The department head of Chu Zhi’s program was surnamed He1. Perhaps due to constant worry, he looked at least ten years older than his actual age. When he smiled, his eyes curved into crescents, appearing kind and gentle – a typical wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Yin Mingshuo was from Business Management, and his department head had an expressionless face, with meticulously combed hair and the appearance of an elite educator. He didn’t look easy to deal with either.
Sure enough, when the two met, their eyes clashed with sparks flying.
Before the confrontation, the expressionless head looked at his students covered in porridge and soy milk mixture, and couldn’t bear to look directly at them. He waved at Lu Jiaheng: “Have them clean up first before coming back.”
Lu Jiaheng stood next to Chu Zhi, hands in his pockets, lazily lifting his eyelids: “Heard that? Go on your own, do you need a senior to teach you how to change clothes?”
His tone was lazy, a smile playing on his lips, completely disregarding the department head’s words with an unrestrained “I’m just here for the show” attitude, showing no respect whatsoever.
The expressionless head coughed twice but surprisingly said nothing.
Lin Tong turned her head, secretly glancing at the man’s profile, and nudged Chu Zhi with her elbow, lowering her voice: “Isn’t this your—”
Gu Han: “Isn’t this your—”
My creditor, Chu Zhi thought to herself.
Xue Niannan said expressionlessly: “Your pink water bottle, he stole your water, and your bottle, what else can’t he steal?”
Chu Zhi: “…”
Something seemed off.
The “pink water bottle” was quite close and might have heard their conversation, as his gaze turned back, giving her an ambiguous look.
Chu Zhi maintained her obedient expression while waiting to be scolded. She slightly turned her head to look at the smiling tiger talking to the expressionless face, then leaned a bit closer to the side and asked him quietly: “Are you here to sunbathe today too?”
The young girl’s hair was slightly messy, with a few strands escaping from her hair tie, swaying as she moved.
Lu Jiaheng’s fingers itched in his pockets, his fingertips lifting slightly as he stared absent-mindedly at the soft, fine hair behind her ear, giving a faint “mm” in response.
Chu Zhi blinked, looked up at the sky, then back at him: “But it’s cloudy today.”
Lu Jiaheng: “…”
“The weather forecast said it would be sunny today.”
Chu Zhi made an “ah” sound and nodded in understanding. She was about to say something when the counselor approached sternly, and she quickly shut her mouth, lowering her head meekly.
For some reason, Lu Jiaheng felt oddly relieved.
The fighting incident wasn’t particularly major or minor. They were all at an age of hot blood, and as Chu Zhi’s department head said, it was normal for young people to get passionate sometimes – their enthusiasm shouldn’t be stifled.
Chu Zhi thought this department head must be from the Chinese Literature department.
If it had been within the same college or department, it would have been easier to handle, but with two groups from different colleges, it was quite troublesome.
It was like children misbehaving – parents could discipline them freely behind closed doors, but if their child was bullied by others outside, parents would be the first to object.
Neither were willing to give in. After a heated debate with no resolution, everyone finally compromised: they would apologize to each other, receive warning disciplinary actions, and write self-reflection papers. That would settle the matter.
When it was Chu Zhi’s turn, the young girl properly bowed to Yin Mingshuo: “I’m sorry for throwing porridge at you,” her tone was full of remorse, completely sincere and earnest, “even though you bought it for me.”
Yin Mingshuo: “…”
Why did it somehow feel like she was saying ‘you deserved it’?
The fighting incident was thus concluded. During the last few days of military training, while other students practiced marching, Chu Zhi and her group were punished with standing.
On the first day, everyone stood together in a line, chatting and laughing when no one was watching, enjoying their punishment thoroughly, thinking it was great as they could skip military training.
Soon, the instructor noticed this and separated them all, leaving them to gaze at each other from across the vast training ground.
September was a season of change. While the beginning of the month had scorching sun every day, by mid-month as military training was ending, the weather had cooled down.
Chu Zhi was banished to the border of the field, standing from morning to afternoon and afternoon to evening for several consecutive days. Her knees ached but she couldn’t move. Every time she tried to secretly lean against the fence behind her for rest, she would see the four-digit price tag lounging lazily like a young master.
The young master had been sunbathing every day lately, with or without sun – if there wasn’t any, he’d create his own to bask in.
Chu Zhi thought he must really love exercise.
Their eyes met across the 400-meter track through the sea of people. Chu Zhi saw him smile vaguely from afar before walking over.
He stopped in front of her, raising his arm with an elegant hand holding a bottle of Pocari Sweat suspended before her.
Chu Zhi was stunned and didn’t take it.
