On Friday afternoon, after the traditional events ended, the fun sports activities began. The first event was the “Big Windmill.” Sheng Xia stood in the bleachers holding things for Xin Xiaohe and cheering her on.

The race was genuinely entertaining. Everyone wore their class uniforms and ran holding poles, looking like colorful centipedes crawling along the track. At the turns, the players at the tail end would collide—kicking and pulling at each other—while the spectators in the stands cheered, creating quite a lively atmosphere.

Class 6 barely managed to place third in their group, not making it to the finals.

After leaving the field, Xin Xiaohe gulped down the water, spitting with rage: “All that practice wasted! Those bastards from Class 4, always pulling dirty tricks—are they from Korea or what? I’m furious!”

“It’s just for fun, don’t worry about it!” Yang Linyu consoled from the side.

Xin Xiaohe pouted: “Easy for you to play nice guy when you weren’t the one getting pulled around!”

Yang Linyu sheepishly fell silent.

“Qi Xiulei!” Xin Xiaohe grabbed the young man beside her, “You have to win the Ring Chain race! I don’t care about anything else—if you don’t beat Class 4, don’t even think about coming through our classroom door!”

Qi Xiulei quietly wrinkled his nose, “Then I’ll use the back door to my classroom.”

Xin Xiaohe: …

Zhang Shu laughed, “If you won’t let him in, are you planning to be the door guardian?”

Xin Xiaohe changed her tone, “Whatever, just win! Charge, Brother Shu!”

Zhang Shu rubbed his arms: “Stop right there, no acting cute from tough girls.”

Xin Xiaohe: “Heh, then you better resist your old flame acting cute—don’t switch sides at the crucial moment. Class 4’s Ring Chain team has Chen Mengyao, you know.”

She said this quietly, so only their small circle could hear, but Zhang Shu suddenly stood up and leaned against the railing, “Old flame? Explain yourself—what old flame? I’ve kept myself clean all these years, where would I get an old flame from? Xin Xiaohe, you’re the rumor-spreading machine, huh? Let me give you a good talking to.”

He made no effort to control his volume, and facing the stands, almost everyone could hear.

Normally, Zhang Shu never engaged with topics like this.

Xin Xiaohe protested: “I wasn’t the first one to spread it, everyone’s saying it…”

“Who’s everyone?” Zhang Shu’s posture was relaxed, but his tone carried a determined edge, “Everyone also said the world would end in 2012—if that were true, you’d be a fossil in the Himalayas right now.”

The stands erupted in laughter, with surrounding classes whispering among themselves.

Xin Xiaohe: … Was it necessary to be so savage?

Hou Junqi understood that Zhang Shu was trying to publicly deny the rumors and chimed in: “Don’t panic, it’s not about you. Shu just means that the news about him liking you-know-who has been debunked, just like the 2012 apocalypse.”

Xin Xiaohe also rubbed her arms like Zhang Shu had done, saying with disdain: “I’m out of here, I’d rather stay alive than become a fossil.”

Someone looking to stir up drama called out: “Brother Shu, so you’re saying you don’t have an old flame but a new love?”

A gust of wind made the flags in the stands clatter, and Zhang Shu gave a casual glance to the back row, his languid voice scattered in the wind.

“Isn’t building a beautiful China better? Always spreading baseless rumors, how improper.”

Xin Xiaohe: …

Hou Junqi: …

Sheng Xia was writing a news article in the back row, hoping to earn some moral education points for Class 6. Hearing this, her pen paused.

…

The “Ring Chain” event took place in the central track’s green field. Each group had six classes, and though the first and second-year competitions had finished, people hadn’t left, forming three inner and three outer layers around the field.

This group included Classes 4 and 6, with several recent “trending topics” from the confession wall present—there would be good drama to watch.

“Is Sheng Xia wearing no makeup?”

“Probably.”

“She’s so fair.”

“Looking at them like this, Chen Mengyao might be prettier.”

“I don’t think so. Chen Mengyao still wearing her hair down during sports meets—talk about keeping up appearances.”

