Chapter 15

Fang Zhuo sat and rested for a while, and her chaotic breathing quickly calmed.

Up next was the teachers’ sports event and the closing ceremony, so they couldn’t return to the classroom just yet. Since she had nothing else to do while sitting there, she simply picked up a cloth and wiped down all the tables and chairs in the rest area.

By the time she came back after rinsing the cloth clean, the sky—gloomy for so long—finally started to rain. Fine white drizzle formed a slanted, hazy curtain of rain.

At this moment, the final segment of the student sports meet was in progress on the track: the class relay race.

Fang Zhuo stood under the sunshade waiting for a while and noticed there was no sign the rain would stop. A nearby classmate quietly pulled out their phone to check the weather forecast and said the rain might continue until evening.

The school didn’t call for a pause—instead, the broadcast made an announcement urging the teams to speed up relay check-in. They planned to push through this light rain and finish the meet before the track was fully soaked.

Young people probably didn’t know what cold meant. For them, this final competition only stirred passionate blood, completely unaffected. They warmed up in the light rain wearing thin sweat-soaked shirts.

The class teacher had a few umbrellas fetched to shield the competitors for now, and directed the rest of the students to carry the tables and chairs back to the classrooms. The remaining time was to be used for self-study, with further instructions to be given via broadcast.

After the relay ended, the referees hurried off to submit results for score calculation, and the closing ceremony of the sports meet, naturally, was aborted.

But the students didn’t feel regret. On the way back, they were even full of praise, saying this year’s rain really had great timing—held back for three days and came just at the perfect moment.

Shen Musi turned around excitedly and said, “Lao Ban, you don’t have to run with the leaders now. Aren’t you super happy?”

The class teacher followed at the back of the crowd and gave a forced smile at those words. She herself couldn’t tell whether she was happy or sad.

Because she had signed up for the 800-meter run—if she participated, she’d get a 200-yuan bonus. She’d already been anxious for half the day and wasn’t too willing deep down. But now that she didn’t have to run, she was left grieving the 200 yuan that mysteriously slipped away. It was just too much of a loss.

This was a textbook example of a human selling their soul for money.

A single autumn rain made the weather turn cold in an instant.

The class teacher was worried the students, having sweated earlier, would catch a cold from this sinister wind, so she told them to wear more layers. And as a warm-up, she conveniently handed them a worksheet.

Fang Zhuo put her school uniform back on and noticed a muddy smudge on the cuff that must’ve gotten there at some point. Her cleanliness instinct flared instantly, and she picked up some soap to go wash it at the sink.

There was a narrow sink outside the bathroom, and not many people were there at the moment. Fang Zhuo placed her hands under the faucet, letting the cool water carry away the heat on her skin, feeling a wave of comfort.

When she looked up, she saw Bai Lufei’s reflection in the mirror, hesitating as he walked over.

Fang Zhuo gave him a brief glance, then lowered her eyelids again, acting as though she hadn’t seen anything. But the boy stopped behind her, standing about half a meter away.

“Fang Zhuo.” He called out once. Seeing she didn’t respond, he continued, “Why are you ignoring me?”

Fang Zhuo couldn’t help admiring his perseverance, and at the same time felt a bit confused. The greatest difference between people might just be this: clearly all humans, clearly speaking the same Chinese, yet somehow there was such a severe communication barrier.

“Did you misunderstand something? I went back and thought it over—I just want to say, I’m serious, I wasn’t joking…” He sounded like he’d bitten his tongue, forcing the words out with difficulty. “I really like you!”

Bai Lufei’s attitude this time was much more sincere than before, and he wasn’t nearly as aggravating. Through the mirror, Fang Zhuo looked at his slightly embarrassed face and reached up to turn off the tap.

She asked in confusion, “I don’t want to date, and I don’t like you. Which part of that is hard to understand?”

“Why?” Bai Lufei asked, unable to comprehend. “Have I treated you badly? I can buy you things, keep you company during meals. Even when you yelled at me last time, I didn’t get angry. You haven’t done anything wrong, so why can’t you show me a little respect?”

Fang Zhuo found his version of “liking” pretty laughable. It’s not that being young automatically meant you didn’t understand anything. He clearly didn’t know her, wasn’t close to her, just saw that she had a decent face, was financially struggling, and had no friends—and so he said he liked her, stuck to her constantly. He didn’t care what she thought, yet expected her to respect him.

Fang Zhuo didn’t want to respect him—because he hadn’t respected her either.

What he said was so naïve, it offended her.

She turned around to face Bai Lufei directly. After a pause for thought, she said, “Let me say this seriously one more time. I’m busy. I have a lot to do. I’m not interested in becoming part of your life.”

