As class monitor, Chu Jingyi was busy. She had to remember every classmate’s personality and family background, assign duties, and organize activities. But today, she faced one extra task—lying. Lying to the teacher.
Lu Li had skipped class all day yesterday and was absent again this morning. When the homeroom teacher asked, Chu Jingyi could only grit her teeth and say he was on sick leave. *Was he really sick?* Her eyes drifted to his empty seat. His textbooks sat untouched, as if he’d simply skipped class like usual.
An Baili pouted beside her. “Some people get lost staring at an empty seat. Honestly, what’s so special about *him*?”
“I-I’m just worried about a friend,” Chu Jingyi stammered.
“He visited your house two days ago and vanished. Did your dad whack him and dump him in the river? You know—walking down the street, *thwack*—and then…?”
Before An Baili finished teasing, Chu Jingyi cut in, flustered. “My dad isn’t in the mafia! Baili, stop it or I’ll really get mad!”
Anger sharpened Chu Jingyi’s delicate brows. An unshakable authority radiated from her—almost regal. An Baili clicked her tongue, puffed her cheeks, and turned to the window. *Since yesterday, she’s been spacing out, asking “Where’s Lu Li? Why isn’t he here?” Who does Chu Jingyi think she is? My Lu Li’s none of her business.*
*Where is Lu Li?* An Baili knew. Tomorrow was Zou Yameng’s Six-Provinces Tournament opener. Lu Li had almost certainly gone to see her.
A malicious thought stirred. An Baili adjusted her glasses, watching the still-fuming monitor.
“I know where Lu Li went.”
“You do?”
“He’s with another girl. Someone important. Irreplaceable. Beautiful.” Though the words twisted her own chest, she craved Chu Jingyi’s reaction.
But Chu Jingyi only tilted her head, puzzled. “Then… why didn’t he ask *me* for leave?”
*Love is selfish. True love isn’t shared—it’s desire.* Chu Jingyi’s blank response meant she wasn’t a rival. The realization drained An Baili’s will to speak. She felt foolish. Standing before Chu Jingyi’s pure sincerity, shame crept in.
Chu Jingyi fell silent too—the Morality and Ethics teacher had entered. Today’s topic: “Trust and Friendship.” The frail old man, looking moments from collapse, droned from the textbook without glasses. Even students in the front row playing cards went unnoticed.
Only Chu Jingyi “listened.” Red pen in hand, she doodled in the margins. Up close, it wasn’t notes—it was stick figures.
Left figure: *“Let me introduce my friend! We can all be friends!”*
Right figure: *“I’m shy around strangers!”*
Chu Jingyi scribbled out the left face, pouted, and murmured, “No way…”
“What’s ‘no way’?” An Baili’s ears perked up.
“N-Nothing.”
*
Rewind one day.
When does a person feel small? For Lu Li, stepping alone into an unfamiliar city. It loomed like a ravenous beast, swallowing youth, passion, and dreams. Beneath the concrete lay generations’ sweat and toil. The successful are celebrated in halls of power; the fallen weep in the wild.
People praise nature’s grandeur but forget civilization’s cruel, precise machinery.
Lu Li carried only 2,000 yuan. He walked from the suburban airport to save money, renting a 50-yuan room near the sports field. The landlady—perhaps charmed by his looks—skipped ID checks. She even flirted. *Oda Yozo*, he thought with a shiver.
He saw Sister Yameng training but didn’t approach. Her stern, fierce focus was worlds away from the gentle woman in his memory. The entire Chuanhai Women’s Gymnastics team moved in solemn silence, breath held for tomorrow’s battle.
*Those devoted to their craft deserve respect.* Lu Li watched silently from the stands until night fell. Sister Yameng left last with Coach Dan, unseen. He stretched his numb legs. Before coming to Lingyue, he’d feared she’d crumble. But he’d underestimated Zou Yameng.
Back at the hostel, the fair-skinned landlady giggled at 10:30 p.m. TV. “Cutie’s back late? No hot water left~” Her coquettish glance promised temptation. Voluptuous, “built for bearing children”—*a perfect vessel*, Lu Li mused. *Women fall into types: art to admire from afar… like Chu Jingyi. Or objects for use… like her.*
Too exhausted to flirt, Lu Li offered a faint smile. “Cold water’s fine.”
Her heart melted. “You’ll catch cold! Use my thermos for a quick wash.” She reached—he dodged lightly.
“Thank you, landlady.”
He wasn’t against casual flings, but self-restraint mattered.
She sighed. “Old man’s squatting in the toilet, constipated. Come to my room—I won’t look! So shy?” Cardboard walls meant every whisper traveled.
A voice yelled: “Landlady! He’s not interested—I am! Need company?”
*Smack!* Fly swatter hit the table. “Don’t ruin my show!” Her fierce tone clashed with her earlier sweetness.
Lu Li never washed. Lying in his tiny partitioned room, snores surrounding him, he pictured Sister Yameng—sweat-streaked, teeth gritted. Then, a memory surfaced: Zou Yameng’s voice before university, in another life:
“A boy must protect himself when he’s out in the world…”
