The tennis match left a deep impression on everyone at Qinglin. For one, a picture from that day was still revered years after Song Zhiqing and the others graduated, hailed as one of the top ten legendary photos on the Qinglin school forum.
For another, the match was both too intense and too brief. When the bell rang to signal the end of class, many people still wore expressions of wanting more.
Since this was the last class of the morning, they held out hope that the two girls, who had been at each other’s throats, would continue the match.
In reality, neither of them had the strength to continue. They had forced themselves onto the court in a fit of pique, and once that adrenaline faded, all sorts of physical discomforts began to surface.
Song Zhiqing, at least, was in immense pain.
This pain wasn’t just the mental anguish of seeing Shangguan Xianxian carry a pale-faced Shen Wei to the infirmary, leaving her with the parting shot, “Classmate Song, you clearly saw Weiwei wasn’t feeling well.” More than that, it was the first time Song Zhiqing had ever experienced menstrual cramps.
It felt like a small beast was churning in her lower abdomen. Song Zhiqing’s forehead was beaded with cold sweat, which mixed with the sweat from her exertion, making it impossible to distinguish between the two. This gave Shangguan Xianxian the perfect excuse to condemn her, and Song Zhiqing was in too much pain to have the mental capacity to feel hurt by it.
Ye Yuhuan, at her side, noticed something was wrong. She hurried forward to support her and wiped her face with a dry towel, revealing a complexion that was hardly any rosier than Shen Wei’s.
Ye Yuhuan’s brow furrowed. She had plenty of experience with menstrual cramps and knew at a glance what was wrong with Song Zhiqing. Thankfully, she had bought room-temperature water. After helping Song Zhiqing drink about half the bottle, Ye Yuhuan squatted down. Forgetting the respect a subordinate owed her boss, she said irritably, “Hurry up, get on. I’ll carry you to the infirmary.”
Song Zhiqing hesitated before climbing onto Ye Yuhuan’s back. Amid the intense pain, she retained a sliver of reason and asked, “Can you carry me?”
If Shangguan Xianxian can carry Shen Wei, how could I possibly not be able to carry…
Okay, she really couldn’t.
Ye Yuhuan realized this fact halfway through straightening her legs. If she really tried, they would likely both collapse within ten steps. She gave an embarrassed cough. “I’ll go find someone.”
From the crowd that had yet to disperse, Ye Yuhuan precisely spotted a few of Song Zhiqing’s underlings. They had also noticed something seemed wrong with Song Zhiqing and were heading over to check on their boss.
As the boss, Song Zhiqing was deeply loved and respected; otherwise, she wouldn’t have been able to establish her status as the school tyrant in a place like Qinglin, which was crawling with petty despots. Seeing the pain on her face, one of the more boisterous boys rushed over, as swift and grief-stricken as Zhang Fei lunging toward Liu Bei’s sickbed. “Boss, are you okay?!” he yelled.
Song Zhiqing struggled to lift her head, recognizing the boy as the most talkative of her underlings. The cramps tormented her relentlessly, making her dizzy and her heart crawl with anxiety. The boy’s booming voice only made her head throb. Gritting her teeth, Song Zhiqing squeezed a few words from her throat: “If you shout a few more times, I really might be in trouble.”
Seeing Song Zhiqing sweating more and more, Ye Yuhuan skipped the explanation—otherwise, this group would only make a bigger fuss—and said directly, “Song Zhiqing needs to go to the infirmary. One of you, hurry and carry her.”
Several people eagerly volunteered, looking like loyal subjects ready to go through fire and water for their boss. They chattered anxiously, and the noise made Song Zhiqing shut her eyes. Ye Yuhuan couldn’t bear to watch. The sheer chuunibyou energy of Song Zhiqing’s gang was something she would never get used to; it made her cringe so hard her toes curled.
Ye Yuhuan quickly pointed to the tallest boy. The others refused to leave, declaring they wouldn’t be at ease until they saw their boss was okay.
Ye Yuhuan couldn’t dissuade them, so the group proceeded to the infirmary in a grand procession, sparking countless rumors that we shall set aside for now.
