17
Yan Yixin had done what she said she would.
She must have used some method, because the next day during homeroom, the class teacher called her and Si Xiuyuan to the office and asked Si Xiuyuan if he was willing to let Wu Jiao be the class monitor.
After Si Xiuyuan nodded, the teacher announced it to the class.
This was the first time in Wu Jiao’s life that she had held such a high-ranking position.
She was actually quite happy about it, and besides, it would allow her to help people and earn morality points along the way.
A new broom sweeps clean. Wu Jiao took over all the class monitor’s duties from Si Xiuyuan with great seriousness and responsibility.
Daily roll call, class cleaning duty rosters, managing class funds, tallying and collecting fees for printing materials, ordering materials, acting as the teacher’s messenger, being on call for classmates who needed help…
Wu Jiao was overwhelmed with work.
At the same time, becoming a class committee member meant automatically joining the school’s student union. Apart from patrolling during evening self-study sessions and conducting daily checks for banned items, as well as relaying student union matters up and down, she also had to write suggestion letters for the student union.
After all, Si Xiuyuan was the former class monitor. He always asked if she needed help after tutoring her.
[Even though I’m busy… Si Xiuyuan must be really tired too, right?]
Wu Jiao had never heard Si Xiuyuan complain or seen him show signs of exhaustion. But with so many responsibilities, how could it not be hard? And so many people came to him every day asking him to explain problems!
Wu Jiao patted her chest and declared, “I can do it!”
She needed to earn morality points, and as the current class monitor, she had to take charge personally!
Hearing her inner thoughts, Si Xiuyuan felt as if a cat had scratched his heart again.
The feeling was unfamiliar, but… not bad.
He smiled. “Then feel free to call me if you need help, but I believe you can do it, little class monitor.”
That day, new materials arrived, and the class monitor from the neighboring class came to tell Wu Jiao to take some people downstairs to pick them up.
It was between classes. The students in the classroom were either sleeping or doing their own things. Wu Jiao planned to go alone, but Cao Haotian, who sat in front of her, followed along.
“Class monitor, I’m the academic committee representative. Helping carry materials—I should get a share of this good deed too, right?”
The two walked downstairs together. Students from other classes who were also moving materials were in a frantic hurry, not watching where they were going, and nearly collided with Wu Jiao.
“Watch where you’re going,” Cao Haotian reminded the other person, then proactively moved to the outside of Wu Jiao, letting her walk on the inner side.
“Thanks. Good people get good things.”
The two exchanged a smile.
To get to the materials room, they had to pass through a wisteria-covered corridor. During usual break times, many people would sit underneath to chat and enjoy the sun, but today at this hour, no one was there.
For a moment, they walked in silence. Wu Jiao admired the flowers as she walked.
Cao Haotian suddenly spoke up and asked, “Class monitor, do you like Pei Jiamu?”
“How could I possibly like him? No way.”
Wu Jiao answered decisively, not breaking her stride, her gaze still on the wisteria, her response natural and open.
“That’s good.”
“Why are you suddenly asking that?”
Wu Jiao’s mouth ran faster than her mind. Only after asking did she realize what Cao Haotian might have meant by the question—it seemed like something that could easily be misinterpreted.
What Yan Yixin had said to her last time suddenly popped into her head.
She had said that Wu Jiao liked Cao Haotian, which was why Wu Jiao hadn’t taken it seriously at all.
But what if—just what if—
Cao Haotian liked her?
Wu Jiao didn’t dare think about it.
She got a little shy, and her cheeks flushed bright red in an instant.
If it really was what she thought, this would be the first time a boy had ever liked her.
Cao Haotian also turned red at Wu Jiao’s direct question. The two of them were like a pair of drunks, suddenly flustered and clumsy.
It was only then that Wu Jiao noticed someone was still sleeping in the corridor.
So awkward.
She hurriedly changed the subject, whispering, “There’s someone here. Let’s hurry up. The materials room is still a bit far.”
The moment they left, the boy lying on the corridor bench sat up, tossing aside the school uniform he had been covering his head with. His gaze lingered darkly on the spot where they had disappeared.
Pei Jiamu casually slung his uniform over his shoulder, brushed his hair back in annoyance, and let out a disdainful snort.
Doesn’t like him?
