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The English speech competition was, honestly, a bit tedious.

On the stage, the contestants spoke with passionate intensity. In the audience, the listeners sat dull and lifeless — for no other reason than that they could barely understand a word.

What the students had grown accustomed to hearing was the slow, clear, standardised English of their listening comprehension exercises, usually presented in dialogue form. By comparison, the competing speakers were far too fast, and their enunciation was not always crisp — listen as they might, the audience could only reliably catch the same opener everyone shared: “Good morning, everyone! My name is XXX, and it’s my honour to speak here…”

Many people simply lowered their heads and played with their phones, only occasionally glancing up at the stage.

The talent showcase segment was something to look forward to, at least — regardless of how well the contestants performed, it would at least be more interesting. And some girls, like Fang Zhixiao, had come specifically for He Youyuan. It was said that in middle school, he had performed a song called Going in Circles at the school anniversary gala, and for the next two weeks the school’s broadcast station had played nothing else. In the warm, slightly hazy evening breeze of summer, you could hear someone humming it at any moment:

Passing the school and flower shop, from the wilderness to the sea / There is a kind of romance that means wasting time…

Later, the school administration decided the atmosphere on campus was growing a little too romantic — inevitably stirring up those restless little desires in the students — and so the broadcast station was told to stop playing it, sticking instead to motivational tracks.

But whether they would actually hear He Youyuan sing today was still an open question. The host had announced before the competition began that the talent showcase and free Q&A were only for the next stage — only the top ten contestants from the speech segment would advance to compete in those rounds.

This earned Fang Zhixiao an enormous eye-roll.

She had heard from boys in the class who were close to He Youyuan that the reason He Youyuan was willing to enter this competition at all was because his small aunt, the English teacher, had offered it as a trade: if he agreed to participate, she would go to Chen Guoming and collect his phone for him.

Which meant He Youyuan probably had no intention of actually placing. He had come to go through the motions.

When Class Twelve held its internal selection, his manner had been fairly casual — he read his script without any rise or fall in tone. But his voice was so genuinely pleasant — unhurried, with an easy, free-spirited quality — and his pronunciation was excellent: fluid and natural. The students agreed that while expression could be practised, pronunciation was not something developed in a day or two. And besides, having a handsome boy like this represent the class was already a win in itself. Whatever the process, He Youyuan won by a wide margin.

A burst of applause suddenly rang out from the audience. Contestant No. 5 had finished speaking.

The host walked onstage, score card in hand: “Thank you to Contestant No. 5 for their wonderful speech. We will now announce the final score for Contestant No. 4 — 91.33 points. Please welcome Contestant No. 6 to the stage, with Contestant No. 7 to prepare.”

He Youyuan had drawn Contestant No. 7 in the lottery.

“Come on, come on!” Fang Zhixiao pulled her fist to her chest, voice hushed but heartfelt. “You have to make the top ten — otherwise we’ll have come here today for nothing.”

He Youyuan, leaning lazily against the back of his seat, raised his eyes at that and gave her an unhurried look.

Fang Zhixiao felt a flicker of guilt under that gaze, and blinked, quickly patching it up: “That is to say… making the top ten is just a small starting goal! We’re rooting for you to win first place!”

“Is that so?” He Youyuan raised his brow, seemingly amused. He tilted his chin toward the other three girls. “Do they want me to get first place too?”

His dark eyes carried something of a challenging spark.

Fang Zhixiao only then remembered that the other three were all from Class One — including one of the actual competitors. Of course they would be hoping their own class would win. She drew her neck in awkwardly, turned back, and looked at Li Kuiyi with a slightly wronged expression.

Li Kuiyi paused her thumb over her phone screen, looked up at He Youyuan, and said calmly: “We’re not that small-minded. We’re all friends — if you got first place, we’d naturally be happy for you.”

The emphasis she placed, very deliberately, fell on the words “if you.”

Her challenging undertone was even more pronounced than his.

