'Lin Yiyi?'
Song Kexin's brow furrowed deeply.
'Looks like Lin Yiyi is deliberately standing here to block our way.'
"Su Xiyue," Lin Yiyi called out, waving enthusiastically at them with the familiarity of old friends reuniting.
Su Xiyue glanced at her in surprise, then looked up at her sister.
Song Kexin frowned at Lin Yiyi and instinctively pulled her sister back half a step.
But Lin Yiyi, as if completely oblivious to the small gesture, remained thrilled and jogged a few steps to stand before them.
The girl, about thirteen or fourteen years old, was slender and frail, looking as if a gust of wind could blow her over—the very picture of a gentle, lovely maiden.
But Song Kexin knew the soul hidden beneath this fragile shell was likely colder and more tenacious than any of theirs.
Because of the incident with the mutated cat, Su Xiyue also felt a sense of aversion toward her former deskmate.
She was put off by her sudden approach and reluctant to continue speaking with her.
