Jiang Wan was getting drowsy from Lu Xingheng’s kneading, and his palms had warmed up a bit.
But something felt off. Ever since he left the dorm that morning, it seemed like he had forgotten something there.
Jiang Wan forced himself to stay alert and thought it over: textbooks, workbooks, medicine, oil paints…
“Lu Xingxing,” Jiang Wan mumbled sleepily, his voice dragging with a hint of a local accent, low and slightly hoarse.
Lu Xingheng’s hand paused, his ears burning.
He ignored Jiang Wan.
“Lu Xingxing.” Jiang Wan raised his voice a little and pretended to push Lu Xingheng’s wrist. “If you keep this up, I won’t let you knead anymore.”
Lu Xingheng stiffened slightly. Jiang Wan’s voice was soft, low, and hoarse—gentle and pleasant to hear.
“You…” Jiang Wan lowered his gaze, staring at the tip of Lu Xingheng’s ear. Then he reached out and pinched it hard. “Your earlobe is so red… What are you embarrassed about?”
Lu Xingheng tilted his head away, his neck and Adam’s apple flushing slightly.
Jiang Wan clicked his tongue softly. “Lu Xingxing, if you keep this up, I won’t be sleepy anymore.”
Lu Xingheng’s Adam’s apple bobbed subtly, unfortunately noticed by Jiang Wan.
“Stop moving your Adam’s apple like that. It’s getting redder and redder.” Jiang Wan chuckled and reached out to touch it. “Dr. Lu, is it really that serious? I’m practically selling myself here.”
Lu Xingheng’s palms grew hot, and his hand kneading Jiang Wan’s abs became increasingly unnatural. Just as he was about to pull away, Jiang Wan pressed it back down.
Jiang Wan had just suffered from stomach pain, so Lu Xingheng didn’t dare pull away forcefully. At this moment, he could even feel the rise and fall of Jiang Wan’s abs beneath his hand.
Lu Xingheng’s fingers curled slightly.
Jiang Wan’s breath brushed against his neck, like a grainy spring breeze, somewhat intoxicating. His voice was still half-hoarse. “Lu Xingxing, who taught you to touch and run?”
Lu Xingheng raised a hand to cover his neck.
Jiang Wan laughed softly. “Think I can’t see it if you cover it?”
Lu Xingheng bit the inside of his cheek hard, feeling for the first time that having fair skin was a nuisance.
“Jiang Wan.”
“What?”
Lu Xingheng called his name seriously, and Jiang Wan was momentarily confused. He had been drowsy, his eyes misty, and he looked at Lu Xingheng innocently.
Lu Xingheng avoided his gaze. “What were you going to say earlier?”
“Oh.”
Jiang Wan lowered his head, no longer staring at Lu Xingheng. He took two steps back, creating some distance between them. “Let me think.”
Lu Xingheng frowned.
Jiang Wan felt a vague sense of disappointment, though he couldn’t pinpoint why. After composing himself, he asked, “Why should I go with you to your piano lesson?”
“I don’t know,” Lu Xingheng said. “Maybe just to hang out.”
“Hmm.” Jiang Wan sounded listless, as if he was getting sleepy again.
The topic was dropped.
Lu Xingheng’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and he paused before asking, “Didn’t you just say you weren’t sleepy anymore?”
“I’m sleepy again.” Jiang Wan’s voice returned to its lazy, indifferent tone. “It’s almost time. Should we head back?”
Lu Xingheng fell silent for a moment, inexplicably recalling Jiang Wan’s lie to Jiang Wenyan when he had stomach pain: “Shh, I’m a little sleepy.”
He wanted to ask something, but Jiang Wan showed no intention of answering.
Jiang Wan packed up his painting. He didn’t know how to tie a bow, so he just wrapped the ribbon haphazardly, leaving it tangled and messy.
On the way back, Jiang Wan was quiet, seemingly lost in thought. Combined with Lu Xingheng’s usual reticence, the short path felt endless.
As they neared the classroom door, Jiang Wan suddenly spoke up. “How much were the heating pads? I forgot to ask earlier.”
Lu Xingheng’s lips tightened. “My mom told me to buy them for you.”
“Oh.”
Jiang Wan glanced at him sideways. “If Aunt Wen told you to buy them, why are you acting so grumpy?”
Lu Xingheng: “…”
After a moment, Lu Xingheng repeated gently, “My mom told me to buy them for you.”
Jiang Wan nodded, his tone turning lazy. “Approved.”
Neither of them had checked their phones on the way back, so they didn’t notice the dozen or so missed calls.
Jiang Wan assumed they were from insurance or real estate salespeople and didn’t call back.
There were also a few calls on WeChat. Jiang Wan leisurely opened the app to see Xu Yichen calling frantically, dialing every two minutes.
