The next morning, the sun rose swiftly, baking the earth. The playground glowed in golden hues, warm and cozy. Luckily, each class’s seats were under tree shade, so it wasn’t too bad.
After a night’s rest, Zhou Zhiyi had calmed down considerably. His foot injury had also improved a bit. He glanced at his foot, feeling he needed to act.
Wu Yuyang hadn’t succeeded yet, but he was braver than Zhou Zhiyi. This sparked a flicker of envy. If he kept avoiding trouble, he’d stay trapped by this second male lead’s Fate Mark forever. He had to break the deadlock. It felt impossible, but he must try.
The field’s focus was the girls’ 100-meter race. Zhou Zhiyi’s class had sent Wang Shiyi, a sports powerhouse. She wasn’t just athletic—her academics were terrifyingly strong too. Truly flawless, which was why she was class monitor.
Zhou Zhiyi stole a glance at Wu Feng. Wu Feng was intently watching the upcoming race. Zhou Zhiyi sighed in relief.
“Where to now?” Xie Wenbolong asked. “This Sanguosha round isn’t done.”
“Toilet. The big one,” Zhou Zhiyi replied. “You duel Liu Tingyu alone.”
“You’re leaving me—the only rebel—to fight a full-health ruler?”
“Nature calls.”
“Fine, go.” Xie Wenbolong waved him off.
Zhou Zhiyi got his wish and headed toward…
Qin Huan’s high jump spot.
Qin Huan was in two events: the mixed 4x100 relay and high jump. These often overlapped with track races, so few paid attention.
Passing Class Six, Zhou Zhiyi spotted an empty seat. If he recalled right, it was Chu Hui’s. Had she not come, or was she at the toilet? He didn’t ask—unfamiliar classes felt like a natural barrier.
He reached Qin Huan’s area quickly. Though outside the field, he could see clearly. Luck was on his side—Qin Huan’s turn was next.
Qin Huan wore a white tracksuit, accentuating her youthful curves. Her ample chest trembled slightly with each breath, likely from nerves. Zhou Zhiyi’s eyes wavered.
Would those curves hinder her jump?
“Go, Qin Huan!”
Zhou Zhiyi didn’t know how long he’d held back that shout. His voice boomed unusually loud. High jump drew no crowd—he had no allies, just himself shouting into the void. He couldn’t think of anything better than this plain cheer.
“!”
Qin Huan’s face flushed crimson instantly, as if splashed with juice. She turned toward him.
“Thief! Scoundrel!” she stammered, words tangled like a bitten tongue.
Hey, did this backfire?
Qin Huan placed a hand on her chest, muttering softly as if praying.
Then, her turn came.
Qin Huan had zero high jump training. Only sports elites got practice here. Many failed the first height.
Gathering resolve, she mimicked TV jumpers, leaping sideways.
Her small feet cleared the bar. First round passed. Zhou Zhiyi exhaled.
Eight girls remained.
“Qin Huan, keep it up! Medal wins you a KFC Family Bucket!”
Zhou Zhiyi had no better words. Silence felt wrong now that he was here. “Keep it up” lacked punch, so he added a reward.
His face probably matched Qin Huan’s redness. Girls were already glancing over, then at Qin Huan, as if they understood everything…
