She really just couldn’t, wouldn’t, didn’t, wasn’t able to.
Finally, the long‑awaited annual sports meet arrived.
The day of the meet was neither cold nor hot. Though the temperature had dropped and the difference between day and night was sharp, the daytime remained pleasantly comfortable.
Sunlight spread in a pale layer, a breeze brushed lightly, and the air was gentle.
When it came time for Shan Jiqiu’s long‑jump event, she went to the check‑in area with the two other girls from her class who had also signed up. By chance, she ran into Yu Kexia there.
Yu Kexia, upon seeing Shan Jiqiu, lit up like a fish finding water, flapping eagerly toward her.
“I just went to your class to look for you so we could check in together, but I didn’t see you,” Yu Kexia said.
“I was upstairs working on problems.” Shan Jiqiu happened to be standing in direct sunlight; as she spoke, she raised her hand to shield her eyes.
Yu Kexia: “Oh, right, you all have to prepare for the math competition selection exam.”
Shan Jiqiu nodded. “Mm.”
Yu Kexia: “I heard you made a bet with Lu Yun? If he scores higher than you this time, you’ll wash his socks for a month—did you really agree to that?”
Shan Jiqiu: “He’s the one who bet me. Out of ten bets, he loses nine. Do you really think he’ll win this time?”
Yu Kexia: “Absolutely… no way!”
Shan Jiqiu: “Exactly.”
Yu Kexia suddenly grinned like a mischievous thief. “By that logic, if you win, wouldn’t he have to wash your underwear?”
Shan Jiqiu’s eyes twitched. Ha. That kind of tacit understanding?
Thinking of it left her speechless. She couldn’t fathom how he could say such things so casually. He really had never treated her as a girl. At that thought, her heart sank again, the fine weather unable to dispel the shadow inside.
“I win, and she owes me snacks for a whole semester—buying on demand,” Shan Jiqiu said lightly.
Later, Lu Yun amended it to just a month of snacks. But Shan Jiqiu’s mind was stuck on the underwear comment, embarrassment and disappointment pressing in from both sides of her chest.
And Lu Yun? He remained blissfully unaware, leisurely upping the stakes month by month until he slapped the table: “One semester. No more extensions.”
Shan Jiqiu adjusted her mood and answered offhandedly, “Deal.”
Yu Kexia gave her a thumbs‑up. “Nice one. Don’t forget to share with your bestie!”
“Sure…” Shan Jiqiu smiled.
“Wow, look at that girl. She’s really developed. Could rival Deng Wenwen.”
“You sound like a hooligan.”
“I’m just saying—you’re better than Deng Wenwen in almost every way, but in this one area, she’s got more presence.” Yu Kexia’s gaze flicked to Shan Jiqiu’s chest, then to her own. “I admit defeat.”
Shan Jiqiu shot her a glance. “What’s the point of being that big? Just a burden.”
“True. Running with them is way too awkward.”
“…”
The two were deep in girlish chatter when a sudden commotion rose from the track nearby.
Students at the check‑in area craned their necks to look, but saw nothing clear—only whispers spreading.
Classmate A: “That guy in the black sportswear, right? Mm, pretty handsome.”
Classmate B: “Who? Never seen him.”
Classmate C: “What, you don’t know? Duan Boyi, the new transfer in Grade 11. He’s exactly my type—super handsome.”
Classmate B: “So compared to Lu Yun, who’s hotter?”
Classmate C: “Lu Yun is gorgeous, sure, but he’s out of reach. So I’ll go for Duan Boyi. I’m fine with single‑eyelid guys, hehe.”
Classmate A: “As if you could ever get Duan Boyi. Anyway, no one in this world beats our campus prince Lu Yun. Duan Boyi’s nothing.”
Classmate D: “Wake up. Lu Yun doesn’t belong to you either.”
“…”
Yu Kexia nudged Shan Jiqiu with her elbow, curious: “I want to see just how handsome he is.”
Shan Jiqiu had caught the gist but, as usual, tuned it out. “Not interested.”
Yu Kexia: “Admiring handsome guys is one of life’s joys. How can you not be interested?”
Shan Jiqiu: “You’ve already got plenty of handsome guys around you.”
Yu Kexia: “That’s different. Something new is always fresher.”
Shan Jiqiu teased: “So there’s a good chance this Duan‑whatever might replace Zhou An in your heart?”
Yu Kexia instantly clapped a hand over Shan Jiqiu’s mouth, glancing nervously around. Luckily, everyone nearby was busy chatting, no one eavesdropping. She exhaled in relief, then shot Shan Jiqiu a daggered look, muttering through clenched teeth: “You’re going to be the death of me.”
