The pretty little follower gets targeted by the crazy guys at the elite academy

When the speedboat docked, Pei Qingrang did not disembark immediately.

He stood at the bow of the ship, looking at the island.

The sunlight gilded the entire island, the palm leaves rustled in the sea breeze, and the white villas were hidden deep in the greenery, like pearls embedded in green velvet.

Two bodyguards stood on the dock, armed to the teeth, their faces expressionless.

There are sentry posts, radar, and underwater sonar systems on high ground in the distance.

Zhou Si transformed the island into an impregnable fortress.

He had reviewed the island's data countless times in intelligence reports, including its defense level, troop deployment, and firepower configuration.

But seeing it with your own eyes is another matter.

Not because it is particularly sturdy.

It's not because of its gentleness.

A row of parasols were set up on the beach, with white deck chairs underneath.

The flowerbed in the yard was full of roses, red, white and pink, in full bloom.

There are two swings on the frame, one large and one small. The smaller one has a hand-woven wreath tied to it, which has been dried in the sun but is still hanging there, like some kind of mark that is reluctant to be taken off.

He waited on the sea for a day and a night, watching these details magnify little by little in the telescope, until he could see the dried pink rose on the wreath.

That's the color Li Ruo likes.

She once said that pink roses are like strawberry-flavored cotton candy.

Pei Qingrang's gaze swept across the windows one by one, finally settling on the open window on the second floor.

The white curtains fluttered in the sea breeze, like a beckoning hand.

His heart skipped a beat.

five years.

More than 1,800 days and nights.

He sent countless messages and wrote countless letters.

He published that paper on spacetime theory in a top international journal.

Everyone assumed he was doing academic work.

Only he knew that every formula, every set of data, and every line of derivation in that paper was a love letter written to her.

Zhou Si hid Li Ruo here.

He hid for three days. And he waited on the sea for a day and a night.

He looked down at his hands.

Her fingers were long and slender, her nails were neatly trimmed, and there were calluses on her fingertips from conducting experiments day after day.

He habitually uses alcohol for disinfection, washing his hands more than twenty times a day until his skin turns white, dry, and cracked.

He raised his hand, brought it close to his nose, and smelled it.

The smell of disinfectant.

It's faint, like some kind of lingering obsession.

The boatman called out, "Sir, we've arrived."

Pei Qingrang withdrew his gaze and stepped off the boat.

His white shirt clung to his body in the sea breeze, outlining his slender figure.

The gold-rimmed glasses gleamed coldly in the reflection of the sea, obscuring the eyes behind the lenses.

He was carrying a small silver briefcase, but he held it very steadily, as if he were carrying something very important.

He then put his hand down and stepped onto the dock.

Zhou Si stood on the dock, his hands in his pockets and a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

He didn't look at Pei Qingrang; his gaze was fixed on the distant sea, as if he were waiting for someone, or as if he wasn't waiting for anyone at all.

Pei Qingrang walked up to him and stopped.

The two stood facing each other, neither of them speaking.

The sea breeze blew, ruffling Pei Qingrang's white shirt and Zhou Si's black T-shirt.

The air was filled with the salty smell of the sea and the acrid smell of tobacco, along with a faint whiff of disinfectant.

The two stared at each other for a few seconds.

Zhou Si spoke first, his voice as flat as plain water: "What did you bring?"

Pei Qingrang glanced down at the refrigerator in his hand: "Strawberries. Her favorite."

Zhou Si's gaze lingered on the refrigerator for a moment.

Then he took a deep drag on his cigarette: "She has plenty of strawberries here, you can take some back."

"Where is she?" Pei Qingrang asked.

Zhou Si slowly exhaled a puff of smoke, which dissipated between the two men, blurring their outlines.

"The garden. With Lu Ran."

Pei Qingrang's brow twitched slightly, so slightly that it was almost imperceptible.

But Zhou Si saw it.

"Lu Ran is here too?" Pei Qingrang asked.

"He's here. He swam over. His feet were cut by the rocks, and Li Ruo is bandaging them."

Zhou Si flicked the cigarette butt into the sea. The cigarette butt floated on the surface for a moment before being swallowed by the wave.

"If you go there now, you'll see a good show."

Pei Qingrang did not respond.

He looked into Zhou Si's eyes, which held no mockery, no hostility, only a deep emptiness.

It's like a house where all the furniture has been removed, with white walls on all four sides, and not even an echo.

"Aren't you going to stop me?" Pei Qingrang asked.

