Chapter 16
Yu Fan hauled Chen Jingshen up, face full of disgust.
Maybe it was the lousy constitution. Even after a 400-meter sprint, Chen Jingshen’s hand was cool to the touch.
From a distance, Zhuang Fangqin clocked the scene and did a double take. Since when did those two get this chummy?
She walked over, checked the time on her phone, and got mad again. “If you’d shown the slightest initiative last time and just run the events, would our class have finished dead last?”
Her gaze snapped to Yu Fan. “Especially you, Yu Fan!”
Yu Fan yanked Chen Jingshen to his feet and let go at once. “Can’t you let the rest of the class work a little harder for once?”
“Can’t you have a sliver of class honor for once?” Zhuang Fangqin thumped his head with a lesson plan. She turned and softened at the sight of Chen Jingshen still catching his breath. “Chen Jingshen, you okay? Can you run?”
Chen Jingshen nodded, eyes lowered, breath not quite steady. “I can.”
“Mm. If you really can’t, then train more. Don’t just bury yourself in books. Your fitness needs to keep up.”
“Okay.”
Zhuang Fangqin inclined her head, then looked around. “Wang Lu’an, why don’t you try a three-thousand while we’re here?”
“Teacher Zhuang, I swear I’m not lying.” Wang Lu’an was solemn. “A 3000 is a once-in-a-lifetime deal for me. If I run it today, I’ll need a wheelchair on sports day.”
A few steps away, a girl gripped a bottle of water. She hesitated when she saw the teacher, then turned away, regret stamped on her face. Chen Jingshen’s eyes flicked over, lips pressed together, breaths evening out.
Zhuang Fangqin regrouped the students, rattled off some running tips, told everyone to practice when they could, then finally dismissed them.
Wang Lu’an sprang up. “We can go? I’m dead.”
Zhang Xianjing shot him a look. “Did you even move on the ground? Dead my a**.”
“I’m tired on behalf of my brother,” Wang Lu’an said. “Yu Fan, milk tea?”
Yu Fan took his jacket back. “Mm.”
Wang Lu’an brushed grass off his pants, then caught someone in the corner of his eye. “Chen Jingshen, coming with us?”
Thanks to the great escape at the net café and a couple lines of small talk, Wang Lu’an had decided he and the school’s top scorer were basically bros. He asked out of politeness. Obviously Chen Jingshen wouldn’t go to what most people called a den of delinquents.
“Okay,” Chen Jingshen said.
Wang Lu’an blinked. Yu Fan’s brows pinched. He was about to say, Don’t follow us, when he met Chen Jingshen’s eyes and swallowed it. Whatever. Those legs are attached to his body, not mine.
The milk-tea shop had a handful of tables, half full. Their group claimed one for cards, with a ring of onlookers around them.
Hearing the commotion, Zuo Kuan, a cigarette in his teeth, mumbled, “What took you so long? Been waiting forever.”
Business was slow at this hour. They sat deep in the shop, blithely smoking and playing. The room hung hazy with it.
“Zhuang Fangqin dragged us to run laps,” Wang Lu’an said. “Boss lady, two taro milk teas, and drown one of them in pearls. Top student, what do you want? My treat.”
“Top student? Who are you calling…” Zuo Kuan turned, then froze. “F***!”
He had queued with Chen Jingshen in a game two nights ago, but seeing him walk in beside Yu Fan still felt surreal. Also, maybe he had listened to too many of Chen Jingshen’s assembly speeches. Seeing him made Zuo Kuan instinctively snub out his cigarette.
“No need. I’ll pay,” Chen Jingshen said, scanning. “Same as theirs, thanks.”
“Hey, so you have WeChat now?” Wang Lu’an teased.
“Mm. I made one,” Chen Jingshen answered seriously.
Yu Fan tossed his jacket onto a two-seater and sank into it. They always left that little sofa to him alone.
Wang Lu’an came back with drinks and an extra chair. “Chen Jingshen, sit here.”
Weight lifted by Yu Fan’s hand. Chen Jingshen set his backpack beside Yu Fan, picked up Yu Fan’s uniform jacket, shook it out and draped it neatly over the bag, then sat down right next to Yu Fan like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Everyone’s hands paused mid-deal. Heads turned. A guy at the far end burned his fingers and yelped, “Sh**!”
Yu Fan came to, tapped Chen Jingshen’s knee with his own. “Slide over.”
“It’s fine,” Chen Jingshen said. “I can sit here.”
The crease between Yu Fan’s brows deepened. Zuo Kuan knew that line meant temper incoming. He blew smoke and settled in to watch.
Yu Fan clicked his tongue and turned his head. “Try blowing smoke at me again.”
“Not on purpose,” Zuo Kuan said. He shoved over a cigarette. “Want one?”
“Don’t smoke,” Yu Fan said. “Face the other way.”
Wang Lu’an set the cups down. Yu Fan took his and sipped, then pulled out his phone and resumed his life’s work, Snake.
“You don’t play cards?” Chen Jingshen asked, watching Yu Fan’s thumb flick left and right.
“No.”
They were playing three-card brag, money on the line. Yu Fan only ever joined for Landlord when it meant drawing turtles on the losers’ faces. Otherwise, no one bothered asking him.
