On Saturday, there was first the opening ceremony, followed by the various competitions.

Banners and colorful flags had already been hung up everywhere, the whole atmosphere joyful and festive.

In the vast athletic grounds, every class had staked out a section of the stands. Everyone was packed in closely together, each person bringing along drinks and snacks; the class committee had also distributed small flags and clapper toys to cheer with.

The first-year students were the most energetic — darting back and forth between different departments, small groups of close friends with arms around each other’s shoulders, watching the events or wandering around campus.

Lin Shuyu had a high jump event at four in the afternoon. Zhang Yuge arrived around one — ostensibly to have a proper look at the campus of a world-class university — but Lin Shuyu had gone back for a nap and couldn’t be reached no matter how many times he was called. Zhang Yuge, using the access code Lin Shuyu had given him, slipped into the campus on his own and strolled leisurely along the paths.

He had originally planned to check out the cafeteria, but it was already closed. Zhang Yuge went to the convenience store to buy oden. While there, he unexpectedly ran into Hu Ke’er.

Zhang Yuge had a mouthful of beef balls. The two of them stared at each other blankly for a good while. Finally, Hu Ke’er narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m going back to the athletic grounds. Where are you going?”

Zhang Yuge — for the first time using a reasonably pleasant expression — asked her, “Can I follow you?”

Hu Ke’er raised her chin with regal indifference. “Fine.”

The campus was lush with trees, paths spreading in all directions. From time to time girls in flowing skirts cycled past, or couples walked hand in hand. The temperature was just right — clear autumn air, a gentle breeze.

Hu Ke’er, being a natural-born chatterbox, couldn’t resist striking up a conversation after a while. She asked in a gossipy tone, “Hey, squid boy — do you know that your friend Kuge Lin has a thing for our Ning Sui?”

Zhang Yuge paused his step, his expression unreadable. “How do you know?”

“A woman’s sixth sense.” Hu Ke’er looked like someone who could see through everything. She scoffed. “Besides, he’s way too obvious about it.”

Zhang Yuge: “Does Ning Sui know?”

“Probably. But I don’t think she cares all that much.” Hu Ke’er delivered the brutal truth without softening it.

Even though the outcome was foreseeable, Zhang Yuge still sighed inwardly for his friend. “Your goddess is impossible to pursue — she never once agreed to meet up. Lin said it’s better to stay as friends.”

“He’s giving up just like that?” How disappointing.

“What else can he do.” Zhang Yuge glanced at her. “Or you could tell me what Ning Sui actually goes for, and I’ll have him try harder.”

Hu Ke’er couldn’t find a solid foothold in the argument but still felt the urge to jab back. “Oh? Asking questions like that — don’t tell me you like her too.”

“I’m not interested in girls my friends like, okay?” Zhang Yuge looked vaguely exasperated, his sharp, bright eyes cutting over at her with a deft deflection. “Anyway — what about your suspicious, paranoid boyfriend? Is he still trying to manage your every move from overseas?”

“……”

That was a direct hit, and Hu Ke’er was furious. What happened to basic conversational chemistry? The two of them went their separate ways the moment they entered the Wusi athletic grounds.

Zhang Yuge mixed into the crowd and found an empty seat somewhere. After waiting about half an hour, Lin Shuyu — that tortoise — finally appeared. In the arena, the 400-meter relay was well underway, the last leg of the race pushing the atmosphere to a fever pitch, the crowd absolutely electric.

Lin Shuyu asked, “Where’s A’Chen?”

Zhang Yuge: “Busy. Said he’d get here just before four.”

Lin Shuyu: “What, what if he’s even a little bit late?”

Zhang Yuge clapped him on the shoulder. “Relax. He said he wouldn’t miss his son’s big moment.”

“……”

Sure enough, when it was nearly four o’clock, Xie Yichen arrived right on time.

Athletes had their own designated waiting area. He and Zhang Yuge stood in the spectator section outside.

Xie Yichen had his usual look — a thin black zip-up jacket over a white T-shirt, black trousers. Because he was tall, he didn’t stand in the front row where he’d block anyone’s view, but rather stayed off to the side near the boundary rope.

Even making himself less conspicuous like this, Zhang Yuge still noticed a few of the girls in the surrounding crowd glancing at him on and off.

“Are there a lot of pretty girls at Qingda?” Zhang Yuge lowered his voice. “Anyone you’re interested in?”

Xie Yichen was looking at his phone with his head down. Without looking up: “No.”

Zhang Yuge wanted to say that this attitude was really not going to work — he needed to lift his head and look at the world around him. But after his gaze lingered on this young man’s face for a few seconds, he thought: never mind. Who was he to meddle.

Xie Yichen’s attention remained on his screen. He’d stopped registering what Zhang Yuge was saying.

Sui Sui Sui: [Are you at Jingda already?]

Xie Yichen: [Yeah, here to watch Lin Shuyu’s high jump]

Sui Sui Sui: [I see, is that also at four-thirty?]

Xie Yichen: [No, four o’clock. Right now]

She’d mentioned she was participating in a 1500-meter track event — the only field event she’d signed up for beyond the campus run.

