Recalling the first time he felt a spark for Song Chan
This was also something Song Chan was curious about.
Why did Zhong Lingyu call Meng Mian “Mom” along with her?
So when Zhong Lingyu gave Song Chan a pleading look, he saw only Song Chan’s bright, curious eyes.
He finally knew who his daughter inherited her poor eyesight from.
“Mom? Did I say that?”
Zhong Lingyu hoped he could have the same acting skills as his daughter.
But he clearly failed.
Meng Mian’s expression was full of disbelief.
“Why are you still asking!” Song Qing, hiding behind the back door, couldn’t stand it anymore and stepped out, bumping Meng Mian’s shoulder. “Zhong Lingyu is obviously interested in me.”
Meng Mian turned around in horror, not knowing where Song Qing had appeared from, and then her words gave her goosebumps.
“What do you have that’s worth someone’s attention?”
She seemed to have heard something beyond her comprehension.
Song Qing seemed quite embarrassed, twisting his fingers shyly as he said, “Zhong, if you want to become sworn brothers with me, just say so! Your way of doing it is too roundabout. Anyone a little slow wouldn’t understand your deeper meaning.”
Meng Mian: “Are you smart? I can’t see it at all!”
Song Qing, used to Meng Mian’s teasing, said nonchalantly, “If I didn’t have any merits, would Zhong treat me like a younger brother?”
Putting everything else aside, Zhong Lingyu agreed with this statement, “I do indeed consider Song Qing a younger brother.”
Song Qing gave Zhong Lingyu an affirmative look.
Seeing that Meng Mian was still doubtful, her attention completely diverted by Song Qing, and seemingly not intending to delve further into his earlier use of “Mom,” Zhong Lingyu finally breathed a sigh of relief, turning back to exchange a relieved glance with Song Chan.
Song Chan’s radar belatedly activated, receiving the SOS from Zhong Lingyu a few minutes earlier: “Yes, I consider Zhong a brother.”
Zhong Lingyu’s vision went black again.
I’m most afraid of your sudden help…
Meng Mian, a conservative woman, found this conversation unbelievable and immediately scolded Song Qing and Song Chan.
“Nonsense! Who gave you permission to claim such relationships?”
“This isn’t about claiming relationships randomly, Auntie, you don’t understand. It’s actually a way of expressing affection.”
Meng Mian didn’t know who was speaking again. Turning around, she saw a huge figure—Zhang Xueen.
The bell had long since rung, and Zhang Xueen, with his arm around Liang Zhuo’s shoulder, his large face beaming with an innocent smile, added to the above statement: “Take me for example, I’ve always called Zhong ‘Dad.’ Zhong bought an air conditioner for our class on his very first day of school; it was a lifesaver! Only ‘Dad’ can express my gratitude.”
Meng Mian was speechless. “What kind of nonsense is this? The relationships between your classmates are so chaotic.”
“It’s definitely not normal,” Dong Xianneng adjusted his glasses behind him. “There are only two types of people in a class. The top students don’t have high emotional intelligence; they express their feelings in a rather simple and crude way. Let me tell you a secret, there’s a really strong and strange trend in our class now where people immediately claim kinship without warning.”
Meng Mian turned around and saw another boy with beady eyes.
These top students in Class One are like mushrooms sprouting up unexpectedly behind you.
Zhong Lingyu really wanted to explain, but he noticed that Meng Mian’s gaze seemed to have already categorized him as one of the strange ones.
He doubted his mother-in-law would believe him now, even if he claimed to be one of the few normal people among them.
Meng Mian didn’t want to stay any longer, nor did she want to hear any more outrageous nonsense.
“Pack your bag, I’ll wait for you at the school gate.”
After telling Song Chan, she couldn’t help but look back before going downstairs.
A group of people was surrounding the boy named Zhong Lingyu, laughing and joking, their expressions all incredibly innocent.
She finally understood how top students were made; their faces were completely devoid of any ulterior motives.
As for Song Chan.
She clearly didn’t notice Zhong’s sorrow.
Amidst the chattering crowd, Zhong Lingyu couldn’t manage a smile.
His expression was even forlorn as he walked towards his seat.
