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The voice of youth, fearless and full of infectious energy — like cracking open a chilled beer on a summer’s day, foam and malt fragrance surging forth, splashing into every corner, and the air filling with the taste of freedom and romance.

It was as though they were all attending a concert. The students below swayed their arms to the rhythm, and when the chorus arrived, many joined in without any restraint, causing the teacher-judges in the front rows to keep turning their heads.

Baby you light up my world like nobody else The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed ……

Amidst the surrounding clamor of voices, Li Kuiyi had fallen into silence.

She remembered that the last class every Friday afternoon was always homeroom, but Liu Xinzhao rarely lectured them with long-winded moralizing. After conveying whatever needed to be said, she would use the remaining time to let the students watch videos together — things like Newsweek, the China Character Dictation Grand Competition, and sometimes films like Pride and Prejudice or The Chorus.

Liu Xinzhao had once joked about her reason for doing this: “When you grow up and look back on these three years of high school, you won’t remember a single thing you studied. You’ll only remember certain nights when the power went out, the day the cafeteria made an exceptionally good braised pork, and the films you watched together as a class. That’s what you’ll later call your ‘youth.'”

Was that really so? Li Kuiyi didn’t know yet.

She only remembered the deep, lingering gaze the young man on stage had cast in her direction.

Unrestrained. Blazing. Honest.

Though she didn’t know what had prompted that look, she felt, for no particular reason, that many years from now, on some day when she too began to miss her youth, she would surely remember this very moment — remember this song, and those bright, piercing eyes.

So this person really was unreasonable. He was always stirring up one thing or another for no reason, yet he still managed to carve himself into the memory of her days.

Li Kuiyi couldn’t help but curl the corner of her mouth. Hmph. What a scoundrel.

As the song reached its final notes, the atmosphere in the auditorium surged toward its peak. Perhaps it was the temporary escape from the sea of exam papers — everyone seemed to be releasing something, and with the repeated final melody, each refrain was sung louder than the last.

He Youyuan, seizing the moment for a second performance, sang as he walked toward the judges’ panel, and just as the guitar was about to fall silent, he held out the last line of the lyrics to Chen Guoming.

Chen Guoming: “……”

So I’m the only one getting picked on, am I?

He didn’t know how to sing this at all. He scrambled to his feet, waving his hands to refuse — drawing another thunderous burst of laughter from below.

He Youyuan pulled the microphone back and gazed at Chen Guoming with soulful eyes, delivering the final line a cappella: “That’s what makes you beautiful——”

His voice rang out clear and bright, carrying with it a kind of reckless certainty, as though it could cross mountains and seas.

Screams erupted from the audience.

He Youyuan returned to center stage, replaced the microphone in its stand, and took a bow alongside Zhang Chuang. Chen Guoming sank back into his chair with an expression of utter resignation. He could only hope that in the future, when he was reprimanding a student, no one would suddenly recall today’s scene and burst out laughing.

His lifelong reputation as grade director — ruined, just like that. What a shame.

Next came the open Q&A segment. The teacher-judges generally wouldn’t put the students in a difficult spot, asking instead the sort of everyday questions one might expect — favorite subjects, favorite sports, personal idols, and so on. The judge who questioned He Youyuan was a kindly-looking elderly woman whose face had already ached from so much smiling. She narrowed her eyes and asked him two questions: first, his reason for choosing this song; second, his favorite dish.

He answered the first question with perfect seriousness, saying he hoped the song would encourage everyone to feel confident and to live as their most authentic selves. The elderly woman nodded in approving appreciation.

But his answer to the second question left everyone dumbfounded —

He said his favorite dish was McDonald’s.

The elderly woman asked, puzzled, why.

He said that everyone in his family was a terrible cook, so as a child he had been as skinny as a beansprout. The reason he’d grown so tall and so handsome now, he said, was because he’d eventually started eating McDonald’s as his main source of nutrition.

The elderly woman pushed up her reading glasses. “……”

It didn’t sound like the truth, but he said it with complete and utter earnestness.

Li Kuiyi smiled faintly. See, she thought — this person was just a careless layabout. One flashy trick after another.

But Fang Zhixiao suddenly turned around and fixed her with a steady look, suggesting: “How about we all go get McDonald’s for lunch?”

Li Kuiyi: “……”

The contestant after He Youyuan was Xia Leyi.

She was different from everyone else — rather than singing or reciting poetry, she had prepared a dubbing performance, voicing a segment from the Disney film The Little Mermaid. Only now did everyone understand the purpose of that blue-green dress she was wearing. It really did look like Ariel’s beautiful fish tail.

The girl was charming and beautiful, bringing The Little Mermaid to vivid life, and she skillfully sustained the lively atmosphere that He Youyuan had ignited.

