By Monday, the results of Saturday’s math competition selection exam were out. The classmates who had taken part were called to the office by Teacher Xu right after arriving at school, and didn’t return until morning self‑study ended.
Yu Kexia rushed over the moment class was dismissed, eager to know about her snack bet. “How did it go, you guys?” She blinked her big, sparkling eyes. “Who won?”
Lu Yun had one hand draped lazily over Tan Junhao’s shoulder, the other still in his pocket. His whole posture was loose, boneless, casual. A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Guess.”
Yu Kexia studied the three faces, then looked back at Lu Yun suspiciously. “With you smirking like that, don’t tell me…”
Tan Junhao, the most reliable witness, glanced at Lu Yun’s grin, then at Shan Jiqiu’s unreadable expression. He told Yu Kexia: “The two of them tied.”
Yu Kexia: “What do you mean?”
Lu Yun: “Exactly what it sounds like.”
Yu Kexia looked at Shan Jiqiu, who was leaning against the railing, surprised. “You two got the same score?”
Lu Yun narrowed his eyes. “What’s with that look, Yu Kexia? Can’t I score the same as our Qiu‑baby?”
Shan Jiqiu didn’t want to admit it, but she had to: this time, she and Lu Yun had indeed gotten identical marks. So it was true—money could buy progress, could drive someone to work hard.
Yu Kexia clapped her hands. “You’re about to sing the song of the liberated serfs!”
Lu Yun chuckled. “Well said.”
Shan Jiqiu: “It was just my mistake. Don’t get too smug.”
Lu Yun drawled an “Ohhh,” his cocky attitude so obvious even Yu Kexia rolled her eyes.
The bell rang, spreading across the noisy campus. In moments, silence fell. The sound of high heels approached, and the English teacher stepped into Class 2‑1. Her long hair swayed, perfume drifting through the room.
“Good morning, everyone…” A young face, elegant clothes, light makeup, and a poised smile. With a beautiful, standard American accent, she began the first lesson.
Shan Jiqiu smirked, held out her hand to Lu Yun. “Pay up.”
Grudgingly, Lu Yun slapped ten yuan into her palm, glancing at Teacher Li on the podium. He muttered, “I seriously suspect she doesn’t own any pants.”
Shan Jiqiu opened her textbook, glanced at him, lips curving. A woman’s mind—you’ll never guess it.
Every student shared the same puzzle: why were English teachers always pretty and rich? Always radiant, stylish, and fashionable. And every day, they wore a new outfit—sometimes two. Never repeating in a month, like models on a runway. So betting on what the English teacher would wear today gradually became one of the small joys of high school life.
Of course, the greatest joy of high school life was watching handsome boys. And how should those handsome boys show off their charm?
Naturally, by playing basketball.
Shan Jiqiu stood at the edge of the court, her ears buzzing from the endless chorus of “So handsome!” “Too handsome!” “He’s killing me!” “Go, Duan Boyi!” The noise made her head ring.
She couldn’t quite figure out—wasn’t she supposed to be on her way to the medical check‑up? How had she ended up here, watching a basketball game?
One glance at Yu Kexia beside her, eyes sparkling like gold.
Oh, right. She’d been hijacked halfway by this fangirl.
Friday afternoon was the school’s scheduled health check. Each class went in time slots, boys and girls separately.
As Shan Jiqiu and her classmates passed the playground, they happened to run into Yu Kexia’s PE class. Turns out their class and Class Eight were having PE together, and the teacher had organized a basketball match.
Which led to the current scene: Yu Kexia’s classmates had collectively defected to cheer for Class Eight.
Correction—cheering for Duan Boyi of Class Eight.
That Duan Boyi, Shan Jiqiu remembered him vaguely—the boy who had helped her before. And lately, his name seemed to pop up everywhere: in the corridors, on the playground, even in the bathrooms and water rooms. She couldn’t help but know it by heart. And every time his name came up, Lu Yun’s name inevitably followed. At some point, Lu Yun had become the yardstick by which all handsome boys were measured.
“Hey, you never get this excited when Zhou An plays basketball. What would he think if he knew?” Shan Jiqiu crossed her arms, tilted her head, and asked Yu Kexia quietly.
Yu Kexia grinned. “Oh, Duan Boyi is for admiring. Besides, Zhou An’s in class—he won’t know.”
Shan Jiqiu: “Then maybe I need some hush money.”
Yu Kexia: “You’re watching too! If you tell Zhou An, I’ll tell Lu Yun.”
Shan Jiqiu: “Go ahead. He doesn’t care anyway.”
Yu Kexia: “Oh, Qiuqiu, you’re the best. Just don’t let Zhou An find out.”
Shan Jiqiu: “Fine. You enjoy. I’m leaving.”
She was about to go when Yu Kexia grabbed her arm, squealing as she slapped it excitedly: “Abs! Abs! Oh my god, I’m going to have a nosebleed!”
Shan Jiqiu looked up, half laughing, half crying, just in time to see Duan Boyi walking over, lifting his T‑shirt to wipe his face. For a fleeting moment, the abs outlined beneath flashed into view. She glanced at the girls around her, still covering their faces in mock modesty.
“Yeah, yeah, I saw,” Shan Jiqiu said perfunctorily, prying Yu Kexia’s hand off. “I really have to go. You enjoy yourself.”
With that, she turned to leave. She had barely taken two steps when Yu Kexia’s sharp voice rang out: “Jiqiu, watch out!”
Shan Jiqiu spun around—just as a basketball and a large hand appeared before her eyes. The hand stayed; the ball hit the ground with a loud *thud*.
