This afternoon featured Tang Zhe’s races.

This time, it wasn’t a last-minute handoff from Li Mo—it was his own events. Two events, four heats total: the 200m prelims and finals back-to-back, plus the 400m prelims and semifinals.

With so many signed up for the 400m, the finals got pushed to the next morning.

By the time Li Mo finally dragged herself down to the track, Tang Zhe was already gone from their class’s spectator section—likely off for check-in. The 200m prelims were the first event after lunch break, requiring immediate check-in right after nap time. Some students still looked half-asleep, swaying on their feet.

"Class, to keep you from lazing around like this morning," Teacher Zhu announced, settling in for the afternoon with stacks of papers. She’d clearly decided to skip her office. "Other classes wrote pep talks for their athletes. We wrote zero. Today, each of you submits five drafts to me. Minimum two hundred words each. No exceptions."

"*Ughhh…*"

Groans rose. Teacher Zhu frowned. "You’re seniors. If you can’t write two hundred words in an entire afternoon, shame on you. And no Googling—I’ll be sitting right here. Phones get confiscated during meets anyway."

The grumbling had pricked her temper. Truth was, during the morning’s admin patrol, their class had the worst attendance in the entire grade. Fewer than ten remained in the stands—and half were glued to mobile games. The scolding in the teachers’ group chat had burned her face crimson. This assignment was her revenge on these little rascals.

"*So annoying…*"

Li Mo couldn’t care less about pep talks. She desperately wanted to watch Tang Zhe race.

*Desperately.*

Besides, those drafts would just pile up on the announcer’s podium. The student readers would skip most anyway. And even if they didn’t—

*Who’d even listen?*

The stadium was already deafening. Students would rather sit bored, holding it in, than pay attention to speeches over the loudspeaker.

Totally pointless.

But trapped, Li Mo would rather scribble something fast and dash off than sit under her teacher’s watch all afternoon.

"What’s this garbage? Rewrite it!"

"Oh."

Someone finished in two minutes—only to get rejected on the spot after Teacher Zhu’s inspection.

*Seriously? Gotta write properly now? Ugh.*

Li Mo itched to start. But—

*Where’s my paper?*

Shen Yi’s group had none, still borrowing supplies.

*Who else do I know in class…?*

Besides Tang Zhe… only…

*Liu… Liu Shishi.*

No way. That girl would just tease her again. And after reopening old wounds so casually earlier, Li Mo was still fuming. Swallowing her pride to ask? Humiliating.

But everyone else was already writing. Li Mo wrote slowly. At this rate, she’d be stuck here all afternoon.

"Li Mo. Someone’s here for you."

"Huh?"

A classmate pointed. Wang Ziheng stood at the edge of their section, staff badge clipped to his shirt, waving.

"Teacher, someone’s looking for me—something about the performance rehearsal."

Glad for any excuse to escape Wang Ziheng too, Li Mo explained. Teacher Zhu glanced at his badge and waved her off without question.

"Jie, they need final checks for lights and props…" Wang Ziheng led her toward the multi-purpose hall, then hesitated. "Just you? Where’s Tang Zhe? Students said they didn’t know."

He’d almost called him "bro-in-law." *Better not.*

"...He has races."

"Oh."

Wang Ziheng had always known his sister was emotional. Back when she was his brother, she’d worn her heart on her sleeve. Now, as a girl, she couldn’t hide it at all.

Just mentioning Tang Zhe made her shoulders slump. She bit her lip, staring at the ground, dwelling on it like a fool—already looking ready to cry.

*She’s totally crushing on him. Won’t admit it.*

He diagnosed it on the spot. It stung a little. At home, whenever he teased her about liking Tang Zhe, both she and their dad would radiate such chilling auras he’d shut up instantly.

Even Uncle-in-law acted weird—always scowling at Tang Zhe. *Overprotective much? She can’t stay single forever.*

"Did you two fight?"

"No!"

*Whoa. Touchy.*

Old him would’ve snapped back. But now? Her flustered defensiveness felt… harmless. Almost pitiable. She was hurting but refusing to show it.

"Sigh… Jie," Wang Ziheng rubbed his temples. A rare chance to make up for past mistakes. "You should try making real friends. We’re family—even if we clashed before. You can reject care, but don’t wound those who give it."

He patted her back gently. "You don’t have to swallow every hurt alone. You’re not a boy anymore. It’s okay to lean on people you trust. To whine. To cry."

"Mmph…"

She opened her mouth—then clamped it shut, pride warring with the urge to spill everything to this annoying cousin. The conflicted pout was oddly cute.

*If she weren’t my sister, I’d totally ruffle her hair right now.*

…*Wait. Why did that thought feel weirdly satisfying?*

"So what happened with Tang Zhe? Did he yell at you?"

He pressed his advantage.

"...No." Li Mo looked away. He’d probably charge off to confront Tang Zhe—just like her old hotheaded self. "I… made him mad. He’s ignoring me now."

"*What?!* A guy gets mad over a girl’s little tantrum? I’ll knock some sense into him!"

"Hypocrite! And why assume *I* threw a tantrum?!"

*Am I really that unreasonable…?*

*…Especially with Tang Zhe?*

"...Fine." Wang Ziheng sighed. "If you won’t let us help—and want to apologize yourself—I’ve got a plan."

He leaned in, grinning. "Later. During his race…"