The long week finally came to an end, and another Monday arrived.
Zhang Shu moved to the second group, once again separated from Sheng Xia by an aisle.
As their desks were being moved apart, Zhang Shu asked, "Did you leave anything at my place?"
She did tend to have a lot of scattered belongings, often losing pens or correction tape during class. Zhang Shu would then lift his exercise book, and nine times out of ten, her missing items would be there.
Sheng Xia checked and replied, "No, nothing."
It wasn't until she saw him checking his drawer that she remembered the gift. Had he actually seen it?
There had been no special reaction or indication from him. Either he hadn't seen it, or if he had, he hadn't connected it to her.
In any case, she was safe.
Xin Xiaohe had moved to her left again.
Watching Xiaohe and Yang Linyu bicker every day was quite invigorating.
As the weather grew increasingly stifling, everyone seemed to hit a lethargic phase. By afternoon, Sheng Xia would start feeling drowsy, and when Hou Junqi in front of her slumped over, her sleepiness only intensified.
At such times, she would glance at Zhang Shu, who was always solving problems, and Xiaohe, who remained intensely focused. That would snap her out of her drowsiness.
Surrounded by top students, the pressure multiplied.
Over these past weeks, Sheng Xia felt the biggest difference between attending the affiliated high school and her previous school was the constant sense of urgency. There were always unfinished tasks weighing on her mind and unabsorbed knowledge swirling in her head. Both body and mind were operating at full speed.
There was no stopping.
Because everything around her kept moving, kept changing.
It was like being caught in a massive machine, spinning along unconsciously.
Mealtimes became Sheng Xia's most relaxed moments of the day.
She loved the lunch service—home-style cooking that was both delicious and nutritionally balanced.
But occasionally running into Hou Junqi and Zhang Shu could turn even these peaceful meals into something less relaxing.
That afternoon after school, Sheng Xia stopped by the fruit shop for a cucumber juice before heading upstairs to eat. Zhang Shu and Hou Junqi were already there.
Hou Junqi waved her over. "Little Sheng Xia, come sit here!"
Holding her tray, Sheng Xia hesitated. Would it seem too obvious if she didn't join them?
Thinking it would indeed be impolite, she eventually walked over.
At the square table, Zhang Shu and Hou Junqi sat facing each other. Whichever empty seat Sheng Xia chose would leave her "flanked" by two boys.
Quite conspicuous.
As she ate with her head down, she could see from the corner of her eye many people glancing their way—including the serving aunties and... the beautiful proprietress.
"Little Sheng Xia, are you really 166 cm tall?" Hou Junqi could never eat quietly.
Sheng Xia paused, instinctively glancing at Zhang Shu.
Did he and Hou Junqi share everything? Even such trivial details?
She nodded. "Mmm." Actually, that was from last year's physical exam. She might have grown a bit taller since then.
"Are you close with Lu Youze?" Hou Junqi pressed on.
The sudden topic shift confused her.
Lu Youze sat behind Xin Xiaohe, quite close to Sheng Xia, but he wasn't much of a talker. They didn't interact much beyond discussing Wang Zengqi's books that morning, which had been a slightly longer conversation.
Sheng Xia answered succinctly, "We were classmates in middle school."
Hou Junqi asked, "Did he like tattling back then too?"
Sheng Xia: ...
She looked up. "Not that I know of. I'm not really sure."
"Then you—" Whatever Hou Junqi was about to say next was cut off by Zhang Shu rapping his chopsticks against the tray.
"Talk less. If you're not eating, go stand somewhere and perform a comedy routine to lose weight," Zhang Shu said mildly, though his words were anything but polite.Hou Junqi zipped his lips with a finger gesture and obediently shut up.
Sheng Xia remained silent, thinking Hou Junqi had it tough too, being friends with someone so irritable and harsh.
During evening self-study, two workers carrying a ladder entered the classroom and tinkered around the podium for a while, drawing curious stares from everyone as they propped their chins in their hands.
Finally, the workers nailed up a massive countdown board before packing up and leaving, leaving behind a chorus of despair.
"Ah, why do I suddenly feel scared..."
"No way, there aren’t even 300 days left!"
"Please no, I'm still a baby!"
August had quietly reached its end. Remedial classes were over, and next week marked the official start of the school year—the real beginning of senior year. The countdown board now displayed the glaring red numbers of what remained of their high school journey.
286 days.
They always talked about having a whole year left in senior year, but in reality, how much of that year was truly left?
A sense of urgency surged over them like a towering wave.
"What’s all this noise? If you know time is running out, why aren’t you making the most of it? Do you think wailing will magically stretch the clock?" Wang Wei suddenly appeared at the back door, his sharp gaze sweeping over the rowdy students.
Tonight wasn’t Wang Wei’s shift for evening self-study—why was he here?
The classroom fell silent as everyone buried themselves in their work. Wang Wei called out, "Zhang Shu, come here for a moment."
Zhang Shu tossed his pen aside and stood up.
"What now?" Before Wang Wei could speak, Zhang Shu cut in impatiently once they were outside. "Does getting first place mean I have to have weekly heart-to-heart sessions with you? Maybe I should aim for second next time."
"You little—!" Wang Wei yanked the book roll tucked under his arm, raising it as if to smack Zhang Shu’s back, but he stopped mid-air and lowered it again, shooting his insufferable student a glare. "This is serious!"
Zhang Shu: "Talk."
Wang Wei slung an arm around his shoulder, turning them away from the classroom—his signature stance for serious discussions.
"Next week’s opening flag-raising ceremony—the school has arranged for you to give a speech under the national flag. You—"
Before Wang Wei could finish, Zhang Shu refused. "Not doing it."
"This isn’t something you can just refuse! Every year, the top senior gives a talk to the underclassmen about study tips. You’re doing it whether you like it or not!"
These kinds of speeches were, bluntly speaking, just morale boosters.
Zhang Shu said, "What study tips am I supposed to share? That I’m naturally gifted? Or maybe just listen in class and finish homework?"
Wang Wei was momentarily speechless.
"I heard your mistake notebooks were quite popular among the sophomores? Practically everyone had one," Wang Wei switched to a gentler approach. "Why don’t you talk about how to compile a mistake notebook?"
Hah? Even Wang Wei knew he was selling mistake notebooks—so why did some people think he was dealing in indecent materials?
Zhang Shu chuckled. "Everyone’s mistakes are different. I don’t see the point of copying mine—unless they’re using them for some superstitious ritual."
"You—!"
Every conversation with Zhang Shu left Wang Wei half-dead from frustration. Steadying his temper, he added, "If you really don’t know what to say, ask Lu Youze for advice. He’s experienced with speeches. Or at least draft something first and have Sheng Xia help you revise it."
Zhang Shu relented. "Fine."
Wang Wei exhaled in relief. Stubborn as Zhang Shu was, once he agreed to something, he usually followed through.
But then Zhang Shu added, "I can’t just summon her whenever. Why don’t you arrange it?"
Wang Wei: "Arrange what?"
"Arrange someone to revise my draft, obviously?"
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