Despite a few hiccups, the contest rolled on, climbing to No. 25 like beads on an abacus. The disk grew crowded like pebbles in a stream, yet its red center sat bare as a quiet pond.

After that young man slid his coin into the red, others made it there too, only to be knocked away by those behind them, like waves smashing sandcastles, some on purpose, some not.

Three or four security guards and a swarm of staff showed up, a fence of spears to hold order. Those whose coins got blasted felt their anger simmer like hot tea, but faced with that formation, they swallowed it, memorized faces like carving names on bamboo, and drifted off the field.

“Contestant No. 30, please step up!” Many who saw hope fade left like smoke, yet the crowd didn’t thin; it swelled like moths to a lantern as the contest burned hotter.

No. 30 tossed lightly. His coin pecked two others like a sparrow and finally nestled in the orange zone, brushing close to red.

He showed no regret; orange meant a phone, sweet as fruit. Meanwhile, the two whose coins got bumped away gnashed their teeth like wolves left hungry.

Eyes turned to the last contestants, sharpening like knives: a youth, a brute with a stormy face, a woman with a child, a middle-school girl, and then Lu Ke and Xiao Qianxue.

The youth’s throw slid into blue, calm as shallow water.

The brute swung too hard, a hammer without aim. He missed every zone and knocked three other coins clean off like logs in a flood.

“Damn bad luck!” He roared like thunder and swaggered off, splitting the crowd like reeds in the wind. No one dared stand in his way, fearing trouble like a stray spark.

Lu Ke caught a pattern, eyes like a chess player’s. Though the throw looked careless, the three coins he blasted were all in orange— a planted sweep to clear the field. Faced with that hulking frame, their owners stood silent, fear tight as rope.

Next, the woman urged her child to throw. The boy lobbed his coin near the rim, into blue, like a stone skimming the pond’s edge. Now only two contestants remained.

The middle-school girl, nerves fluttering like a sparrow, tossed. Her coin barely kissed the orange zone. “Yeah!” she cried, then ran off light as a deer, while applause rose like rain on tiled roofs.

At last, the hoodie duo stepped up: Lu Ke and Xiaoxue.

Lu Ke didn’t lift his hood; the blonde girl stayed wrapped tight like winter bamboo. Her petite frame made them look like an older brother taking his little brother out to play.

With one last throw ahead, the crowd kept swelling, a tide eager to watch the final crest.

So many eyes felt like a weight on the chest, and Lu Ke’s nerves pricked like needles. Relax… Relax… Xiaoxue is still waiting for her bear pillow. He drew a deep breath like cold mountain air, took the coin from his pocket, and clenched it like a talisman.

Muscle memory. Force. Angle. He fixed on the disk, mind spinning like brass gears. Born to a medical family, math was a clean stitch; like surgery and compounding, there was no room for error, not even a grain of sand.

The road to red was jammed, stones in a stream. The only path was a ram, then a rebound off other coins— springboard into red, a carp leaping the gate. Calculation complete. He lifted his head, and a clean face bloomed with a confident smile, bright as dawn.

An icy small hand slipped onto his damp palm, cool as spring water. The chill ran through him like a bell’s tremor, and his lips lifted on their own.

“The champion… is mine.”

Ready. Throw.

The coin traced a parabola like an archer’s arrow, then skated onto the disk, racing for red like a hawk stooping. Clack! First collision. No. 35 grazed one coin, trimming its angle like a feathered wing, then slammed No. 34— the middle-school girl’s coin— full on.

No. 35 slid into the red zone, slow and certain like a boat docking. No. 34 got knocked out of orange, swept downstream.

“Nice!”

“No!”

Two cries rose together, twin bells ringing in discord.

“Contest over!” One took the grand prize, and handing out one less phone put a faint spring back in the hosts’ faces. That last throw was monstrous— angle math and steady hands left everyone trailing like dust behind a galloping horse.

Soon, under a haze of envy and awe, Lu Ke carried off a person-sized bear pillow, fluffy like a cloud. “Nii-chan, not bad at all~” Little Loli smiled at his performance, her cool small hand still locked in his, frost to flame.

“With words like that, your brother can endure anything.” A quiet blush warmed Lu Ke’s face like sunset. He slung the big bear over his shoulder, a sack of clouds, picked up their earlier purchases, and the two headed for the underground garage, cool as a cave.

“Heave-ho!” After cramming everything into the car, Lu Ke wiped his forehead, sweat beading like dew. The blonde girl shut the door with a soft thud and slipped into the front seat like a cat.

“Let’s grab a few groceries for home.” He started the car and glanced over. With her hood down, her silky gold hair, freed from constraint, spilled over chest and back like a waterfall.

“Xiaoxue, your hair is beautiful. You are, too.” He thought a beat, then let it out, soft as steam rising from tea.

“Of course! It’s one of my treasures.” She confirmed without a blink, her small face pinking like peach blossoms. She reached up, then paused, as if something had flown away.

“Your two butterfly clips?” Lu Ke asked, seeing the gesture, the word fitting like wings.

“Mmm...” She drew a lock forward and twined it, her long hair sliding through her fingers like silk. Lately, she’d fallen for that feeling, like plucking a guqin string.

“I set them on the cabinet over there.” He brushed a stray golden thread that had wandered to his side, pressed the gas, and steered out of the mall like a boat leaving harbor.

“I’ll cook tonight!” Once home, they sorted out their things and even made the bed in the other room for Little Loli— brand-new pink sheets, soft as dawn clouds. Watching Lu Ke busy with the sofa, Little Loli piped up.

“Sure. After a long day, tasting Xiaoxue’s cooking is the best reward.” Cloth in hand, Lu Ke turned to the blonde carrying fresh groceries into the kitchen, green bundles like spring fields.

“Don’t expect it to be amazing. I only started learning,” she said, a sapling finding its sun.

“Don’t worry. No matter how it tastes, I won’t complain.” His words sat steady as stone.