Li Kuiyi was not certain of He Youyuan’s actual ability — but she was very certain of Xia Leyi’s. In a word: flawless. The chances of him taking first over her were, in Li Kuiyi’s estimation, not particularly high.

So she was technically just borrowing someone else’s strength to make a bold claim.

Xia Leyi leaned over too, tilting her head slightly, and smiled brilliantly: “You want first place? I disagree.”

After she said that, a few students in the rows ahead could not help turning around to look her over from head to toe, then leaned together whispering. Xia Leyi showed not the slightest embarrassment, and simply took out a small compact mirror and tidied her carefully curled hair.

He Youyuan alone felt completely baffled: hold on — when did this suddenly turn into a competition with him?

Had he ever said he wanted first place?

He had only — after hearing Fang Zhixiao say things like “we’ll have come here for nothing” and “we all want you to win first place” — wanted to check whether the person with the sour face was included in that “we.” That was all.

Whether he placed or not was irrelevant to him. He only wanted his phone back, and maybe a chance to look impressive on stage. Not that this meant he was going to take the competition carelessly — he had a face to maintain. Performing too poorly would be more embarrassing than anything.

But now he had been forced into it against his will. He was like an idle heir who only cared about eating and having fun, suddenly dragged onto a throne and told: “The entire kingdom is counting on you now!”

Exhausting.

He Youyuan crossed his arms and slumped in his chair, quietly disgruntled. At some point, another wave of applause broke from the audience — Contestant No. 6 was done. The host walked onstage again: “Thank you to Contestant No. 6 for their wonderful speech. We will now announce the final score for Contestant No. 5 — 89.72 points. Please welcome Contestant No. 7 to the stage, with Contestant No. 8 to prepare.”

He Youyuan cursed darkly inside, kept his face cold, and stood up. The four girls beside him tilted their heads back in unison and wished him good luck.

Hypocrites, every one of them, he thought — and walked down the steps.

As a matter of fact: if you are handsome enough, even rough plain cloth cannot dim your light — let alone something like a school uniform, which carries its own crisp, youthful energy. The line of the boy’s shoulders was straight and broad, his silhouette slim when seen from the side, above which was the visible bump of an Adam’s apple and a sharp, lean jawline. Like a natural magnetic field, he drew countless pairs of eyes to follow him along the short walk to the stage.

“…We have someone at this level in our year? I’ve had no idea this whole semester!”

“Didn’t I tell you — the one who got publicly criticised was really good-looking? You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Who could have imagined this good-looking!”

Even after He Youyuan stepped onto the stage, the gazes following him had not dispersed. After all, opportunities to openly stare at a handsome boy were rare — you might as well look your fill while you had the chance.

The rate of heads raised in the audience was remarkably high.

He Youyuan adjusted the microphone stand upward, his expression carrying its characteristic looseness: “Good morning, everyone. Before my talk, well, let me do a little research first. When you were young, if your family has asked you this question, please raise your hand — Do you want to go to Tsinghua University or Peking University?”

A wave of laughter broke through the audience, and everyone happily cooperated, raising their hands.

Fang Zhixiao raised her hand too, but said with a slight pout: “He only dares to ask the audience questions because he’s good-looking. If he weren’t, no one would bother responding.” She thought for a moment. “Is this something he added on the spot? He didn’t have this part when he presented in our class.”

Li Kuiyi did not raise her hand, and only smiled: “Maybe he really does want to win first place.”

He Youyuan swept his gaze across the audience, then gestured for everyone to put their hands down. But he suddenly let a light smile lift the corners of his mouth, lifted the microphone from its stand, walked to the front of the judges’ table, and held the microphone out to Chen Guoming: “How about you?”

Chen Guoming: “…”

You little rascal — you’re pulling this stunt in front of me now, are you?

The auditorium erupted in laughter. Even the other evaluators at the judges’ table turned to look at Chen Guoming, chuckling.