“Well, she’s going to be an idol, right?”

“Zhang Shu looks better matched with Sheng Xia, with Chen Mengyao he looks like the younger one.”

…

The endless comparisons between Sheng Xia and Chen Mengyao weren’t heard by Sheng Xia, who stood on the field.

Under the scorching sun, she and Zhang Shu stood side by side, neither speaking, with enough space between them for another person.

Ring Chain was a relay race, with one handoff per leg. Sheng Xia and Zhang Shu were the fourth runners, positioned behind the second runner, while the first, third, and fifth runners stood on the opposite side of the field.

And Chen Mengyao was Class 4’s second runner.

She was currently standing to Sheng Xia’s left front.

“Shu, go easy on me, okay?” Chen Mengyao called Zhang Shu while stretching.

Zhang Shu stood with his hips cocked, responding flatly: “I’m not running against you, how can I go easy?”

Chen Mengyao said: “You can still run slower.”

Zhang Shu laughed once: “Why should I?”

“Tch, knew you’d answer like that,” Chen Mengyao rolled her eyes, “So boring.”

Though she was rejected, their conversation showed clear familiarity.

The whistle blew sharply, and the race began.

The first runners came running from the opposite side wearing hula hoops. Class 6 took the lead by running sideways, arriving first, and their second runner quickly set off.

Chen Mengyao turned her head: “Shu, your class is doing well, so you really should go easy on me now?”

Before Zhang Shu could answer, Class 4 began their handoff, and Chen Mengyao added: “See you on the other side!”

Zhang Shu didn’t respond, looking instead at the person beside him.

The fierce sun shone on her face, fair and lustrous like perfectly polished jade.

Sheng Xia stood quietly, showing neither nervousness nor any other emotion.

He shook his head, smiling helplessly.

What was he doing, thinking she’d be jealous?

He used to communicate with Chen Mengyao in this same way, but now he vaguely felt perhaps he should change that.

At this moment, a pleasant female voice came over the broadcast: “Next is an article from Class 6’s Sheng Xia…”

Many people looked toward Sheng Xia.

Even her classmates asked: “Xia, when did you submit that?”

“Just now,” Sheng Xia said.

“Wow, we’ll get extra points!”

Sheng Xia nodded slightly: “Mm.”

Zhang Shu listened intently; the opening praised this grand event, with parallel structure and elegant rhetoric, very suitable for the occasion.

“Can you write about any topic, and all this quickly?” Zhang Shu asked.

Sheng Xia started.

They hadn’t spoken for an entire day.

Why was he suddenly using such a reverent and friendly tone to praise her?

Sheng Xia said: “Not really.”

Zhang Shu: “If you’re good, you’re good—no need to be modest.”

Surrounding classmates exchanged raised eyebrows.

“They’re not saying anything special, why does it feel so sweet?”

“You’re not the only one who thinks so.”

Just then, the third runner approached from the opposite side, taking off the hula hoop before crossing the line and passing it over.

“It’s time,” Zhang Shu reminded her, putting an arm around Sheng Xia’s shoulders to turn her around, reaching out to take the hula hoop and placing it over their heads, “Let’s go.”

The two stood back-to-back, hopping sideways toward the opposite side…

That reaction speed, that chemistry…

“They’re the real deal, right?”

“To our success first.”

Halfway through the run, Sheng Xia suddenly heard a voice from behind: “At times when focus is most needed, don’t think too much, don’t worry about what others say, don’t mind what others do… just run your race, that’s how you win.”

Sheng Xia almost thought he was trying to comfort her about the recent rumors. If not for that last sentence.

The last sentence was just about the race.

But Class 6 was almost a full leg ahead—they just needed to maintain their rhythm to win. There was no need for him to say such unnecessary things now.

She couldn’t understand it and didn’t want to read too much into it.

The announcer was still reading Sheng Xia’s article: “…the most beautiful sunset appears during summer evening self-study, the most resilient you become radiant on the track, let’s rush toward the finish line together, racing with the vigor and spirit of youth! Young people in fine clothes on a road of blooming flowers, let’s witness it together.”

