The morning mist in Suzhou did not merely drift; it clung to the black-tiled roofs and ancient stone bridges of the Jiangnan Experimental Academy like a heavy silk shroud. For the students of Class 12-A, this wasn't just another Tuesday. It was the "Day of the Blue Buds"—the unofficial name for the Freshman Orientation where seniors asserted their dominance through a series of traditional, and often ridiculous, pranks.
Li Chen stood at the edge of the polished gymnasium floor, his arms crossed over his chest. Beside him stood Dali, his best friend and the school's self-appointed "King of Chaos." Dali was currently adjusting a pair of oversized, fake glasses he had found in the theater department, looking like a caricature of a mad scientist.
"Look at them, Chen," Dali whispered, nodding toward the huddle of trembling freshmen. "They look like they're waiting for a firing squad instead of a welcome speech. We have to break them in properly."
Chen, known for his effortless charisma and his position as the star point guard, stepped into the center of the gym. He wasn't a bully, but he loved the theater of high school life. He spotted a girl standing near the trophy case. She wasn't trembling. In fact, she was adjusting her ponytail using the reflection in the glass, her expression one of utter boredom.
"You there," Chen called out, his voice echoing off the rafters. "The one who thinks the school's history is her personal vanity mirror. Step forward."
The girl—Meiling—didn't flinch. She stepped forward with a poise that made the other seniors go quiet. "Is there a problem, Senior?" she asked, her voice like cool silk.
"The problem," Chen said, suppressing a grin, "is that you haven't paid your 'Respect to the Ancestors.' You must now perform a Peking Opera solo while hopping on one foot, or we'll have to report you to the Dean for lack of school spirit."
The gym held its breath, expecting a protest or a tearful refusal. But Meiling didn't crumble. Instead, she tucked a stray hair behind her ear, lifted one leg with the grace of a crane, and began a high-pitched, perfectly modulated operatic trill. It was so unexpected and so talented that the seniors broke into spontaneous applause. Chen laughed, truly impressed. In that moment, the "Entry" wasn't just a prank; it was a spark.
The Assembly of Shadows
Fast forward through the morning, and the atmosphere shifted from the playful gym to the solemn Great Hall for the formal assembly. The "Blue Buds" were now seated in neat rows, and the Headmaster was droning on about "National Duty" and the "Path to the Gaokao."
Li Chen sat in the third row, his mind drifting toward the afternoon basketball practice and the heat of the game. The school orchestra began a modernized rendition of a traditional Jiangsu folk melody. The sharp, melodic pluck of the pipa cut through the humid hall, stirring the stagnant air. Suddenly, Chen felt that familiar prickle on his skin—the feeling of being watched.
He turned his head slightly. Across the aisle, Meiling was sitting with her back perfectly straight. She wasn't looking at the Headmaster. She was looking at him. As the music reached its crescendo, she raised her hands to mimic the fluttering wings of a butterfly and delivered a sharp, rhythmic wink.
It was a masterpiece of flirtation: subtle, timed perfectly to the beat, and devastatingly charming. Chen's heart, usually steady even under the pressure of a double-team on the court, skipped a beat. He responded with a boyish, stunned grin—a silent "who, me?"—which she answered with a tilt of her head and a knowing smile.
Neither of them noticed the flash of a lens from the upper balcony. A student, distracted by the electric chemistry between the two, had captured the entire exchange on a high-end smartphone. By the time the students were dismissed to their first period, the clip had been edited with a slow-motion filter and uploaded to Douyin.
By lunch, the "Butterfly Wink" was the top trending topic in the province. The algorithm had fallen in love with their "Senior-Junior" dynamic. As Chen walked into the cafeteria, he was met with a sea of glowing screens pointed in his direction. He wasn't just Li Chen, the basketball player, anymore. He was one half of the "National School Couple."
He sat down at his usual table, and Dali immediately shoved a phone in his face. "Three million likes in two hours, Chen! You're not just a student; you're a digital legend."
Chen looked over at Meiling. She was surrounded by a flock of girls, her eyes fixed on her own screen, watching the numbers climb with a quiet, satisfied focus. The playful, human connection they had shared in the gym and the hall was already being harvested for "engagement." Chen felt a sudden chill. The "Entry" was over, and the "Performance" had begun.