She says she doesn’t like him?
No way. Then what did Yan Yixin say last time—
Pei Jiamu’s eyes sharpened as he suddenly remembered that he had missed the second half of that sentence last time.
After Yan Yixin said “don’t like Pei Jiamu anymore,” did she also mention the name Cao Haotian?
This Cao Haotian was kind of getting on his nerves.
Pei Jiamu folded his arms and narrowed his eyes.
He wasn’t as tall as him, nor as good-looking. What was there to like about him?
She doesn’t like him, but she likes someone like that?
You’ve got no taste, Wu Jiao.
……
Wu Jiao’s first budding feelings of romance withered before they could even bloom, buried under an avalanche of responsibilities.
When a classmate’s stool broke, she had to fill out a form to get a replacement. When the mobile red banner was awarded, she had to go pick it up. The student union also notified her that because of the class committee changeover, they needed to retake a group photo, and also, each class’s suggestion letter had to be submitted.
Wu Jiao was spinning like a top all day. The rare moment she finally found time to sit down and write a practice test, she suddenly remembered she had to go take the group photo.
The student union was in a different teaching building, and getting there would take some time. Afraid of being late, Wu Jiao folded her test paper and tucked her pen into it, planning to head over first and write while she waited.
The student union meeting room door was open. The moment Wu Jiao walked in, she locked eyes with someone inside.
The meeting room was large, with a big wooden rectangular table that could seat thirty to forty people. Pei Jiamu sat at the far end of the table, fiddling with a camera.
She had almost forgotten—this guy was the student union president and also knew how to take photos. He was usually the one who took pictures for school cultural events.
Wu Jiao raised a hand at him as a casual greeting, found a random seat, and sat down to work on her test paper.
Pei Jiamu was still stewing in the emotions from her saying she didn’t like him a couple of days ago.
If she doesn’t like him, why is she still greeting him?
Pei Jiamu deliberately ignored her, waiting to see how long it would take for her to notice he was upset.
But he miscalculated.
Wu Jiao had already sensed something was off with him, but this was Pei Jiamu—so it was easy to understand.
He was basically on his “time of the month” every single day, impossible to deal with.
Wu Jiao had no intention of poking the bear for no reason.
She was fully immersed in solving her test when click—the crisp sound of a shutter echoed through the room.
Pei Jiamu was up to his tricks again.
Wu Jiao turned her head toward the culprit, but the offender acted as if nothing had happened, staring at the camera display as if he hadn’t just taken a sneaky photo of her.
[Taking an ugly shot of me? Fine. Just fine.]
Wu Jiao shot up from her seat, strode over to Pei Jiamu, and lunged to grab the camera.
Pei Jiamu spun around in his swivel chair, sliding several meters away in an instant, and preemptively accused her: “What are you snatching my camera for!”
“The photo you just took of me. Delete it.”
“Who took a photo of you?” Pei Jiamu played dumb. “I was taking a picture of the table. The table looks nice.”
Wu Jiao let out a sarcastic “Ha.”
Pei Jiamu looked at her with smug satisfaction.
The truth was, he had taken a photo of her.
The sunlight was perfect, the breeze gentle—a clean-cut girl with a focused expression studying intently. It was a beautiful scene.
By the time he realized what he was doing, his finger had already pressed the shutter.
But he was never going to admit it.
Wu Jiao held out her hand. “If you’ve got the guts, show me.”
“Not gonna. I don’t have the guts.”
“You’re crazy!”
“You’ve said that so many times. Can you come up with something new?”
Pei Jiamu spread his hands.
It was strange—around Pei Jiamu, Wu Jiao always lost her grown-up composure and reverted to her childish self.
The way they bickered now was exactly the same as ten years ago. Neither of them had made any progress at all.
Wu Jiao couldn’t be bothered to waste words on him and just went straight for it.
Pei Jiamu, relying on his height, held the camera up with one hand and taunted her: “Catch it, and it’s yours.”
Wu Jiao stood on her tiptoes but couldn’t reach, even after jumping, she still couldn’t reach. Pei Jiamu burst out laughing.
So Wu Jiao waited for the right moment, grabbed him with one hand, and used the other to tickle his sides.
Pei Jiamu was ticklish—something Wu Jiao had discovered after years of wrestling with him.
