The forum thread kept circling back around, and in the end it was never deleted — it remained active and prominent on Tenth Middle School’s forum, on track to become the highest-traffic, most-discussed post in the forum’s history.

And the identity of the original poster remained a mystery.

Curious parties, working from the main post’s claim that the poster was a mutual friend of the school tyrant and Lin Seatmate, quietly went around probing people close to the two of them.

The first target was Hu Hanghang — out of all of them, he seemed most likely to let something slip. The post’s soaring popularity had also brought him no small amount of attention of his own.

Even a trip to the bathroom wasn’t without incident. Hu Hanghang could run into someone trying to get information. “Hey, Pangpang — did you see that thread on the school forum? The School Tyrant’s Secret Crush Thread?”

“Rumor has it the poster is a mutual friend of the school tyrant and Lin Seatmate. Do you know who posted it?”

“Was it you?”

“……” Hu Hanghang deployed his standard three-pronged denial: “I didn’t do it, I wasn’t involved, stop making things up.”

“Come on, we’re practically brothers at this point — don’t be like that. Tell me quietly. I promise I won’t tell a soul.”

“No, no — stop with that tactic. It doesn’t work on me.” Hu Hanghang kept his face blank and zipped up his jacket, walking to the sink to wash his hands.

A few of the boys followed him, step for step. “Pangpang, Pangpang, don’t go — you’re not being cute about this.”

Hu Hanghang, with delicate poise, pried the grubby hands off his arm one by one and said with complete seriousness, “Don’t talk to me. I have a cleanliness condition.”

“……”

Without waiting for any response, he walked straight out the door. The boys caught themselves and were about to follow him out for a few more questions. “Pangpang!”

Backed into a corner, Hu Hanghang let out a cry: “I’m out of signal range! No reception! That’s it! Stop asking me! Ask me again and I’ll throw myself off a building!”

Everyone: “……”

On the walk back, Hu Hanghang moved like a man fleeing plague — cap pulled down to cover his face — and broke into an outright run, moving so fast that people in the hallway only caught a dark blur go by, and when they looked again, he was gone.

Student A: What just ran past?

Student B: Maybe a large black rat?

Student A: ……

Back in Class 18, Lin Tao, Song Yuan, and Xu Yichuan had their phones out during the break between classes, running a card game session together.

The game’s audio effects kept leaking from the phone speakers.

“Double Jokers!”

“Can’t match~”

Lin Tao rested her chin on her hand, looking at her cards, waiting for Xu Yichuan — who had just played the Double Jokers — to lead again. “Xu Yichuan, don’t forget — you and I are on the same team.”

“I know, relax! Just let Xu the Great carry you to victory.”

Xu Yichuan declared this with great confidence, throwing out one big card after another. Lin Tao only had a single Jack of Hearts left, meaning only the opponent — Song Yuan, who sat beneath Xu Yichuan in the order — was the one keeping up with him.

She watched Song Yuan’s hand dwindling, down to his last card, and finally couldn’t help pointing it out: “Xu Yichuan, Song Yuan only has one card left. I only have one card left too.”

“Relax, relax — there’s no way I’m letting him past.” Xu Yichuan studied his cards. “Just a second — I’ll throw one out and let you go.”

Lin Tao was uneasy. “You’d better just worry about yourself. Song Yuan only has one card left — if you finish first, we win too.”

This card game was a two-versus-one format: a pair of “farmers” against a “landlord.” As long as one of the two farmers played out their hand first, the other was also counted as winning.

There was also a doubling rule: certain plays — like four of a kind, or the Double Jokers — multiplied the stake by a corresponding amount.

This particular round hadn’t had many multipliers at first, but Xu Yichuan and Song Yuan had each played a Double Jokers and a set of four-of-a-kinds against each other in rapid succession, stacking multiplier upon multiplier.

If they lost this round, Lin Tao’s coin stash was basically gone.

With her livelihood in mind, Lin Tao kept urging Xu Yichuan, “Song Yuan also has one card left — just play your high cards!”

Xu Yichuan, still reviewing his hand, nodded and said “sure” — and then promptly threw out the Eight of Diamonds.

Lin Tao: “……”

Song Yuan smiled pleasantly and discarded his last card, the Ten of Diamonds. “Sorry — I win.”

Three phones produced two different sets of sound effects.

Lin Tao stared at the greyed-out screen on her phone, her heart sinking. “Xu Yichuan, I told you to play your high cards!”

“I did!” Xu Yichuan was deeply aggrieved. “My other card was the Four of Diamonds — isn’t eight higher than four?”

“……”

Song Yuan said solemnly beside them, “I’ve said it before — playing on a team with Xu Yichuan, you’re better off just being the landlord and fighting alone.”

