Yu Kexia, having just escaped Zhou An’s lecture, came over to check on Shan Jiqiu’s injury—only to see the two locked in that silent, charged gaze. She had to admit, it was quite a sight. It looked exactly like the idol‑drama scripts she secretly wrote.
Except… what was that school beauty Deng Wenwen doing next to Lu Yun? In Yu Kexia’s script, she’d only ever qualify as the scheming second female lead.
On the other side, though—that was the proper idol‑drama setup.
Shan Jiqiu was the first to break eye contact. She turned politely to the boy beside her, smiling. “Thank you, but my friends are here.”
Then she glanced at Yu Kexia and Zhou An, tilting her head and raising her brows with a look that said: I’m injured like this, and you’re just standing there?
Yu Kexia caught the signal instantly, rushed over, and supported her, even spinning her halfway around in her eagerness. “How’s your foot?” she asked anxiously.
Shan Jiqiu winced at the pain shooting from her ankle—was Yu Kexia trying to make it worse?
She leaned against her friend with a bitter smile. “Just don’t mess me up further.”
“Where else are you hurt? How did it happen?” Lu Yun’s voice drifted over, his tall shadow falling across Shan Jiqiu like a canopy.
Before Shan Jiqiu could answer, Yu Kexia cut in: “How did she get hurt? Why don’t you ask your school‑beauty Deng over there!”
At that, everyone turned to look at Deng Wenwen. She swept her gaze across their faces, finally fixing her eyes on Lu Yun, wearing an innocent expression as if she had no idea what was going on.
“When I came over with Lu Yun, the crowd had already dispersed. I really don’t know what happened.”
Hearing this, Shan Jiqiu sneered inwardly. What a clever way to phrase it—making sure everyone knew she had arrived *with* Lu Yun.
Yu Kexia pressed: “Then why don’t you ask your dear friends what tricks they pulled that made Jiqiu twist her ankle during the competition?”
Deng Wenwen frowned slightly, looking all the more pitiful.
She quickly stepped forward to show concern: “Are you okay? I don’t know what happened or what their intentions were. But since they’re my friends, and they treated you this way, I should apologize on their behalf.”
Yu Kexia’s lips curled. Friends like that are cut from the same cloth—half a dozen of one, six of the other. And here this white‑lotus school beauty was, pretending to be pure and untouched. She was about to lash out again when Shan Jiqiu stopped her with a glance, signaling her to hold back.
“It’s fine.” Shan Jiqiu kept her mild smile, but her words carried a sharper edge: “You just said you don’t know anything. Naturally, that means you’re not the one who should apologize. I wouldn’t want to force you.”
“Well said,” Yu Kexia clapped immediately.
Deng Wenwen’s face flushed red, though she struggled to maintain her school‑beauty composure. “Still, this matter is somewhat related to me. If you need anything, just tell me—I’ll help however I can.”
Yu Kexia rolled her eyes so hard they nearly stuck. *Help? Best help would be to leave.*
“Fine. If you want to help, tell your friends that if they’re bored, they can memorize the school rules.”
Lu Yun, expression unreadable, spoke to Deng Wenwen: “That’s enough. Go tell your friends. Now, let’s get Shan Jiqiu to the clinic.”
Yu Kexia chimed in proudly: “Exactly.”
Lu Yun’s words weren’t harsh, but to Deng Wenwen, it was obvious he was siding with Shan Jiqiu. Her face faltered. “I understand. Take her to the clinic quickly—I’ll go first.”
She shoved the Coke bottle into Lu Yun’s hand, then turned and hurried away.
“Duan Boyi!” a boy nearby called out, waving. “The homeroom teacher’s looking for you.”
Only then did the group realize someone else had been standing there all along.
“Coming.” Duan Boyi nodded to his classmate, then turned his gaze back to the small crowd before him.
Finally, Duan Boyi let his gaze rest on Shan Jiqiu’s face. He gave her a slight smile. “Since your friends are here, I’ll head off first.”
Shan Jiqiu nodded. “Thank you!”
Duan Boyi: “You’re welcome. Goodbye.”
Shan Jiqiu: “Goodbye.”
