Zhou Ai looked up to see Chen Xunfeng close by. Chen Xunfeng stood before him with his head bowed, coincidentally shielding him from the glaring sunlight.
Zhou Ai’s fingers paused on the pages of his book. From this backlit angle, he could not clearly see Chen Xunfeng’s expression, only sensing the tangible weight of the gaze fixed upon him.
The tents distributed to each class were completely open on all four sides. At noon, when the sun was at its most intense, they offered no shade at all. Zhou Ai remained seated, barely moving, and as a result, the roots of his ears were flushed a faint red by the sunlight a rare splash of color on his typically pale, understated face.
Chen Xunfeng’s gaze lingered on Zhou Ai’s earlobe for a moment before he finally looked away, scanning the increasingly empty playground. “There’s hardly anyone left. Shall we go eat?”
Zhou Ai kept one hand on the pages of his book, glanced at him, and pulled the event schedule from the table behind him. His finger stopped at a specific entry: the scheduled end time for the morning’s events was 12:20, and it was still far from that time.
Other than Zhou Ai, the only people in the tent were the busy class monitor and two logistics staff members taking care of the athletes. No one spoke; the only sounds were the wind and the distant blast of a whistle.
After reading the schedule, Chen Xunfeng prepared to walk toward the back: “I’ll go tell them, and we’ll head off first.”
But his movement was blocked by Zhou Ai. Zhou Ai raised his arm to momentarily bar Chen Xunfeng’s path before pulling it back, then shook his head at him.
Zhou Ai was not a rigid follower of rules, nor was he afraid of the Class 1 committee members. It was simply that he had already accepted this responsibility, and so he intended to see it through to the end. Furthermore, he didn’t want to invite unnecessary trouble.
Chen Xunfeng’s gaze swept over the hand Zhou Ai had retracted, but he did indeed stop in his tracks.
After withdrawing his hand, Zhou Ai glanced toward the west side of the playground, where the school cafeteria was located. It seemed like a casual glance, but Chen Xunfeng instantly understood what he meant. Chen Xunfeng pulled over a stool from behind and sat down facing Zhou Ai: “I’m in no rush. You keep reading for a while longer, and we’ll go when the time comes.”
The people behind them had remained silent throughout, but the interaction unfolding before them did not escape their notice.
Of the two people in the front of the tent, Zhou Ai was a mute who had never made a sound, nor had he ever shown any other way of communicating in public. Yet, Chen Xunfeng, a boy with a famously volatile temper, had been “trading blows” with him ever since he appeared.
In their view, Zhou Ai’s physical movements were minimal, and in his daily life, he avoided eye contact with everyone. Communicating with Zhou Ai was difficult, and Zhou Ai himself was clearly unwilling to engage with them. Aside from necessary academic matters, he had no other interaction with anyone in Class 1.
The scene before them was therefore astonishing. They were surprised not only that Chen Xunfeng could interpret every look Zhou Ai gave and understand his every subtle physical gesture but also by Zhou Ai’s response. Zhou Ai was responding to Chen Xunfeng; although light and faint, and perhaps truly imperceptible to others, he was indeed responding to every question the boy before him asked.
For two whole months, this had never happened in Class 1. Zhou Ai’s soul had been sleeping within his cold, rigid shell, but now it seemed to be slowly waking.
Chen Xunfeng sat before Zhou Ai, partially shielding him from the sunlight. Zhou Ai lowered his head, refocusing on the pages of his book.
Long years of study had left Zhou Ai with habitual memory; he read rapidly and could quickly achieve focus in any setting. Thus, by the time he noticed a steady, small breeze hitting his face, he had already finished reading the final climax of the detective novel.
Zhou Ai pressed down on the page and looked up, unexpectedly colliding with Chen Xunfeng’s eyes.
The stool Chen Xunfeng sat on was a bit higher. He had one leg resting on the stool’s footrest, his arms propped on his knees as he rested his chin in his hand. The hand he kept free held the bound event schedule.
Chen Xunfeng was watching him, using the schedule to continuously fan him and provide a breeze.
The moment their eyes met, Chen Xunfeng’s lips moved slightly. It wasn’t a simple smile; it was more like a facial expression an adult would make when teasing a child. Zhou Ai had seen his father do it when playing with Zhou Youbao, but Chen Xunfeng’s expression was not as exaggerated as Zhou Ruicheng’s. It was more restrained and subtle and Zhou Ai was not a child.
