One evening, after washing up and preparing for bed, Feng Yi was drawn to a message in his class group chat. It was about the National Modeling Competition, with a substantial cash prize for first place. He was intrigued. Qiao Li was already financially independent, while he still relied on his parents. The difference between them felt vast.

He researched the competition and found that freshmen had participated and won in previous years. The competition wasn't heavily reliant on university coursework; most of the knowledge required self-study. 

He downloaded materials, bought textbooks and software tutorials, and immersed himself in learning. Even Qiao Li noticed he wasn't contacting her as much. She was initially puzzled, but past experiences had accustomed her to such periods, so she dismissed it.

Feng Yi stopped going to bed early, spending nights in the 24-hour study room. The intense month flew by. Despite his best efforts, he only achieved second place nationally. For a freshman who had only prepared for a month, it was an excellent result, and his advisor praised him publicly. Yet, Feng Yi felt disappointed. He wandered through a luxury store, realizing he'd need to supplement his allowance to buy her a necklace.

His allowance was generous, a small fortune saved since high school. But he was reluctant to use it. He thought stubbornly, "Zhou Zhe surely uses his own earned money for her gifts."

Love had made him sentimental. Even the moonlight seemed harsh. Like a character in an old Korean drama, he dramatically confided in the moon, "Qiao Li, how can I get closer to you?"

His melancholy soon found an outlet. During a class gathering, after a day of activities, the boys, fueled by a jealous competitiveness, kept plying him with drinks. The girls, flushed with admiration, also offered toasts. He ended up having a drink with almost everyone. His agreeable nature prevented him from refusing, and he quickly became intoxicated, his words slurring.

He tugged at Meng Shan, demanding milk. He usually kept to himself, seen by the girls as a cool, studious heartthrob. This unexpected, childish side charmed them, and they all strained to hear.

Meng Shan held him back, "What milk? Trying to grow taller?" Feng Yi nodded vaguely, "Yeah, I grew 0.12 centimeters."

Meng Shan retorted, "Probably because you switched from thin summer socks to thick autumn ones."

Feng Yi sulked silently. His pouting, almost cute demeanor, delighted the girls. The most popular girl in class boldly sat beside him, "You're pretty tall. Why aren't you satisfied?"

Feng Yi shook his head, "Not tall enough. Need to be taller to be manly."

The girl chuckled softly, "You're plenty manly. It's rare to see a guy who works out consistently." The other boys glared.

Meng Shan intervened, "He prefers older women. Needs to be manly to match his older girlfriend."

The girl's expression faltered. She turned to Feng Yi for confirmation.

Feng Yi gave Meng Shan a thumbs-up, "Right!" Undeterred, the girl thought, "Older women are fine. I can be very mature."

"Why do you like older women?" she asked, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Feng Yi mumbled, "Because... because... a girl three years older is a treasure."

The girl giggled, but before she could utter, "You're so cute," Feng Yi continued, "...six years older is two treasures. Of course, preferably 2.33333333333333…"

Meng Shan clamped a hand over his mouth, "Stop with the threes," then translated to the girl, "See? He likes them seven years older."

The girl's face froze. She muttered, "He's really drunk," and left.

Feng Yi continued mumbling, "Meng Shan, what kind of milk did you give me? It's intoxicating."