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Starting in the second week, students were required to go downstairs during the main break period to run drills as a class unit.
For someone like Li Kuiyi, who had absolutely no affinity for running, this was a form of profound torment. She always tried to avoid thinking about her third year of middle school — and it was largely because of the physical education component in the high school entrance exam. To ensure students got those 30 points, Yi-Wu-Ba Middle School had required everyone to run six laps around the track every day, completing it within twelve minutes.
Absolutely brutal.
Li Kuiyi was fairly certain she might die attempting it. So she had gone to her homeroom teacher at the time and asked him: “Can I opt out of the running practice? Even with a zero in PE, I can still get into high school.” The homeroom teacher felt this student was simply too young to understand — with grades, more was always better, and you didn’t just throw points away. Besides, based on mock exam rankings, he thought Li Kuiyi had a real shot at finishing in the top three of the entire city in the high school entrance exam — a rare achievement for their school, and one that needed to be protected at all costs.
In the end, Li Kuiyi ran her 800 meters in 4 minutes and 48 seconds. Her final PE score was only 24 points — the subject she lost the most marks in across all of her entrance exam subjects.
Truly. She’d rather walk ten laps around the track than run two.
Before heading out to the field, Li Kuiyi took off her school uniform jacket, removed her watch, pulled out the tissue from her pants pocket, and even redid her ponytail into a tighter little bun at the top of her head. Zhou Fanghua waited beside her, watching with her mouth hanging open: “You’re being extremely extra about this.”
Li Kuiyi said with complete seriousness: “It definitely makes a difference. When your hair swings around, it increases drag.”
Your physics grade is better than mine, so I’ll take your word for it. Zhou Fanghua was speechless. She watched silently as Li Kuiyi stripped away every ounce of excess weight, and thought vaguely that this was probably another form of “the worse the student, the more elaborate the stationery.”
Despite all her meticulous “preparation,” this particular athlete still felt the strain after just one lap. Gradually, she could no longer hear the voices around her — only the wind rushing past her ears, her heart yanking at her ribcage as if trying to break free, her throat burning as if sliced open. She was in absolute agony.
To make it worse, they were required to shout cadences while running. Li Kuiyi had no breath left to shout with — but her classmates’ voices hammered her eardrums without mercy.
She didn’t know how she made it through five laps. By the end, her vision had gone almost entirely dark. She barely held on until the formation was dismissed, then staggered to the patch of grass in the middle of the field, lowered herself to the ground with her hands braced against it, and sat down — like a machine on the verge of falling apart, heaving out deep, rasping breaths.
Zhou Fanghua sat down beside her and patted her back to help her recover. She wasn’t in great shape herself — also breathing in large gulps — but at least her head was still mostly clear.
“Hey — are you two alright?” Liu Xinzhao noticed the situation and quickly came over, crouching down and gently rubbing their backs.
Zhou Fanghua said: “I’m fine, just a bit tired. She’s the one I’m worried about.”
Li Kuiyi’s vision was still swimming. She swallowed with difficulty: “I’m fine too. I just need a moment.”
Liu Xinzhao looked concerned: “Do you want me to take you to the school clinic?”
Having her PE performance bad enough to warrant her homeroom teacher’s personal attention was embarrassing enough. Li Kuiyi quickly said no. She knew her own body — after running, she always ended up in this half-dead state, but it was never serious. She’d recover with a bit of rest.
She waved a hand: “Really, I’m fine… I just haven’t run in a long time. My body’s not used to it yet.”
“Alright.” Liu Xinzhao handed each of them a tissue. “But if you feel unwell, tell me right away. Don’t push through it.”
“Mm.” Li Kuiyi nodded, and even the nod sent a throb through her head.
Liu Xinzhao stood up and quickly scanned the crowd on the field. She spotted Xia Leyi and a few other girls walking arm-in-arm toward the exit and called out to her: “Class monitor — come here a moment.”
“Coming.” Xia Leyi turned back at the sound of her voice. Her dark hair was braided into a neat fishtail, giving her a crisp look. Though her forehead was damp with sweat, her expression was bright and easy.
“I have a homeroom teachers’ meeting to get to. Could you look after Kuiyi for a bit?” Liu Xinzhao patted Xia Leyi’s shoulder in a warm, familiar way.
“Absolutely.” Xia Leyi smiled brilliantly — her white teeth gleaming like small pearls.
Liu Xinzhao gave a few more instructions and then left in a hurry. Li Kuiyi’s face immediately flushed with embarrassment. Bad enough to catch her teacher’s attention, and now she was putting the class monitor to the trouble of looking after her — truly mortifying.
The September sun was still ferocious, and the field had no shade whatsoever. Not wanting to make them bake out in the heat on her behalf, Li Kuiyi sat for just a moment before forcing herself to stand, composing her face into a smile: “I think I’m mostly alright — let’s head back to the classroom.”
“Are you sure?” Xia Leyi steadied her as she rose, and asked again with concern.
“Yes — sorry for the trouble.”
“We’re classmates. That’s not trouble.” Xia Leyi laughed. “And I’m the class monitor — shouldn’t this be exactly what I’m here for?”