He leaned forward slightly, his tone playful: “Take it, didn’t I steal your water before?”
Chu Zhi: “…”
So he had heard them earlier…
Chu Zhi felt quite embarrassed, like being caught talking behind someone’s back. She still didn’t take it: “It’s fine, it was just a little water anyway.”
He didn’t say anything more, simply bent down and placed the water bottle by her feet.
Chu Zhi looked down at the translucent water bottle and thanked him softly: “Thank you.”
He stood beside her. As the girl lowered her head, the collar of her training uniform revealed a small patch of fair skin on her nape, hidden behind her hair, startlingly white.
Lu Jiaheng stared for a moment without speaking.
The young girl raised her head.
He shifted his gaze, his expression unchanged.
His throat started to itch again.
Chu Zhi didn’t notice. She bent down to pick up the water bottle and hugged it to her chest. Remembering how he had come with the two department heads that day and seemed familiar with the expressionless one from Business Management, she looked up and asked: “Senior, are you from Business Management?”
Lu Jiaheng leaned sideways against the fence: “Yes, Finance.”
“Wow,” Chu Zhi said supportively.
“Wow what?”
“Nothing, just saying wow.”
“…”
He laughed, “You’re studying journalism?”
“Advertising,” Chu Zhi blinked, “I told you before.”
Hearing this, the man fell silent for a moment.
His brain quickly filtered through his memories trying to recall when she had told him this, but came up empty.
He had forgotten.
“I told you my name too,” Chu Zhi said.
Lu Jiaheng: “…”
“And my phone number.”
Lu Jiaheng remembered now.
But at that time, she had spoken too quickly, and he had been annoyed, his head full of garlic scent. He hadn’t really paid attention to what she was saying, nor did he particularly care.
Lu Jiaheng felt an unfamiliar sense of regret.
Sure enough, the young girl’s eyes widened slightly as she looked at his expression: “You don’t remember?”
Those dark eyes were bright and clear, now filled with disbelief and a hint of reproach.
He was about to apologize when she continued: “How could you not remember? What if I was a bad person and ran away without paying for your clothes?”
“…”
So that’s what she was worried about?
Lu Jiaheng licked his lips, letting out a short laugh: “You don’t need to pay,” he paused, his voice lowering to a magnetic timbre as his dark eyes fixed on her, “It’s fine even if you’re a bad person, just don’t run away.”
Chu Zhi wasn’t really listening, busy taking her phone out of her military training jacket pocket. She unlocked it and handed it to him with one hand: “I only saved your number, add your name.”
As she spoke, she held out her other hand, palm up.
Such a small hand, fair and delicate, with clean, fine lines on the palm.
He looked down for a moment, took her phone and handed her his.
Chu Zhi had used his phone once before and quickly found the contacts. She searched for her number and, sure enough, it wasn’t saved.
Chu Zhi tucked the Pocari Sweat under her arm and quickly saved her number and name, then handed it back.
The man took it, typing one-handed on her phone.
While trying to twist open the Pocari Sweat bottle cap, Chu Zhi marveled at how having long fingers was advantageous – her thumb couldn’t reach properly, while he could type effortlessly with one hand.
But after twisting for a while until her palm hurt, she still couldn’t open it.
She pulled her hand back slightly and shook her sleeve, using the fabric to grip the cap.
Still couldn’t open it.
Chu Zhi’s face fell, unhappy.
Just then, the man finished typing, exited the screen, locked it, and held it out to her.
Chu Zhi had no hands free to take it, still battling with the water bottle, completely absorbed in the task as she twisted back and forth, her long ponytail swinging forward. Her little face was flushed from the effort, the sleeve fabric bunched up between her palm and the bottle cap, all wrinkled.
Young Master Lu lowered his eyes, watching her cute struggling expression with a slight curve to his lips. He tucked the phone in front of her, his beautiful fingers gripping the plastic bottle neck, gently pulling it from her hands.
Chu Zhi obediently let go, took the phone and put it in her pocket, then stepped forward two steps, her small head leaning in to watch, an expression of admiration already prepared.
Lu Jiaheng’s expression was composed, his whole body exuding a careless laziness, his fingers resting languidly on the bottle cap, his entire posture suggesting that opening a bottle was as easy as breathing.
A brief silence fell between them.
One second, two seconds, three seconds.
Lu Jiaheng’s face froze.
He couldn’t open it either.
He casually lifted his eyes – the young girl was tilting her head back, looking at him expectantly, her face full of anticipation.
Lu Jiaheng: “…”
What kind of useless water was this?
He was never buying it again.
- I thought I’d mention; He in mandarin is pronounced like ‘her’ without the ‘r’ at the end. ↩︎
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