Lin Tao shrugged helplessly, just about to say something, when she caught sight of Hu Hanghang diving in through the back door. She laughed. “Pangpang, what’s gotten into you?”

Hu Hanghang, believing he had finally reached safety, flipped his cap backward to reveal his round, fair face. “Don’t get me started — I can’t even go to the bathroom now without someone cornering me about that forum thread.”

The moment she heard “forum thread,” Lin Tao went quiet as a switched-off microphone.

Xu Yichuan got up to return his seat to Hu Hanghang, then dragged an empty chair from nearby and sat in the aisle. “You know, it’s actually kind of strange. Who on earth made that post?”

He looked at Song Yuan, then at Hu Hanghang, then turned to look at Lin Tao and at Jiang Yan, who was napping with his head on his desk beside her, and finally even held up his compact mirror to look at himself.

“Since the original poster claims to be a mutual friend of Lin Tao and Jiang Yan.” Xu Yichuan crossed his arms, finger tapping his chin, mentally playing the Detective Conan theme. “Then there is only one truth.”

His gaze traveled over each person’s face once more before settling on Hu Hanghang. He raised a hand and pointed. “Pangpang, come clean — was it you who made the post?”

Hu Hanghang, who had believed himself finally safe: “……”

“You and I are completely beyond rational discourse.” Hu Hanghang stood up, rolled back the sleeves of his hoodie, and bent down to pick up a stool. “Come on — let’s just settle this with our fists.”

Xu Yichuan laughed and backed away. “Hey, Pangpang, don’t be like that — I was just joking. Calm down and put the stool down first.”

At that, Hu Hanghang actually obeyed and put the stool down.

Before Xu Yichuan could finish his sigh of relief, he watched Hu Hanghang — stool back in place — reach right back and grab the English dictionary off the desk and hurl it at him.

“……Damn.” Drawing on years of basketball experience, Xu Yichuan caught the heavy dictionary with quick reflexes, and complained, “Pangpang, you really do throw to injure.”

Hu Hanghang gave a cold snort and grabbed a reference book to throw next.

Xu Yichuan dodged and scrambled to catch — after several rounds of this, with no room to dodge and no time to catch, he just went full-on frontal and scooped up a whole stack of books, hurling them straight at Hu Hanghang.

Books and papers scattered across the floor with a noisy clatter.

One thinner volume — a geography atlas — broke free from the rest, sailing through the air and landing squarely on Jiang Yan’s back, right where he was napping. It then slid to the floor with a faint thud.

“……”

A brief silence fell over the room.

Hu Hanghang and Xu Yichuan went completely rigid where they stood, staring as Jiang Yan slowly raised his head. Both felt with a growing certainty that they might not make it out of today.

Jiang Yan hadn’t actually been asleep. He’d heard every word they said — he was just tired and didn’t feel like moving.

He sat up, reached up to press his temple, and turned to look at the two who were on the verge of melting into each other, his face expressionless. “Who threw that?”

“Uh, Jiang Yan, hear me out.” Xu Yichuan was first to deflect responsibility. “First of all, it definitely wasn’t me who threw it.”

Hu Hanghang: “?”

“……”

Lin Tao, watching Xu Yichuan keep a straight face and lie through his teeth, caught a glimpse of her own reflection — the way she always spun yarns in front of Jiang Yan — and pressed her lips tight, doing her best to hold back a smile.

Xu Yichuan set about faithfully reconstructing the entire sequence of events for Jiang Yan: from the card game, all the way to Hu Hanghang coming back in, then bringing in the matter of the forum thread.

Jiang Yan had no patience for the long version. “Get to the point.”

Xu Yichuan immediately wrapped it up and delivered what he considered the key point: “Who made the forum thread.”

Lin Tao: “……”

Brother, are you sure that’s the point?

Hu Hanghang, with a bellyful of grievances, was still figuring out what to say to earn himself at least a slim chance of survival — when Jiang Yan said out of nowhere, in a calm, unhurried voice, “The forum thread was made by Guan Che.”

Four jaws hit the floor simultaneously: “!!!!!”

Jiang Yan first glanced at Lin Tao, then turned back to the three of them with a completely unruffled expression and repeated: “Guan Che made it. Ask again and I’ll hit you.”

Even the battle-hardened Lin Tao was stunned by Jiang Yan’s move. The three boys, who had absolutely no idea what was going on, were even more so.

It was more shocking than a bolt of lightning on a clear, sunny day.

“Wait — why would Guan Che do that?” Once the topic was closed, the three boys huddled together. “Guan Che doesn’t seem like that kind of person.”

