Was that me being spoiled?
On the first day of school, the blazing August sun finally gave way to clouds. Perhaps it was the sky echoing the heavy hearts of countless students unwilling to face the start of term. The weather felt mournful, subdued.
All of Grade 11 was housed in the South Building—28 classes in total, covering liberal arts, sciences, and arts/sports tracks. This year had an unusually high proportion of top students; three science experimental classes were placed directly in Classes 1, 2, and 3.
Among them, Science Experimental Class 1 was always considered the “rocket class.” Though never officially named as such, the top fifty scorers in the placement exam were all assigned there—it was obvious enough.
Shan Jiqiu, Lu Yun, and Tan Junhao were in Class 1. Zhou An was placed in Class 5. And Miss “biased subjects” Yu Kexia, thanks to her excellent liberal arts scores, entered the liberal arts experimental class.
Grade 10 hadn’t yet begun, Grade 12 was already deep in silent battle, and so the liveliest part of the school was Grade 11 in the South Building.
Looking through the windows of the ordinary classes, the scenes were all much the same:
– Students frantically finishing homework.
– Groups of three or five gossiping and copying summer assignments.
– Boys tugging girls’ hair, chased around the classroom in retaliation.
– Others still catching up on sleep after a summer of slumber.
– And of course, a few diligent ones covering their ears to recite aloud.
Before long, each ordinary class’s homeroom teacher stood at the front door, arms crossed, brows furrowed, faces stern, scolding in the same weary tone: “This floor is the noisiest of all. Is our school too small for you, or do you plan to overturn the heavens? You’re about to become the worst batch of students I’ve ever taught…”
These words would echo through half a lifetime of teaching, passed down from one generation of teachers to the next.
But such lectures had little to do with the experimental classes. To teachers, those were aircraft carriers—every student a potential seedling for a top 985 university.
In the experimental classes, early self-study had already begun. The rooms were quiet, filled only with the soft scratch of pens across paper and the rustle of pages turning at uneven rhythms.
Self-discipline—it’s always the first step toward success.
Yet Shan Jiqiu and Lu Yun, true to form, spent the entire morning self-studying shoulder to shoulder, asleep. A flawless display of their own brand of “discipline.”
When the bell rang to end early study, the classroom finally came alive.
Teenagers thrive on energy, after all.
Tan Junhao came over and tapped their desks: “So you two plan to sleep side by side until the end of time?”
“Get lost.” They answered in unison.
“I’m so bored!” Tan Junhao plopped into the front-row chair, lamenting loudly: “This class is terrifying. First day of morning study and already—my god, the guy next to me, his glasses rings are thicker than tree rings, and he’s already finished a whole set of problems. I’m worried he’ll go blind before eighteen. And you two can still sleep in this environment? Feels like I’ve been thrown straight into senior year. Ah, I miss our old, adorable class…”
Shan Jiqiu sat up first, bleary-eyed, about to reply when someone called from the doorway: “Jiqiu.” She turned—Yu Kexia was waving.
She stood and walked out to her.
Lu Yun stirred awake, rubbed his brow, and watched her leave. Leaning back in his chair, stretching his shoulders, he muttered in his hoarse, teasing tone: “Nice atmosphere. Better sleep-inducing than last year.”
Tan Junhao snorted: “What, stealing cows at night? Why are you always sleeping in the morning?”
Lu Yun tipped his chair back, voice light: “Brain works better at night. Do other things.”
Tan Junhao teased: “Like what? Robbing houses? Stealing from the rich to give to the poor?”
Lu Yun narrowed his eyes, lips curling, long leg kicking Tan Junhao’s chair: “Tonight I’ll rob *your* house.”
Tan Junhao burst out laughing. Lu Yun smiled faintly too, unaware that several of the few girls in class were all glancing shyly in his direction.
When Shan Jiqiu reentered, she immediately noticed those gazes—careful, blushing, darting away. Her thoughts drifted back: elementary school, middle school, now high school. Every time he entered a new class, girls stared. Confessions, love letters, snacks delivered; even girls from other classes begging to transfer just to be near him. Nine out of ten openly liked him, and the tenth was secretly in love. So really—what was the point of being *that* good-looking?
The class bell rang, and gods and demons returned to their seats.
Xu Zhi walked in right on cue, dropped his textbook on the desk, smiled his standard smile, and joked: “Already in the zone? No wonder you’re the pride of No. 7 High!”