Jiang Wan’s hand trembled slightly. He really had forgotten something that morning…
He glanced at the clock: 8:19. Li Yun’s class started in one minute.
The rarely used string in Jiang Wan’s brain snapped completely.
He was screwed.
Jiang Wan quickly created a three-person group chat.
Bunny: Should I ask for sick leave for you two now? Stomachache?
Jiang Wenyan and Xu Yichen were already beyond despair.
JWY: .
Xu Xu Tu Zhi: .
Bunny: Should we go down together then? I can come to the dorm to get you now?
JWY: Stay put. Don’t cause trouble.
Xu Xu Tu Zhi: If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I would never have believed it!!
JWY: Same.
Xu Xu Tu Zhi: Have you ever seen the sun at eight in the morning?
JWY: Have you ever heard crying in the dorm hallway?
Xu Xu Tu Zhi: Do you know how desperate it feels when calls don’t go through?!
JWY: Have you ever been stranded without help?!
Jiang Wan was stunned by these four parallel sentences, his scalp tingling.
Bunny: …I can explain.
Xu Xu Tu Zhi: Don’t bother. Don’t want to hear it.
JWY: Don’t bother. Don’t want to hear it.
Jiang Wan glanced up and saw Li Yun entering with a stack of test papers.
Bunny: Looks like we’re having a test this period.
JWY: Not attending class. Don’t care.
Xu Xu Tu Zhi: Not attending class. Don’t care.
Bunny: Then should I mark you two down for stomachache?
JWY: 1
Xu Xu Tu Zhi: 1
Jiang Wan fished two sick leave slips from his desk drawer and quickly filled in the names. As he stood up to leave, someone from the back row gently grasped his wrist.
“Where are you going?” he heard Lu Xingheng ask.
Jiang Wan turned to look at him. “Haven’t you checked your phone?”
Lu Xingheng let go and checked his phone. Aside from a funny video Wen Qian had sent him a minute ago, there was nothing.
Lu Xingheng opened the class group chat, but there were no new messages—the last chat was from last night.
Lu Xingheng exited the app and tapped Jiang Wan’s profile picture. The chubby bunny bounced twice.
Then a small line of text appeared on the chat screen.
[I patted Bunny’s tail]
Jiang Wan’s phone, hidden under the desk, vibrated softly.
Lu Xingheng: “…”
Li Yun accepted the sick leave slips without further questions. Although strict, the junior-year teachers were generally lenient with students—otherwise, they wouldn’t allow them to bring phones to class. Moreover, the person submitting the slips was Jiang Wan, who, in all the teachers’ eyes, would never lie.
“Monitor, remember to save a test paper for me,” Li Yun said as she wrote the exam start and end times on the blackboard.
Jiang Wan spread out the test papers. Six students per row, five rows in total.
Normally, they didn’t need to rearrange desks for exams.
In front of Jiang Wan and Jiang Wenyan sat a bespectacled boy who looked anxious. He grabbed a test paper and started writing immediately. His deskmate was a shy girl who seemed to want to say something but ended up burying her head in the test.
The remaining two test papers were passed directly to Jiang Wan and Jiang Wenyan’s desks.
Lu Xingheng glanced at them briefly, and when he looked up, he happened to meet Jiang Wan’s gaze.
Li Yun had miscounted the test papers—one was missing.
Jiang Wan was momentarily stunned. He suddenly realized that Lu Xingheng had only transferred to Jiangcheng University a few days ago. Even he had subconsciously assumed there were only six people per row.
With Lu Xingheng’s quiet and reserved nature, hardly anyone was familiar with him.
“Ms. Yun.” Li Yun stood outside the classroom, and Jiang Wan’s voice was low, barely audible inside. “We’re short one test paper. I’ll go count them now.”
Li Yun clapped her hands. “I must’ve miscounted and forgot about Lu Xingheng.”
“Monitor, don’t make an extra trip. Let him use Jiang Wenyan’s for now.”
Jiang Wan: “I’ll have to go count them sooner or later anyway.”
The test papers were counted at the academic affairs office, which was quite far. Li Yun wanted to say more, but Jiang Wan had already gone downstairs.
Jiang Wan walked quickly.
Back at the orphanage, the caretakers never gave him candy or cookies. Even though he pretended not to care and brushed it off with a smile, seeing others unwrap beautifully packaged treats always left him feeling empty inside.
He didn’t like that feeling and didn’t want Lu Xingheng to experience it either.
In the classroom, Lu Xingheng received a message on his phone.
Bunny: Why did you pat my tail?
WWW: Didn’t mean to (▽)
Bunny: Went to count test papers for you. Wait ten minutes.
Jiang Wan estimated the distance.
Bunny: Maybe eight minutes if I hurry. Don’t worry.
Lu Xingheng wanted to decline, but Jiang Wan had already gone downstairs.