Song Chan followed behind Zhong Lingyu, heading back to her seat to pack her bag.
Just as they reached their seats, Zhong Lingyu seemed to remember something and turned back.
“Why are you leaving so soon? Aren’t you going to skip the next few evening study sessions?”
Zhong Lingyu seemed a little exhausted, but even after regaining her composure, she couldn’t help but worry about Song Chan.
Song Chan shook her head and said, “No, I’m not going. My teacher told my mom that I’m too unbalanced in my studies, and this can’t go on. My mom is going to take me to ask around at some tutoring centers.”
She hesitated for a moment, but still inadvertently confided in Zhong Lingyu.
“Actually, I don’t want to go to tutoring centers. They seem so expensive.”
She regretted saying it a little; it sounded like useless emotional garbage.
“That’s okay. You can consult with them first, hear their different perspectives from the school teachers. Gather information, compare opinions, and if you’re unsure, just tell me, and I’ll give you some advice.”
Zhong Lingyu’s understanding surprised Song Chan.
Those tutoring centers are all in the commercial district. Besides, you haven’t been out shopping in ages. While you’re getting your consultation, consider it a chance to relax in a lively place.”
Zhong Lingyu spoke calmly, her hands never stopping as she organized Song Chan’s homework, neatly placing it into her medium-sized backpack.
Politeness made Song Chan feel she should stop Zhong Lingyu and say she could do it herself, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it.
She found herself somewhat enjoying being cared for and protected.
Zhong Lingyu’s tone was always exceptionally gentle when she spoke to her, like the soft, velvety green algae beneath a perfectly clean pond, gently rippling in the water.
“Also, if Auntie gets angry again later, even if you don’t say anything, don’t bottle up your emotions. If you’re unhappy, you can tell me; don’t run around alone.”
Song Chan was still in a daze when Zhong Lingyu had already finished packing and handed her the backpack. “Check if anything’s been forgotten.”
Song Chan felt her hands suddenly become incredibly heavy, almost unable to lift them.
“No need to check, everything’s packed.”
“Oh, right, I have some Belgian chocolates in my drawer, do you want to take a few?”
“Then take a few.”
“You choose.”
Zhong Lingyu made way, and Song Chan noticed many snacks in his drawer. She respectfully picked out a lot, then hugged the colorful gifts to her arms, looking like the luckiest child at Christmas.
“Is Zhong’s drawer like Doraemon’s pocket? It has everything! No wonder my brother treats you like a real brother.”
“Song Qing’s thinking is perfectly reasonable. I’ve always treated him like a real brother.”
“Then I…?”
Song Chan lifted her head slightly from in front of the drawer and pointed to herself.
Zhong Lingyu paused, as if remembering something. “No.”
“Do you know what I said? Just say no.”
Zhong Lingyu squatted down, meeting Song Chan’s gaze.
Song Chan felt a moment of panic.
Zhong Lingyu lowered his brows, staring sternly into her eyes: “I’ll only say this once, I don’t want to be your brother, and I certainly don’t want to be your father.”
Then, looking at the stunned Song Chan, he laughed without warning, as if he had just been joking.
“Otherwise, people will think our relationship is some kind of mess.”
Song Chan squatted in the corner, laughing along, but a strange sense of guilt welled up inside her.
Panic, chaos… what kind of chaos? A multitude of words rushed through Song Chan’s mind.
Zhong Lingyu casually pulled out a small, sandbag-like object from somewhere and stuffed it into Song Chan’s hand. “Strawberry powder. Put a packet in your milk tonight; it’ll taste really good.”
Song Chan held the strawberry powder; the packaging clearly showed Zhong Lingyu’s burning warmth.
“Okay.”
Song Chan wrapped the small packet of strawberry powder in her palm, a gesture that seemed to conceal something.
After Song Chan agreed, Zhong Lingyu didn’t speak again, but Song Chan remained still, making no other movement. In the brief yet long silence, Song Chan felt the air temperature rise. She dared not move; Zhong Lingyu kept staring at her face.
Song Chan dared not swallow, dared not breathe; a tingling numbness spread through her calves.
“Be careful on the road.”
Zhong Lingyu broke the silence, and Song Chan felt as if she had been granted a reprieve.
