The final semester of senior year flowed by like a swift current. These last few months before the college entrance exams passed without major upheavals. While Mei Fang and Lin Youxi were publicly acknowledged as a couple, their closeness with Xia Yuan hadn’t diminished—they’d simply become more discreet, avoiding overt displays of affection in public spaces.

Jiangcheng No. 1 High School, in Mei Fang’s eyes, was truly an exceptional institution. Even before his identity became widely known, the school had afforded him considerable freedom. The faculty were generally understanding and accommodating.

Of course, with less stringent supervision, students’ growth largely depended on self-discipline. But given the caliber of the student body, there were hardly any slackers to be found. Most rose early and retired late, burning the midnight oil—with Xia Yuan and Mei Fang’s group being the laziest by comparison. Though as privileged students with special status now, they couldn’t really be measured by the same standards.

Before the height of summer arrived in June, Mei Fang carved out time to complete development on Stellar Seasons with the underclassmen at Ximilu Studio. This project, selected from several pitches by the junior team members, drew inspiration from his memories of playing Kreator Star Season in his past life.

The game was a twist on the popular endless runner genre flourishing in this era of burgeoning smartphone adoption. Players controlled a spark of light orbiting a planet to collect starlight, with the scenery shifting through seasonal changes as the world rotated. Progress was measured in days traveled. While mechanically straightforward for an indie title, its charm lay in the refreshing aesthetic and soundtrack.

The core concept came from Xu Wei, a classmate of Zhu Nainai’s. Mei Fang had been drawn to her “Little Prince”-inspired planetary designs. Though primarily an artist, Xu Wei demonstrated sharp game design sensibilities, citing Journey of the Clouds as her primary influence. The passage of time rendered through her delicate, naturalistic art style carried a unique poetic beauty.

All games influence and build upon each other, and Mei Fang took pride in knowing his work had inspired the next generation of developers.

Among their senior classmates pursuing creative paths:

• Liu Xiaoyu, whose liberal arts scores placed her comfortably within the 985 university tier, planned to attend Pengcheng University alongside Xia Yuan for both academics and career convenience.
• Guo Yun leaned toward the prestigious Yangcheng Academy of Fine Arts in a neighboring city—one of China’s top eight art schools, which had already extended a independent enrollment invitation. Its proximity to Pengcheng would allow seamless commuting for her studio work.
• Wan Chaoxiong, ever the gifted editor and content creator who had helped Mei Fang with early video production, surprised everyone by opting to remain in Jiangcheng as an independent C-Site creator rather than join the Pengcheng relocation. Mei Fang fully supported his friend’s choice to thrive as a full-time content creator.

Where Wan Chaoxiong and the Ximilu team (led by Zhu Nainai) displayed clear direction, Xiang Bingbing floated in uncertainty. When Mei Fang asked about her plans, she shrugged: “Wait for my exam results first.”

Coming from a family without resources to guide her, the easygoing basketball star had never given much thought to her future. It took Mei Fang’s intervention to reveal her National Level 2 Athlete status (earned through provincial tournament placements), qualifying her for elite university sports programs requiring only baseline academic scores—a game-changing revelation.

Back in their hometown circle:

• Zhang Ming and Yue Xinyi had spent their entire senior year laser-focused on testing into Pengcheng University through merit alone, determined not to rely on nepotism despite their core team positions.

After discussions with family and school, Peng Xue chose to repeat her final year for another shot at the exams—but unlike past conflicts, this decision came peacefully. She buried herself in studies…

Until April 1st, when a haunting folk ballad by “Mi Xue” (a bassist from a defunct band) stormed music charts:

[“I’ve seen deserts drown in rain”]
[“Seen oceans kiss the sharks”]
[“Seen dusk chase after dawn”]
[“But never you”]

[“I know beauty fades with time”]
[“That life exists beyond life”]
[“I know wind carries poetry”]
[“But never you”]

This Song of Strange Abilities—originally by a singer named Chen Li from Mei Fang’s past life (who, like Hao Ge, didn’t exist here)—had been gifted to Peng Xue with one note: “Your smoky voice would suit this.”

Her reply then was just “Thanks” with an emoji. But when the song finally released, Peng Xue’s raspy vocals indeed elevated it into something raw and unforgettable.

Mei Fang had cleared this musical “souvenir” with Xia Yuan and Lin Youxi beforehand, acknowledging its unrequited-love undertones.

While Xia Yuan adored the track, Lin Youxi quickly pinpointed the subtext: “These lyrics read like Peng Xue’s pining for you.”

Caught off guard, Xia Yuan (more flustered than Mei Fang) spilled the backstory. Lin Youxi mused:

“Leaving her with this memento… isn’t that crueler? If I were Ah Fang, I wouldn’t have agreed—at least not to this theme.”

“But… when someone shines this bright, what can you do?” Xia Yuan sighed.

Truthfully, Mei Fang had never given Peng Xue false hope, maintaining careful boundaries—except for this one artistic indulgence. Among countless folk options, only this song felt right as a farewell tribute.

That brash, socially fearless girl—once viewed as a bad influence on Xia Yuan—had revealed herself as someone radiant in her own right. If nothing else, ensuring her path stayed illuminated was worth the ambiguity.

As for two-timing scum like me… best not linger in her thoughts.

Heh.

——

By May 2014, Jiangcheng No. 1 High hosted its coming-of-age ceremony for graduating seniors. Dressed in traditional hanfu—girls with hairpins, boys with ceremonial guan caps—they listened to speeches commemorating their eighteenth year.

As C-Site’s princess, Lin Youxi naturally took the podium as student representative. Between her poised delivery and academic stature, no one questioned her selection.

“You get only one eighteenth year—one youth. If there’s a path you mustn’t choose, it’s surrender. If there’s a road you can’t avoid, it’s growth. May you resist temptation, endure solitude, and chase dreams undistracted. May your passion illuminate this fleeting chapter, your wisdom forging brilliance to last a lifetime.”

Thunderous applause followed as she rejoined Mei Fang and Xia Yuan. Their shared glance held volumes.

“See that ‘Gate of Adulthood’? Rumor says couples who walk through it hand-in-hand stay together forever.”

“Hope it works for throuples—I’m going arms-wide.”

“Pfft—dream on! Youxi should be center!”

“Ah Fang can have the middle…” Lin Youxi smiled. “We’re graduating anyway. Why not make memories?”

And so, the image of Mei Fang striding through the archway—Xia Yuan on his left, Lin Youxi on his right, all beaming—became Jiangcheng No. 1’s photo of the year, etching their legend into school history.