The quiet classroom rippled with uneven laughter.
Outside, the morning sun stretched lazily, casting soft light that brightened the drowsy room.
Xu Zhi’s gaze swept across the sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds, satisfied to see the youthful energy shining through. Only then did he get down to business.
“Some of you I taught in Grade 10, but new class, new atmosphere—we need a sense of ceremony. I’ll start with an introduction. Xu Zhi, your math teacher, also your homeroom teacher.” He wrote his name on the blackboard, set down the chalk, and continued: “Grade 11 is a watershed. You’re in Experimental Class 1, so pressure is natural. But don’t let it overwhelm you—mindset matters most. In the days ahead, we’ll work together. Two years—neither too long nor too short—but enough to stay with you for life. Let’s cooperate happily.”
“Seats will stay as they are for now. After the monthly exam, we’ll rearrange by results. Now, let’s go around for introductions.”
Ordinary classes were different—students were strangers, and self-introductions revealed personalities in all their awkward variety, eating up an entire period.
Experimental classes, though, were blunt and efficient. Most were already familiar faces from the honor roll, their names well known.
Introductions finished, Xu Zhi checked the time and began the lesson.
…
At lunch in the cafeteria, Shan Jiqiu finally saw Zhou An. Yu Kexia, who had been chattering endlessly at her side, fell silent the moment she spotted him—like a wind-up toy suddenly unwound.
Shan Jiqiu greeted Zhou An, then teased Yu Kexia with a smile: “Still not reconciled?”
Yu Kexia huffed indignantly, nodding: “No.”
Elsewhere in line, Lu Yun asked Zhou An the same question: “Still not reconciled?”
Zhou An tugged his lips helplessly: “Women. Mysterious creatures.”
Lu Yun’s eyes slid toward Shan Jiqiu, who was busy instructing the cafeteria auntie with imperial authority. “Great minds think alike.”
Shan Jiqiu and Yu Kexia sat by the window. Moments later, Lu Yun and the boys strolled over with their trays, like old masters.
Lu Yun sat opposite Shan Jiqiu. Their eyes met briefly, then moved away.
Zhou An sat beside Lu Yun, across from Yu Kexia, with Tan Junhao further down. Their golden five-man group was finally reunited in the cafeteria.
Shan Jiqiu glanced at Lu Yun’s tray—an overflowing mountain of braised ribs—then at her own and the others’ trays, each with a pitiful scattering of ribs. She laughed silently.
“Four of us together don’t have as many ribs as you alone.”
Lu Yun gave her a sidelong glance, blunt as ever: “If you want some, just say it. Who are you being sarcastic for?”
Shan Jiqiu rolled her eyes: “As if. People with backbone don’t eat charity ribs.”
“Oh.” Lu Yun suddenly smiled, all gentle innocence. He picked up his chopsticks and shared with the others: “Here, Zhou An, Yu Kexia, Tan Junhao—eat more.”
Shan Jiqiu: “Lu Second, you did that on purpose, didn’t you?”
Lu Yun: “Call me Lu Second one more time.”
Shan Jiqiu: “Lu Second, Lu Second—always second in exams. Dare to take the test but afraid of the nickname?”
Lu Yun ground his teeth, spitting out each word: “Shan. Jiqiu.”
The moment those three syllables fell, the noisy cafeteria quieted noticeably. Curious eyes turned toward their table, sensing the sudden drop in pressure.
Yu Kexia panicked. Shan Jiqiu was calling him “Lu Second” over and over. But Lu Yun wasn’t just anyone—he was the school’s star, the campus heartthrob, the top student who even bullies didn’t mess with. Wasn’t this stripping him of face in public? With so many people around, how could she suddenly lose all her filters? She quickly shoved her ribs into Shan Jiqiu’s bowl, smiling nervously: “Come on, it’s just ribs, not worth it.”
Zhou An and Tan Junhao followed suit, dropping their ribs into Shan Jiqiu’s bowl, echoing: “Not worth it, not worth it.”
But Shan Jiqiu slammed her chopsticks onto the table with a sharp *crack*. Her clear, cold eyes locked onto Lu Yun, as if boring holes into him: “You… yelled… at me?”
Yu Kexia nearly collapsed. Was this still the Shan Jiqiu she knew? Possessed by a drama queen? Hijacked by a Mary Sue plot twist?
