They can play out their sweet, doting romance however they like. I won't interfere anymore.

Timothy was someone my family sponsored since childhood. He came from an extremely poor and remote mountain village.

Not long ago, he lost his mother. As for his father, the only breadwinner in the family, he fell from a high platform when Timothy was six, leaving him permanently disabled.

At home, there was also an elderly grandmother to care for.

Growing up in such circumstances, Timothy never gave in to despair. On the contrary, he was extraordinarily hardworking.

The village chief once told my parents that Timothy would get up before dawn every day and walk three kilometers of mountain paths to the town school. After classes, he would rush back up the mountain to forage for mushrooms to help support the family.

In the evening, he would return home to take care of his family members. Only deep into the night would he finally have a moment to touch his books.

He couldn't bear to waste money on lamp oil, so he studied by the faint moonlight outside the window, reading in the dark.

That was how he fought his way to first place in the entire town.

After hearing this, my parents were deeply moved and immediately decided to sponsor Timothy.

They brought him into our home and transferred both of us to the same elementary school.

That was how I first met Timothy.

He wore an ill-fitting school uniform. His whole body was dark and skinny, the hems of his pants dotted with dried mud, his fingernails packed with dirt.

Standing in our living room, he looked at me stiffly, clearly ill at ease.

"Cecil, come here," my mother said gently, waving me over. "This is your brother, Timothy. Say hello."

"Hello, Timothy," I chirped brightly.

"H-Hello," Timothy replied awkwardly.

My mother said, patting my head, "From now on, Timothy will be studying at the same school as you. You have to take good care of him, okay?"

"Got it, Mom. You can count on me," I replied solemnly.

Timothy became my deskmate. We went to and from school together every day. My mother even joked that we were inseparable twins.

One day, I skipped class to go play and completely forgot about Timothy.

Humming to myself as I reached my front gate, I habitually turned my head to look to the side, only to find no one there.

Oh no! Only then did I remember the Timothy I left behind.

I hurried back along the road to school.

In a narrow alley ahead, several of the class bullies were surrounding and beating Timothy.

"You country bumpkin! Who knows what tricks you used to seduce Princess Cecil?" one of them sneered. "I'm warning you: stay far away from Princess Cecil from now on."

Back then, I was obsessed with fairy tales and convinced the whole class to call me Princess Cecil.

Normally, hearing that nickname would have made me happy, but not now.

I rushed forward. "Hey! You bad guys! Let Timothy go right now, or I'm calling the police!"

At that age, the mere mention of the police was enough to scare anyone. Sure enough, they slunk away reluctantly.

"Timothy, are you okay?" I hurried to help him up.

When I saw the bruises covering his body, guilt overwhelmed me, and I burst into tears.

"I'm sorry, Timothy. This is all my fault. If I didn't run off without waiting for you, they wouldn't have bullied you."

"Cecil, this isn't your fault," Timothy said gently, wiping away my tears. Then his tone shifted slightly. "But you really can't skip class anymore."

"Okay, Timothy. I won't ever leave you behind again. From now on, we'll walk together."

"Alright. Together."

Under the streetlights, two small figures staggered forward, heading in the same direction.

After the entrance exams, Timothy and I entered the provincial high school as joint top scorers in the entire city.

For all three years of high school, we remained firmly in the top three of our grade.

The year we entered high school, Timothy stood against the light, eyes shining as he said to me, "Cecil, one day I'm going to become a mathematician and solve problems no one has ever cracked. I'll bring honor to our country."

The boy back then was bright-eyed and full of spirit.

"Alright. Let's work hard together," I said with a smile, bumping fists with him.

I thought we would keep walking side by side like that, chasing the same goal all the way forward.

That was until he met Lucy Quinn.

Lucy was a dance student. Unlike us quiet, introverted nerds who only knew how to grind through problem sets, she was bold, bright, and confident. Her figure could be seen everywhere on campus, and she was famously popular.

The first time I heard the name Lucy was during the provincial ballet competition.

As the school's representative, she took first place.

That day, she wore a pristine white ballet dress, and congratulatory posters were plastered all over campus.

"Let's go home, Timothy. What are you staring at?" I patted the dazed Timothy beside me and followed his gaze straight to Lucy's award notice.

"Oh? You like her? You have some good taste, it seems," I teased.

"No, I don't," he muttered, but his burning red ears betrayed him.

"Alright, alright, you don't," I replied casually, not thinking much of it.

Who didn't have a crush during adolescence? That was perfectly normal, just like how I secretly admired Justin Cooper from the humanities class next door. He was the aloof, gentle academic ace who always ranked first in liberal arts.

But this was senior year, a critical time. I knew my limits, and I believed Timothy did too.

Yet things unfolded in a way I did not expect.

Around two or three in the morning, I got up for water and noticed the light in Timothy's room was still on.

Dark circles appeared under his once fair face. Sometimes, he even fell asleep during class.

"Timothy, what's going on with you?" I asked, worried.

