After saying that, Ji Nian immediately ran off—after all, if she ran too slowly, Ji Tingzhou would definitely grab her and lecture her.
Oh, and while running, she also swiped the bowl of strawberries from Ji Tingzhou’s desk.
Just a casual move.
She popped them into her mouth as she walked.
[No wonder these strawberries cost over a hundred yuan each—so sweet!]
On the way, she ran into Zhiliao, who was training the assassin-servant squad, and happily ran over to offer her the remaining strawberries.
In return, Zhiliao had her spar with Wang Xiaofang—to check if her skills had regressed recently.
Exchanging a glance with the eagerly awaiting Wang Xiaofang, Ji Nian reluctantly trudged over.
As for the new band members, Ji Nian only knew they had joined the group chat. Because she’d been dragged into training by Zhiliao, she was so exhausted that she fell asleep right after showering, completely missing the welcome messages for the newcomers.
The next morning, her pink-headed alarm clock had to ring twice before she finally woke up.
Blinking groggily, Ji Nian stared at her dead phone—she’d forgotten to charge it.
Well, at least it’s Sunday.
After plugging in her phone and wolfing down breakfast, she hurried off to meet up with her friends.
Now that the new members had arrived, the band was complete, and they could finally get down to business.
When they reached their rented practice room, Ji Nian was about to step inside when someone suddenly tapped her shoulder from behind.
Instinctively turning around, she saw no one—until a voice called out from her right: “Hey, Boss!”
She looked to the other side.
A tall, lanky boy with headphones around his neck and a fandom-themed backpack grinned at her.
“Huh? What are you doing here?”
The person in front of her was none other than Ji Nian’s old acquaintance—Yang Xinyu.
Three years ago, due to sudden family issues, he’d developed psychological problems. With Ji Nian’s help, he went to the hospital and had been diligently receiving treatment ever since. Back then, Gu Xiuyuan had even called a meeting for class representatives across all three grades, urging them to watch out for classmates exhibiting sudden behavioral changes and to seek help from student council members if needed.
Every class, regardless of grade, had been given pamphlets on mental health awareness. Occasionally, when Ji Nian visited the junior high section, she could still see those posters hanging on the walls.
With a student council president like Gu Xiuyuan, the principal must’ve been grinning ear to ear every day.
Well, not these past few days, though.
Because the student council president was about to step down.
Still, Ji Nian believed his sense of responsibility would live on, passed down like a torch from one generation to the next.
But enough digressing.
After three years of treatment, Yang Xinyu was doing much better, having returned to the chuunibyou teen Ji Nian remembered.
“I’m not just passing by, Boss—I’m here for this.”
Yang Xinyu pulled out a pack of cookies from his bag and handed them to Ji Nian.
An old tradition—tributes to the Chicken Deity must never be forgotten.
Accepting them out of habit, Ji Nian finally realized: “You’re the new member joining today?”
As they walked inside together, Yang Xinyu nodded. He’d grown taller, so he had to tilt his head down to look at her.
“Yeah, Boss. Why didn’t you ask me when your band needed people? I only found out because President Gu messaged me.”
Ji Nian honestly hadn’t known Yang Xinyu could play an instrument.
Reading her expression, Yang Xinyu scratched his head sheepishly. “Heh, I learned drums in elementary school. Haven’t touched them in a while, but I still remember how.”
Ji Nian nodded in understanding.
Inside the practice room, Shen Qingtang and the other new member had already arrived.
The bassist was a girl with a bob cut, who seemed pretty introverted.
Ji Nian felt like she’d seen her before—until her gaze dropped to the girl’s right leg, which was noticeably different from the left: a mechanical prosthetic.
“Wait, aren’t you from Hainuo?”
It suddenly clicked.
This was the girl she’d shared a table with in the cafeteria during her exchange program at Hainuo.
The girl seemed surprised Ji Nian recognized her. When their eyes met—hers a striking shade of emerald green—a faint memory seemed to stir.
Most people wouldn’t recall someone they’d only met once three years ago, but Ji Nian’s looks were too distinctive to forget.
Shen Qingtang looked surprised. “You two know each other?”