Fang Zhuo spoke calmly, without sarcasm or anger: “My life isn’t so short that I need to spend senior year in a relationship. And I don’t have the extra energy to answer your same questions over and over. Don’t come looking for me again.”

Something in her words must have struck a nerve. Bai Lufei’s lips twitched, and a breath got caught in his chest as he blurted out, agitated, “You like Yan Lie, don’t you?”

This was already the third person who’d said that, and Fang Zhuo was starting to feel a little irritated. She didn’t answer right away. But that brief hesitation, in Bai Lufei’s eyes, turned into guilty confirmation.

The muscles at the corners of his lips turned downward, his smile grew cold, and he said cruelly, “Do you think Yan Lie would like you? His shoes probably cost more than your entire year’s living expenses! He’s nice to you—it could’ve just been a casual comment. And you think that means he likes you? No way. Tons of people at school like him, and he treats them all with the same indifference. What do you have? When you eat, you even rely on others to give you soup!”

Fang Zhuo froze. Her ears buzzed, and her face instantly went pale. But she’d always been good at keeping a calm expression—even now, it was hard to tell whether she was sad or angry.

To be fair, ever since she’d started avoiding social interaction and keeping to herself, she hadn’t felt something like this in a long time.

It wasn’t that she felt inferior—but she hated it when people mocked her family, her poverty, her lack of knowledge.

People like her, who weren’t what their parents had hoped for, who weren’t favored by fate, who even had to work harder than others just to catch a bit of luck—what little they had that couldn’t be taken away was their dignity.

Maybe in Bai Lufei’s eyes, their efforts were completely insignificant. In his idea of sincerity, “help” was just another word for “charity.”

Fang Zhuo was genuinely unhappy now.

The first person she thought of was Yan Lie.

Even at the same age, in the same school, with the same teachers, separated only by a wall in daily life—some people had already become mature and steady, while others remained selfish and willful.

She raised her head, wanting to speak, but found her throat tight and aching.

Right now, she could’ve curled her lips, narrowed her eyes, and thrown sharp words back at him. But when she saw Bai Lufei avert his gaze in silence, a look of regret appearing on his face, she felt that using insults on him would be a complete waste.

Bai Lufei was a lucky child raised in a honey pot^[1]Privileged environment—he couldn’t see the wind and rain outside the greenhouse, nor the people struggling within the storm. So he didn’t understand what it meant to hit someone’s sore spot, yet could still stab at it with precision.

But with society’s development, people like him were becoming more and more common.

They had never seen real poverty—everyone around them was well-off. Their so-called “hardships” were not getting the toy they wanted or not receiving the praise they hoped for. So they would ask Fang Zhuo, “Why do you always need other people’s help? Why can’t you do it on your own?”

Bai Lufei wasn’t the first, and probably wouldn’t be the last.

Fang Zhuo had no way to answer. She didn’t want to tell these people about her hardships, didn’t want to explain her circumstances. She just wanted to get up as quickly as possible and keep walking forward—until she reached a place where they could no longer look down on her, where she could meet their eyes on equal footing before speaking to them.

Maybe that was a good thing too. Fang Zhuo hoped that in the future, no one else would have to face the same kind of questions she had.

She turned around and reopened the tap, rinsing the soap from her clothes.

Bai Lufei, at a complete loss, murmured behind her, “I’m sorry.”

Fang Zhuo hunched slightly as she scrubbed the sleeves, watching as the brown-black mud stains gradually faded until the fabric returned to pure white.

She focused intently on what she was doing, as if no one else existed behind her.

But for Bai Lufei, every second dragged unbearably long. The sound of rushing water transformed into a saw blade grinding against his nerves, and Fang Zhuo’s silence only intensified his regret. Panic rising, he repeated, “I’m sorry!”

Fang Zhuo wrung out the moisture, shook the garment flat, folded it slightly, and draped it over her arm. Her gaze was indifferent and icy. Without sparing him a glance, she walked right past him.

Even after her figure disappeared, Bai Lufei still stood there in a daze.

The door to the boys’ restroom opened, and the once-silent stalls echoed with a few heavy footsteps.

Yan Lie and Zhao Jiayou, among others, finally emerged, holding their wet clothes. Who knew how long they’d been holding back inside.

Yan Lie glanced toward the direction Fang Zhuo had gone, then shot Bai Lufei a sharp, chilling look—his expression dark and unfamiliar.

“Idiot,” he said, straining to keep his tone even, managing a sliver of calm. “Don’t say I’m bullying you. Call your class over. Weren’t you always itching to compete? If I lose, I’ll leave. If you lose, you get lost. And stop doing disgusting things behind people’s backs.”

—

Fang Zhuo hung her damp clothes beside her desk and pulled out the newly distributed test papers to work on. By the time she finished the multiple-choice questions and looked up, she realized Yan Lie still hadn’t returned.