Li Kuiyi hadn’t really interacted with Xia Leyi much before — only getting an impression at their first meeting that this was a girl who was proud and generous in equal measure. Now, she saw that being both spirited and unsharp-edged was something genuinely rare.
She found herself suddenly curious about her: “What star sign are you?”
Li Kuiyi didn’t actually believe in astrology, but she remembered that Xia Leyi had mentioned during her self-introduction that she enjoyed studying birth charts. She didn’t quite know the difference between star signs and birth charts, but she assumed they were more or less the same thing.
Xia Leyi hadn’t expected the question, but it was precisely the topic she loved most — her eyes immediately lit up: “I’m a Leo — birthday in early August. What about you two?”
Before Li Kuiyi and Zhou Fanghua could even answer, she quickly added: “Wait — let me guess.”
Xia Leyi looked Li Kuiyi up and down, twice, and mused: “Calm, understated, a little aloof…” She suddenly stopped and suppressed a laugh. “I’m going to say what I think — please don’t hit me. I think you might be a little bit… secretly passionate.”
Li Kuiyi: “Hm?”
Xia Leyi said: “Like, cool on the outside, burning on the inside! Based on all of the above, I’d say you’re a Taurus.”
Li Kuiyi broke into a small smile and shook her head.
“Oh, I’m wrong?” Xia Leyi looked surprised, but still clung stubbornly to her assessment. “What are you, then?”
Li Kuiyi said: “I’m the same as you — Leo.”
“No way! You look nothing like one.” Xia Leyi’s mouth fell open slightly, yet she still couldn’t let go of her instinct. “When exactly were you born? I bet your rising sign is Taurus.”
“I don’t know, actually.” Li Kuiyi said. She wasn’t even sure August 17th was really her birthday — how could she know the exact time she was born?
“Okay, fair.” Xia Leyi looked mildly deflated, then turned to Zhou Fanghua: “I’d guess Cancer for you — am I right?”
Zhou Fanghua’s eyes widened with delight, and she gave an excited nod.
Star signs and gossip — these things close distances between people with startling ease. The three girls walked arm-in-arm along the tree-lined path back to the classroom building, sunlight filtering through the leaves overhead in dazzling clusters, shimmering all around them like the beginning of something new.
“My rising sign is also Leo, but the sign I feel most drawn to is Scorpio! Though everyone says Leo and Scorpio clash completely and never work out, which is a bit depressing…” Xia Leyi sighed. “But honestly — there’s something about Scorpios that’s really magnetic.”
Li Kuiyi had no idea what Scorpios were supposed to be like and couldn’t think of how to respond, so she gave a vague little cough.
“Are you feeling better?” Xia Leyi patted her back.
“Much better — hardly uncomfortable at all now.” Li Kuiyi said.
“You really call yourself a Leo!” Xia Leyi looked at her and laughed. “Leos are supposed to be full of energy, you know. You’re more like a sickly little kitten.”
Li Kuiyi smiled: “Sorry for dragging the team down.”
Rounding the end of the tree-lined path, the three of them turned onto the main road toward the teaching building. Just then, Li Kuiyi noticed two familiar figures up ahead — tall and lanky, looking like He Youyuan and Qi Yu. They appeared to have made a stop at the school convenience store; each of them was carrying a can of cola.
As if to confirm her suspicion, Xia Leyi suddenly called out beside her: “Hey — He Youyuan!”
The figures ahead turned around — and yes, it was them.
He Youyuan raised an eyebrow at the sight of Xia Leyi and Li Kuiyi walking so cozily together. Strange — what brought these two, who seemed to have nothing in common, side by side all of a sudden?
The magnetic pull between one top student and another?
And the sour-faced pineapple really didn’t look right today — cheeks flushed, lips a little pale, her steps vague and floating. Got it: she was going for the “tragic, wan heroine” look today.
Pathetic. Only five laps, and she’s already in this state. He hadn’t even broken a sweat.
“What is it?” He Youyuan waited for them to walk over, deliberately asking in a gruff tone.
Xia Leyi extended her hand: “I’m robbing you. Hand over the cola.”
He Youyuan gave a light scoff and raised his chin slightly: “Buy your own.”
“It’s not for me.” Xia Leyi pulled Li Kuiyi forward. “Don’t you see this classmate of yours is about to die of thirst from all that running? If she doesn’t get a sip of cola soon, she’s going to pass out.”
“…”
Li Kuiyi really did want to pass out.
He Youyuan’s gaze shifted to Li Kuiyi. A faint smile played at the corner of his mouth, his tone unhurried and teasing: “Is that so?”
Li Kuiyi looked at those eyes — full of amusement and provocation — and genuinely didn’t want to engage. But she also didn’t want to put Xia Leyi in an awkward position. She drew in a reluctant breath, then nodded.
He Youyuan’s mood lifted considerably. He didn’t know why, but there was something about Li Kuiyi yielding to him that he found genuinely satisfying — like a pineapple soaked in salt water, turning mellow and sweet.
He wrinkled his nose, fighting back the urge to smile, and balanced the can of cola upright on top of her head. His expression was perfectly stone-cold as he said: “Don’t go dying of thirst.”