Lu Yun met her glare head-on, unflinching, his voice cold: “Yes. I yelled at you. I’ll even pick the day. And if I hit you, so what? Who are you showing off all those bad habits to?”
Zhou An and Tan Junhao froze. Was Lu Yun really about to fight Shan Jiqiu? Was this the legendary “settling scores after autumn”?
“Brother Yun, look carefully!” Zhou An rushed to hold him back. “This is Shan Jiqiu—Shan Jiqiu!”
Lu Yun shoved him away in disgust: “I know.”
“Don’t be impulsive.”
“I’m not. I’ve put up with her long enough.”
“Come on, we’re the golden five. We said we’d never split.”
“Four’s enough. Makes a mahjong table.”
Shan Jiqiu snorted: “Fine, Lu Yun. A mahjong table, huh? Then I’ll step aside. You and I—done. We’re breaking up.”
Lu Yun clapped twice in approval: “Exactly my thought.”
Shan Jiqiu grabbed Yu Kexia’s arm: “Xiaxia, you’ve already fallen out with Zhou An. From now on, it’s just us two. No more dealings with those three.”
Lu Yun kept eating calmly, as if none of it concerned him anymore: “An-an, brothers matter. Don’t lose big over something small.”
Zhou An and Yu Kexia exchanged frantic looks. Was this breakup too sloppy? Too sudden? Years of friendship, tossed aside for a few ribs? Utterly absurd.
Yu Kexia signaled Zhou An: *Do something!*
Zhou An blinked back: *What can I do?*
Yu Kexia forced a smile: “Hey, nonsense. Zhou An and I already made up, right Zhou An?”
Zhou An nodded quickly: “Right, right. We’ve been together since middle school. Quarreling’s fine, but breaking up is too much.”
Shan Jiqiu glared at Yu Kexia: “Made up? Don’t joke, Xiaxia. Just break with them.”
Lu Yun kept eating, voice casual: “An-an, brothers matter. Don’t let a girl’s tantrum ruin it.”
Zhou An and Yu Kexia leaned into each other, playing up their reconciliation: “We really made up. See?” They started feeding each other bites, all lovey-dovey.
Shan Jiqiu: “Really made up?”
Yu Kexia: “Really. Look at us—do we look like we’re fighting? Right, Anzi?”
Zhou An nodded like a bobble head: “Right, right.”
Shan Jiqiu: “Not fighting anymore?”
Zhou An shook his head like a rattle drum: “No. Really, it was my fault—I couldn’t swallow my pride.”
Yu Kexia: “I was wrong too. I should’ve told you all earlier. Then I wouldn’t have fought with him.”
Shan Jiqiu: “Swear you two made up.”
Yu Kexia and Zhou An immediately raised their right hands, three fingers up in oath.
Shan Jiqiu flicked her ponytail coolly, picked up her chopsticks again, and reached straight into Lu Yun’s tray—snatching a rib and biting into it with relish.
The “dumbstruck trio” gaped, jaws dropping: “…You two?”
Chewing happily, Shan Jiqiu raised her left hand in front of Lu Yun, muffled through her mouthful: “You were a bit too rough just now.”
Lu Yun lifted his eyes, lips curling into a smile. He raised his hand and gave her a high-five, his deep voice amused as he repeated, word by word: “You… yelled… at me?”
“Qiu-baby, if you don’t know how to act spoiled, don’t try to imitate it.”
Shan Jiqiu: “?” *Was that me being spoiled?*
Just then, the school tyrant swaggered in, three lackeys trailing behind him. Their summer uniforms were worn like gang outfits, strutting more arrogantly than F4—though unfortunately, he looked like a knock-off Murong Yunhai.
Yan Xu leaned on their table with both hands, bending close to Shan Jiqiu. He flicked his bangs, grinning as if he thought himself charming: “I overheard—so you guys broke up? My dear Shan-sis, my arms are always open for you. Come to your brother.”
Lu Yun’s chopsticks froze midair. He lifted his gaze, locking eyes with the tyrant. Deep black irises glittered with shards of ice, though his lips curved in a smile that made the air chill. “How did *my* girl suddenly become *yours*?”
“Sorry, but I only call one person brother.” Shan Jiqiu’s smile was cool, her clear eyes untouched by warmth. She lifted her hand toward Lu Yun. “See? No need for me to introduce him again.”