Sheng Xia felt a bit lost.

This place, though called a dressing room, was a converted dispatch room with just a few desks and chairs. The changing area was formerly the duty staff’s bedroom. The space wasn’t large, and it was already overcrowded. The tables were covered with cosmetics, and dresses were scattered across the floor—formal gowns and petticoats spread everywhere, leaving barely any room to step.

Sheng Xia, already not good at dealing with people, and with Fu Jie not yet arrived, found herself at a loss for words when faced with over a dozen curious eyes.

She unconsciously looked back at Zhang Shu, unaware that her eyes carried a plea for help.

Zhang Shu sighed inwardly—she should look in a mirror sometimes; she shouldn’t always stare at people with such a pitiful look. Who could resist that? He’d call anyone grandpa who could.

“Wait over there,” he steadied Sheng Xia’s shoulder, guiding her to the side, then pulled open the door handle behind her waist. He walked around to check something behind the door, then suddenly went to one of the desks, pushing the scattered items inward to reveal a number marked ‘6’ at the corner.

Zhang Shu turned around and asked the room: “Whose stuff is this?”

People looked at each other, shaking their heads.

Zhang Shu said, “Take it away. This desk belongs to Class 6.”

He was tall—in the low dispatch room, his hand could almost touch the ceiling. His tone was cold, carrying an air of disdain.

The previously noisy Room 105 fell silent.

Just as the tension peaked, the changing room door opened, revealing an ethereal beige tulle dress. The waistline was high and slim, paired with chestnut-colored curls and a bright face—young and beautiful.

“A-Shu? Why are you here?” Chen Mengyao’s eyes lit up as she walked over, holding up her dress.

“Bringing our goddess over,” Zhang Shu turned slightly, stepping back half a step and pointing at desk number six. “Is that your stuff?”

Chen Mengyao followed his gesture and nodded, “Yes.”

In the same direction, she saw Sheng Xia.

A girl she had noticed many times—Class 6’s transfer student, Zhang Shu’s deskmate, the one who took Zhou Xuanxuan’s place as a sign-bearer goddess.

Every time this girl passed by Class 4 to get water, there would be several boys calling out “Hey, that girl from Class 6” “Look quick,” as if they’d spotted some rare panda.

Sheng Xia’s arms felt stiff holding the box, whether from holding it too long or because of his words “our goddess”…

Though they all called her that, Sheng Xia hadn’t fully adapted to this culture and felt somewhat uncomfortable.

“You don’t have your desk?” Zhang Shu turned his head to look at the equally crowded desk beside them and laughed, though it wasn’t clear if it was mockery or helplessness. He typically maintained this casual attitude. “Didn’t you see the arrangement chart behind the door?”

Chen Mengyao was surprised, “What chart?”

Zhang Shu didn’t want to elaborate, “Never mind what chart, just move it. We need to put our things here.”

Chen Mengyao suddenly fingered the pendant on her necklace and asked, “A-Shu, does it look nice?”

Zhang Shu stepped back another step, only now noticing her necklace was the same as the one he bought for Zhang Sujin. His eyebrows raised slightly as he nodded: “Not bad.”

Chen Mengyao lifted her dress again, asking him to look, “Pretty, right?”

Zhang Shu urged: “Can’t look, quick, move, your, stuff.”

“Zhang Shu, your mouth needs treatment, better early than late—it might be incurable soon,” Chen Mengyao glared at him and called to the two people accompanying her, “Come get these things.”

Of the two people, Sheng Xia recognized the girl—they’d met at the water fountain and bathroom, she was from Class 4. The other was a male wearing makeup, probably not from their school, likely a makeup artist from a cosmetics counter.

Both passed in front of Zhang Shu, neither daring to make a sound.

Sheng Xia watched their familiar interaction from the side and found something odd: wasn’t Zhang Shu pursuing Chen Mengyao? How come it seemed…

Was he this arrogant even while pursuing someone?

After clearing the desk, Zhang Shu looked up and down at the girl standing motionlessly to the side, “Why aren’t you getting busy with what you need to do?”

Sheng Xia snapped back to reality, embarrassed by her random speculations, made an “Oh” sound, and hurriedly opened the dress box.

As soon as she opened it, she froze!

The dress came with breast pads—they must have been hidden under the dress before, unnoticed, but after being turned over once, they now lay prominently on top.

Flesh-colored, silicone, two pieces.

She stared in shock, closing the box almost immediately, but she knew it was too late. Zhang Shu was standing right beside her; he couldn’t have missed it.

She instinctively glanced over, but he turned his head away before their eyes could meet, his eyelashes fluttering unnaturally…

This just made it more obvious!

He had seen!

If only time could go back, just one minute would do!

Dear heaven!

Just bury her now!