Yu Kexia watched his departing figure with excitement. “I knew I hadn’t seen him before! So that’s the Duan Boyi everyone’s been talking about. He’s really handsome, isn’t he, Jiqiu?”
Shan Jiqiu followed her starry‑eyed gaze for a moment. “Yes, handsome.”
Zhou An snorted. “Handsome? He looks like a criminal. Forget being better than Lu Yun—he’s worse than me.”
Yu Kexia clicked her tongue twice and rolled her eyes. “Do you even have a face? Any sense of aesthetics? You call that a criminal look? I’ll take you to the eye doctor over break.”
Zhou An: “That’s why girls are so shallow—always chasing the new.”
Yu Kexia shot back: “Boys are the shallow ones, drooling over Deng Wenwen’s… assets. And besides, there’s no ‘old’ here, so how can I be chasing the new?”
Zhou An: “You—”
Lu Yun’s temples throbbed from their bickering, a strange heaviness settling in his chest. He shoved the Coke into Zhou An’s hands and said to Yu Kexia: “Don’t you still have an event? Stop wasting time here.”
Yu Kexia blinked, suddenly remembering, then pushed Shan Jiqiu toward Lu Yun. “Then hurry up and take her to the clinic.”
Lu Yun: “Didn’t need you to tell me.”
“…”
The group split up.
Zhou An glanced back at Lu Yun and Shan Jiqiu walking away together, then said to Yu Kexia: “You’re doomed.”
Yu Kexia: “Doomed how?”
Zhou An: “You dared say Duan Boyi is more handsome than Lu Yun.”
Yu Kexia: “Lu Yun isn’t that shallow.”
Zhou An: “Don’t you notice how cold he suddenly seems toward you?”
Yu Kexia: “…”
Zhou An sighed. “Men always care about that sort of thing.”
Yu Kexia replayed Lu Yun’s expression in her mind. Calm on the surface, but not quite the same as usual. She halted, looked at Zhou An. “If I say right now that Brother Yun is the most handsome, is it still in time?”
Zhou An chuckled. “Say Brother An is the most handsome first.”
Yu Kexia: “No way.”
Zhou An pressed down on her head. “Say it or not?”
Yu Kexia: “Fine—you’re the most handsome, you’re the most handsome.”
Satisfied, Zhou An let go and started to open the Coke—only for Yu Kexia to snatch it away.
“If you dare drink something from Deng Wenwen, I’ll cut ties with you.”
“It’s from Lu Yun.”
“Not. Allowed.”
…
Meanwhile, Lu Yun supported Shan Jiqiu as she limped toward the clinic. Both fell into an inexplicable silence.
Shan Jiqiu glanced at him, recalling how perfectly Deng Wenwen had stood at his side just moments ago.
A school beauty and a school prince—weren’t they the perfect match? And hadn’t Deng Wenwen already confessed to Lu Yun back in the summer after freshman year? She really was persistent.
But then again, when a girl pursues a boy, it’s said to be like a thin veil—easy enough to succeed. Especially someone like Deng Wenwen, sweet‑looking and gentle. Which boy could resist?
Yet Shan Jiqiu, for no clear reason, simply didn’t like Deng Wenwen.
Lu Yun could have someone he liked in the future—but not now, and especially not Deng Wenwen.
Call her selfish, call her narrow‑minded. She wasn’t a saint. She couldn’t sit there listening to him talk about liking another girl. Worse, he might even ask her to help him chase someone else. Just imagining it—ugh, she couldn’t bear to. If that day had to come, she hoped it would be later. Much later.
“You and that Deng—” Shan Jiqiu suddenly began.
“Not at all. Honestly, how can you be so dumb?” Lu Yun cut her off, glancing at her with mockery in his tone. “You even managed to sprain your ankle doing a long jump. Brilliant.”
Hearing that, Shan Jiqiu’s temper flared. Wasn’t her suffering all because of him? If Deng Wenwen hadn’t liked him, if she and her friends hadn’t spread rumors about Shan Jiqiu, would they have tried to trip her up?
In the end, the spark was Lu Yun himself. She was just collateral damage. And now he was mocking her? Why should she take that?
The pain in her ankle, the sting of injustice, the fire in her chest—all surged together. Her temper snapped. She shook off Lu Yun’s hand and stopped walking.