“Then do some homework,” Chen Jingshen said.
Everyone: “??”
Yu Fan tightened his grip on his phone. He was about to tell Chen Jingshen to take his backpack and roll when a voice came from the door.
“Honey lemon, please. Actually, forget it.”
The guy saw who was inside and turned to leave.
“Yo, isn’t that Ding Xiao?” Zuo Kuan reeled him back in. “Stand there. What are you afraid of? Pay, then go.”
At the name, Wang Lu’an looked over. The easy smile vanished from his face. Only Yu Fan kept his head down, snake charging forward.
Chen Jingshen glanced toward the entrance. The boy was tall and pudgy. At Zuo Kuan’s voice, his face went chalk-white. He shuffled back, clutching his backpack. “Honey lemon water.”
“Sit and wait,” Zuo Kuan snorted.
“Forget it,” Wang Lu’an said. “Seeing him ruins my appetite. That taro milk tea is going to waste.”
Ding Xiao flushed and blanched by turns, standing there like he was being slow-roasted. Then he spotted a familiar car outside. Suddenly full of courage, he snatched the finished drink and forced out, “A bunch of scum.”
Wang Lu’an shot to his feet. “You talking about who? Come say it to my face.”
Zuo Kuan threw his cards down to get up too.
None of it had the intimidation factor of Yu Fan lifting his eyes. Their gazes met. Ding Xiao flinched, spun, and bolted, bleating, “Mom! Mom!”
“What a sh**,” Yu Fan muttered, eyes dropping back to his screen.
“Are you brain-damaged?” Wang Lu’an yelled toward the door. “No one even touched you and you’re crying for mom. Mama’s boy!”
He turned back and met Chen Jingshen’s steady, unreadable gaze. Right. Good student present. He dragged a chair over, grin snapping back into place. “Don’t worry, Chen Jingshen, we’re not always like this.”
Zuo Kuan followed his glance. Scared? From that face? Please. Still the same poker mask.
“Who was that?” Chen Jingshen asked.
“Ding Xiao. Class Two. Your old neighbor class. Don’t know him?” Wang Lu’an asked.
“No impression,” Chen Jingshen said.
“Then you must’ve heard about Yu Fan slamming a lunch tray on someone’s head in the cafeteria back in Grade Ten,” Wang Lu’an said. “That someone was him.”
He remembered it vividly. He had slept through the whole morning and dragged Yu Fan to the canteen at noon, starving, finally scored sweet-and-sour ribs. The canteen tables were crammed, people squeezing by on both sides, meaning you heard everything behind you.
“The girl in front of me confessed to that Yu Fan from Class Seven, got rejected, cried for a whole period. So annoying.”“Hey, I’ve got a pic of her tying her shoe. Wanna see? Collar wide open. You can see everything.”
That was when Yu Fan planted the tray on his head. First official demerit of Yu Fan’s high-school career.
“He was so badass,” Wang Lu’an said. “The move, the look, fierce as hell. Everyone in the canteen froze.”
Yu Fan flicked his snake. “If I’d known you’d be sentimental about it this long, I would’ve picked the ribs out of his hair for you.”
“No need,” Wang Lu’an said quickly.
Zuo Kuan lit another cig. “Yu Fan, how’d you hold back with that idiot? If I were you, I would’ve…”
“Drag him into the bathroom, lock the door, bring a stick and a blade, knock out half his teeth, shave his head, slice his fingers.” Yu Fan’s voice was flat. “You think I don’t know how? Need your tutorial?”
“Uh,” Zuo Kuan said.
“Bro,” Wang Lu’an said. “We’re usually fists-only. Since when are we talking blades?”
“I just couldn’t be bothered,” Yu Fan said coolly. “And compared to him, I’m more in the mood to hit people who cling.”
Chen Jingshen’s hand tightened on his backpack strap.
Yu Fan added, “And the ones who open their mouth and it’s all study and homework.”
Chen Jingshen unzipped his bag.
“People like that. If I see them, I’ll hit them,” Yu Fan said.
Chen Jingshen took out a stack of assignments.
Yu Fan swallowed the urge to swing and slumped back with his phone.
The others blinked at Chen Jingshen’s setup.
Wang Lu’an leaned in. “You’re doing homework here?”
“Just skimming,” Chen Jingshen said.
“Legend. You’re a legend.” Wang Lu’an beamed. “Sooo, when you’re done, could you send me a copy?”
Chen Jingshen glanced up. “Sure.”
“You’re a saint.” Wang Lu’an whipped out his phone. “Let’s add each other on WeChat first.”
They added. Wang Lu’an typed in a fawning remark name, then peeked at Chen Jingshen’s avatar. “F***, that’s sick. Is that your dog?”
“Mm.”
“This is too cool. Can you even walk him? Doesn’t he just drag you down the street?”
“He doesn’t,” Chen Jingshen said.
“Damn.” Wang Lu’an admired the full image. “How’d you land on a dog like that? Isn’t it too fierce?”
“No,” Chen Jingshen said, eyes drifting once to the side. “I like fierce.”
Yu Fan: “…”
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