WWW: Okay :.ヽ(*′).:
Bunny: What does this :'(.: mean? Never seen it before.
WWW: Happy.
WWW: I’m not in a hurry. Don’t walk too fast.
Jiang Wan didn’t check his messages further. He ran to the academic affairs office. The round trip took him about five minutes.
When he returned to the classroom, Jiang Wan was still slightly out of breath.
Li Yun stopped him at the door, frowning disapprovingly. “Why did you run? Aren’t you tired?”
“People with low blood sugar shouldn’t exercise vigorously. Are you feeling dizzy?”
“Did you sweat—”
“Stop.” Jiang Wan made a “pause” gesture. “Ms. Yun, you’re asking me so many questions at once. Which one should I answer first?”
Seeing that Jiang Wan seemed fine, Li Yun relaxed. “Since Jiang Wenyan isn’t here, call me directly if you feel unwell.”
Jiang Wan: “Will do.”
Li Yun waved her hand. “Alright, stop joking around. Go take the test.”
Lu Xingheng had failed two subjects in the previous entrance exam, scoring only in the sixties out of 120.
But his Chinese, Math, and English scores were decent, and his total score was five points higher than the lowest in the class.
Jiang Wan’s chemistry notes were concise and well-organized, clearly outlining key points and difficulties, essentially summarizing the entire textbook’s framework.
Jiang Wan’s notes were excellent, and his handwriting was neat.
Lost in thought, Lu Xingheng unconsciously wrote two words on the scratch paper beneath his hand, not even noticing it himself.
“Lu Xingxing, you’re not doing well.” Jiang Wan was still breathing heavily. “Persian Cat checked this poem with nearly the whole class last time. How come you still can’t remember it?”
Lu Xingheng covered the chemical formula next to the scratch paper and looked up. “What is it?”
“‘Jiang Wan is troubled by the lingering dusk; deep in the mountains, the partridge calls.’”
“Hmm.” Lu Xingheng nodded and used his pen to complete the two lines of poetry.
“Here.” Jiang Wan handed the test paper to Lu Xingheng. “I went to count it just for you.”
Lu Xingheng frowned slightly and pulled a tissue from his desk drawer, handing it to Jiang Wan. “Wipe your sweat.”
“Huh?”
Jiang Wan had poor physical stamina and rarely sweated, sometimes not even breaking a sweat after running 1,500 meters.
“No need.” Jiang Wan didn’t take it. “I don’t sweat eas—”
Before he could finish, he felt the soft touch of a tissue on his neck, slightly ticklish. Lu Xingheng’s voice was light, like a stream flowing past his ear. “Just a little.”
Jiang Wan softly said, “Oh.”
The test papers Li Yun handed out were from the junior-year regular class entrance exam, which was too easy for the Advanced Class.
An hour into the exam, Jiang Wan went to collect the papers.
The classroom grew slightly noisy.
“Monitor, has the talent show for the entrance exam been decided?”
“What entrance exam? That’s the opening ceremony.”
“Watch your language, everyone. The Advanced Class should act like the Advanced Class.”
“…”
Jiang Wan organized the test papers. “Not yet.”
“Do any of you have talents to showcase?”
The classroom fell silent instantly.
Jiang Wan pulled a form from under the podium, habitually twirling a pen in his hand as if ready to write at any moment.
The girls in the front row didn’t dare breathe loudly.
Jiang Wan: “Should we draw lots now?”
“Okay—”
The class erupted in complaints, one wave louder than the next.
Jiang Wan glanced outside. “The teachers are in a meeting right now. Let’s just draw lots in the class group chat.”
“Anyone who didn’t bring their phone can come register.”
“If you’re unlucky enough to be chosen, message me privately. You can decline if you don’t want to participate—no pressure.”
This was almost the standard procedure for selecting opening ceremony performances. Although Jiang Wan said it like that, the students in Class A rarely declined once chosen, not wanting to trouble their monitor.
It was a race against time, but 80% of it depended on luck.
Jiang Wan always drew last. As he looked at the form on the podium, Lu Xingheng’s long, elegant hands suddenly came to mind, and his hand twitched, filling in Lu Xingheng’s name.
Jiang Wan messaged Lu Xingheng privately.
Bunny: Are you participating? Are you?
WWW: ?
WWW: Wasn’t chosen (▽)
Bunny: Oh.
Lu Xingheng looked up. Jiang Wan stood in front of the podium, head slightly lowered, just like he had been that morning at An Lake.
Jiang Wan didn’t overthink it. Just as he was about to cross out Lu Xingheng’s name, his WeChat lit up.
WWW: I can participate.
WWW: But I only know how to play the piano.
Bunny: Okay~.
Lu Xingheng pursed his lips lightly, staring at the “~” for a long time, accidentally patting the chubby bunny’s tail again.
Soon, WeChat buzzed.
[Bunny patted WWW]