“What are you doing?” Lu Yun reached to steady her, but she shoved his hand away. He was baffled. “What’s wrong with you?”
Shan Jiqiu lifted her eyes, cold as ice. “I may be dumb, but I can get to the clinic myself. I don’t need you.”
Lu Yun: “Qiu‑baby, don’t throw a tantrum here. It won’t work.”
Shan Jiqiu: “Don’t call me Qiu‑baby. I’m not some cat or dog.”
Lu Yun was stunned. He hadn’t even started scolding her, yet she was the one upset? Forget it. She was hurt, her mood was bad. He’d be the bigger person and let it go.
“Alright.” Lu Yun smiled, reaching out to steady Shan Jiqiu, softening his tone. “Okay, okay, I didn’t mean it that way. You’re not dumb—you’re our Autumn Goddess. If anyone dares call you dumb, I’ll be the first to object.”
Shan Jiqiu bit her lip, lifted her gaze to him. “And what if it’s Deng Wenwen?”
Lu Yun blinked, amused. “What does Deng Wenwen have to do with this?”
Shan Jiqiu raised her voice. “How does it *not*? If not for her, would I be hurt?”
Lu Yun frowned. “Shan Jiqiu, you’re not the kind of person who’s unreasonable. Why keep bringing her up?”
Shan Jiqiu shook off his hand again, laughing coldly. “No reason. Just don’t bother with me. Go find someone else who’s reasonable.” With that, she dragged her injured leg, moving toward the teaching building at a snail’s pace.
Lu Yun stood watching her stubborn back, feeling unsettled. Truthfully, he’d felt unsettled for a while now. The moment he saw that Duan‑whatever was helping her, something uncomfortable had stirred inside him. And now she was arguing about Deng Wenwen and others? He wanted to ask her what she meant, looking all starry‑eyed and saying that Duan‑whatever was handsome. Agitated, he raked his fingers through his hair, his dark eyes fixed ahead. Then he lifted his gaze to the clear blue sky, clouds shifting across the canvas. A breeze brushed his ear, carrying faint voices and the strains of the classic campus song “My Deskmate.”
Suddenly, he laughed bitterly. What was he even brooding over? First, he needed to deal with the “deskmate” right in front of him.
…
Shan Jiqiu’s ankle truly hurt—she was sure it was swollen. But the pain wasn’t only from her ankle. More than that, it came from her heart, which refused to obey her.
No one else knew. It was a pain with no cure.
Bathed in sunlight, her mind suddenly cleared.
Looking back at the scene just now, she realized she had been impulsive. She cared so much about one Deng Wenwen—but in the future, there would be countless Deng Wenwens. Each one shooting arrows, stabbing knives. Wouldn’t she have died a thousand times over already? Exactly. She couldn’t afford to care.
She had to start with herself and cut out the root of the sickness.
With Lu Yun, she had to stop the loss in time, before she lost everything.
As if making a firm decision, Shan Jiqiu even nodded to herself. It was like self‑assurance, a vow, a certainty. She drew in a deep breath of fresh air, finally lifting the corners of her lips.
Turns out deciding not to like someone wasn’t so hard. It even felt freeing.
Yes—who would be foolish enough to love someone for ten thousand years?
Just as her gloom began to ease, something jabbed quickly into the back of her uninjured leg. She lost her balance, pitching forward. At the same time, strong arms pulled her upward. In an instant, she landed squarely against broad shoulders and a sturdy back.
The wind swept past, lifting her. And with it came the cool scent of mint.
Only then did Shan Jiqiu realize—Lu Yun had hoisted her onto his back.
She pounded his shoulders. “Put me down!”
Lu Yun kept walking as if he hadn’t heard, his tone carrying a warning: “Don’t move around. If you fall, that’s on you.”
Shan Jiqiu: “Lu Yun, we’re fighting.”
Lu Yun: “No—you’re just throwing a tantrum.”
Shan Jiqiu: “What tantrum? Put me down.”
Lu Yun tightened his arms, gave the girl on his back a gentle bounce, and kept moving forward. “Sorry, alright?” he said lightly, almost casually.
Shan Jiqiu: “?”