It was because he had hidden part of his “background” that she had underestimated him.
To be fair, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t warned her. He had already said that this kind of pride-driven competition didn’t really mean anything. But she still showed up anyway. From the moment she issued the challenge, to the exam hall, to that performance where she admitted defeat—her back had always been straight, her chin lifted, like a cat with its claws out, refusing to back down no matter what.
So maybe that thought—that his win wasn’t entirely fair—was unnecessary when it came to her.
Anyone who dares to step onto the stage should be able to accept the outcome. The truest respect for an opponent is to accept their defeat just as openly. Otherwise, it would only diminish the pride that made her stand there and face someone head-on in the first place.
The car left the city, and the view outside slowly shifted into wide stretches of fields and scattered villages. They were getting close to Linhe Town.
Zhou Xubai’s grandfather had once been the town head of Linhe. The Zhou family had long since moved to Liang City, while Xie Chen’s father had also been transferred there, but his mother still worked at the town middle school. So every weekend, whenever Zhou Xubai returned, he would usually ask Xie Chen if he wanted to come along.
The car drove into the residential compound on East Street. Zhou Xubai asked if Xie Chen was in a hurry to go home. When Xie Chen said no, he casually invited him to walk around. Xie Chen immediately understood—there was only one place he ever meant by that: the town middle school, for a bit of “nostalgia.”
Linhe Town Middle School was their old school. Xie Chen had spent all three years there, while Zhou Xubai had transferred to the city’s experimental school halfway through his second year.
At five in the afternoon, the setting sun stretched long shadows across the campus. The first- and second-year students had already gone home. Only the third-years were still in class.
The two of them walked along the plane-tree-lined path beside the field. From time to time, students glanced at Zhou Xubai in quiet admiration. But these younger middle school students barely recognized him anymore—the once-famous school heartthrob. And no one knew that the quieter boy beside him had once been just as dazzling here, a top student everyone looked up to.
A basketball suddenly flew out from the court, heading straight toward them. Zhou Xubai reacted instantly, catching it with ease, then tossing it back in one smooth motion—clean shot, nothing but net.
Someone on the court whistled. “Senior, that was awesome! Want to play a round?”
Zhou Xubai waved them off. “You guys continue.”
They walked past the court and into a small grove of paulownia trees. Under the shade, they stopped, both looking toward the familiar two-story teaching building glowing in the sunset.
Xie Chen thought back to their days preparing for the high school entrance exam. “The third-years here are pushed harder than high school students.”
“Being pushed that hard isn’t a good thing,” Zhou Xubai said, his mood clearly dipping.
Xie Chen glanced at him. “Relax. No matter how strict it gets, it won’t reach her. If she performs normally this year, getting into No. 1 High won’t be a problem.”
Zhou Xubai gave a quiet “mm.” “I know.”
Then he realized he had said too much. He lifted his leg and tried to kick Xie Chen, who had already seen it coming and stepped back with a smile. Missing, he ended up kicking a small stone instead, sending it skittering away and startling a few sparrows pecking at the ground.
They stood there in silence for a while.
At last, Zhou Xubai seemed to give up on holding something in. He looked into the distance and spoke slowly, “Old Xie, you’ve read more books than me. Help me figure something out.”
“Go on,” Xie Chen said, his tone turning serious.
“It’s… kind of a psychological question.”
Zhou Xubai watched the sun sink beyond the wall, his usual brightness fading under the evening light. “Say there are two people. They both see someone being bullied. One steps in to help. The other just stands far away and does nothing. In the eyes of the person being bullied… what kind of people are they?”
The warmth on his face had disappeared, replaced by something heavier. “Would one be seen as a hero… and the other as cold, cowardly? Or maybe just…”
He hesitated, then chose a word loaded with emotion. “A jerk?”
Xie Chen looked at him quietly.
This was Zhou Xubai—the same carefree, unrestrained guy he had known since childhood. And now, for the first time, he was exposing something he had buried for years.
Xie Chen also remembered those things—from elementary school, in the class next door.
It was a serious question. But seeing how tense Zhou Xubai looked, almost overly serious… even nervous, Xie Chen couldn’t help but find it a little funny.
Did this really require so much analysis? You didn’t need a stack of books to understand something like this.
Still, he crossed his arms and pretended to think. “Your question needs a few conditions first.”
“What conditions?” Zhou Xubai asked immediately.
“First, this happened when you were very young. Second, the one who didn’t step in wasn’t just sitting there doing nothing. And third—”
Xie Chen smiled faintly. “Forget ‘one person’ and ‘the other person.’ Why don’t you just give me your ID numbers and Qi Ning’s while you’re at it?”
Zhou Xubai swallowed, as if giving up resistance again. “Fine. Go on.”
Xie Chen spoke calmly. “Back then, one of you was almost nine, the other almost ten. That’s actually eight and nine years old. A one-year gap doesn’t sound like much to adults, but at that age, it reflects a real difference in maturity and reaction. You don’t need to punish yourself for years just because you were a step slower. And besides, you were influenced by some distorted ideas back then.”
Zhou Xubai looked surprised. “You knew about Teacher Dai too?”
Xie Chen gave him a lazy glance. “Later, even the principal was worried Teacher Dai would influence his own daughter. He insisted on transferring Teacher Shi over and reassigned Teacher Dai to our class. Did you think no one noticed?”
Zhou Xubai laughed. “At that age, the only one in our class who would notice that kind of thing… would be someone like you.”
Even though he still hadn’t gotten a direct answer, the relief still showed on his face. The heaviness between his brows disappeared, and his usual easygoing charm returned.
Xie Chen understood why he had asked. So he kept his tone gentle, guiding it toward reassurance. “You’ve done a lot for her since then. She’s not made of stone—she would’ve felt it. Some things you don’t understand when you’re young, you slowly come to understand as you grow. Even if you can’t make up for that one step you missed, it won’t make you a ‘jerk’ in her eyes.”
Zhou Xubai looked at him quietly for a moment, then exhaled in relief. “Old Xie… I knew you were the only one I could ask about this.”
He had completely relaxed now. His tone even lightened again, a hint of playfulness returning. “Honestly, maturity doesn’t really come with age. Yang Qin is two years older than you, but if I asked him, he’d probably tell me to go pick a fight with Qi Ning.”
Xie Chen smiled, but there was helpless amusement in his eyes.
So it was true—smart people shouldn’t fall in love. If this were someone else’s problem, Zhou Xubai would’ve analyzed it clearly in seconds. But when it came to himself, his judgment dropped entirely. He had spent years trapped in his own doubts.
There was no helping it.
He had tied all his emotions to one girl when he was still too young—and tied them far too tightly, almost humbly.
Xie Chen suddenly thought of the girls at the school gate that afternoon, the way they had looked after Zhou Xubai as he left.
Among them… was his proud little opponent.
For the first time, he actually felt a little sorry for her.