqi also showed no mercy. Having finally encountered such a terrible opponent, he focused on showing off, using every trick in the book, like jump shots and behind-the-back shots. Moreover, every time Song Ziqi was about to take a shot, he would first walk around the table once, holding the chalk and rubbing it vigorously. Yet, some people fell for this act; Kong Shadi watched from the side, utterly thrilled, her heart racing.

For two consecutive games, Ding Xian barely touched any balls, and Song Ziqi cleared the table—

Zhou Siyue, who was standing by, finally couldn't bear it anymore. At the start of the fourth game, he took Ding Xian's cue stick and said to Song Ziqi, "You're just bullying her."

Song Ziqi challenged, "Are you feeling sorry for her?"

Zhou Siyue held the cue stick in his hand, lowered his head to retrieve the balls from the pockets, and arranged them neatly one by one. His palms were large, his knuckles distinct, and his fingers long and slender. He skillfully set them up with the triangle rack, his movements fluid and graceful. Then, he chuckled softly with his head down—

"I can't even be bothered with you."

"Go."

Zhou Siyue started the game. He played cleanly and efficiently, very focused, without Song Ziqi's many tricks. He was very direct, sinking the balls straight into the pockets.

Halfway through the game, he took off his baseball jacket, tossed it to Ding Xian for her to hold, and returned to the table wearing only a thin white T-shirt.

Ding Xian carefully tucked the jacket and draped it over her arm, holding it to her chest. Her gaze returned to the pool table, but her heart was pounding incessantly. Before long, her ears turned red again.

She hadn't realized she liked him so much that even holding a random piece of his clothing could make her blush and her heart race.

After finishing pool.

Zhou Siyue went to the front desk to pay the bill. Ding Xian waited outside, holding his jacket. He then came out again, "Give me my wallet."

"..."

"It's in the jacket."

She looked down, quickly realizing, and awkwardly handed over the jacket. But after Zhou Siyue retrieved his wallet, he gave the jacket back to her, implying—'You hold it.'

Kong Shadi and Song Ziqi came out of the restroom just as Zhou Siyue finished paying. He tucked his wallet directly into his pants pocket and, without taking his jacket from Ding Xian, walked downstairs with his hands in his pockets.

After an afternoon of fun, Kong Shadi clearly wasn't satisfied and suggested to them, "Let's go sing K."

Song Ziqi said he didn't care.

Zhou Siyue glanced at Ding Xian, who shook her head, "How about you two go? I can't go home too late."

Kong Shadi refused, holding onto her arm, "That's no fun, let's go together."

Ding Xian was still thinking about how to tell Ye Wanxian about her bangs when she got home.

"Shadi, I'll go with you next time."

Kong Shadi wanted to say more, but Zhou Siyue directly interrupted from behind, "Alright, you two go ahead. I'll take her home."

Song Ziqi asked, "So, are you coming later?"

"Depends. If not, just you two play."

"Didn't Uncle Zhou and Aunt Zhou go on a business trip? You're alone at home anyway, come and play."

"We'll see then."

"Okay."

The four parted ways under an old sycamore tree at the crossroads.

The winter dusk stretched the silhouettes of the young people long.

The two walked back along the line of old sycamore trees. Ding Xian returned his jacket to him, "Put it on."

As soon as they stepped out, the cold wind was indeed a bit chilly. Zhou Siyue reached out, took the jacket, and put it on.

The two walked past several hutongs along the street. Ding Xian, curious, peeked into almost every one. "I once overheard someone say that every hutong in Beijing has a story. Is that true?"

Zhou Siyue walked with his hands in his pockets, his head bowed. Following her gaze, he glanced around and nodded, "Mm, pretty much."

"Are there any particularly special stories?"

Zhou Siyue had read many books and had many miscellaneous ideas. Whenever she went out with him, Ding Xian would hear strange and interesting stories from him, and he could always tell them vividly and engagingly. In any case, she remembered every word he said.

"You said last time that there were no toilets in the Forbidden City, is that true?"

He resumed his usual smile, "It's true. Where would people get toilets back then? They'd just put a chamber pot in the room. Inside the chamber pot, they'd lay a layer of fluffy incense ash to prevent odors and for convenience."

Zhou Siyue truly spoke of these things offhand. Ding Xian sometimes thought he was pulling her leg, but every time after listening, when she checked it later, it turned out to be true. He never just spoke carelessly.

The two chatted idly like this all the way.

When they reached the Hutong's entrance, it had just gotten dark, and the streetlights illuminated. The boy's tall figure enveloped her, and Ding Xian said to him, "I'll go in by myself, you should head back quickly."

His usual line, "See ya, silly."

Then he turned gracefully.

When Ding Xian returned home, Ye Wanxian had just finished dinner and came out of the kitchen with a plate. She glanced briefly, "You're back? Hurry and eat—" She suddenly stopped, her gaze returning to Ding Xian's face. After scrutinizing her back and forth for a long time, her face instantly turned pale, "You cut your hair?"

Kong Shadi had given her a few bad ideas, suggesting she use clips to pin up her bangs when she got home. But with Ye Wanxian's keen perception, this method wouldn't go undetected for long. If the concealment was discovered, it would be better to show her openly, let her accept it sooner. A scolding would only last one night; surely, she couldn't force her hair to grow back?

But for Ye Wanxian, this was absolutely no small matter.

Once a girl developed a certain aesthetic awareness, it meant she was on the verge of danger.

Ye Wanxian put down the plate and suddenly said quietly to Ding Xian, her face taut, "Come with me."

At this, Ding Xian already knew tonight wouldn't be easy.

Ye Wanxian untied her apron, tossed it onto the sofa, and walked directly into the bedroom.

Ding Xian followed her in.

Honestly, she wasn't nervous at all, just resigned to being scolded and punished.

"Who gave you permission to cut your hair?"

"Mom, I think I have the right to choose."

"How old are you that you think you have the right to choose? Where were you all day today? At a teacher's house for tutoring? Which teacher? Give me their phone number, or I'll go to your school tomorrow and ask!"

Ye Wanxian fired off four or five questions like a machine gun, which made Ding Xian a little dazed. The excuse she had casually made up that morning had now become her fatal wound. Calling the teacher or going to school, neither outcome would end well. She was scared and afraid, but deep down, she had long detested Ye Wanxian's parenting style.

Moreover, a tiny figure in her heart waved a big flag, screaming at the top of its lungs—

'Your youth, your choice! Resist!'

"Speak up! Your aunt really wasn't wrong, girls become rebellious in high school!"

Snap—

The flagpole in her heart snapped. She couldn't take it anymore and suddenly yelled at Ye Wanxian:

"Since you hate me so much, I might as well go live at school!"

After yelling, Ding Xian rushed straight out.

...

Zhou Siyue had just finished showering and washing his hair. As he was drying his hair with a towel, he suddenly looked through the bathroom window and saw a small figure crouching under the corner of his hutong wall. The streetlight illuminated it clearly, and from the second floor, he could vaguely make out a set of clothes he had seen earlier that day.

When he pushed open the window, he faintly heard a few faint sobs.

The hand wiping the towel slowly stopped...

The next second, a figure rushed through the hallway, while the still-warm towel lay abandoned on the bathroom floor.