Shan Jiqiu couldn’t hold back her laughter, which only made Yu Kexia blush crimson.
After check‑in, the two headed to the long‑jump field.
Sports were never Shan Jiqiu’s strength—running 400 meters nearly killed her. Her only redeeming skill was her spring, so from childhood she’d almost always signed up for just this one event. And since she was something of a school celebrity, a crowd of classmates gathered to watch. When her turn came, Yu Kexia cheered her on: “Go for it—you’re the best!”
Shan Jiqiu smiled, then walked toward the referee who beckoned her forward. Her high ponytail swayed with each step, her tall figure bathed in sunlight, shadows dappling around her. Though she hadn’t even competed yet, she already looked like someone stepping up to claim a prize.
From the crowd came admiring voices: “A goddess is a goddess. That presence, that image, that temperament, that character—she’s the pride of our school.”
Many nodded in agreement, though others scoffed with snide remarks.
“I don’t see it. I still think our school beauty Deng Wenwen is prettier. Shan Jiqiu’s just good at grades—big deal.”
“Exactly. Deng Wenwen is sweet and approachable. Shan Jiqiu’s cold, acting all superior. Totally fake.”
“Finally, someone said it—I’ve always thought Shan Jiqiu was putting on an act.”
Yu Kexia, overhearing, sneered and shot back in a mocking tone: “Just good at grades, huh? Sorry, construction‑site sisters—being first in the grade really *is* a big deal.”
Her “comrades” chimed in: “Please. Our Autumn God doesn’t even care about being the school beauty—that’s why Deng Wenwen got the title. Fake? Look at yourselves before calling others fake.”
Another jab: “You must be Deng Wenwen’s friends. Why’s the school beauty hiding while you’re here spouting nonsense? Didn’t she confess to Lu Yun that summer and get rejected? Ha! Jealous our campus prince only has eyes for Autumn God.”
“Exactly. If you’re going to throw shade, pick your target wisely. Our Autumn God—you simply can’t bring her down.”
The instigators, no match for Yu Kexia’s debate‑team tongue, soon retreated in frustration.
Meanwhile, Shan Jiqiu, oblivious to the heated skirmish around her, was loosening her wrists and ankles. The wind brushed her cheeks, and from the loudspeakers came one of her favorite songs:
“Step by step I’ll climb higher,
At the peak, I’ll ride the leaves forward,
The little sky carries tears and sweat…”
The melody gradually faded beneath a boy’s clean, low voice. Though it was just a cliché pep talk, his tone made it sound crisp and refreshing.
Shan Jiqiu lowered her gaze with a smile. That familiar voice on the school broadcast—what a surprise. But the opening line wasn’t his style.
Of course not. He never wrote pep scripts. He’d probably been roped in by the student council president again.
As she lifted her eyes, the broadcast flowed like sunlight through a stream, and she began her run‑up.
“You are the flame burning across the field, the bird soaring in the sky. Applause will always follow you, victory is reaching out its hand. Run forward in the light of the sun! Classmate Shan Jiqiu, go for it—we’re waiting for you to bring glory to Class 2‑1.”
Lu Yun, with no events that morning, had been strolling lazily from the south building to the track, planning to watch Shan Jiqiu and Yu Kexia’s frog‑jump antics. But as he passed the podium, the class monitor caught him, saying he couldn’t hold it in and asked Lu Yun to hand in their script.
He thought he’d just drop it off, but then the student council president, Liang Yue, cornered him, insisting he read it himself for his class.
Since he and Liang Yue were on good terms, Lu Yun casually picked one from the stack—one of many written to cheer for Shan Jiqiu—and read it out, just to get it over with.
Reading the pep script with obvious disdain, Lu Yun’s voice faded, and music once again drifted through the campus on the breeze.
As he stepped down from the podium, he overheard hurried classmates rushing past: “Come on, come on—heard there’s a fight breaking out at the long jump!”
“Why?” another asked, puzzled.
“Seems the Grade 11 top student, Shan Jiqiu, got hurt. I don’t know the details.”
“Let’s go check it out.”
At that, Lu Yun’s usual lazy air vanished. His brows knit ever so slightly, and he quickened his pace toward the far side of the field. He had barely taken a step when someone blocked his way.
Deng Wenwen lifted her pretty smile and held out a bottle of Coke. “Just bought this—for you.”
Lu Yun didn’t take it. His gaze flicked impatiently toward the long jump area. “No need. Please move aside.” Without pause, he sidestepped her and kept walking.
Seeing his anxious expression, Deng Wenwen wondered if something had happened. If so, wasn’t this her chance to win his favor? Her lips curled upward, and she jogged after him.