Chen Guoming’s lips twitched for a long moment, before finally squeezing out: “No.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” He Youyuan said, looking genuinely pained. “You don’t have a complete childhood.”

Chen Guoming: “…”

It was rare to see the usually stern year-level director teased like this, and the crowd dissolved into helpless, full-body laughter, nearly lifting the auditorium ceiling off.

He Youyuan took two strides back onto the stage and began in earnest: “More than 90% of you raised your hands just now, which may seem to show a funny phenomenon…”

Li Kuiyi suddenly found this interesting.

Rather than drily shouting slogans about “striving” and “forging ahead,” he began from a small yet universal phenomenon from people’s childhoods, and from there moved into the topic of ideals. He did not try to encourage everyone to boldly pursue their ideals — instead, he dissected what an ideal actually was, and what its meaning might be.

He used no rousing tone to ignite fighting spirit. He simply stood on the stage in an unhurried way, exploring the idea with calm openness: perhaps what glittered was not the ideal itself, but the self that was forged in the pursuit of it. The effort, the conviction, the learning gathered in the quest for Tsinghua or Peking University — these might matter more than the offer letter itself.

He’s going to land himself in trouble saying this — Chen Guoming will hate it, Li Kuiyi thought with a quiet smile.

He finished by saying that for him, an ideal was a kind of self-righteous persistence — if he believed he was right, he would press forward without hesitation.

Li Kuiyi looked steadily at the young man on the stage.

Oh. What a coincidence — you too…

No, no. Li Kuiyi quickly shook the thought away. Impossible. She could not possibly feel any resonance with He Youyuan. It was a fluke — a blind cat landing on a dead mouse. And who was to say he had even written that script himself.

But she could not help looking at him for one more moment.

She assumed his speech was nearly over — but then he launched into something entirely unrelated, keeping a perfectly straight face as he delivered a joke: “When I was small, my family would also ask me whether I wanted to go to Tsinghua University or Peking University. I thought about it, and said — Peking University, I suppose. Because I was afraid that Tsinghua University might have toads.”

He gave a bow and stepped off the stage with a flourish.

Five seconds passed before the audience slowly worked out what he was saying — and broke into another round of explosive laughter that nearly brought the auditorium ceiling down.

So childish, Li Kuiyi thought dismissively — yet she found herself clapping for him all the same.

Fine. He was just slightly better than she had imagined.

After coming off the stage, He Youyuan did not return to his original seat, but found a place to sit in the front rows.

Seeing that he had not come back, Fang Zhixiao grew more daring and enthusiastically began sharing her impressions: “I used to only like the cold and handsome type. But today I suddenly feel like the fun-and-chaos type has a lot of charm too. If you were dating someone like that, I imagine every day would be interesting and happy.” Then her thoughts drifted further afield. “Oh, speaking of — if you had to choose, would you rather cry in the back of a cold and handsome man’s BMW, or laugh on the back seat of a charismatic troublemaker’s bicycle?”

Li Kuiyi: “…”

If you like handsome boys just say so. Why are you sorting them into categories?

Zhou Fanghua: “…”

Are you sure he’s the fun-and-chaos type? He seems a little intimidating to me.

Xia Leyi: “…”

Fun and chaos types can’t have BMWs?

After Contestant No. 8 finished speaking, the host took the stage to announce He Youyuan’s score: “The final score for Contestant No. 7 is — 92.80 points. Next please…”

The rest of the sentence had not even been spoken before a long wave of disbelief rippled through the auditorium: “Huh?”

Although it was the highest score so far, everyone felt it was too low — there should have been a bigger gap between him and the other contestants.

But the impact of his speech had clearly been in a different league from the others. Even setting aside the filter one might apply to a handsome face, his fluid, accurate pronunciation and his effortlessly commanding stage presence put him heads above the rest.