Witness together, the flowers and the finish line.

“Zhang Shu! Sheng Xia! Hurry! Class 1 is copying us, they’re catching up, hurry!”

With less than ten meters left, Zhou Xuanxuan’s anxious shout came through. Sheng Xia looked up and indeed saw Class 1 on the far side also running sideways, almost overtaking them.

Zhou Xuanxuan grew more anxious, stepping forward to pull herself. Zhang Shu was tall and hadn’t completely removed the hula hoop—when Zhou Xuanxuan yanked, the hoop caught his neck and pulled him backward.

Zhang Shu nimbly turned around but still couldn’t maintain balance, falling backward.

Realizing Sheng Xia’s back was in front of him, he instinctively reached out to brace against the ground, but the momentum was too great—how could he possibly stop it?

Everything happened in an instant. Sheng Xia only felt a force crash into her from behind. She was pressed forward toward the ground, and the troublesome hula hoop fell and tangled her knees. Her legs were bent and couldn’t step forward, falling straight down when suddenly there was a scraping sound—

Pain!

A white flash passed before her eyes.

At that moment, Sheng Xia felt the world disconnect for a second.

It felt like she was about to bid farewell to the world forever.

“Sheng Xia!”

“Sheng Xia!”

“Xia!”

Chaos, complete chaos. She heard anxious voices rising and falling. She knew her body was being turned over.

She saw the boy in front of her push himself up, revealing a panic-stricken face.

Many people surrounded her, some familiar, some unfamiliar…

As consciousness returned, she began to trace the source of the pain.

It was her leg, her right leg—excruciating pain, she couldn’t move it.

“Sheng Xia, how are you?” Zhang Shu knelt on one knee, looking the girl up and down, checking if she was unharmed.

Her lips were pale, her gaze unfocused, fine beads of sweat on her forehead.

This didn’t look like an ordinary fall.

Zhang Shu called out: “Sheng Xia!”

Xin Xiaohe pushed through the crowd, trying to help Sheng Xia up, but was sharply stopped by Zhang Shu: “Don’t move her!”

Xin Xiaohe panicked: “What do we do?! Xia, how are you? Zhang Shu, you useless thing—when we said win, this isn’t what we meant!”

Zhang Shu acted as if he couldn’t hear, “Might be a bone injury, don’t move her arbitrarily,” then turned to call Hou Junqi, “Get the school doctor!”

“Oh, right, right.”

Zhang Shu’s gaze returned to Sheng Xia’s face, scanning up and down, unconsciously stroking her cheek, “Can you speak?”

The back of his hand was ice cold.

Sheng Xia tried to speak, but her attempt at saying “can” turned into: “Hurts…”

“Okay, okay, don’t talk…” Zhang Shu’s brows knitted tightly together as he wiped the sweat from her forehead.

Sheng Xia closed her eyes, jaw clenched, pain making her consciousness blur.

People around watched their intimate interaction, exchanging glances, no one tactless enough to gossip at this moment.

Zhou Xuanxuan was about to cry, “Mengyao…”

Would Sheng Xia think she did it on purpose? They had just had a conflict.

Chen Mengyao squeezed her hand in comfort. She had no time to care about Zhou Xuanxuan’s emotions right now, her gaze fixed on Zhang Shu’s tense profile.

That anxious, pained, helpless yet forcefully composed expression—on Zhang Shu’s usually carefree face, she had never seen it before.

The school doctor was in the dispatch room and arrived quickly, along with teachers—the PE teacher, Wang Wei, and several familiar but unknown teachers, a group of people chattering about something.

“It’s fractured, hard to say exactly how bad—needs to go to the hospital,” the school doctor said, asking Sheng Xia, “Anywhere else feeling strange?”

Sheng Xia had passed the peak of pain, slowly opening her eyes, moving her arms slightly, shaking her head, “No…”

“Don’t need so many people following, quickly make way, take her to the hospital.”

“Should we get a stretcher?”