Fu Jie arrived leisurely carrying a small suitcase. Everyone became more orderly when they saw the teacher, sitting in their places and preparing while chatting quietly. Fu Jie didn’t notice anything amiss and instructed Sheng Xia, “Hurry and change clothes, I thought you’d be ready by now. We’re running out of time.”

“Mm.” Sheng Xia’s ears were bright red, and she didn’t dare open the box again, just hugging it as she headed to the changing room.

Zhang Shu rubbed his nose, said goodbye to Fu Jie, and returned to gather with his class.

Sheng Xia couldn’t look at the breast pads directly anymore, but the dress was strapless—she had no choice. She’d seen others wear them but never used them herself. She couldn’t manage it, and the dress was heavy—she couldn’t lift it.

So she had to peek her head out and call Fu Jie for help.

While helping Sheng Xia adjust the bodice, Fu Jie clicked her tongue twice, “Sheng Xia, you’ve been hiding quite a bit, haven’t you?”

Sheng Xia lowered her head in embarrassment.

She had felt her development was quite rapid since middle school, but back then, girls with full chests were often talked about. She had no concept of sizes, and because her frame was small with a flat chest bone and low-set breasts, they looked average in loose clothing, so she wasn’t among those being discussed. She had always thought she was small-chested.

It wasn’t until high school that having a full chest became somewhat aesthetically appreciated. When Tao Zhizhi asked her, she had casually said, “I’m just a C cup.”

Tao Zhizhi went ballistic and beat her up.

Only then did Sheng Xia learn that C cups weren’t common at this age, especially with thin arms and waist, making it particularly rare?

The dress was expertly tailored, with the bodice fitting snugly but not revealing. It simply accentuated the curves of her chest and waist.

With both front and back exposed, Sheng Xia felt insecure.

When Fu Jie was about to put her hair up, Sheng Xia quietly requested, “Teacher, I’d like to wear it down, is that okay?”

Fu Jie understood her concerns and negotiated, “But with the crown, it would look better up, don’t you think?”

“Um…” Her voice was full of hesitation.

“Then I’ll curl it a bit and leave it down.” Fu Jie ultimately couldn’t resist—this girl never whined, but with that little expression, she couldn’t say no.

Student council members came to hurry them along, and everyone busied themselves with final preparations.

People still occasionally glanced at Sheng Xia through the mirror.

After that earlier “dramatic scene,” everyone was mentally comparing Sheng Xia and Chen Mengyao.

There was no point comparing with others—today would likely be a showdown between these two.

The coordinating teacher was rushing them. Sheng Xia only managed a glance at herself in someone else’s mirror. She was still herself, not made up beyond recognition.

That was enough.

Leaving the dispatch room, they first went to the podium to get their signs, then returned to their class formations. Sheng Xia could feel the attention along the way, more intense than at the previous Er Zhong sports meet.

Sheng Xia told herself not to be timid—everyone was dressed up, and she shouldn’t be overly nervous and embarrass her class. She imagined that if she weren’t bearing a sign today, she too would be curiously and admiringly watching the goddesses, right?

These gazes were well-intentioned.

Thinking this way, when the camera turned to her, Sheng Xia followed others’ example, waving at the lens and smiling.

Sudden screams erupted from the green field. Sheng Xia looked over to see bright yellow squares waving enthusiastically at her, with a banner reading “Pirated Pastoral Poet” waving—it was her classmates from Class 6.

So it was being broadcast on the big screen, and they could all see her.

“Quick, who’s writing the news report to praise our goddess?”

“Making us proud!”

“I’ll praise her—angel face, devil figure!”

“Hahahahaha which announcer would dare read that?”

Just then, Fu Jie’s scholarly voice came from the back of the line: “Graceful in form and manner, serene yet composed, shy yet at ease, melancholic yet radiant.”

“Teacher Fu, awesome awesome!”

Fu Jie proudly replied: “Of course, and you’re all fierce, fierce!”

“Hehehehe…”

Sheng Xia crossed the track back to Class 6’s formation.

Chen Mengyao and Class 5’s goddess walked in front of her. Class 5’s goddess nearly twisted her ankle—probably unaccustomed to walking on the synthetic track in stilettos. Chen Mengyao also wore stilettos, appearing over ten centimeters high, yet she walked swiftly. Indeed, she was destined for stardom.

Sheng Xia was grateful for her thick-heeled shoes—comfortable and wouldn’t damage the track. With the long dress, not much of the shoes showed anyway.

Zhou Weiping was always thoughtful.

Whether it was shoe size or dress size, even the breast pads… everything fit perfectly, though Sheng Xia hadn’t interacted much with her and didn’t know how she managed to know her so well. She must have also inquired about the dress code for past sign-bearers at Fu Zhong—looking around, everyone wore strapless or strapped formal dresses. With her hair down, Sheng Xia was quite conservative.

