In the end, it took the four of them plus Butler Wang to barely manage to lug the mountain of supplies back to the classroom.
The students of Class 1 were overwhelmed by the unexpected favor, thrilled that they got to share in the spoils. Along with the snacks, Wang had brought a custom-made banner for the athletes—gold letters on a red background, stretching three and a half meters long. It was incredibly flashy.
Hu Jun stared at the gear, clicking his tongue in wonder. “Monitor, I suddenly feel like it doesn’t even matter if our class comes in dead last. No one else has a setup this grand!”
The others nodded in fervent agreement.
“The games haven’t even started, and you’re already talking about losing,” Qiao Muyu joked. “Coming in last would be too embarrassing. At the very least, we can’t lose to those nerds in Class 2, right?”
“The Monitor is right! Everyone, work hard! Let’s aim for the top five!”
“Right! Go Class 1!”
…
The spirit of Class 1 was high, but unfortunately, athletic prowess isn’t something that can be won through slogans alone. After several rounds of sprints, their preliminary runners were almost entirely wiped out.
Except for Hu Jun, only Lu Zhen—who had signed up for the 100-meter dash—made it through to the finals with a first-place finish in his heat.
While these top-tier students couldn’t compete physically with the other classes, their “cheering scripts” were top-notch. Rainbow-colored flattery and poetic slogans flowed from their pens, proving that they were there to have fun and participate.
The morning passed amidst the repeated cracks of the starter pistol. After the lunch break, students gathered back at the playground, eager for the next set of races.
After escorting a group of athletes to check-in, Qiao Muyu returned to the stands to rest. He pulled out a sketchbook from his bag, intending to write a few more cheers for his teammates. But as he wrote, his hands began to itch for something else. Before he knew it, he was gripping a pencil and sketching from life.
He was deep into a sketch of a high jumper in the distance when Du Jingfei plopped down beside him. “Xiao Yu, when does the senior 100-meter final start?”
Qiao Muyu didn’t look up. “It should be soon. I just sent him to the marshal’s table for check-in.”
Just then, an announcement blared over the loudspeaker.
“Hey, hey, hey! It’s starting!” Du Jingfei craned his neck toward the starting line. “Which lane is Lu Zhen in?”
Qiao Muyu: “Lane 3.”
Du Jingfei quickly locked onto the target, then shouted, “Holy crap, Zhou Shengyuan is there too! He’s in Lane 5!”
“It’s normal for him to be in the finals. He took first in his heat this morning, too.”
“That’s good?” Du Jingfei rubbed his chin, looking worried. “Do you think Lu Zhen will go easy on him and let his brother win?”
“How should I know?”
The referee’s voice boomed: “On your marks! Set—!”
Qiao Muyu felt an unexpected surge of nerves and stood up to watch.
BANG!
The athletes shot forward like arrows. Lu Zhen’s lithe body moved like a bowstring snapped to its limit; he took the lead from the very first second, leaving a wind-like blur on the track. From this distance, Qiao Muyu couldn’t see his expression, only the sunlight dancing through his flying hair, coating him in a layer of effortless, vibrant gold.
He crossed the finish line first, unstoppable.
“AAAAHHH! FIRST PLACE!”
The Class 1 stands erupted into a frenzy. People were jumping and cheering, nearly moved to tears.
Qiao Muyu, however, remained dazed for a long time. The image of the boy sprinting across the field was burned into his mind like a masterpiece. He instinctively gripped his pencil and began to sketch rapidly on the white paper.
Beside him, Du Jingfei sighed in admiration. “Incredible! In three years, this is the first gold medal our class has ever won at a sports meet. A dream come true! Xiao Yu, let’s go congratulate him!”
Qiao Muyu glanced at the finish line, where Lu Zhen was already surrounded by a crowd. “Does he look like he’s lacking people to congratulate him?”
Du Jingfei followed his gaze, his expression turning sour. “Why are there so many girls from other classes giving him water? Ugh, damn it, he’s showing off again.”
Qiao Muyu smiled but said nothing, his head down as he continued his drawing.
A few minutes later, Xu Rongcan ran back to the stands, breathless. Even though she hadn’t competed, she was as sweaty as an athlete, her voice raspy from cheering. “Did you guys see? Just now, Lu Zhen—”
“We saw, we saw, with both eyes,” Du Jingfei cut her off, handing her a bottle of water. “You didn’t win the championship, why are you so worked up?”
“No, I’m not talking about the race!” Xu Rongcan shot him a glare. “I’m saying, after Lu Zhen got his medal, a girl went up and confessed to him!”
“What? Already?” Du Jingfei’s gossip radar pinged instantly. “Who was she? Which class?”
“I don’t know, just that she’s from Class 7.”
“What did Lu Zhen do? Did he say yes?”
“He doesn’t even know her, of course he said no. But the girl didn’t give up; she asked if she could pursue him. I thought he’d just give a flat refusal, but guess what?”
Xu Rongcan paused for a slow sip of water, teasing them. Du Jingfei urged her, “Hurry up! What happened?”
Xu Rongcan smiled mysteriously. “He said no, because he already has someone he likes.”
Qiao Muyu’s pencil stalled. He felt a flicker of curiosity. “He’s only been at our school for three months, and he already has someone he likes?”
“Who says it has to be someone from our school? Could be someone he knew before,” Xu Rongcan began to speculate. “Or maybe his family arranged a childhood betrothal? Rich people love those business alliances—arranged marriages, ‘love after marriage’… it’s totally my trope.”
