“Just now…”
The two people in the front row turned half their faces around, as if they were bored and eavesdropping on their conversation. After Fu Yuhan said two words, he paused and shot an impatient glance over: “Are you two that idle?”
Fang Jiayuan patted Sun Wenrui. Sun Wenrui seemed somewhat dissatisfied, glanced at Wen Yu, pursed his lips, and turned back around.
Fu Yuhan didn’t delve into the deeper meaning of the other’s expression.
His attention was still on Wen Yu’s swollen ankle, frowning as he asked: “It wasn’t swollen when we were over there just now, was it?”
Wen Yu made an affirmative sound, his slender right fingertips twirling his pen while his left hand naturally pulled down his school uniform pant leg to cover that section of gauze, smiling: “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”
Fu Yuhan grabbed his arm and forced him to turn around.
Most of the time, Fu Yuhan’s face only had two expressions: displeased and expressionless. At this moment, looking at Wen Yu, his expression was somewhere between these two, carrying a certain silent stubbornness.
Wen Yu stared at him and suddenly smiled: “Are you always like this?”
“Like what?”
“I remember last year on Yang Fan’s birthday,” Wen Yu thought of something amusing, “we all planned to go straight to KTV for the second round, but Yang Fan said he had arranged to meet you somewhere and had to go pick you up… otherwise you’d wait until midnight. I thought at the time, this person must be a block of stone.”
Fu Yuhan: “…”
Last year on Yang Fan’s birthday, within his means, he had prepared a simple light show for him.
That’s why he insisted Yang Fan had to come, after all, something he’d spent two weeks setting up couldn’t just be moved at will.
And today, it was because he didn’t like owing people favors—
How could these be lumped together?
“Today I’ve really seen it, you really are a block of stone.” Wen Yu shook his head and moved his chair back a bit, placing his swollen left foot across his right knee. “What good does it do you to insist on knowing such things?”
His right hand hovered in the air, making a twisting and pulling motion above his left ankle.
Fu Yuhan’s expression immediately became indescribable: “…When did you do it?”
Wen Yu pointed toward the front of the classroom: “At the corner.”
In other words, when he came back and saw Fu Yuhan being lectured, he deliberately sprained his own ankle, then ran to the math teacher to play innocent.
What a wolf.
But Fu Yuhan had some common sense. He was stunned for a while, seeming unable to believe it, murmuring: “Normal people’s feet don’t sprain that easily, right?”
“They do if there’s an old injury.” Wen Yu looked completely unconcerned. He put his foot down, supported himself with one foot and shifted his chair. “It’s nothing serious. When I don’t want to attend class, I’ll make myself sprain it.”
“…Thank you.”
“Thank me for what,” Wen Yu said, “or are you planning to compensate me?”
His rising intonation sounded somewhat ill-intentioned. Fu Yuhan instinctively felt something was wrong, but because he hated owing people favors, he still asked: “…What do you want?”
Wen Yu turned his head and grinned.
Fu Yuhan: “…?”
Natural light fell into the youth’s eyes like starlight. Wen Yu faced him and silently mouthed a word.
Yang Fan.
“…” Fu Yuhan lowered his eyes. “Dream on.”
“Then don’t ask.” Wen Yu turned his face back, smiling lightly. “Besides that, what else could I want from you—do you want me to ask you to pledge yourself to me?”
That would be too disgusting.
Fu Yuhan felt like throwing up just thinking about it.
He didn’t respond, unconsciously frowning. When he looked up again, he suddenly paused.
Wen Yu’s medium-length black hair fell by his ear, and when it moved, it revealed a perfectly shaped ear.
There was actually a hole in his earlobe.
He wasn’t wearing a plastic stud, so Fu Yuhan couldn’t tell for sure if it was an earring hole. But how to put it… this kind of thing usually associated with “bad students” appearing on Wen Yu felt very incongruous.
Although perhaps… this person wasn’t as “perfect” as Yang Fan described.
Fu Yuhan withdrew his gaze.
Whether it was because of Director Yao’s lecture or not, he didn’t skip any more classes today. The class bulletin board would be evaluated in two weeks, and since Fu Yuhan was the only one who could draw the main illustration, he had to start early.
The blackboard at the back had long been cleaned by the duty students. Ge Ran had prepared paints for him, all placed on the cabinet at the back. The second period was PE class changed to self-study, so Fu Yuhan moved a small table to use as a seat and sat at the very back.
With the rough sketch done, he was confident about the main drawing. The only trouble was filling in the colors.
However, Fu Yuhan didn’t force himself to finish quickly; instead, he painted very slowly. While painting, he thought about Director Yao’s suggestion.
Taking the art exam… he did want to.
Training cost money, and he heard that subsequent studies were very expensive. If he wanted to study abroad later, it would be an even larger sum. His sister was born weak and sickly, and they didn’t know how much a heart transplant would cost. Ms. He Yan was used to being frugal and might not be willing to pay.
He didn’t think about asking Zhou Wenkang to do the work for him, because he knew it would be useless.
But…
He still had a biological father.
Fu Yuhan was slightly lost in thought.
Third High only offered art classes in freshman year, one period per week, with just one art teacher for the whole school whom everyone knew.