“It’s Chen Guoming, it has to be Chen Guoming!” Fang Zhixiao said, grinding her teeth with fury. “He’s definitely holding a grudge — he gave him a low score.”

“Surely not,” Zhou Fanghua said, eyes wide with surprise. “He’s the year-level director — would he really be that petty?”

“It’s also possible,” Li Kuiyi said, “that the evaluating teachers felt he was a bit too cheeky, or that the ideas in his script conflicted with the school’s philosophy.”

Xia Leyi sighed. “Even though he’s my competitor, I still think his score was too low.”

The four girls looked over at He Youyuan with some sympathy — only to find him with his eyes half-shut, letting out a tiny yawn, nearly sliding off his chair into sleep.

“…”

Really. All that worry for nothing.

Xia Leyi was Contestant No. 13.

When she walked onto the stage, holding up her skirt, the eyes that followed her were, if anything, more numerous than those that had followed He Youyuan. The young woman’s eyes were bright and expressive, her bearing exquisite — in the blue-green dress, she looked as though she had risen from the deepest part of the sea.

“You’d have to be that beautiful to dare wear a dress like that,” Fang Zhixiao said with a touch of dejection. “If you weren’t pretty enough, people would say you’re not worthy of the dress.”

Li Kuiyi rarely heard Fang Zhixiao speak so self-consciously. She was always bold and bright — a luminous person herself. But even luminous people, when they encountered something more dazzling, could feel their own light dim.

“No one would say you’re not worthy of that dress. We’re all ordinary people — who’s looking down on whom?” Li Kuiyi offered.

Clearly her comfort was ineffective. Fang Zhixiao still let out a long sigh.

Zhou Fanghua’s big, round eyes settled on Fang Zhixiao’s face, studied her for a moment, and said sincerely: “You’re very pretty. Your nose and your mouth are especially beautiful.”

Shyness bloomed visibly on Fang Zhixiao’s face — and she perked up, uncharacteristically bashful: “Really?”

“Really — why would I lie?”

Fang Zhixiao immediately hugged Zhou Fanghua’s arm and nuzzled against her shoulder.

Li Kuiyi: “…”

She thought she might have finally grasped the art of offering comfort.

Xia Leyi’s speech maintained her consistent standard — in language, in emotional expression, in presentation, in the effect she created in the room: flawless in every way. Halfway through, Li Kuiyi already knew she had won.

And indeed, Xia Leyi surpassed He Youyuan’s score, receiving 95.12 points.

After stepping off the stage, Xia Leyi did not return to her original seat either, but sat down beside He Youyuan.

With such a striking pair seated together, the attention they attracted was considerable. People glanced over and began whispering about their relationship.

Even a few of the evaluating teachers could not help stealing a glance. He Youyuan happened to look up at that moment and caught Chen Guoming’s eyes — and he could read clearly what was written in them: “What are you getting yourself into now…”

He Youyuan felt equally helpless. It wasn’t his fault he attracted this kind of attention.

He looked away without expression and glanced back toward where he had been sitting. Fang Zhixiao had apparently noticed Xia Leyi was not returning, and moved into her seat. Li Kuiyi sat in the middle, her arms spread wide, one to each side…

Impressive.

He Youyuan had to admit defeat.

In truth, Li Kuiyi had been stealing a few extra glances at Fang Zhixiao and Zhou Fanghua clinging to each other, and Fang Zhixiao — assuming she was jealous again — had promptly swapped seats.

On the stage, Contestant No. 15 was competing. In the audience, patience was running thin. Even phones had lost their appeal. Some people simply gazed about listlessly, or tipped their heads to the side and used a friend’s shoulder as a pillow.

“I’ve had so much English input today that my ears are about to be sick.” Fang Zhixiao slumped in her chair with no energy left.

Li Kuiyi tried applying what she had just learnt: “Your English scores are still quite good — surely a bit of English input like this is nothing for you?”

Fang Zhixiao looked up with one eye: “Li Kuiyi, are you being passive-aggressive?”