Ji Nian nodded and recounted the story from three years ago.
Yang Xinyu clapped his hands dramatically. “Fate!”
“We were clearly brought together by destiny.”
The protagonist squad!
Used to his chuunibyou antics, Shen Qingtang explained, “This is Xiang Wan. She transferred to our school a few months ago.”
Xiang Wan’s family ran a business that had flourished in recent years. After some discussion, her parents decided to transfer her from Hainuo to S High, whose reputation and atmosphere were miles ahead.
Their decision had clearly paid off—Xiang Wan was still amazed by how unexpectedly wholesome the school environment was.
“What a coincidence,” Ji Nian remarked.
Just then, the last member, Lu Jinghuai, arrived—fashionably late.
“Sorry, traffic was bad.”
The moment he stepped in, the entire practice room seemed to brighten, as if someone had cranked up the exposure.
Xiang Wan, who’d never seen Lu Jinghuai before, was nearly blinded, her face frozen in awe.
How… how can someone… look this unreal?
Bro, did we even come from the same creator?
“Nah, he’s probably God’s masterpiece,” Ji Nian chimed in, having overheard Xiang Wan’s accidental muttering.
Realizing she’d spoken aloud, Xiang Wan flushed and ducked her head.
Though Yang Xinyu wasn’t particularly close to this ridiculously handsome campus celebrity, he was the type who could strike up a conversation with a brick wall.
“Man, looking at your face, I can already picture so many characters. You’re literally born to cosplay, dude. Seriously, ever considered it?”
Shen Qingtang cut in, “Actually, he’s cosplayed before.”
Yang Xinyu perked up. “For real?”
Shen Qingtang pulled up photos on his phone—shots from years ago of Lu Jinghuai and He Xiang helping out at a comic con.
Xiang Wan, who’d only glanced casually, suddenly widened her eyes. “Wait, is that ‘Earthlings Be My Slaves’ teacher’s OC?!”
Shen Qingtang looked impressed. “You know about that?”
Xiang Wan nodded eagerly. “I’ve seen these con photos—I loved them!”
No wonder Lu Jinghuai looked familiar.
Thanks to this little exchange, the group quickly warmed up to each other.
Xiang Wan even asked Lu Jinghuai for a photo.
Unfortunately, he declined gently, “Sorry, I’ve been out of the scene for a long time.”
In and out, just like that.
Xiang Wan almost laughed.
Watching this, Ji Nian suddenly remembered the unflattering photo she’d taken of Lu Jinghuai picking his nose.
Feeling guilty, she averted her eyes.
Today’s agenda included not just practice but also working on lyrics.
“Right now, we’re planning two songs—one slow and emotional to set the mood, and a high-energy, uplifting one to close the show,” Shen Qingtang announced excitedly.
Ji Nian couldn’t help but feel his inner chuunibyou was showing.
Ji Nian thought for a moment. Her only task was singing, which was lighter compared to the others. Though she wasn’t particularly skilled at it, she still raised her hand, volunteering to write the upbeat, energetic song—after all, that sounded simpler than the soft, sentimental one.
Shen Qingtang was quite encouraging. "Great! Now, does anyone want to take on the other song?"
Lu Jinghuai decisively raised his hand, his smile gentler and more tender than the song itself. "I’ll handle that one."
And just like that, the lyric assignments were settled.
Ji Nian found the practice room’s air conditioning stifling and stepped outside to hunt for inspiration.
Lu Jinghuai’s gaze followed her as she left, but Shen Qingtang quickly intercepted his restless urge to follow. "Hey, little prince, your instrument doesn’t seem to be working." Being overly clingy wouldn’t do.
Ji Nian carried her draft outside the practice room, searching everywhere for inspiration.
Honestly, she’d struggled even with elementary school essays—to this day, the sight of writing prompts gave her a headache, let alone composing lyrics.
Passing by a vending machine, she decided to grab a few drinks to bring back.
Just as she was about to scan the QR code, she took a step forward and bumped into someone.
"Watch where you’re going, shorty."
Before she could apologize, a lazy, teasing voice drifted down from above.