“HAHAHAHAHA! Wait—that tickles—”
Pei Jiamu lost his balance, stepped on the wheel of the swivel chair, and went tumbling toward the floor.
Not only that—the camera slipped from his hand and was about to become a free-falling object.
Wu Jiao’s first instinct was to grab Pei Jiamu, but when she saw the camera flying, she immediately let go of him and spun around to catch it.
Pei Jiamu: !
He hadn’t been about to fall at first, but now he was falling for real.
Him falling wasn’t a big deal, but Wu Jiao’s attention was entirely on the camera. She didn’t watch her feet, tripped over Pei Jiamu, and went down too.
“Watch out!”
Seeing that she was about to hit the ground, Pei Jiamu used his own body as a cushion to catch her.
Pei Jiamu let out a muffled grunt while Wu Jiao breathed a sigh of relief.
Wu Jiao caught the camera, and Pei Jiamu caught Wu Jiao—the three of them (plus the camera) stacked up like a game of Jenga.
Wu Jiao and the camera were fine. Only Pei Jiamu let out another couple of hisses.
If he hadn’t blocked her, Wu Jiao would have slammed into the leg of a chair.
“Wu Jiao, can you be more careful—”
What if you fell and got hurt?
Halfway through, Pei Jiamu felt something was off and changed his tune: “If you break me, you’re paying for it.”
As soon as he said that, it felt even more off.
Wu Jiao’s back was pressed against a burning-hot chest, and something very noticeable was digging into her underneath. Uncomfortable, she shifted a little.
When she heard what Pei Jiamu said, her whole body froze, and the temperature of her face shot up.
[I didn’t just sit on a banana-and-eggs situation, did I?! That can’t be right!]
Wu Jiao recalled that the mannerisms described in the original story were already etched into her DNA. By the time Pei Jiamu realized what he had just heard, it was too late.
[The big banana is quite impressive, as big as an arm, even when it’s not reacting… That’s what the original text said!]
Pei Jiamu hadn’t expected Wu Jiao to be thinking about something like that. His face turned red from his neck all the way to his ears. What had been unresponsive before now responded after being talked about.
Big banana? What big banana?!
Aside from the arm part being too exaggerated, everything else matched—how was this any different from her pulling down his pants and pointing at it?
Pei Jiamu’s face grew redder and redder.
“You—hurry up and get off!”
Pei Jiamu couldn’t bring himself to look at Wu Jiao.
“I know! I’m getting up!”
Unfortunately, just as Wu Jiao started to get up, footsteps and voices sounded outside the meeting room—someone was coming.
The two of them sitting on the floor in this position—if anyone saw them, no amount of explaining would make it believable.
They had to hide. Right now.
For once, they thought the same thing. In a panic, Wu Jiao plopped back down.
“Hey, Wu Jiao, you—” Pei Jiamu let out another squeak.
“You what? Hurry up and hide!”
She took the opportunity to duck under the meeting table and urged Pei Jiamu to do the same.
Pei Jiamu looked left, looked right, then looked back down.
His meaning was obvious.
But squeezing Pei Jiamu under the table too would be too tight and risk exposure. Wu Jiao clutched the camera and shot him a threatening look: Go away, find your own solution.
Pei Jiamu had no choice. Flustered, he scrambled onto the swivel chair.
“President? You’re here early today.”
A guy and a girl walked in. The girl sounded surprised.
Pei Jiamu nodded and grunted in acknowledgment.
The end of his hum went up a little—strange, like an animal whose tail had been stepped on.
The girl asked with concern, “What’s wrong, President? You don’t look so good. Are you sick?”
“No, I’m fine.”
Pei Jiamu smiled at her.
“That’s good.”
It’s NOT good!
Wu Jiao screamed silently in her heart.
Pei Jiamu’s legs were too long. The space under the table could barely fit her alone. When he put his legs in, they nearly poked her in the face!
She balled her fist and knocked on Pei Jiamu’s knee. He winced, looked down, and mouthed a warning.
[Don’t move!]
Wu Jiao wasn’t about to back down. She mouthed back: [Spread your legs!]
Pei Jiamu’s face was full of suppressed frustration, and for a flash, there was even a hint of…
Shyness?
**