Xie Yichen: [Is the distance run at the Wusi athletic grounds? I’ll come by after.]

Sui Sui Sui: [Oh]

At this moment, Ning Sui was doing her pre-race stretches with great seriousness. The 1500-meter wasn’t an easy race — it tested both endurance and speed. If the vice head of sports for her department hadn’t lobbied so enthusiastically, she never would have signed up.

With the events packed in close succession, Liang Xinyue and a few other girls from the class had been full of excitement dragging her around to watch. Ning Sui hadn’t eaten a proper lunch — just nibbled on some snacks from what had been handed out: dried fish, spicy strips, that sort of thing.

It was almost time. She took a selfie and sent it to the family group chat.

After her conversation with Xie Yichen some time ago, Ning Sui had come to understand things better: Fanfang’s need to manage and question her stemmed largely from her own insecurity. Ning Sui had started making more of an effort to share her everyday life with her, giving her more of a sense of involvement — and she genuinely felt like it had been making a difference.

In the group chat, Ning Deyan popped up cheerfully: [Our little athlete, go get ’em! 😎]

Xia Fanghui also posted: [🎊😁]

Xia Fanghui: [Safety first, competition second]

Sui Sui Sui: [I know!]

As four-thirty approached, Ning Sui glanced at her phone. Xie Yichen had sent her a photo: [I’m here.]

It was from the spot near the starting line. There were quite a lot of spectators. Ning Sui’s heart suddenly beat a little faster. She had never in earnest participated in a track event at a sports meet before — this was the first time. You could really call it a moment of impulsive sign-up.

The crowd roared all around her. Ning Sui and the other competitors walked into the arena under countless watching eyes.

Only then did the reality of actually being about to race begin to sink in. The blood in her veins seemed to briefly thicken and slow. She lifted her gaze and scanned the shifting sea of faces without any specific destination in mind.

Then her eyes went still.

— Xie Yichen was tall and long-limbed, dressed in black, standing with his hands in his pockets at a very visible spot. He was looking at her, a curve at the corner of his mouth.

Ning Sui blinked slowly. His neat, straight brow lifted slightly, and he said two words to her without a sound.

“Go on.”

Ning Sui swallowed. She pulled her gaze back.

Her fingertips pressed into her palms. The starting gun fired, and a row of competitors shot forward.

On the first lap, Ning Sui was still in a comfortable, composed state. She had a slender build — fine limbs, a narrow waist — so when she ran she looked light and effortless. The only disadvantage was that at the start she’d been pushed to the outer lane, while several other girls had already taken the inner lane — meaning she was running a longer distance than everyone else.

The stadium was a sea of people, the faces cheering along the track blurring into indistinction as her field of vision moved at speed. Ning Sui passed a few runners and settled into a steady fourth place.

As she crossed the start line again, she didn’t look at the crowd — only fixed her eyes on the red track ahead of her.

The 1500 meters meant nearly four laps. Around the beginning of the third lap, the pace noticeably slowed across the board.

Ning Sui pressed close to the inner edge of the track. Suddenly, somewhere in the area of her abdomen or stomach, a dull ache made itself known.

The sound of feet behind her was close, the runners compressed tightly together. She didn’t want to falter because of it. She gritted her teeth, and even picked up her pace slightly.

The moment she pushed like that, the pain intensified noticeably.

“Go! Go!”

On the other side of the track, the cheer squad waved their pom-poms and danced, and the deafening roar of cheering and flag-waving threatened to lift the roof of the stadium.

The atmosphere was tense and electric. As the distance stretched on, there was nothing left but the mechanical, repeated swing of arms and lift of legs. A fine sheen of sweat had appeared at Ning Sui’s temples; her vision swam with movement, colors bleeding into a dazzling blur.

The stomach pain persisted, a recurring, rhythmic throb. Ning Sui’s mind drifted vaguely — she thought it was probably the dried fish from lunch. But there was nothing she could do now. She was so close to third place, yet still pressed down behind that runner, unable to break through.

The strain of that back-and-forth drained her energy fast. As she crossed the line, the official ahead swept a red flag and called out: “Final lap!”

Ning Sui felt her body temperature running hot, her breathing heavy. She had always been someone who could endure a great deal of pain. Even with her abdomen aching like something was pressing down and puncturing with each step, she didn’t give up — she drove toward the finish one step at a time, through the wall of faces.

“Go! You’re almost there!” Someone nearby was calling out — she couldn’t tell who.

Perhaps thirty meters left. Ning Sui locked her eyes on the space ahead. The wind stung her eyes. But she gathered every last bit of strength she had, threw herself into a final sprint, and refused to ease up.

The finish tape stretched ahead, closer and closer — and then, in one final surge, Ning Sui cleared the runner ahead of her and crossed in third place.

In the instant she flew through the line, her body went loose, like a reflex she couldn’t stop.

Xie Yichen had been waiting in the tent near the finish line. One of the officials, seeing how tall he was, had asked him to hold a boundary flag. Ning Sui, in her pale pink athletic gear — short sleeves, short shorts — was easy to spot from even a great distance.