Du Jingfei’s lip twitched. “What kind of messy novels are you reading all day?”
“I’m serious! That Butler Wang of his looks like he walked straight out of a CEO novel. ‘Young Master,’ ‘Madam’… who talks like that in real life? It’s too funny!”
As Xu Rongcan spoke, Du Jingfei suddenly coughed loudly, winking at her frantically. Xu Rongcan turned around and saw Lu Zhen, who had just returned.
Her smile froze. She awkwardly grabbed Du Jingfei to flee the scene. “Let’s go, let’s go! Accompany me to watch the high jump!”
Lu Zhen’s face remained neutral, seemingly accustomed to being the subject of gossip. He sat down calmly to rest. As he tilted his head to drink water, his Adam’s apple bobbed. Sweat slid from his temples to his collarbone, disappearing into the damp collar of his black t-shirt.
Qiao Muyu silently averted his eyes, noticing the gold medal and certificate in Lu Zhen’s hand. “Congrats on the win. It was a great race.”
“Thanks.”
As Lu Zhen spoke, he happened to glance over. His gaze fell lightly on the sketchbook resting on Qiao Muyu’s lap.
Qiao Muyu realized too late and tried to cover it with his hand. “Hey, don’t look!”
But he was a second too slow. Lu Zhen had caught a glimpse. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was at first, but Qiao Muyu’s reaction gave it away. “Did you draw… me?”
“…”
Qiao Muyu was speechless, a wave of shame washing over him. How is sketching someone secretly any different from being a creep taking secret photos? And I got caught by the person himself.
His ears burned. He didn’t dare meet Lu Zhen’s eyes. “I was just playing around. If you mind, I’ll erase it.”
“I don’t mind,” Lu Zhen said. “Can I see?”
After two seconds of hesitation, Qiao Muyu handed over the book. Lu Zhen looked down. The boy running on the page looked elegant, vibrant, and full of life. Qiao Muyu’s strokes were clean and delicate, using simple shades of grey to bring the light and shadow to life.
Lu Zhen’s eyes flickered, but he gave no praise. He only asked, “You really like drawing?”
Recalling the artbook incident at the bookstore, Qiao Muyu admitted, “Yeah, I love it.”
“Then why didn’t you go to art school?”
Qiao Muyu’s fingers tightened around his pencil. A bit of bitterness flashed in his heart, but he dodged the question with a joke. “My academic grades are so good, wouldn’t it be a waste to go to art school?”
Lu Zhen nodded, then asked, “Can I have this drawing?”
Having one’s art recognized is a happy thing. Qiao Muyu smiled and agreed. “Of course. If you like it, it’s yours.”
“Thanks.”
As Lu Zhen reached to tear the page out, Qiao Muyu had a sudden thought. “Wait. Since it’s a gift, let me write a dedication as a memento.”
“Okay.” Lu Zhen handed the book back.
Qiao Muyu pulled out a blue pen. After a few seconds of thought, he wrote a short message:
【To: Lu Zhen — Keep your passion, and may your path be filled with flowers.】
By habit, he added a small, simple doodle of a fish in the bottom right corner.
“Finished. This little fish represents me,” Qiao Muyu said, satisfied. “Cute, right?”
Lu Zhen’s expression shifted. He stared blankly at the little blue fish, momentarily lost for words.
Seeing his odd expression, Qiao Muyu hesitated. “What’s wrong? You don’t like it? I can change it.”
“No,” Lu Zhen spoke up suddenly. “I like the little fish.”
Qiao Muyu’s face instantly flushed. He gave a forced, calm “Oh.”
The way he said that… was so ambiguous.
…
By the second day, everyone’s voices were raspy from a full day of cheering. Class 1 had few events left, and the atmosphere in the stands turned lazy. People were playing board games, cards, or gossiping over sunflower seeds.
Huang Zhensen, who had overperformed in the long jump to take an unprecedented fourth place, returned in glory. Du Jingfei, being good friends with him, decided to play a prank. He handed Huang a can of Coke that he had been shaking for ages, calling it a “reward.”
The unsuspecting Huang Zhensen opened it, and the soda erupted everywhere. He yelped and tossed the can aside, but half of it splashed directly onto the unfortunate bystander—Qiao Muyu.
Qiao Muyu: “…”
“Sorry, Monitor! I didn’t mean it!” Huang Zhensen pleaded, his face a mask of misery.
Qiao Muyu was annoyed, but he wasn’t the type to scream over an accident. He gritted his teeth. “…It’s fine.”
Feeling terrible, Huang Zhensen pulled a pair of gym pants from his bag. “Monitor, I brought an extra pair of clean pants. Why don’t you change?”
Qiao Muyu looked at his soaked trousers and sighed. “Thanks.”
…
Qiao Muyu took the pants to the gym next to the field, but the restrooms had long lines. By the time it was his turn, his clothes would probably have air-dried.
He looked around and noticed a quiet sports equipment room. The door wasn’t locked. He pushed it open and immediately saw the back of a tall boy.
The boy was lifting his black t-shirt over his head, revealing a broad, pale back. His muscles were lean and defined, with a light sheen of sweat over his lower back where it met the waistband of his loose black trousers. He had clearly just finished the long jump, as his pants were dusted with fine yellow sand.
Hearing the door, the boy turned around. He locked eyes with Qiao Muyu.
Lu… Lu Zhen?
“Sorry!” Qiao Muyu blurted out, quickly looking away. “I thought no one was in here.”