It is worth noting that on the way to the infirmary, they happened upon Shangguan Xianxian, who had run out of stamina and was standing by the side of the path, calling for help. Ye Yuhuan’s pride, wounded by her own failed attempt to carry someone, was instantly soothed.
By now, Shen Wei’s lips were turning bluish. Shangguan Xianxian was so frantic she had lost all her usual composure. Ye Yuhuan couldn’t bear to watch. In the novel’s plot, they were Song Zhiqing’s opponents, but they hadn’t actually done anything wrong. So, she stepped forward and asked, “Do you need help?”
Seeing their large group and Shen Wei’s unending cold sweat, Shangguan Xianxian put down her phone. After a solemn word of thanks, she transferred Shen Wei onto the back of a girl who was supposedly a weightlifter.
And so, the two who had just been battling it out on the tennis court met again under such dramatic circumstances. If Shen Wei weren’t so breathless she could barely speak, she would have rather walked herself than accept this false kindness from Song Zhiqing’s people. In her past life, this very group had gathered to mock her, their condescending faces still the stuff of her nightmares.
Song Zhiqing, however, was in too much pain to even register Shen Wei’s presence. Far more than Shen Wei, it was Ye Yuhuan—who stayed by her side, constantly wiping away her sweat—who stirred her heart. It was the first time she had seen this side of Ye Yuhuan. Normally, Ye Yuhuan was so calm, as if emotions were an intensely private matter, not to be displayed casually, much like one’s own body. The fragile Ye Yuhuan she had met a year ago seemed like a distant dream; sometimes, Song Zhiqing even wondered if that side of her had ever truly existed.
Song Zhiqing hoped she did. She understood a simple truth: if a person couldn’t feel pain, they couldn’t feel happiness either.
Song Zhiqing wanted the people around her to be happy.
The Ye Yuhuan of this moment hadn’t completely shed her restraints, but she had a bit more life in her. Her pale jaw was clenched tight, and the look in her eyes was no longer the formulaic obedience of a subordinate to her boss. The undeniable worry and regret in her gaze made Song Zhiqing understand: So this is what Ye Yuhuan looks like when she cares about someone.
Song Zhiqing nuzzled the towel Ye Yuhuan was holding to her forehead. If only this side of her didn’t require me to be in so much pain to appear, she thought, feeling that Ye Yuhuan was being a bit too harsh.
The underlings watching from the side all had the same thought: Why does the boss have to be so hung up on Shangguan Xianxian? Our strategist is a total knockout, too.
The two girls, weakened by the tennis match, finally arrived at the infirmary. The elderly school doctor was startled by their procession, assuming they were carrying students injured in a brawl. He was about to treat their wounds and then deliver a lecture, but after asking what happened, he decided it was worse than a brawl. A brawl could at least be passed off as an accident. But to play so intensely while knowing they weren’t well? That was a complete disregard for their own health.
The school doctor scolded them nonstop. The two patients lay on adjacent beds, showing no signs of shame, only a desire to switch beds and get away from each other. Shangguan Xianxian and Ye Yuhuan, on the other hand, listened and nodded in agreement.
The underlings couldn’t stand the doctor’s nagging. After a quick word with Song Zhiqing, they made a run for it.
The moment the doctor left, the two girls said in unison, “I want to change beds.”
After speaking, they glared at each other, again in unison. They couldn’t even sit up, yet they could still muster such ferocity.
Ye Yuhuan saw that Shen Wei was still struggling to breathe; just forcing out those words had clearly taken a great deal of effort. She had no idea how Song Zhiqing had offended her in their past life. According to the plot, wasn’t Shen Wei supposed to maintain her persona as the “country bumpkin true daughter” after her rebirth? Why did she get her hackles up like a fighting cock every time she saw Song Zhiqing?
The infirmary had four beds in total. Song Zhiqing and Shen Wei had been placed in the two middle ones, but at their request, they were each moved one bed over toward the walls. They had been put in the middle for convenience and to shield them from noise from the outer room. When the old school doctor came in and saw the new arrangement, he sighed. “You youngsters!”
Regardless of what the doctor thought, Song Zhiqing immediately relaxed now that she was farther away from Shen Wei—she had no desire to watch Shangguan Xianxian fuss over her.