Xu Yichuan offered a theory: “You never really know what people are like on the inside.”

Song Yuan and Hu Hanghang, in unison: “Shut your mouth!”

Xu Yichuan: “……”

Lin Tao looked at Jiang Yan, who was sitting as if absolutely nothing had happened. “You just handed the blame off to Guan Che like that — is that really okay?”

“It’s fine.” Jiang Yan was completely unbothered. “He can take one more.”

“……”

Over in the classroom of Ninth Middle School, Guan Che — who was in the middle of working through a practice paper — suddenly sneezed. “Damn, who the hell is bad-mouthing me behind my back.”

Under the weight of Jiang Yan’s repeated warnings, Hu Hanghang and the others didn’t dare, not even with ten times the courage, to go quietly ask Guan Che why he’d made the post.

So the completely unsuspecting Guan Che was kept in the dark — for several years, as it turned out.

But of course, all of that was a story for another time.

After the New Year’s holiday ended, the national mathematics competition released its results to schools across the country. A total of ten students from Xi City’s exam district made the final ranking.

Among them, three third-year students from Ninth Middle School, First Middle School, and the Normal University Affiliated High School achieved first, third, and fifth place, respectively — outstanding results.

On the day the results came out, a large red banner was hung high at the gate of Ninth Middle School:

Congratulations to our school’s Class Three (Science) student Guan Che for winning first place in this year’s National Mathematics Competition!

But compared to the school’s fanfare, Guan Che was considerably more understated. Once the results came in, he called his parents first, then sent messages to his teachers and the coaches from the training camp, and finally switched off his phone entirely, went to the internet café, and caught up on sleep — indifferent to all the commotion outside.

Afterward, Guan Che’s homeroom teacher, unable to reach him, called his parents. His parents also couldn’t reach him, so the call was eventually redirected to Jiang Yan.

“Xiao Che turned his phone off — no idea where he’s hiding. His homeroom teacher has something urgent to tell him. Can you try to reach him?”

Guan Che’s mother’s voice sounded a little anxious and worried. Jiang Yan said reassuringly, “Don’t worry, Auntie. Guan Che won’t wander off anywhere — he’s probably just sleeping at the internet café. I’ll go check, and I’ll call you back later.”

Guan Che’s mother agreed.

Jiang Yan ended the call, went back to the classroom to get his jacket, and before leaving told Lin Tao, “No one can reach Guan Che. I’m going to the café to check on him.”

Lin Tao looked up at him. “Alright, go ahead.”

“Right.”

Tenth Middle School was neither close nor terribly far from the internet café. On the way over, Jiang Yan called Xiao Liu, one of the staff on duty at the café. “Is Guan Che at the internet café?”

“Guan Che is here — he came back not long ago. Said he wanted to sleep and told us not to bother him.”

“Got it.”

Jiang Yan ended the call and walked briskly toward the school gate.

Ten minutes later, he arrived at the café.

“Jiang Yan.” Xiao Liu looked up, recognized him, and called out a greeting.

Jiang Yan acknowledged him and headed straight upstairs.

Guan Che’s room door was unlocked — one push and it opened. The curtains were up; Jiang Yan could see him lying face-down on the bed, still in his jacket, shoes still on.

Jiang Yan stopped in the doorway and gave two light knocks on the door frame. “I’m coming in.”

The room was quiet for a few seconds. Without moving, Guan Che gave a soft laugh. “Why didn’t you come stand in front of me and tell me you were coming in?”

“I’m a good, upstanding member of society. I do not enter anyone’s room without the owner’s consent.”

Hearing that, Guan Che rolled over and sat up. He looked at Jiang Yan standing in the doorway and raised an eyebrow slightly. “Good. Then I do not consent. You may leave.”

Jiang Yan, as if he’d heard nothing, walked calmly into the room. “I forgot — you’re not a person.”

“……” Guan Che rubbed his temple lightly. “Let me guess — was it my mom or my dad who called you?”

Jiang Yan shrugged and said nothing.

Guan Che, barely pausing to think, said, “My mom, most likely.”

“You know, then.” Jiang Yan found a spot to sit and settled in. “Your school’s teacher couldn’t reach you, so they called your Auntie.”

Guan Che sighed. “Figured it’d go that way.”

“Figured it would, and you still turned your phone off?”

“What would picking up accomplish? All they’d say is school stuff — same old lines, every time. It’s exhausting to hear.” Guan Che looked at Jiang Yan, lounging at ease, and sighed. “When your results come in, you’ll understand what I feel like right now.”

Jiang Yan smiled. “What’s it like?”

“Nowhere to hide.” Then, as an afterthought, he joked, “Though then again — you might never get to know what it feels like to take first place.”

“……”