“You okay?” Duan Boyi lowered his hand, asking.
“I’m fine.” Shan Jiqiu steadied herself, lips curving. “Thanks.”
“Sorry, slipped.” The culprit hurried over to apologize.
“It’s fine,” Shan Jiqiu replied.
Yu Kexia rushed up, still shaken. “Scared me to death! If that ball had hit your pretty face, you’d be ruined.”
Shan Jiqiu: “Don’t exaggerate.”
Only then did Yu Kexia look at Duan Boyi beside her. Suddenly, she thought the two looked quite good together, her smile turning teasing. “You’ve helped our Jiqiu again. You two must be fated!”
Despite his cold, aloof appearance, Duan Boyi’s words came warm and gentle: “Is that so?”
Yu Kexia: “Don’t you remember? At the sports meet, you helped her too.”
“I remember.” Duan Boyi paused, then looked at Shan Jiqiu. “Your name’s Shan Jiqiu, Autumn God. You’re pretty famous at school.”
“Likewise.” Shan Jiqiu checked the time, growing anxious. “Sorry, I still haven’t finished my medical check. I have to go. Thanks again.” She smiled at them both, then hurried off.
Back in class, Shan Jiqiu waited for the class monitor to collect the health forms. She returned to her seat, pulled out her chair, and sat down.
Lu Yun, who had been napping, slowly lifted his head, still drowsy, his whole demeanor lazy and languid. Propping his chin on his hand, he looked at Shan Jiqiu, his voice husky from sleep: “Did you go for a check‑up on Mars? I already played a whole game of chess with the God of Dreams before you came back.”
“No, I ran into Yu Kexia. Her class was having PE, playing basketball against Class Eight…”
Shan Jiqiu trailed off, suddenly remembering Yu Kexia’s warning, and quickly fell silent.
“So basically, you skipped the check‑up to watch another class play basketball?”
The dark in Lu Yun’s peach‑blossom eyes lit up instantly, his laziness gone, his voice clearer.
“No.” Shan Jiqiu quickly rephrased. “Their class was playing basketball, and Yu Kexia came over to chat with me.”
“Oh.” Lu Yun went back to his careless air, pulled her medical form over, glanced at it, and laughed. “Hey, looks like you stopped growing?”
“Are you blind? 166. I grew one centimeter. I’m still growing.”
For a girl, Shan Jiqiu’s height was already considered tall. But ever since childhood, the one she compared heights with was Lu Yun. Fueled by pointless competitiveness, her childhood dream had been to reach two meters. She snatched back her form and asked: “What about you?”
Lu Yun generously slid his own form over, raising his brows with a smug tone: “Yours truly, not too shabby—grew two more centimeters.”
Shan Jiqiu looked at the bold *186 cm* in the height column and thought he must have been secretly eating lampposts.
Lu Yun ruffled the top of her head. “Since you’re not growing, I’ll add another two centimeters.”
Shan Jiqiu declared solemnly: “Say it again—I *am* still growing.”
Lu Yun ignored her. “You’re 166, I’m 188. See how lucky those numbers look together?”
Shan Jiqiu pressed her forehead. “Shut up, thanks.”
…
After the last class, it was Shan Jiqiu’s turn for classroom duty. Lu Yun tossed the basketball to Tan Junhao and went off to play.
When Yu Kexia came to find Shan Jiqiu, she was mopping the floor.
Not seeing Lu Yun, Yu Kexia asked: “Doesn’t he sit with you? Isn’t he on duty too?”
This was thanks to Teacher Xu, their homeroom teacher, who had invented a new grouping system—each vertical row counted as a group.
“Your Teacher Xu really is unique,” Yu Kexia laughed.
So Shan Jiqiu mopped, Yu Kexia chatted, and it wasn’t too boring.
Leaning against the back door frame, Yu Kexia said: “By the way, that Duan Boyi is really something. That height, that aura, those single‑lidded eyes, those abs—perfection!”
Shan Jiqiu, dragging the mop down the aisle with her back to her, didn’t even lift her head. “Just admit you’re into his abs.”
Yu Kexia: “You dare say you weren’t excited when you saw them?”
Seeing Yu Kexia ready to pounce if she disagreed, Shan Jiqiu nodded obligingly, like humoring a child. “Yes, yes, you’re right. Those abs—got me all excited.”
At that moment, two voices drifted from behind, chilling their spines.
“Whose abs?” Zhou An asked.
“How excited?” Lu Yun asked.
Yu Kexia and Shan Jiqiu froze, their awkward smiles competing.
In the end, both were lectured all the way back, the refrain never straying from six words: *You girls these days…*
…
That evening, after Shen Suyue finished tidying the kitchen, she wanted to go for a walk, and Lu Yun, head full of shampoo foam, knocked on Shan Jiqiu’s door.
The moment she opened it, he shuffled in wearing slippers. “Lend me some hot water—need to wash my hair.”
“You didn’t pay the bill again?” Shan Jiqiu called toward the closed bathroom door.
“Busy with schoolwork,” came the reply.
“More like lazy.”
Hearing the water running inside, Shan Jiqiu pursed her lips, fetched a stack of practice papers from her bedroom, and sat in the living room to work.
After a while, the bathroom door opened.
Lu Yun’s voice carried clearly into the living room: “Qiu‑baby, where’s the towel?”
Shan Jiqiu set down her papers and walked toward the bathroom. “Isn’t it right there…?” Her words trailed off into silence. She froze, instinctively holding her breath.
The bathroom was filled with steam, mist curling in the air.
Her eyes swept upward, unblinking, taking in the boy inside. She swallowed hard, unable to control herself.