Li Kuiyi: “…”

Still needed more practice, it seemed.

“…Next, please welcome Contestant No. 16 to the stage, with Contestant No. 17 to prepare.”

As the host’s voice settled, the auditorium fell briefly, oddly quiet for two seconds.

Li Kuiyi and the others looked up.

It was a girl with difficulty walking. She was being supported by a classmate on one side, with a crutch tucked under her other arm, making her way slowly, step by careful step, toward the stage.

Thunderous applause suddenly broke out below.

Li Kuiyi had seen this girl a few times before — on the way to or from school — but had never thought they might be in the same year.

The girl made her way with great effort onto the stage, steadied herself, and looked out at the audience with a shy, grateful smile.

Then she began her speech. She said her name was Yan You. Perhaps because she was a little nervous, her voice carried a faint trembling quality — but she did her best to keep it steady, and her face held a quiet, calm smile.

In the presence of such an unusual classmate, no one could quite bring themselves to play with their phones or fall asleep anymore. People sat up and listened in earnest, and the rows that had been rustling with murmurs fell into complete silence.

Yan You grew steadily better as she spoke. Her voice evened out, flowing into the ears like clear, bright spring water. She spoke of her own story — the only one among all the speakers to use narrative rather than argument or emotional appeal as her mode of expression.

Five minutes felt long. It held ten years of a girl’s hard path toward learning. When the speech ended, the audience broke into loud, sustained applause once more. As Yan You was helped off the stage, the host also said more than he usually might — calling this the finest example of what it meant to strive.

From somewhere behind Li Kuiyi, a boy let out a quiet laugh and muttered to the person beside him: “Which class is she from? That’s a little calculating, isn’t it — sending a disabled girl to compete. The sympathy points alone must be maxed out.”

“Right — that’s just political correctness,” the other replied.

Li Kuiyi was about to turn around when another girl’s voice came from further back: “You two are something else. If you can’t learn to show basic respect, you could try choosing to be quiet.”

“Oh — look at you, being the only one with a conscience.”

Li Kuiyi exhaled quietly inside. Sometimes she wanted to argue with people like this — then thought better of it. Arguing was pointless. You could squabble over trivial things all day and not change a single prejudice. She had known this since childhood, from arguing with her grandmother.

Without quite knowing why, she thought suddenly of what He Youyuan had said during his speech — that an ideal, for him, was a kind of self-righteous persistence. If he believed he was right, he would press forward without hesitation.

She was that kind of person too. Or rather, she had once been. But now she was no longer certain. Sometimes she wanted to wear down her own edges — because she thought it might make things easier for herself.

On the night she had decided not to enter the competition, she had wanted desperately to pick a fight with someone — ideally her parents. She had wanted to throw a tantrum in front of them, blame them for never keeping her close, blame them for never giving her enough warmth to make her bold enough to ask them for anything. But she had not dared. She could only replay the scenes of some grand quarrel in her head, over and over again. She was afraid that if she actually lost her temper, they might cast her aside.

Even though the bond between them was so thin it was barely more than nothing — she was still afraid of that nothing.

So what then, Li Kuiyi — is that destined to make you more and more timid?

She let her gaze rest on Yan You for a long moment, then shifted to Xia Leyi. A thought rose in her suddenly, the way Fang Zhixiao’s had risen earlier: does Xia Leyi have troubles too?

She must, surely. So what are hers? Are they serious?

Li Kuiyi, you really are tedious — what are you even doing, thinking about things like this?

She rubbed her forehead in restless irritation, and her fringe grew a little dishevelled.

At that moment, another speaker finished, and the host stepped onto the stage: “The final score for Contestant No. 16 is — 95.23 points. Next please welcome…”

The entire auditorium drew a collective breath.

Then, as though a pot had come to the boil: “How much? 95.23? Is that higher than the one from Class One?”

“Seriously? On what grounds — her speech wasn’t even that exceptional.”

