“Why do I always make mistakes on such simple things in every biology exam?! This is so frustrating, argh!” The moment Xia Shan received his biology paper, his expression crumbled. Judging by the way he was gnashing his teeth, if the biology teacher weren’t still standing on the podium, that paper would have likely been shredded into confetti on the floor.
Whenever this happened, Shen Yannan would transform into Xia Shan’s personal sedative. The administration of this sedative was quite simple and crude: praise first, then address the issue.
“I think you performed pretty well this time. You caught a lot of those tiny detail-oriented errors you used to miss,” Shen Yannan said, taking the paper from Xia Shan’s hand and looking it over carefully.
“Really?” Xia Shan pursed his lips and scratched his hair in frustration. “But I still missed some things. Look at this question, right here—three points, gone just like that...”
“Should I really go see an eye doctor? Why does this happen to me every single time?”
“I’d like to know that too. Why do I lose exactly ten points in every one of these exams?” Jiang Wei had been looking for someone to talk to, and after listening to the two in front of him chat for a while, he couldn't help but chime in. “Is there some kind of cosmic grudge between me and those ten points?”
Shen Yannan had intended to comfort Xia Shan further, but upon hearing this, both of them burst out laughing.
“Next time, before the exam, you should go to a temple and burn some incense. Maybe then you won't get those ten points deducted,” Shen Yannan said, mentally calculating Jiang Wei’s score. “It really is a pity. If you hadn't lost those ten points, you would’ve been in the grade’s top ten.”
“That’s just fate, I guess. It means I’m just not destined for it right now,” Jiang Wei shrugged. “Do you think it’s too late to start praying for the Gaokao?”
“There are still several mock exams next semester. Your score will probably go up a few more points by then. It’ll be plenty of time to go pray before the Gaokao,” Shen Yannan said, shaking his head with a smile.
Xia Shan tucked his biology paper back into his desk. His temper came fast but left just as quickly; he was already over it.
“With Brother Jiang’s grades, he doesn't even need to go up a few points. If he just stays consistent like this, choosing a university will just be a matter of his mood, won't it?”
“I’m already tired of saying the word ‘jealous.’”
“But I’m still really curious, Brother Jiang. You took a two-year leave of absence, yet you came straight into the third year of high school the moment you returned. Why?”
Tang Zihe, who usually couldn't be bothered to pay attention to the three of them, turned his head toward Jiang Wei upon hearing this.
“Hmm? Why do you ask?” The smile on Jiang Wei’s face faded slightly as he asked softly, “I took a leave of absence on the day I entered the tenth grade. I was out for two years. Coming back to the twelfth grade seems exactly right, doesn't it?”
“But I think it’s strange. Very few people would choose to jump straight into the senior year after being away for two years,” Xia Shan said, spreading his hands honestly. “Re-enrolling means facing a completely strange, even different environment. If you don't integrate well, it really affects your mood. If you can't adjust, the probability of messing up the Gaokao skyrockets, doesn't it?”
Even Shen Yannan, who was currently a steady top-five student in the school, had chosen to start from the eleventh grade when he transferred to No. 4 High—even though his entrance exam scores would have allowed him to go straight into the twelfth grade’s Class 1. While his reasons might have differed from what Xia Shan was describing, it served as proof that unless one had absolutely no choice, only someone particularly stubborn or thick-headed would charge headlong into the senior year.
Jiang Wei caught a glimpse of Tang Zihe out of the corner of his eye. He noticed the other boy was looking down, pretending not to care, yet his chair had somehow shifted closer.
He clearly wanted to know, yet he was still trying to hide it.
Jiang Wei shook his head and spoke slowly. “I think there’s something you guys have been misunderstanding.”
“Taking a two-year leave doesn't mean I spent two years lying in bed at home playing video games.”
“While I might usually leave you with a less-than-stellar impression regarding my studies, I really, *really* wasn't as idle as you imagine. If my brain were truly as gifted as you think, I would have definitely kicked your Brother Tang off his throne by now, okay?” Jiang Wei said helplessly. “And I didn't think that much about it. I just simply wanted to study for one less year. Since I passed the entrance exam, I came.”
“And to put it bluntly, given your Brother Jiang’s charm, it’s unlikely I’d fail to integrate into a class. I have a very clear self-awareness on that point.”
Xia Shan: “...”
Tang Zihe: “...”
Xia Shan was stunned by Jiang Wei’s explanation. Tang Zihe was speechless, feeling that he had wasted several minutes listening only to hear a bunch of nonsense instead of the key point he wanted. Only Shen Yannan was doubled over with laughter, completely ignoring everyone else’s expressions.
“What’s with those looks?!”
“My mistake, Brother Jiang. I shouldn't have asked such a serious question. I was actually expecting you to give a proper answer...”
Jiang Wei turned to look at Tang Zihe, but the other boy turned his head at the same time to avoid his gaze.
*Was that answer not proper?*
“What’s that supposed to mean...” Jiang Wei muttered under his breath.
Tang Zihe let out a low chuckle beside him. He felt somewhat fortunate now that he had resisted the urge to use the favor he had "hard-won." Otherwise, he would surely be regretting the wasted opportunity right now.
*What’s so funny?*
Jiang Wei silently rolled his eyes and huffed.