Zhou Ai withdrew his gaze, smoothed his cuffs, and checked his watch. Chen Xunfeng’s voice sounded simultaneously: “Ten more minutes. Finish the last part, and then we’ll go eat.”
By the time they reached the cafeteria, it was entirely empty and quiet; even the canteen ladies had begun cleaning up after the meal. They went straight to the second floor, where only one table remained occupied.
Noticing two figures appearing at the top of the stairs, Jiang Chuan looked up from his phone, a bright smile appearing on his face as he waved: “Over here!”
On the way over, Chen Xunfeng tilted his head to explain to Zhou Ai: “The cafeteria started serving early today, so I asked him to come help us save two portions.”
By the time they reached the table, Jiang Chuan had stood up from across it. His gaze lingered on Zhou Ai’s face for a moment, and Chen Xunfeng signaled toward the boy with the afro: “Jiang Chuan.”
Zhou Ai looked over. His gaze was extremely faint, lacking the customary polite smile people wore when meeting new friends. He simply bowed his head slightly to acknowledge the greeting.
Jiang Chuan, however, grinned brilliantly and waved his hand: “Hello, hello! I’m Jiang Chuan. We’ve met before.”
Chen Xunfeng draped his hand casually over the back of the chair beside him, signaling for Zhou Ai to sit first. He then glanced at Jiang Chuan: “This is Zhou Ai.”
Jiang Chuan chirped, “I know, I know! The great top student’s photo is hanging downstairs every day. Besides, we’ve met before do you remember me?”
Zhou Ai simply sat down, offering no reciprocation of Jiang Chuan’s enthusiasm. Chen Xunfeng pulled out a chair and sat next to Zhou Ai. Once seated, he reached out and touched the tray on the table.
Jiang Chuan sat down as well, watching Chen Xunfeng’s actions: “I just went to the microwave to zap it. It should be hot!”
Chen Xunfeng narrowed his eyes at him, asking: “Why haven’t you left yet?”
There were two sets of meals with similar dishes on the table. Jiang Chuan watched from across as Chen Xunfeng examined the food, first pushing one portion toward Zhou Ai, while Zhou Ai reflexively handed a pair of chopsticks to Chen Xunfeng.
There was little conversation and no lingering eye contact between the two, yet these actions seemed entirely natural, performed without the slightest stutter.
Yet in their eyes, Chen Xunfeng had always been someone rather aloof. He didn’t participate much in the boisterous play or no-limits joking of the other boys, and he was certainly no gentleman toward girls. Yet, five minutes before they arrived at the cafeteria, Jiang Chuan had received a message from Chen Xunfeng asking if the food he’d ordered was going to get cold.
That kind of thoughtfulness had never appeared in Chen Xunfeng before.
Jiang Chuan’s gaze rested on the two people across from him, and he stretched his arms: “Returning to the classroom is too far, and it’s too hot outside. It’s cool in the cafeteria, so I’ll just sit here for a bit.”
Zhou Ai did not eat quickly, but he ate with his eyes lowered, seemingly focused. He ate everything on his tray, but only a little of each, making it impossible to tell which dish he preferred.
The impression Zhou Ai left deepest in Jiang Chuan’s mind was actually that eye-catching photo hanging downstairs the one that stood its ground even beside Chen Xunfeng’s. Seeing Zhou Ai eat face-to-face in the cafeteria, a strange thought bubbled up in Jiang Chuan’s mind: So, even the ethereal top student Zhou Ai is a human who needs to eat.
He had lingered on Zhou Ai for a bit too long. Catching a faint click, Jiang Chuan retracted his gaze to see Chen Xunfeng’s chopsticks resting in his tray, Chen Xunfeng staring coldly at him, his tone quite sour: “What exactly are you looking at?”
He was even more sensitive to anyone’s gaze resting on Zhou Ai than Zhou Ai himself was.
Jiang Chuan snapped out of it, shook his head quickly, and said: “I’m not, I’m not! Not looking, not looking!”
Throughout the whole process, Zhou Ai himself had shown no obvious reaction to Jiang Chuan’s staring. Even when Chen Xunfeng had spoken up, he had only swept a faint look over him before retracting it, maintaining an attitude of complete indifference.