The closing ceremony for the sports meet was finally being broadcasted through the school speakers. The static-filled voice was obnoxiously loud, drilling into everyone’s ears and making it impossible to focus. Only Fang Zhuo seemed to enter a completely blank state of concentration.

When the long-winded speech from the school leadership finally ended, the class teacher took over enthusiastically and announced from the podium, “I’ve got great news—the final results for the sports meet are out. Our class came in third!”

“Wow!” The students cheered and applauded.

Fang Zhuo also set her pen down.

The class teacher was overwhelmed with joy. Even the class of unruly troublemakers before her now looked gentle and lovable. This was the best result she’d ever achieved with this class—a moment worth celebrating! Though her 800-meter bonus had gone out the window, at least there was prize money from the meet!

“This year, everyone did an amazing job! Our radio broadcasts had the highest approval rate—they earned us a lot of points!” The teacher didn’t hold back with the praise and continued calling out names, “And we also have to thank Fang Zhuo. The 1500-meter race awarded double points, and she’s the only one in our class who brought home the gold in that event!”

Surrounded by countless gazes, Fang Zhuo lowered her head and quietly waited for the topic to move on.

She had always been like this—calm in both glory and setback—so no one thought anything was off in their excitement.

“And our relay race! Our boys’ relay team came in first too! This year…” As the class teacher spoke, she suddenly noticed something wrong. She glanced around and asked, “Where are the students who ran the relay? Why aren’t they back yet?”

No one answered.

“Class monitor? Where are they?”

The class monitor feigned innocence. “No idea.”

The teacher let out an exasperated laugh. “Didn’t you take attendance earlier and not say anything?!”

She felt that with her mood swings like this, she’d never make it through menopause in this lifetime.

“Musi, call Yan Lie and ask where he is.”

Shen Musi, afraid this was an entrapment^[2]When a law enforcement agent induces a person to commit a crime that the person would have otherwise been unlikely or unwilling to commit., pretended not to understand. “I don’t have a phone.”

The class teacher snapped, “Tch—enough ah! Stop wasting time. Hurry up!”

Shen Musi aggrievedly pulled out his phone, found Yan Lie’s number, and felt that Yan Lie owed him again for this.

Before the call connected, they were already back.

Yan Lie and the others entered through the back door of the classroom, looking bedraggled—clothes and hair soaked, water still dripping—but they walked with an air of arrogance, like local tyrants returning victorious from a conquest.

Yan Lie sensibly stood against the wall, but his loud voice was a little too confident as he called out, “Reporting in!”

The class teacher coldly asked, “What were you doing?”

“Playing basketball,” Yan Lie pointed behind him and said with a troubled expression, “The neighboring class insisted on dragging us into a match. We had no choice. For the honor of our class, we went.”

Zhao Jiayou’s nose was red, and flaring his nostrils hurt enough to make him gasp. He still tried to act like it was just from the cold, inhaled sharply—and a stream of nosebleed came pouring down. Unaware, he raised his hand proudly, “Reporting, Teacher! We won!”

The class teacher fumed, pointing at him, “Shut up! Get to the infirmary!”

Zhao Jiayou blinked in confusion, “Huh?”

Yan Lie praised him, “You look kind of cool right now.”

Zhao Jiayou shyly replied, “Really?”

He reached up to wipe his face, only then noticing the blood on his hand. As he stared in surprise, trembling a little, a napkin was silently handed to him by Fang Zhuo.

“Thanks.” Zhao Jiayou pulled out two tissues and, taking the opportunity, wiped the water from his face too. “This is just a normal collision during the game—no big deal. Unlike those guys from next door, who like using their faces to catch the ball.”

Fang Zhuo looked up at him, eyes fixed, calm and unwavering. The intensity of her gaze gave Zhao Jiayou a huge boost of confidence, making him completely misinterpret the situation. Just as he was about to say a few more words to cement his “cool guy” image, the class teacher had already walked over and twisted his ear, dragging him toward the door.

“Wait! Wait!” Zhao Jiayou bent over in pain, yelling, “Teacher! My dear Gao Jie! I was wrong, I was wrong! I’m going now!”

Zhao Jiayou was kicked off to the infirmary, and the others quickly raised their hands to prove they weren’t hurt. The class teacher simply announced the end of class and told them to go wash up and change clothes.

She didn’t pursue the matter of whether they’d been playing basketball or fighting—she was tolerant of young people’s impulsiveness and trusted Yan Lie and the others’ character. But she still gave Yan Lie a warning glare, then, after the crowd dispersed, went to ask the Class 2 students what had happened.

Class 2’s class teacher was practically losing it.