Just before the school bell rang, Song Chan quickly slung her backpack over her shoulder, and Zhong Lingyu helped her hook one of the straps with his fingers.
“I’m off then, see you tomorrow.”
“Okay, I’ll be waiting for your call anytime.”
The girl at the back of the class, who usually buried herself in her work, unusually looked up for a moment today, just in time to witness this scene.
She stared blankly at her, resting her chin on her hand, unsure if she’d just been fed a mouthful of dog food (a Chinese slang term for witnessing public displays of affection).
Song Chan left through the front door, but as she passed the back door, she couldn’t help but glance back at the seats.
After sitting down, Zhong Lingyu picked up a math test that Song Chan had placed on the windowsill. He’d heard that Song Chan’s parents had been called in because of her severe imbalance in her studies, and he felt obligated to help her carefully analyze where the problems lay.
The sky was a dull gray, yet the sunlight was dazzling. Zhong Lingyu, dressed in a white polo-collar school uniform, was intently focused on his desk. Song Chan noticed that his shoulder blades stretched the fabric, revealing a broad, strong back that exuded a mature charm completely unlike that of a student, a charm that could instantly captivate.
Song Chan’s legs went weak. She immediately averted her eyes and hurriedly ran downstairs.
In the classroom of Class 1, Grade 11, came the sound of recitation. It was an old prose piece, read with great intonation and emotion by Dong Xianneng, a student at the front.
Zhong Lingyu, chin in hand, was lost in thought.
No one knew what Zhong Lingyu was thinking during that quiet conversation with Song Chan under the desk, that sudden silence.
“Perhaps it’s like an unexpected spring breeze one afternoon, loosening the soil, causing a cataclysmic upheaval, and lifting a world tremblingly into my heart. At that moment, I was probably splashed with cold water on the back of my hand.”
The synchronized recitation faded into background noise.
He was immersed in the thrill of that moment, recalling the first time he felt a stirring in his heart for Song Chan.
It still felt indescribable, like a splash of cold water, a breathtaking experience only he could understand.
Night fell quickly, and soon the entire school was shrouded in a hazy mist.
Behind the school’s equipment room was a high, sloping wall covered in green ivy.
A patch of ivy was startled by something, and looking up, one saw a dark figure.
The air was filled with occasional slurping sounds, and looking again, there was another dark figure, crouching by the dirt road, huddled in a small ball.
One by one, the school streetlights illuminated the slope, finally reaching the top just as the dark shadow swooped down.
Zhong Xin was startled by the sudden light and quickly turned around.
She saw a large, dark shadow, like a ferocious bat, pouncing towards her.
“Get out of the way!”
“Ahhhhh!”
Zhong Xin scrambled to the side, watching Xie Xingxiao swoop down, finally stepping into the instant noodle bucket she had left behind, and doing a perfect split.
Zhong Xin’s heart clenched, and she was on the verge of tears. She rushed to Xie Xingxiao’s side, kneeling down with her hands raised: “Ah! My freshly made hot and sour noodles!”
She clutched the bowl of noodles, disbelieving. “How did you get so flat? How did you get so flat?!”
Xie Xingxiao, clutching his throbbing thigh, gritted his teeth. “Did you see someone next to your dead hot and sour noodles?”
Zhong Xin looked at Xie Xingxiao: “Now that you’ve reminded me, I see.”
Xie Xingxiao: “Could you help him up?!”
Zhong Xin painfully put down the flattened noodles and went to Xie Xingxiao’s side.
But instead of helping him up, she stared intently at his face for a long time.
Xie Xingxiao frowned. “What kind of behavior is this?”
Zhong Xin tilted her head, reached out, and gently stroked Xie Xingxiao’s neck with the side of her thumb.
Xie Xingxiao trembled in fright, his soul shaking violently. He stared wide-eyed at Zhong Xin in disbelief.
She, standing nearby, had strikingly beautiful eyes.
In a brief lapse, he heard Zhong Xin’s calm voice, “There’s a worm on your neck.”
“What worm?”
“A leech.”
After processing this information, Xie Xingxiao’s brain went into a complete shutdown.
He was utterly dizzy.
The kind of dizziness where he was unconscious.