Song Zhiqing took a sip of the brown sugar ginger tea Ye Yuhuan had just prepared. She frowned and complained, “This tastes weird. I already took some medicine, so it doesn’t hurt anymore. I don’t really need to drink this, do I?”
Ye Yuhuan held the spoon and brought another mouthful to her lips, her peach-blossom eyes filled with earnestness. “The medicine only suppresses it temporarily. You really strained yourself this time, so you need to recuperate properly. Otherwise, you’ll get cramps again next time. You have a strong constitution; if you’d just been a little more careful, you wouldn’t have been in pain at all.”
Song Zhiqing heard the unspoken meaning in her words. A flicker of guilt crossed her face, and she obediently finished the entire bowl.
Ye Yuhuan pulled out a tissue to wipe her mouth, but Song Zhiqing quickly took it from her, saying shyly, “I can do it myself.”
Ye Yuhuan remained perfectly composed. After handing her the tissue, she began tidying the table. Watching her bustle about, Song Zhiqing suddenly felt a little nervous. Why was Ye Yuhuan being so good to her all of a sudden?
Before, it had been the care and concern of a subordinate for her boss, but wasn’t this going a bit too far? That business with wiping her mouth, for example, was a little too intimate.
She doesn’t… like me, does she? Song Zhiqing couldn’t help the narcissistic speculation. To be honest, a great beauty like me is pretty likable.
Oh, but I like Shangguan Xianxian.
Ye Yuhuan knows that, so why is she still acting this way?
It’s so embarrassing.
The expression on Song Zhiqing’s face was so vivid—her cheeks flushed, her brow furrowed in conflict—that Ye Yuhuan knew in an instant what nonsense was running through her head. She also knew her own actions had been a bit odd, but it was simply her habit when caring for the sick. After all, the people she had cared for in the past hadn’t been as self-sufficient as Song Zhiqing.
Still, she couldn’t let the misunderstanding continue. It would be a problem if Song Zhiqing started keeping her distance to avoid suspicion. If that happened, Ye Yuhuan wouldn’t be able to save her even if she were a god descended from heaven.
Ye Yuhuan tucked a charged heat pack under Song Zhiqing’s blanket. Seeing the startled look on Song Zhiqing’s face, just as she’d expected, Ye Yuhuan turned her head to hide a smile and pulled her hand out. “Put that on your stomach. It’ll help you feel better.”
Then, she added, as if it were an afterthought, “Boss, you know I’m not into girls.”
Song Zhiqing’s face turned an even deeper shade of red, the blush spreading all the way down her neck. Mortified, she snapped, “I didn’t ask you that!”
Two beds away, Shen Wei finally had the strength to speak. Her annoyance with Song Zhiqing was far greater than Song Zhiqing’s was with her. “Classmate Song, could you please keep your voice down?”
For a moment, Song Zhiqing didn’t know whether she should curse out Shen Wei first or deal with the teasing look on Ye Yuhuan’s face.
Shangguan Xianxian sensed the tense atmosphere. Remembering that Song Zhiqing’s group had helped them today, she squeezed Shen Wei’s palm and gave her a disapproving shake of her head. “It’s fine,” she said aloud. “We didn’t hear anything. Don’t worry about it, Classmate Song. Weiwei is just being a little temperamental.”
Shangguan Xianxian’s attempt to smooth things over was worse than saying nothing at all. It only reminded Song Zhiqing how misleading their conversation had sounded—and in front of her crush, no less.
Song Zhiqing felt like steam was about to pour out of her ears.
Right now, she was finding Ye Yuhuan’s cleverness to be not so pleasant after all.
Ye Yuhuan watched Song Zhiqing burrow deep into her blankets like a scalded rabbit.
The corners of her lips curled up in an irrepressible smile. She tapped the bedside table. “Well, I’m going to the cafeteria to get some food. Remember to come out for some fresh air later.”
Furious, Song Zhiqing pounded the bed from under the covers. “Just stop talking!”
Ye Yuhuan pressed a fist to her lips. She had to admit, she had a bit of a wicked streak.