He watched her cross the finish line. He was just about to go over to meet her when he saw her stumble and fall forward, collapsing to the ground in a way that suggested real distress — she lay on her side, curling inward.

A gasp went through the crowd. Before anyone had reacted, Xie Yichen dropped the boundary flag on the table beside him, pushed through to her, and lifted her into his arms.

Ning Sui squinted against the pain, looking up against the light. She could see his jaw — a strong, sharp silhouette — and his voice, when it came, was tightly controlled. “Ning Sui, what’s wrong—”

“……”

She closed her eyes, couldn’t speak. Her head was aching terribly. Xie Yichen turned away from the light, let her rest against his shoulder, and lifted her onto his back.

The people around them — classmates and teachers — only then seemed to snap back into awareness, and quickly directed him to the location of the university medical station’s emergency vehicle parked outside the grounds.

Ning Sui’s arms were looped around his neck. Her face rested against his shoulder. At first she felt nothing but pain and heat. Then the motion started — she could feel him running, the warmth of his exertion and his breath settling heavily around her, as though it might soak through their skin.

The wind rushing toward them was sharp and cold. Xie Yichen’s back was broad and hard, and covered with a fine layer of sweat. Ning Sui’s cheek swayed against the side of his neck. She could hear his breathing, labored and deep.

The searing, scorching heat of both of them twined and churned between them. Her heartbeat thundered so fast she thought it might break free of her chest, and then, gradually, her consciousness blurred, and finally dissolved into nothing.

……

When she came to, the first thing she saw was a stark white ceiling. Ning Sui’s whole body ached, her legs most of all.

She wiggled her fingertips slightly and realized that one hand had an IV drip attached.

She was in a hospital bed at the university medical center. The clock on the wall read eight in the evening.

Three and a half hours had passed since the race.

Ning Sui looked slightly blank, her mind a beat slow. She couldn’t move her body, but she could feel her heart pounding rapidly in her chest.

Then, without intending to, her gaze drifted to the side of the bed.

Her eyes widened.

— Xie Yichen was slumped against the edge of the bed, head pillowed on his arm, face turned to one side, asleep.

A small lamp glowed on the bedside table. The curtains were half-drawn, and thin moonlight filtered through the glass — tracing his clean brow, his sharp nose, the gentle shape of his lips.

Ning Sui was still in her pink athletic outfit from earlier. The scrapes from when she’d fallen had been cleaned and treated with iodine. She suddenly noticed that his black jacket — the outer layer he’d been wearing — was no longer on him. It was draped over the blanket on top of her.

Xie Yichen was sitting on a low stool beside the bed. Bent like that, the posture was a bit awkward for someone his size, but his shoulders were level, his back and arms a clean, strong line.

Ning Sui couldn’t help but think back to the moment when he’d picked her up without a single word and started running. The heartbeat that had never quite settled stirred again in her chest, quick and unsteady.

The room was dim and soft. The young man’s dark hair fell loose. His long, fine lashes rested lightly against his eyelids, shifting in the faintest rhythm.

His right hand was tucked beneath his head. His left hand lay loosely, carelessly, across the edge of the bed — his wrist pale, his knuckles long and clearly defined.

Ning Sui pressed her lips together. Suddenly, impulsively, she found herself wanting to know what that hand felt like to the touch.

It was the feeling of a child about to do something a little mischievous. Ning Sui held her breath without meaning to, stretched out the arm without the IV drip, and let the cool tip of one finger brush lightly against the back of Xie Yichen’s hand, where the tendons rose faintly beneath the skin.

— He didn’t move.

Ning Sui stayed still for quite a while. Then, biting her lip, she tried again, tentatively touching his fingers.

Where she made contact was warm — the most real, ordinary texture of skin. Her breath stilled for a moment. Something soft somewhere inside her quietly gave way.

She let the warmth linger. Then, steadying herself, she began to withdraw.

At that instant, Xie Yichen’s fingers curled closed, catching her fingertips in their grip.

Ning Sui’s heart lurched.

His eyes were still shut. He hadn’t moved at all. And yet he had caught hold of her.

It wasn’t a particularly firm grip — but the warmth of it was absolute, and she couldn’t move an inch. Even her fingers and her arm went faintly rigid.

……How could this be happening?!

Help, help, help.

Someone, please help her.

The second hand on the wall clock ticked on, steady and unhurried.

The warmth at her fingertips refused to be ignored. His presence was too strong, too immediate — it scattered the already-tumbling thoughts in her head. Her heartbeat stumbled through several extra beats. Ning Sui breathed in slowly and forced herself to at least try to calm down first.

She began to apply gentle pressure, hoping — without waking him — to gradually ease her fingers free.

Her gaze was fixed on their joined hands. She held her breath, drawing the process out, withdrawing inch by careful inch.

She’d barely made it halfway when Xie Yichen’s fingers suddenly tightened, pinning her hand in place, securing it firmly within the warmth of his long, wide palm.

At the same time, his face still resting on his right arm, his voice came — low, lazy, like someone barely awake: “Mm. Don’t move.”