However, when Yan You was helped back onto the stage as the last contestant, the air in the auditorium went cold all at once. This kind of emotionally charged coldness was uncomfortable, and it undeniably placed enormous pressure on Yan You. She had prepared an English poetry recitation, and one could tell — her vocal cords were taut, her voice no longer steady, and her gaze wandered, lost, unable to meet the audience below.

“Unbelievable — what is this, passive hostility?” Fang Zhixiao was visibly indignant.

Li Kuiyi watched the girl on stage, and a wave of bitter feeling rose inside her, because she could intuitively feel a kind of powerlessness — that of being completely dominated, completely controlled. Yan You, because of her physical distinctiveness, had been met with pity as a matter of course, and yet because that pity had been taken too far, she now faced unwarranted suspicion. Throughout the entire process, she seemed to have no right to say “no.” She existed as an object to be scrutinized, caught in the surging push and pull of other people’s emotions. No one considered whether what she had come here seeking — when she made the decision to enter this competition — was ever that initial pity in the first place.

It was a very long English poem, and under such pressure, she recited it fluidly, without a single stumble. She must have practiced many, many times offstage.

So what she had wanted to gain — it probably wasn’t that pity after all.

When all the performances ended, the ten finalists returned to the stage together, and the host began announcing the results. The tension was not confined to the contestants; the students below sat up straight and pricked up their ears, all of them seemingly desperate to know: in this competition, had sympathy beaten ability, or had ability defeated sympathy?

“The third-place winner of this English-themed speech competition is — He Youyuan from Year One, Class 12!”

“Ah——?” A wave of skeptical murmuring rose from the audience once more.

“A competition is a competition — why are other factors being considered? Shouldn’t the focus be on the contestants’ actual ability?”

“Exactly. If it’s going to be like this, everyone might as well just come and compete in who has the saddest story.”

The host could certainly hear these dissatisfied voices, but could only press on regardless: “The second-place winner of this English-themed speech competition is — Yan You from Year One, Class 17!”

A chorus of boos immediately erupted, interspersed with only a few thin, scattered claps. Yan You tightened her fingers and quietly dropped her gaze.

Xia Leyi claimed first place, as everyone had anticipated.

When the host announced her result, the students clapped their hands as if deliberately — thunderously loud — as if to demonstrate that this was the only ranking they truly felt was deserved.

“That’s really awful.” Fang Zhixiao wrinkled her face. “She probably worked up a lot of courage to even enter this competition, and now she’s become the target of everyone’s criticism. I don’t know what the judges were thinking. Did they believe that giving her high scores was a form of encouragement?”

“Maybe.” Li Kuiyi let out a quiet sigh. In truth, Yan You’s score in the second round had fallen just slightly short of He Youyuan’s — which showed that the judges had noticed that inflated scores would provoke the crowd’s anger. Even so, the teachers couldn’t bring themselves to press her scores down, which meant her final total still surpassed He Youyuan’s.

Zhou Fanghua murmured quietly: “If it were me, I’d probably never have the courage to go onstage again for the rest of my life.”

On the stage, the top three finalists were receiving their certificates of honor and taking photographs, but the atmosphere was peculiar. Though Xia Leyi had won first place, she didn’t dare break into a wide smile, afraid that any inadvertent expression might hurt the person beside her, so she kept her face calm and modest. Yan You could not smile at all — she didn’t even want this award — but she didn’t have the courage to refuse it openly. Only He Youyuan, placing third, appeared to be in good spirits. Though he wasn’t smiling either, his expression was casual and buoyant, as though he was thoroughly satisfied with his ranking.

Once the host announced that everyone could leave, the students poured out like a tide, flooding all at once toward the main doors of the auditorium.

Xia Leyi and He Youyuan came down from the stage and exited through the back door, where there were fewer people. The outdoors was nothing like indoors — the air was cold — and Xia Leyi had only worn a dress. The moment she stepped outside, she drew in a sharp breath, wrapped her bare arms around herself, and shivered slightly.

“You didn’t bring a jacket?” He Youyuan gave her a sidelong glance.

Xia Leyi tilted her head and said breezily: “I didn’t — how else was I supposed to borrow yours?”

He Youyuan’s eyelid twitched. “……”

He felt that he had just been shamelessly flirted with.

His Adam’s apple bobbed awkwardly, and he turned his head away as cover, then shrugged off his school jacket and tossed it into the girl’s arms. “Don’t go getting ideas about me again next time.”

Xia Leyi smiled, but instead of putting the jacket on properly, she slid her arms into the two sleeves. The jacket carried his scent — cool and clean. It was wide, and warm, and the fabric brushed against her skin, stirring up a faint, tingling sensation.