“I mean, sympathy points are fine, but this is a bit excessive, don’t you think?”

All manner of voices broke out at once.

In the end it was Chen Guoming who rose from his seat, let out a sharp, cold reprimand: “What is all the commotion?!”

The room went instantly quiet — but the moment he turned back around, people pressed together again, murmuring amongst themselves.

Li Kuiyi looked over at Yan You, whose head was bowed, her hair falling across her face, expression impossible to read. All she could see was Yan You’s hands balled into fists on her knees, her body seeming to want to curl itself as small as possible and vanish entirely into the noise around her.

Behind Li Kuiyi, those two boys spoke again with satisfaction: “See — exactly what I said. It’s political correctness. Some people who don’t understand pretend to be righteous about it. But look — she didn’t need your pity. She got first place!”

“Which class is she from? Have to make sure to walk the other way if we see them in future. Too good at playing the system.”

Fang Zhixiao could not take it anymore and spun around: “What are you barking about? If you’re unhappy with this result, go to the front and tell the evaluating teachers — they’re the ones who gave those scores. What — you don’t dare? Then all I can say is: you’re nothing but a pair of cowards who only pick on easy targets!”

One of the boys let out a contemptuous huff. “Look at you — do you get some kind of satisfaction out of identifying with the winner?”

“You say she’s a winner. But please tell me — what exactly has she won?” Li Kuiyi could not hold it in any longer. “First place? But the competition isn’t over yet. It’s a little premature to say that now. And furthermore, if she did pull strings and buy favourable scores from the evaluating teachers, then I —”

Before she could finish, Zhou Fanghua beside her tugged gently at her sleeve. Li Kuiyi looked back — and found Chen Guoming turned around, staring directly at her. She could read it plainly in his eyes: the look that said “Li Kuiyi, how far you have fallen.”

She swallowed, and immediately sat quietly back in her seat.

The competition continued. But no one was paying attention anymore — the criticism had migrated online, and within a few minutes, several new threads had appeared on the school’s bulletin board forum.

It was only when the speech segment ended and the talent showcase and free Q&A began that heads started lifting again.

The talent performances went in reverse order of the speech rankings. What surprised everyone was that the showcase was not particularly impressive to watch — most contestants either sang English songs or recited English poetry.

Less entertaining than joining the quarrel on the forum.

He Youyuan was the third from last to take the stage. He came up empty-handed, but Zhang Chuang following behind him had a guitar strapped to his back, which gave the whole thing a certain air of occasion.

You still had to give a handsome boy his due — people put down their phones one more time.

He Youyuan wasted no words: “What Makes You Beautiful, by One Direction.”

Fang Zhixiao stared in disbelief: “Isn’t that your favourite group?”

Li Kuiyi said helplessly: “So? Are only I allowed to like them, and no one else in the world?”

But Fang Zhixiao was not to be deterred, and leaned close, like a whispering demon: “Wow. Singing a song by your favourite group, just for you. How romantic.”

Li Kuiyi pinched her waist sharply.

The guitar began. He Youyuan’s voice followed.

You’re insecure Don’t know what for You’re turning heads when you walk through the door…

Li Kuiyi could not tell whether it was her imagination — but she felt that He Youyuan’s voice carried in it the fearlessness of someone still young enough not to know what to be afraid of.

It was precisely this fearlessness that made his singing sound utterly sincere. Like a boy with bright, shining eyes catching yours across a surging crowd, grabbing your hand and running forward, saying he wants to go and watch the sunset together, to see the sea. And you trust him without reason — trust that if he says he will come, he will come — and believe that he has flowers hidden somewhere behind his back.

Li Kuiyi shook her head. No — she did not like running. She had absolutely no intention of running anywhere.

But she found herself swaying her head along with the melody without realising it, quietly humming the words under her breath.

And then, suddenly — his gaze cut through the crowd and landed directly in her eyes.