Tan Jing gave a flat “Mm.”
Seeing his lukewarm reaction, He Siheng frowned slightly.
What was with this guy? He’d even given him the spotlight of the fourth leg, and he was still so down?
He Siheng thought for a moment and decided to check on his teammate before the race.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing.”
Tan Jing seemed unwilling to say more and turned to leave after dropping his words. “Don’t worry, first place is ours.”
He Siheng watched his back as he headed to the relay point, feeling like those words sounded oddly familiar.
The announcer was already calling names over the broadcast. He Siheng didn’t dwell on it and headed to his own relay point in the opposite direction.
The race was about to start. The runners took their positions, and He Siheng crouched, poised to go.
With the crack of the starting gun, cheers erupted across the field.
He Siheng watched the second leg closely. He started jogging forward before the runner reached him, grabbed the baton the instant it was passed, and sprinted toward Tan Jing.
In those dozen seconds as he closed the distance, he met the boy’s dark, silent eyes. For a split second, he had the illusion of seeing childhood Tan Jing.
He Siheng suddenly remembered—they’d done relays like this as kids too. But back then, Tan Jing was weak and slow, not qualified for races. He’d relay with He Siheng just to practice baton passes.
That explained why the words felt familiar.
“Don’t worry, first place is yours.”
When He Siheng got down because he kept dropping the baton from lack of sync, that’s what Tan Jing had said back then.
He Siheng poured everything into reaching Tan Jing, passing the baton. Tan Jing shot forward like a loosed arrow.
“Tan Jing—!” He Siheng shouted at the retreating back. “Get us first!”
The cheers were deafening, but the sprinting figure never faltered.
The moment he broke through the finish line tape, screams and cheers exploded through the sky.
“Ah!! Tan Jing first!!”
“Class One invincible!!!”
“Class Monitor is awesome!!!”
He Siheng watched as Tan Jing was swarmed by the crowd for celebrations and congrats. Strangely, he felt no annoyance at losing the spotlight—instead, an inexplicable relief washed over him.
He curved his lips and walked over.
Tan Jing in the crowd turned back to look at him, their gazes meeting silently amid the noisy throng.
“Nice one, Class Monitor.” He Siheng pushed through the crowd to stand before him, grinning lazily. “You run pretty fast.”
Tan Jing looked at him, the corner of his mouth curving faintly.
He took a step toward He Siheng, as if to say something, but suddenly furrowed his brows tightly, his expression pained and restrained.
He Siheng’s face changed, and he rushed forward to support him. “What’s wrong?”
The others around them were startled too, chattering with concern. “Class Monitor, what happened?”
“Did the Class Monitor get hurt?”
“I’m fine,” Tan Jing said, lifting his right foot slightly. “Just twisted my ankle.”
He Siheng glanced down at Tan Jing’s ankle—no swelling, didn’t look serious. But for someone who didn’t flinch at injections, this pained expression suggested maybe a fracture or torn ligament.
He frowned and slung Tan Jing’s arm over his shoulder. “I’ll help you to the Medical Office.”
Wang Yizhou couldn’t help piping up. “We’re about to go up for awards?”
He Siheng supported the limping Tan Jing toward the infirmary without looking back. “You can go up for us.”
Wang Yizhou racked his brain, thinking those words sounded familiar, but before he could say more, Song Lin clamped a hand over his mouth, silencing him manually once again.
Song Lin’s eye twitched.
He Siheng didn’t know it, and Wang Yizhou was blind, but he hadn’t missed the lip curl on Tan Jing as he left.
This sprained ankle probably wouldn’t “heal” anytime soon.
On the way to the infirmary,
Tan Jing suddenly spoke. “I need to go to the hospital for an X-ray.”
He Siheng halted. “Does it hurt that bad?”
Tan Jing gave a faint “Mm,” leaning more heavily on him.
He Siheng didn’t doubt it and immediately changed direction, supporting him. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go straight to the hospital. I’ll call a car.”
If even Tan Jing said it hurt, it must be bad. Plus, he’d fractured a bone before—maybe an old injury flaring up.
“Isn’t there a celebration banquet tonight?” Tan Jing said. “I can go by myself.”
“Who cares about the banquet now? Without your first-place sprint, Class 1 wouldn’t even have a banquet to celebrate.”
The ever-loyal Young Master He wouldn’t hear of it. Without another word, he helped him toward the school gate.
He Siheng’s face was grave, focused solely on getting him to the hospital for checks—no lingering issues. He completely missed how, from an angle he didn’t see, Tan Jing lowered his lashes and curved his lips subtly.
At the hospital, He Siheng ran around: registered at the Orthopedics Department, helped Tan Jing to the Radiology Department for an X-ray, then back to the consulting room together.
The doctor on duty was a bespectacled man. He looked at the films and said, “From the X-ray, no fracture, ligaments are…”
Halfway through, Tan Jing interrupted. “Sorry, hold on.”
He turned to He Siheng. “I think I left my phone in the Radiology Department. Can you go check for me?”
“…Huh?” He Siheng gave him a look like how do you lose things at your age. “How do you even forget that? Fine, I’ll go quick. Don’t wander after you’re done—wait for me.”
Tan Jing curved his lips. “Okay.”
Watching He Siheng leave the consulting room, Tan Jing turned back to the doctor bluntly. “Can you cast it?”
The doctor blinked, thinking he was worried about needing a cast, and smiled reassuringly. “It’s just a minor sprain. You’ll be walking normally in three to five days—no need for a cast.”
“I need one.” Tan Jing insisted calmly. “Please cast it for me. Thanks.”
He Siheng searched the Radiology Department for ages, found nothing, then checked the hospital’s Lost and Found—no one had turned in a phone. He wondered if someone had pocketed it when his phone rang—it was Tan Jing calling.
He answered hurriedly, about to demand the finder return it, when Tan Jing’s voice came through. “No need to look for the phone.”
He Siheng looked like he’d seen a ghost. “Why is it you? Didn’t you leave it in Radiology?”
Tan Jing: “My mistake.”
He Siheng was speechless. “Can you be any more unreliable… Whatever, as long as it’s not lost. I’ll head over.”
Considering Tan Jing was both hero and patient today, He Siheng let it slide.
When he got back to the Orthopedics Department, he saw Tan Jing sitting in the waiting area with his right leg in a cast.
He Siheng hurried over. “Why’d they cast it? That bad?”
Tan Jing said lightly, “This leg fractured before, so it’s fragile now.”
He Siheng scratched his head, a hint of resentment in his tone. “Sacrificing a leg for that relay win—totally not worth it.”
“How not worth it?” Tan Jing smiled instead. “It’s our first first-place together.”