Zhou Si took the cigarette pack out of his pocket, pulled out a cigarette, put it in his mouth, and lit it.

The firelight danced on his fingertips, illuminating his face.

"Can we stop them?"

His voice came from behind the smoke, muffled:

"You all kept coming, one by one, we couldn't stop you."

"Lu Xingzhou came in from the front, Lu Ran swam over from the sea, and you drifted over from the sea."

"Is Guo Yiling next going to jump off the building?"

Pei Qingrang paused for a moment: "He didn't bring a parachute."

"Then he'd better take me with him."

Zhou Si turned around and walked towards the island:

"Come in. The garden is on the east side. Just follow this road and turn two corners, and you'll get there."

"Don't step on the grass, she just yelled at me yesterday."

Pei Qingrang stared at his retreating figure for two seconds before following him.

The two walked one after the other on the tree-lined path, sunlight filtering through the leaves and casting dappled shadows on their shoulders.

"Zhou Si." Pei Qingrang's voice came from behind.

Zhou Si paused slightly.

"You lit your cigarette upside down," Pei Qingrang reminded him.

Zhou Si looked down.

The cigarette butt is burning in my mouth, and smoke is coming out of the filter.

He paused for a moment, took the cigarette out of his mouth, flipped it over, and put it back in his mouth.

"I did it on purpose," he said with a cocky grin. "So what?"

Pei Qingrang: "..."

Zhou Si, did you notice your hands are shaking?

He didn't care whether the cigarette was lit up correctly; all he could think about was, "She wants to see Pei Qingrang, she wants to see Pei Qingrang."

[They didn't even realize it was burning their mouths when they ordered it backwards; they've completely lost their minds!]

[Zhou Si: On purpose. Pei Qingrang: Silence. These two are clearly panicking, but they're pretending to be nonchalant!]

The garden is on the east side of the villa. It's not big, but it's very well maintained.

A low white fence encloses a patch of green grass, with an old banyan tree in the middle. Its canopy, like a giant open umbrella, blocks the midday sun.

Under the banyan tree, there was a white wrought iron round table and several chairs.

On the table was a pot of cooled boiled water and several glasses, with a fine layer of water droplets condensing on the glass walls.

Li Ruo sat on the roots of the banyan tree, leaning against the trunk, with a book spread out on her lap.

She was wearing a cream-colored cotton dress, her hair was casually tied back, with a few stray strands hanging down beside her ears, swaying gently in the wind.

Lu Ran sat on the grass next to her, her feet wrapped in white gauze, the gauze showing a faint iodine color.

His fiery red hair looked like a quiet flame in the sunlight.

"This is a translation error," Li Ruo said, pointing to a line in the book without looking up.

Lu Ran leaned closer to take a look: "Where?"

"Here. This word doesn't mean speed, it means acceleration. And here..."

Lu Ran's mind wasn't on the words in the book at all. He reached out, took a banyan leaf that had fallen on Li Ruo's page, held it in his palm, looked at it for two seconds, and then gently blew it away.

The leaf tumbled a few times in the air before landing on the grass.

Pei Qingrang stood at the garden entrance and witnessed this scene.

His hands were in his pockets, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the seams of his pants, over and over again.

His gaze lingered on Li Ruo, from her hair to her shoulders, from her shoulders to her wrists, from her wrists to her ankles…

Not an inch was overlooked.

five years.

He had thought of her for five years...

He published papers in top international journals, researching spacetime theory, in order to prove that she did not die, but that she was simply not in this spacetime.

His theory was correct; she came back.

But she sat there, wearing a cream-colored dress, a banyan leaf in her hair, a book on her lap, chatting and laughing with another man.

Pei Qingrang took a deep breath and stepped into the garden.

The grass was soft, and it made no sound when you stepped on it.

He walked very slowly, step by step, as if approaching a dream that could end at any moment.

Thirty meters.

He got a clear look at her profile.

Her hair was a little longer than it had been five years ago; it was chestnut brown and draped over her shoulders, with the ends slightly curled and gently swaying in the sea breeze.

Her eyelashes were long, casting a fan-shaped shadow on her cheek when she looked down at her book.

Her lips were slightly upturned, as if she were smiling, or as if she wasn't thinking about anything at all.

Twenty meters.

She heard footsteps and looked up.

The moment their eyes met, Pei Qingrang finally stopped in his tracks.

He stood twenty meters away, looking into her dark, bright eyes that held a hint of bewilderment.