At the long jump, a crowd had gathered. Yu Kexia, hot‑tempered as ever, was in the middle of a shouting match with several girls.
“The mirror’s right in your hand—what else do you have to say?” Yu Kexia snapped, gripping the wrist of the girl who had spoken ill of Shan Jiqiu.
“There are plenty of girls with mirrors. Why pin Shan Jiqiu’s fall on me?”
“There are plenty of girls with mirrors,” Yu Kexia sneered, then turned her gaze to the onlookers. “But just now, the ones talking about Shan Jiqiu were only you few.”
“Right. Didn’t you leave already? Why are you still here? Your intentions are obvious to everyone.”
“Don’t slander us—we didn’t do anything.”
Yu Kexia: “The evidence is clear. Either admit it and apologize to Shan Jiqiu, and we’ll let it go. Or we take this straight to Director Zhao.”
“You’re twisting the truth, Yu Kexia.”
“Yeah, who knows if you and Shan Jiqiu staged this whole thing, trying to frame us.”
“What did you say?” Yu Kexia’s anger shot up. “Say that again if you dare.”
“Fine, I’ll say it—you two pretend to be noble, but you’re really petty.”
“Shut up!” Yu Kexia’s eyes widened, and she lunged forward, ready to hit.
Just then, Shan Jiqiu, limping and supported by others, arrived and saw Yu Kexia about to swing. Confused, she quickly stopped her: “Xiaxia, don’t cause trouble.”
Zhou An rushed over too, pulling her back: “Yu Kexia, don’t be impulsive.”
“I *want* to be impulsive today.”
The scene descended into chaos, two groups squaring off as if determined not to stop until blood was drawn.
“What’s going on here?” Zhao Fengping’s voice thundered as he arrived. “Are you students or street thugs? Break it up immediately!”
Director Zhao lived up to his reputation—his words struck like lightning, scattering the crowd and restoring order.
“What happened?”
Yu Kexia shook off Zhou An’s grip and complained to Zhao Fengping: “Director Zhao, they deliberately injured Shan Jiqiu.”
“We really didn’t!” The girls’ voices shrank as the director arrived.
Zhao Fengping immediately turned to check on Shan Jiqiu’s injury, his tone softening at once: “How are you? Is it serious?”
That sudden change of face made everyone sigh inwardly—students at the bottom of the class would never know such gentleness from Director Zhao.
Shan Jiqiu shook her head. “Just twisted my ankle—it’s not too serious.”
Zhao Fengping nodded, then turned to Yu Kexia. “Yu Kexia, explain.”
Yu Kexia: “Here’s what happened, Director Zhao…”
Tracing back, it all began during the long‑jump event.
Shan Jiqiu had been sprinting, ready to leap, when a sudden glare of reflected light stabbed straight into her eyes. Instinctively, she shut them, tilted her head, and lost her balance—plunging awkwardly into the sandpit. As she fell, her ankle twisted sharply. The pain spread slowly but relentlessly, stabbing deep. Her ankle was badly sprained, and sand even got into her eyes.
Yu Kexia’s first reaction was to rush to her side and ask what had happened. When she learned Shan Jiqiu had been blinded by reflected light, her second instinct was to look up—and sure enough, she spotted one of the girls holding a phone case with a mirror.
Those girls seemed ready to slip away. Yu Kexia quickly asked the boy helping Shan Jiqiu to keep an eye on her, while she herself went to demand an explanation, which led to the heated confrontation now.
On hearing this, Zhao Fengping’s beard bristled and his eyes widened. “You actually did something like this? What will you be like once you’re out in society? Call your parents here immediately.”
The girls froze at the mention of parents.
The one with the mirror still tried to argue: “Director Zhao, I really didn’t do it. I didn’t.”
The others echoed her, pleading.
Shan Jiqiu looked at them, thinking how well they acted.
It wasn’t the first time these girls had stirred up trouble with gossip and bullying. Perhaps it was good they finally got a lesson—even if it came at her expense.
In the end, Zhao Fengping made them apologize to Shan Jiqiu, then instructed her to go to the school clinic before taking the girls away for a stern lecture.
The commotion ended, and the crowd dispersed. As if by design, the path cleared to reveal two striking pairs of boys and girls at opposite ends.
The tall, handsome boy beside Shan Jiqiu said: “I’ll take you to the clinic.”
The sweet, radiant girl beside Lu Yun looked at him and asked: “Lu Yun, do you want to go check on her?”
But Shan Jiqiu and Lu Yun hardly heard the people next to them. Their eyes were locked instead on the boy and girl standing at each other’s side.
Their expressions told different stories.