“It’s the lower leg that’s broken, can’t extend it—stretcher won’t work, best to keep the lower leg still and carry her up?”

The school doctor looked around, about to find several people to help carry her.

Zhang Shu said to Xin Xiaohe: “Help support her leg.”

Then he wrapped an arm around Sheng Xia’s shoulders, hooked his arm under her knees, and lifted her in his arms.

To avoid swaying while standing up, he had to rise slowly—this was much more strenuous than simply lifting her straight up.

Zhang Shu’s arms were tense, neck muscles standing out.

Although thinking about other things at this moment wasn’t very humanitarian, the onlookers couldn’t help whispering.

“Oh my…”

“Boyfriend power MAX.”

Sheng Xia didn’t know where to put her hands. Besides the pain, there was a tingling sensation spreading through her limbs, her body feeling like it was being electrified.

Zhou Xuanxuan was very nervous. Seeing the crowd about to disperse, she spoke tearfully: “Mengyao, what should I do…”

“It’s okay, you didn’t do it on purpose,” Chen Mengyao said, stepping forward, “Shu, Xuanxuan she…”

“Quiet, make way!”

Zhang Shu’s voice was deep and urgent—not quite a roar but might as well have been. Then without waiting for any response, his piercing gaze cut through the irrelevant crowd as he carried Sheng Xia toward the stadium entrance.

Chen Mengyao stood frozen in place, Zhou Xuanxuan was so frightened she stopped sobbing.

People whispered among themselves, all feeling that speaking up now would only cause trouble.

Zhang Shu didn’t seem to be targeting anyone specifically, he was just too anxious—care leads to confusion.

Zhang Shu walked quickly yet steadily. Sheng Xia looked up to see fine beads of sweat in his bangs.

After walking for a while, her body started to slump. Zhang Shu looked down, “You need to hold onto me.” He couldn’t suddenly adjust her position—any movement would hurt her leg.

Sheng Xia: …

From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of gazes from all directions. As if giving up entirely, she buried her face in his chest—out of sight, out of mind—and slowly wrapped her arms around his neck.

…

X-rays, diagnosis, waiting for the cast.

Wang Wei and Xin Xiaohe had come along. Wang Wei and Zhang Shu handled the paperwork while Xin Xiaohe stayed with Sheng Xia.

Li Xu arrived, saying Sheng Mingfeng was in a meeting and would come later.

Wang Lianhua was also rushing over from work.

All the necessary things were done—coming now would just be to watch, or perhaps, to scold a bit.

Soon after, the hospital director arrived, followed by the department head and several doctors.

They called from the doorway: “Director Li?”

Li Xu turned around, made a stopping gesture, and went out with the group. Wang Wei followed as well.

Only the three young people remained in the ward.

The door was gently closed, with corridor conversations occasionally drifting in through a gap.

This setup, accompanied by words floating in like “Secretary,” “Municipal Committee care,” “Health Commission,” and “Medical Insurance”—terms often heard in the background music of TV news broadcasts.

Xin Xiaohe couldn’t quite process it. She glanced at Zhang Shu, who leaned expressionlessly by the window, showing no particular emotion.

The department head personally put the cast on Sheng Xia, saying it wasn’t too serious but would need to be bound for over seven weeks.

By then, Sheng Mingfeng’s meeting had ended. Li Xu drove to pick him up, the group of doctors gave many instructions while talking over each other, then left.

Soon after, the school had something come up, and Wang Wei prepared to leave first, asking if he should take Xin Xiaohe and Zhang Shu along.

Xin Xiaohe said: “I’ll stay to help, in case Xia needs to use the bathroom or something.”

Wang Wei nodded: “Alright, call me if you need anything. What about you, Zhang Shu, heading back?”

Zhang Shu replied: “I’ll go back on my own.”

Wang Wei thought having someone to run errands might be useful.

But Sheng Xia spoke up: “You should go back, Zhang Shu.”

“Thanks for today, but I don’t need… there’s nothing else,” she added.

Her tone was cold, and her eyes hadn’t looked at him once.

Not even a glance.

She said—

I don’t need you anymore.