When Fang Zhuo passed by the hallway with her clothes in hand, she caught a glimpse of the neighboring classroom and finally understood what “using your face to catch the ball” looked like.

Bai Lufei’s nose and eyes were bruised, his head lowered, looking utterly dejected. The others were in slightly better shape but still looked defeated.

He noticed someone watching from outside the window, looked up—but Fang Zhuo had already walked away.

—

It was the last evening self-study session before the National Day break.

After tidying themselves up, Yan Lie and the others returned to class acting decent again, though getting caught in the rain had definitely dulled their energy.

When Fang Zhuo arrived, Yan Lie was lying on his desk, staring blankly into space, eyes empty and unfocused.

He didn’t react when Fang Zhuo sat down, which made her start to wonder—had their sudden targeting of Bai Lufei today been because of her?

Catching feelings for someone who doesn’t feel the same is pretty embarrassing—and isn’t that one of the three great life delusions? Fang Zhuo didn’t dwell on it long before brushing the thought from her mind.

The class monitor wandered over and stopped behind Yan Lie, chatting with someone. Halfway through, he suddenly paused, nostrils flaring in suspicion. “What’s that smell?”

He sniffed near Yan Lie, then leaned forward a bit, trying to locate the source. When he couldn’t, he shoved Shen Musi’s back and accused, “Dan Gao? Is that you? What is that smell?”

Shen Musi protested indignantly, “Why are you blaming me?! I’m not the only one here!”

Fang Zhuo visibly tensed for a split second—her grip on her pen tightened, leaving a line across the page—but she quickly regained her composure and quietly inhaled.

Yan Lie opened his half-closed eyes and looked from her fingers to her face. Sitting up, he sniffed too, then grinned. “Mmm, smells nice. What laundry detergent do you use?”

Fang Zhuo answered blankly, “Diao^[3]雕牌 [Diao Pai(brand) } – a leading brand of healthy cleaning products in China.?”

“Diao?” Yan Lie blinked. “They make laundry detergent?”

The girl in the front row turned around and rolled her eyes at him. “She meant Diao soap. You boys really need better pickup lines. What next—ask her how she hangs her clothes out to dry?”

Before Yan Lie could get another word in, his whole approach had already been dismantled. He laughed and shot back, “Why are you telling me how to live?”

The class monitor, ignoring Shen Musi’s fierce resistance, triumphantly pulled out a packet of spicy strips from beneath his desk storage bin. “And you said it wasn’t you! How old is this snack?!”

“Eh?” Shen Musi himself was baffled. “I must’ve hidden it there so Lie Lie wouldn’t steal it.”

Yan Lie smacked the back of his head. “Who wants your spicy strips?!”

Reluctantly, Shen Musi tossed the food away and, under the monitor’s watchful eye, thoroughly searched his entire desk area.

Fang Zhuo watched him bustling around, muttering nonstop, and her focus started to slip.

Bai Lufei’s words had stirred up some unpleasant memories, enough to make her react too strongly—almost out of character. She realized she couldn’t go on like this. These were insignificant things, not worth revisiting the past over.

Two knuckles tapped lightly on her desk.

Fang Zhuo slowly turned her gaze to see Yan Lie smiling at her. “How’s our little bald guy doing?”

Fang Zhuo: “Who?”

“My mascot chick ah!” Yan Lie said excitedly. “It didn’t die, did it?”

Fang Zhuo paused for two seconds. “It’s doing fine.”

“Oh, good.” Yan Lie let out a relieved breath and said softly, “Could you send me a picture of it when you get home?”

Fang Zhuo replied firmly, “No.”

Sending a multimedia message was way too expensive. For a chicken? No way.

Yan Lie hadn’t expected such a direct rejection. He looked a bit disappointed, poking the table with his finger before still asking, “Why not?”

Fang Zhuo countered with, “You’re staying home alone over the break too?”

Yan Lie nodded. “Yeah.”

She really wasn’t thinking straight today. By the time the next words came out of her mouth, she hadn’t even fully processed the logic—blurted out something that sounded suspiciously like an invitation: “Then why don’t you come over and see it yourself?”

Yan Lie didn’t respond right away, clearly still processing.

Fang Zhuo stared blankly, hesitating between explaining further or letting it hang. Before she could decide, Yan Lie beat her to it, grinning, “Sure!”

As if afraid she’d take it back, he added, “What time tomorrow?”

There were no scheduled classes the next day. Tonight, the teachers would assign the holiday homework and let students leave on their own time.

Fang Zhuo said, “Let’s go early. Eat breakfast in the cafeteria at 8.”

Yan Lie eagerly pulled out his phone and set an alarm. Then, remembering they couldn’t message each other, he said, “Whoever gets there first waits by the dorm building, okay?”