***
Whether it was because Tang Zihe truly had the superior recovery speed of an Alpha who exercised regularly, or because that "Rock Sugar Snow Pear" rumored to have "magical powers of love" was actually effective, his voice had returned by the time evening self-study rolled around. Although his tone was still quite different from his normal voice—much raspier—it was far better than being a mute.
“You’re finally getting better. I was about to drop dead from exhaustion.” Jiang Wei yawned and stretched, tucking all his completed homework into his desk. His desktop was so clean it looked as if no one had ever used it.
“What’s wrong?” Tang Zihe was playing a single-player game on his phone inside his desk, offering a response without looking up. Although his throat could produce sound now, his voice wasn't pleasant to his own ears, and talking for too long made his throat ache, so he kept his words to a minimum.
During this period, Jiang Wei had finally discovered that this guy was nothing like the person he had imagined—someone who spent all day and night doing nothing but finishing papers and grinding through practice problems. Tang Zihe simply liked to use his time with extreme efficiency. For instance, the classroom during lessons was an excellent learning environment. Why play on a phone secretly then when it was much more satisfying to play in the dorm at night? Thus, he chose to seize every second to finish the papers he needed to finish and review the books he needed to review. If he was fast enough, he’d have nothing to do during evening self-study. He might start quietly playing games in his desk then, but more often than not, he’d wait until the lights went out in the dorm and play under his covers. That was why no one had discovered his true colors for so long.
His "perfect student" baggage was incredibly heavy.
If Jiang Wei hadn't accidentally sent a message to the wrong person while trying to play games with Tang Wanbai in the middle of the night, he probably still wouldn't know that this guy stayed up late secretly gaming.
Some people look like an Academic God on the surface, but behind the scenes, they’re just internet-addicted teens with good time management skills.
However, since being found out, Tang Zihe had stopped bothering to keep up appearances in front of Jiang Wei. During the last thirty minutes of almost every evening self-study session, he would be playing single-player games to break his own records.
“Even though your voice sounds like sandpaper right now and it’s a bit grating, I finally don't have to type to chat with you. It’s a relief.” Jiang Wei looked at Tang Zihe happily, then began complaining about his day. “My hands went numb from typing today. It was more tiring than writing ten exam papers.”
Tang Zihe thought back. He had only chatted with Jiang Wei during three classes today, and the total time hadn't even exceeded an hour...
So, he chose to stay silent and listen to the other boy’s nonsense.
“What game are you playing?” Jiang Wei leaned down to watch Tang Zihe’s fingers tapping on the screen. “Looks interesting.”
“I’ll give it to you after this round,” Tang Zihe said softly, his voice so low it was almost entirely breath.
After the monthly exams, Class 1 didn't have a teacher on duty every night—mostly because the teachers for Class 1 didn't live in the staff dorms and wanted to go home early to sleep. Consequently, the management of evening self-study was much looser, with the only potential danger being Director Li, who patrolled the corridors from time to time.
“You haven't died yet? I didn't realize you were this good.” Jiang Wei stayed bent over for a while, having already figured out how the game worked.
Tang Zihe: “...”
If their fragile brotherhood weren't already on the verge of collapsing, he would have suspected that Jiang Wei’s words weren't as simple as they sounded.
“Hey, hey, hey! You broke the record!” Jiang Wei covered his mouth and whispered excitedly. “Holy crap! That’s awesome!”
“What are you getting so excited for?” Tang Zihe couldn't help but smile.
“Why can't I be excited?” Jiang Wei’s eyes were glued to the phone screen. “Hey, don't stop... you scared me...”
After an unknown amount of time, Tang Zihe’s desk was heavily bumped by Xia Shan.
Tang Zihe reacted with lightning speed, dropping the phone into his desk while simultaneously raising a hand to shield Jiang Wei’s temple, which had almost hit the desk.
Jiang Wei was also startled. He had just looked up, a question on the tip of his tongue, when he saw Director Li standing by the door, walking toward them.
“You two in the back row, what are you doing?”
Neither of them spoke. They exchanged a glance, and Tang Zihe took advantage of the moment Director Li entered a visual blind spot to swiftly toss the phone into his backpack. Then, he looked up nonchalantly to meet the director’s gaze.
Jiang Wei listened to Director Li’s approaching footsteps, knowing his time to come up with an excuse was running out. After a few seconds of mental brainstorming, he suddenly grabbed Tang Zihe’s hand as if struck by divine inspiration.
Tang Zihe’s hand jerked slightly, but he didn't pull away.
Jiang Wei closed his eyes and steeled his heart. Under the watchful eyes of the entire class, he pulled Tang Zihe’s right hand directly onto the desktop and answered the question with the air of someone facing execution: “Teacher, I’m reading my deskmate’s palm.”
Director Li: “...”
Tang Zihe: “...”
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 高考 | Gaokao | The National College Entrance Examination in China. |
| 看手相 | Palm reading / Palmistry | A form of divination by interpreting the lines on a person's palm. |
| 模考 | Mock exam | Practice examinations held before the actual Gaokao. |
| 砂纸 | Sandpaper | Used here as a metaphor for a raspy, rough voice. |
| 气音 | Breath voice / Aspirated voice | Speaking with a lot of air, like a heavy whisper. |
| 值班 | On duty | Referring to teachers supervising self-study sessions. |
| 行政 | Administration / Administrative | Referring to school staff in management roles, like Director Li. |
| 视觉死角 | Visual blind spot | An area where someone cannot be seen from a specific vantage point. |