But the person who had lent her the jacket had already walked several paces ahead on his own, turning onto the main road that led toward the school gates.

She watched that slender, composed figure and, stubborn as ever, called out after him: “To celebrate your award, let me treat you to McDonald’s.”

The boy stopped. Turned around. Furrowed his brows slightly, finding her completely illogical: “Didn’t you win an award too?”

Xia Leyi walked up to him, raised her eyes, and looked directly at him: “Oh, you’re right — then you treat me to McDonald’s.”

“……”

He Youyuan shifted his gaze away from her, and said offhandedly: “Next time. Zhang Chuang’s not free today.”

It happened to be a weekend, and Zhang Chuang had originally planned to spend it with his girlfriend. Instead he’d been forcibly dragged along to be a backup performer, which made him furious enough to curse at He Youyuan for being a heartless bastard. Before the speech competition had even officially ended, he’d slipped out of the auditorium and gone off to his date.

“You’re treating me to a meal — what does it matter whether Zhang Chuang is free?” Xia Leyi clearly wasn’t going to let it go. Her words grew more direct. “Can’t the two of us go by ourselves?”

He Youyuan squirmed and turned his face to the side, twitching his nose: “That feels a bit much, doesn’t it? The two of us going to McDonald’s together is pretty… intimate.”

Xia Leyi: “……”

Borrowing each other’s school jackets didn’t feel intimate to you, but two people going to McDonald’s together does?

In He Youyuan’s mind, though, a school jacket was the sort of thing he’d lend to anyone — even if Chen Guoming felt cold, he’d lend it to him. But two people going to McDonald’s together was different. That was intimate.

This reminded him of his aunt — He Qiuming — who had once gone on a blind date. The man had offered to take her to dinner, but had been so stingy that he’d taken her to McDonald’s and ordered the cheapest combo on the menu. His aunt had managed not to flip the table on the spot, but once home, she’d let loose with a scathing rant. He Youyuan had listened and said, “Isn’t that nice? He took you to McDonald’s — how tasteful.” His aunt had knocked him on the head in exasperation and snarled: “You dare take your future girlfriend to McDonald’s and see what happens!”

He Youyuan had been defiant, immediately resolving that he would take his girlfriend to McDonald’s — and work his way through every single item on the menu.

So… it was a bit intimate, right?

“Fine. If you think it’s too intimate, then go eat your McDonald’s on your own.” Xia Leyi could tell he was making excuses — poor ones at that. She pressed down the feeling stirring inside her and let her voice go cool. “I’ll return the jacket during evening study. I really am a little cold right now.”

With that, she rose onto her tiptoes and looked out at the large crowd of students flooding from the auditorium.

He Youyuan was tall and long-legged. Following her line of sight, he spotted Li Kuiyi and her two friends in the crowd at a glance, walking along and chatting about something, their expressions slightly solemn.

Getting more and more sour-faced, are we, Miss Pineapple? Watch out — someone’s going to drag you off to McDonald’s and turn you into a Pineapple Angus Burger.

He smiled soundlessly.

When the others had drawn closer, Xia Leyi waved. “Li Kuiyi, over here!”

Li Kuiyi and her two friends lifted their heads in unison. Catching sight of Xia Leyi and He Youyuan, they exchanged a look of mild surprise, then wove through the crowd and came over.

“Were you waiting for us?” Li Kuiyi asked, a little taken aback.

“Yes.” Xia Leyi smiled. “Are you going out for lunch? Come along.”

Li Kuiyi nodded. “Alright. We were actually planning to go to McDonald’s — is that okay?”

Xia Leyi: “……”

“Pfft——” He Youyuan couldn’t hold back a short, low laugh, and looked at Li Kuiyi, his bright eyes full of triumphant amusement. He had every reason to believe that sour-faced Pineapple had chosen McDonald’s because of him.

See? She liked him.

Even if her mouth was unkind to him, her actions were honest.

The nearest McDonald’s to the school was inside a shopping center, only fifteen minutes on foot. On the way there, He Youyuan announced that since he’d won an award today and was in a good mood, he would treat everyone. Xia Leyi said she’d pay along with him, but He Youyuan refused — McDonald’s was his territory, and nobody else was allowed to interfere.

Li Kuiyi couldn’t help asking: “Do you actually like McDonald’s?”

“Of course.” He Youyuan raised his eyebrows, as though this were the most obvious thing in the world.

Fair enough.

Li Kuiyi had assumed that when he’d said onstage that his favorite food was McDonald’s, it was because he didn’t know how to say anything else in English, and had just come up with something simple off the top of his head.

At that moment, Fang Zhixiao — who had been silent for quite a while — glanced coldly at the school jacket draped over Xia Leyi and said, with studied indifference: “Here I was thinking your favorite food would be pineapple.”