Back on Class Three’s side, the atmosphere was gradually growing tense.
Actually, not much time had passed—Zhou Zhi’s silence hadn’t even lasted a full minute.
But in the teacher’s eyes, that already counted as a form of defiance in its own way.
The PE teacher frowned, roughly rubbing his crew cut, staring at the roll call sheet in his hand: “Zhou Zhi…”
Why was it that one after another, they were so stubborn? What was so great about leaving their hair down? Wasn’t it hot in the summer!
He couldn’t understand it.
“Teacher.”
Zhou Zhi released the hair tie from her wrist, letting both hands hang naturally at her sides. She looked up, meeting the PE teacher’s eyes.
The girl’s voice was cold.
Crisp and clear, like spring snowmelt—if you listened closely, it even carried a hint of fresh grass.
It unconsciously dissipated some of the anger rising in people.
“Teacher, there’s a scar.”
“May I keep my hair down?”
Zhou Zhi raised her hand, threading her fingers through her long hair, pressing them against the nape of her neck.
The murmuring chatter came to an abrupt halt. Many eyes fell on the girl’s neck.
Hidden by her dark hair, nothing could be seen.
But in many people’s minds, an ugly scar had already wound its way across her skin, marring all harmony and beauty.
The anger that had just flared up in the PE teacher suddenly died down.
He let out a sigh and waved them off to go run.
Ah, this kind of thing.
This kind of matter involving a student’s self-esteem—he didn’t know how to handle it.
Senior year students, their minds were always sensitive and fragile. Studying and the college entrance exam had already drained too much of their energy and attention.
Sigh.
This whole thing today was just asking for trouble—what a hassle!
Across the entire track field, only Class Three was running.
Unusually quiet, with occasional whispers.
But the looks of scrutiny never stopped.
Those looks carried no malice—just curiosity unconsciously bred. Zhou Zhi didn’t mind.
Her heart felt like it was being squeezed tightly by a hand—oppressed, bitter, with a faint ache radiating through.
She had… lied.
She shouldn’t have lied.
But she still wanted to be the good student in everyone’s eyes.
Gu Wan glanced at Zhou Zhi a few times, a hint of disdain in her eyes.
Flawless jade.
Once it had a flaw, it was no longer fine jade—at best, it was just glass or rubble.
After dismissal, Zhou Zhi sat in the shade of the high bleachers, looking down at the entire track field.
Her thoughts drifted again as she traced the fierce, rough scar on her wrist.
For the past, only by letting go could one welcome a beautiful new life.
But there were always some things…
That couldn’t be let go of.
The girl’s fingers gently brushed behind her ear, her gaze landing on that flash of striking silver.
The track field was lively and vibrant. Quite a few people were sprawled on the nearby bleachers doing practice papers.
But more were seizing this rare opportunity to sweat and enjoy their freedom.
Song Jun sidled up next to Xu Yao and Ji Xuanxu, a basketball tucked under his arm, a brilliant smile spread across his face.
PE class!
A precious moment of relaxation.
Xu Yao punched Song Jun in the shoulder, his tone slightly annoyed: “What’s up with your class, so slow? We’ve been waiting for you forever.”
“Time is life, Song Jun—you little bastard are practically committing murder for money!”
The boys from other classes waiting nearby joined in the teasing.
Song Jun spread his hands helplessly.
Nothing he could do about it.
“My bad, my bad.” Song Jun raised his hands in surrender. “I’ll treat everyone to watermelon, alright?”
Xu Yao: “Eh eh eh! Something’s off about you, man. Usually you’re cursing heaven and earth, but today you’re admitting fault so readily.”
“Did you take the wrong meds?”
Song Jun rolled his eyes. “What can we do about it? It’s not like she did it on purpose. We can’t exactly blame a pretty girl for it.”
The “pretty girl” thing was just him parroting Xu Yao.
He wouldn’t dare say that in front of Zhou Zhi.
That kind of obedient, quiet, well-behaved good student seemed to affect his vibe somehow—lately, even in the back of the classroom, he’d been cursing a lot less.
The moment “pretty girl” left his mouth, the atmosphere around them shifted.
Xu Yao stepped on Song Jun’s foot and blinked a signal.
Sure enough, Ji Xuanxu stopped right beside the two of them.
A long silence stretched on, like a trapped beast struggling before finally making a concession.
The boy’s voice was cold and crisp, stripped of its usual laziness, carrying an unusual seriousness: “What happened to her?”
Still…
He couldn’t bring himself to ignore it.
Wu Ya felt smug. Sucking on her lollipop, she looked up at the girl sitting high above and let a smile creep onto her face.
Originally, she’d just wanted to cause Zhou Zhi some trouble.
She hadn’t expected to make someone expose their own scars too. What a bonus.
She shoved Zhao Zhenzhen and pointed at Zhou Zhi. “Come on, let’s go comfort our new classmate?”
Kicking someone while they’re down, throwing out snide remarks—it stabs right at the heart, and it costs nothing.
Zhao Zhenzhen said, “Forget it, go by yourself. I need to find the English teacher next period to memorize vocabulary.”
Mainly…
You should still pick on the softest target, and Zhou Zhi clearly wasn’t one.
She didn’t want to bring trouble on herself.
Wu Ya let out a cold laugh or two, stepped past Zhao Zhenzhen, and climbed up the stairs of the bleachers.
“Oh my, what a big scar. Why hide it and not let anyone see?” Wu Ya crossed her arms, one leg slightly bent, standing in front of Zhou Zhi and looking down at the girl from head to toe.
She even wanted to lift Zhou Zhi’s hair, to expose that hidden ugliness to everyone’s eyes.
She herself was despicable, and she couldn’t stand seeing others do well.
Zhou Zhi snapped back to reality, lifted her gaze to glance at Wu Ya with no expression, and rose to leave.
An irrelevant person.
An irrelevant matter.
A clown putting on a show.
Wu Ya, ignored, felt a fire burn in her chest. She reached out to grab Zhou Zhi’s hair.
But Zhou Zhi was faster, as if she’d anticipated it, and seized Wu Ya’s wrist.
“Stay away from me.”
A “get lost” had been brewing on her tongue for a long time, but Zhou Zhi swallowed it back and replaced it with a more polite phrasing.
Perhaps it was the girl’s voice being too cold, or her pitch-black eyes too dark and deep—Wu Ya was actually frozen in place for a moment.
The two of them stood high up, and anyone on the field could see clearly if they cared to look.
Xu Yao spotted it during a break and couldn’t help poking Ji Xuanxu’s arm. “Ji-ge, someone’s giving Zhou the new girl trouble.”
All that talk of disgust and dislike…
They always said to see through appearances to the essence—he seemed to catch a whiff of something unusual.
Ji Xuanxu didn’t turn around. He just clenched his fist tightly, his thin lips curving slightly into that familiar half-smile. “What does that have to do with me?”
Who could possibly cause her trouble?
Xu Yao: …
Damn.
Was he really just overthinking it?!
The short break ended. As he set down his water bottle, Ji Xuanxu swept a quick glance at the highest step of the bleachers.
Empty.
No one there.
Wu Ya rubbed her wrist, her face sour as she came down the stairs on the side.
The wrist that had been gripped moments ago still ached faintly.
Damn it—she’d actually been cowed by a delicate little white flower. And honestly, that girl had quite a grip.
She couldn’t make a move in public.
But the semester was still long. There would be plenty of chances.
Liang Muye leaned against the side, watching Wu Ya come down, and sneered, “Idiot.”
Being used as a pawn and still enjoying it.
With someone like Zhou Zhi, how could she ever be some harmless little white flower?