"It's nothing," he replied lightly. "Probably just staying up too late doing practice problems."

Back then, I foolishly believed him.

It wasn't until later that I discovered he wasn't sleeping because he was gaming all night with Lucy.

When I found out, I was disappointed. I went to argue with him.

"Timothy, have you forgotten your dream? How did you become like this?"

Embarrassment flashed across his face, his expression shifting through a storm of emotions.

But it was Lucy who snapped back at me. "Cecil, I think you should have some self-awareness. Don't interfere in another woman's boyfriend's private affairs."

I froze.

Were they already dating?

"Timothy, is that what you think too?" I refused to give up.

He fought his way out of the mountains through sheer effort. He was just one step away from returning home in glory. He wasn't like others—he had no capital to waste time. If anything, he should have been working even harder.

I did not live through his hardships, yet even I understood this. I believed Timothy understood it as well.

I looked at him expectantly, hoping he would tell me this was all just a joke.

After a long pause, Timothy finally spoke.

"Cecil, stop saying these things. I know my limits. And from now on, we won't walk together anymore."

Lucy heard that and shot me a contemptuous smile.

I lowered my head and didn't look at them again, letting them walk past me.

I knew that from that moment on, I lost a companion on the same path.

Five months before the SAT, I already finished my first round of revision and begun filling in gaps.

Timothy was strolling around campus with Lucy, admiring flowers and trees, wandering wherever they pleased.

Three months before the exam, I stayed up late drilling problems every night.

Meanwhile, Timothy stayed up all night on the phone with Lucy, pouring his heart out.

One month before the SAT, I’d wrapped up my revision, and everything was in place. I just needed one final push.

My ranking was steady at first place in the grade, unmoving.

At first, Timothy's results were still holding within the top five. Gradually, though, they began to slip.

Tenth, 50th, then 90th.

By the second mock exam, Timothy hit a record low.

He was placed 250th in the grade.

Teachers took turns calling him in for talks. My parents subtly asked whether it was due to excessive pressure that he performed well.

Timothy hesitated, then nodded and agreed.

Unexpectedly, in the exams that followed, his grades suddenly rebounded.

I felt a hint of confusion, but in the end, I didn't press the issue.

The teachers and my parents, however, finally relaxed.

One day, rushing to class, I ran into Timothy and Lucy on the way.

It was truly terrible luck on my end.

Lucy looked at me and smiled coquettishly. "Tim, tell me: am I prettier, or is your little childhood sweetheart prettier?"

Timothy's eyes curved with a smile. "Of course you're prettier."

He quickly added, "And besides, she's not my childhood sweetheart. We're not close. I'm just temporarily staying at her house."

After hearing that, Lucy shot me a smug glance. Then, she rose onto her toes and began to dance beneath the tree, light and graceful like a butterfly.

Timothy watched her intently, as though she were the only thing left in his world.

What a perfectly matched couple. If this weren't happening in the middle of high school, I might have even applauded for them.

Unfortunately, I had no time to watch.

I still had my own road to hurry along.

As for the young couple, I wished them success in their journey ahead.

Soon, it was time for the exam. Looking at the familiar questions on the paper, my eyes grew hot, not from nerves, but for all the effort I poured in.

In the blink of an eye, the three days of exams were over.

Freed from academic constraints, Timothy became even more unrestrained.

He spent every day with Lucy, drinking and singing, living freely and recklessly.

I began researching overseas universities, preparing for my future studies abroad.

Before long, I locked onto my target school: Harbrough Arts University. St. Regis College of Art and Design was one of the world's leading fashion design institutions.

I loved fashion design since childhood. Now, I was finally going to pursue my dream.

Half a month later, the exam results were released.

I managed to place first in the entire province.

Meanwhile, Timothy barely cleared the first-tier cutoff by ten points.

...

When we returned home, my parents' expressions were grim.

Timothy's eyes were slightly red. "Mr. and Mrs. Lane, I'm sorry. I was a bit too nervous during the exam and didn't perform well."

Dad frowned, clearly unconvinced by that explanation.

Mom, soft-hearted as always, immediately softened when she saw him like this.

"It's alright, Timothy. We have some old connections with the dean of the mathematics department at Harbria University. We'll put in a word when the time comes."

Timothy parted his lips, but in the end said nothing.

I knew exactly why: he couldn't bear to leave Lucy.

Yet he didn't want to upset my parents because of her, nor did he want to give up his studies for her.

Out of the bond of knowing him for over ten years, I still wanted to give him a hand.

I arranged to meet Lucy at a café and had a long talk with her.

In the end, I said, "Ms. Quinn, I can offer you one million to send you to the best dance academy abroad for further study, or you can stay with Timothy. Which do you choose?"

A trace of reluctance flashed across Lucy's face, but in the end, she chose the former.

She moved quickly.

The very next day, she was gone, vanished without a trace, blocking and deleting everything in one clean sweep.

What I did not expect, though, was that Lucy left herself a backup plan.