Fu Yuhan thought for the entire class period without any clear ideas. During the break, he went to the “miscellaneous subjects” office.
“What wind could blow you here?” the art teacher asked with a smile.
She was a gentle woman with her desk covered in cute decorative stickers and a cup of freshly brewed coffee at hand.
Although it was instant coffee… the coffee aroma filling the room reminded Fu Yuhan of Yang Fan.
He was a “Starbucks” enthusiast.
Fu Yuhan collected his thoughts, lowered his eyes, and said softly: “I wanted to ask, if I want to take the art college entrance exam… what do I need to do?”
“You want to take the art exam?” The art teacher was obviously a bit surprised.
Fu Yuhan’s painting was a personal hobby. Although many classmates knew about it because he often skipped classes to sketch outside, he had never shown much in proper art classes.
Not wanting to explain much, he casually made an affirmative sound.
“If you don’t have a foundation, it would be very difficult to catch up now. You might need to enroll in a full-time closed studio training program. You’d need to ask for leave from school.” The art teacher said, “The art joint examination is in December—this is equivalent to a professional college entrance exam and is mandatory. If you have a good school in mind, like an art academy, you might also need to take individual school exams… this needs to be analyzed case by case.”
She looked at him: “What’s your current skill level? Do you have any schools in mind?”
“I can paint a little, don’t know what level. Schools… no.”
“Do you have any previous artwork? You could bring some over for me to look at.”
“…I don’t have any either.”
This sounded like an unreasonable customer. Fu Yuhan bit the soft flesh in his mouth and explained quietly: “A few days ago… my mom threw them away as trash.”
“Oh my.” The art teacher looked regretful.
Only people who paint would know the value of old artwork.
But since she wasn’t familiar with Fu Yuhan, she didn’t ask more, only saying: “Then find time in the next few days to draw a sketch for me, with a three-hour time limit. I’ll help you look at it and then discuss specifics with you, okay? I know quite a few people at art studios outside.”
“Okay.” Fu Yuhan paused, stopped and gave the art teacher a half-bow. “Thank you.”
“…No, no.” She smiled. “I’m not used to you being so polite.”
If it were Wen Yu thanking her so solemnly, she probably wouldn’t feel so uncomfortable.
Because good students thanking teachers was common, but bad students turning over a new leaf was extremely rare—
Fu Yuhan lowered his eyes and bent his waist even lower.
Although he felt a bit displeased, he didn’t care.
Expressing gratitude was his own business.
The comprehensive office was full of teachers for non-essential exam subjects, so it was located in the teaching building used by freshmen. Fu Yuhan closed the door and left, running into a group of girls who had come to eavesdrop.
When the young underclassmen saw him, they scattered like birds with red faces. Only one or two bold ones dared to giggle at him: “School prince, come play often!”
These days, there were more and more outgoing and bold girls, fewer who would blush deeply. In his third year at Third High, Fu Yuhan couldn’t remember how many times he’d been “teased” by upperclassmen and underclassmen in various ways.
He had few expressions, so he didn’t feel embarrassed. Usually he just walked past and that was it.
After all, being gay, he couldn’t possibly respond to any of them.
However, today Fu Yuhan stopped for a moment, his gaze passing over those girls to land on a young male student in a freshman classroom.
A girl who was obviously very bold looked back and smiled: “School prince, did you take a fancy to someone in our class?”
“The one who just went in…” he asked, “is that Zhou Xiangyan?”
“Yes, you know him?”
“Not well.” He walked away.
True busyness is when days flow like water while those living in it are unaware.
By the time he finished the illustration on the bulletin board, three days had passed in a flash, followed by the suddenly increased number of greeting cards under Wen Yu’s “help.”
Fu Yuhan didn’t consider himself a good student, but he wasn’t someone who completely ignored homework either. Uncle Qin was busy with work, and he had to take over He Yan’s shift at night to care for his sister, making him increasingly silent from exhaustion.
Then after Teacher’s Day passed, he belatedly realized that the first monthly exam had arrived.
The first monthly exam was scheduled early, arranged for the 11th and 12th.
The monthly exam came after summer supplementary classes, roughly serving as a placement test for the new semester. It wasn’t arranged very ceremoniously with changed exam rooms—teachers distributed papers like they were giving practice tests in class, having everyone take them at their own seats.
At first, Fu Yuhan really thought it was an ordinary practice test. He hadn’t slept well from caring for his sister, and he even fell asleep during the Chinese essay portion.
This was quite remarkable—losing 60 points right off the bat on a 150-point Chinese test. When grades were released after the weekend, his already low grade ranking dropped back by over 80 places.
When Zhou Wenkang projected the table of scores and grade rankings on the PPT, he specifically said: “Students whose rankings dropped significantly this time, come to my office after class.”
It was only then that Fu Yuhan realized the test papers they had to submit for grading last week were actually the monthly exam.
Then, when he looked up, he saw his desk mate’s name at the very top of the giant slide projection.
Wen Yu: Chinese 141, Mathematics 150, English 146, Physics 98, Chemistry 100, Biology 96.
Out of a total 750 points, this person scored 731.
Grade ranking: 1.
Author’s Note: Despite rushing, I still didn’t make it by 12 o’clock. T-T
I’m such a failure. OTL
##