When Sheng Xia rejoined the ranks, Class 6’s formation erupted in cheers again, drawing glances from nearby classes.

Sheng Xia’s “Audrey Hepburn” look today was elegant and graceful, with a unique style. The earth-toned eye makeup without sparkly eyeshadow, paired with dark eyebrows, was just right, making her look vibrant.

The masterstroke was the dusty rose lipstick—avoiding the classic “black dress with red lips” combination, leaving the face clean, not overdone, and better suiting Sheng Xia’s somewhat cool temperament.

Like a noble white jasmine, or an elegant black swan.

Xin Xiaohe squeezed from the back of the formation to the front, whispering in Sheng Xia’s ear: “You won, baby!”

The chairman had started speaking on stage. After speaking, Xin Xiaohe crouched back to her position, flashing a heart sign at Sheng Xia.

Sheng Xia was amused by her and was about to turn around when she saw Zhang Shu standing tall at the very end.

He had one hand in his pocket, talking to Hou Junqi beside him, but his eyes were in her direction, seeming distracted.

Though Hou Junqi was speaking and laughing, they probably weren’t discussing anything serious.

But his brows were furrowed, his face dark.

Like he was going to take someone’s life.

Sheng Xia’s shoulders shuddered, and she turned back around.

After several leaders’ speeches, the big screen began showing close-ups of each class formation. When it reached Class 4 of the third year, the crowd surged with excitement. There was a moment of silence when it showed Class 5, then noise erupted again at Class 6. People whispered in twos and threes, and the leader speaking on stage was startled by the sudden “enthusiasm,” not knowing what had happened, pausing his speech to glance at the big screen.

“If Chen Mengyao looks ready to film a girl group MV, all bling, then Sheng Xia looks like a young actress attending an awards ceremony—high-end, elegant, and classy,” Xin Xiaohe stroked her chin, clicking her tongue in appreciation.

“Well said.” Her roommate agreed.

Zhou Xuanxuan muttered: “No need to go that far.”

Like a mischief-making director, the screen lingered on Class 6 for at least five extra seconds.

Class 5’s formation, sandwiched between Classes 4 and 6, kept looking left and right in remarkably synchronized movements, creating an odd and comical scene.

The opening ceremony’s final segment was the class formations’ entrance. Each formation passed in front of the podium before returning to their designated stands. As seniors, the third years had priority entrance—Sheng Xia hadn’t expected this, as at Er Zhong they had always started with first years.

This arrangement was good; they wouldn’t have to stand too long.

Just as Xin Xiaohe had said, there was everything in front of the podium—people whistling, singing, shouting “Long live Class X,” cosplaying Ultraman fighting monsters, even classes performing chest-breaking stunts as they passed the podium.

The banners were also spectacular.

In comparison, Class 6’s Pikachu seemed quite ordinary and low-key, chosen only to match their class uniform color.

“Walking towards us now is Class 6’s senior students, led by their Pastoral Poet, Class 6 embodies the philosophy of finding joy in pastoral life while embracing their senior year…”

Sheng Xia was holding her sign properly when she nearly stumbled at this introduction. She couldn’t help but lower her head and laugh, which under the camera’s close-up appeared restrained and graceful, enchantingly beautiful.

From the green field, a loud “Senior sister is so beautiful!” came from the waiting formations!

Cheers followed immediately.

Sheng Xia kept her eyes straight ahead, appearing composed and calm, though looking closely, her ears were bright red and her heart was pounding, feeling these few hundred meters were endless.

“Senior sister belongs to senior brother! Go cry about it!” Sheng Xia heard a spirited response from behind.

Why was Hou Junqi speaking?

Wasn’t he inside the Pikachu costume? Where was his mascot awareness?

Sheng Xia didn’t look back, only hearing an explosion of laughter from the crowd.

It turned out Pikachu had tried to kick towards the waiting area, but those short legs couldn’t contain the long legs inside, and with one pull, face-planted right into the ground.

A group of people hurriedly helped it up.

“Pikachu’s reputation is ruined!”

“The ugliest Pikachu come out and apologize!”

Even the leaders on the podium were laughing.

This back-and-forth interaction pushed the atmosphere to its peak.

With a “bang,” fireworks bloomed, and the intermittently released balloons chose this moment to float skyward, colorful and bright.

The clear blue sky was decorated with the colors of youth, bold and passionate.

Fu Jie and Lai Yilin sat in the stands next to the podium, feeling sentimental.

“We’re getting old.”

“Nonsense!”

“This is what youth is like.”

“It’s wonderful to be young.”

Indeed, it was wonderful. Fine clothes and swift steeds, blazing flames, and abundant flowers, the finest flavors of life, the glory of youth.