Did he really smell like rice cakes?
In the classroom, Lu Ping, sitting in the last row, carefully lifted his collar and lowered his head to sniff the scent on his clothes.
But no matter how much he sniffed, he couldn’t detect anything unusual about his smell.
Freshly steamed rice cake blanks were very fragrant—the glutinous cake skins at his family’s stall were all handmade. Every day at three in the morning, his mom got up, first ground the japonica rice into powder, then steamed and pounded it into rice cakes.
No sugar was added when steaming the rice cake blanks; the natural sugars in the japonica rice would seep out, carrying a soft, glutinous sweetness of rice after steaming. One bite would make your mouth water. Any unsold rice cake blanks couldn’t be kept until the next day. Mom would bring them home for secondary processing: cut the rice cakes into strips, add cabbage, eggs, and a bowl of fresh small seafood bought from the morning market, then stir-fry it all over high heat to make a steaming bowl of seafood stir-fried rice cakes! It was both a dish and a meal. Every time it was served, Lu Ping and his little sister would fight over that bowl of stir-fried rice cakes.
Could it be… that he really did smell like rice cakes?
Shen Yuze had actually said he smelled sweet—if he said that to a girl, she would definitely misunderstand!
Thinking of this, Lu Ping couldn’t help but sneak a glance sideways at his desk mate.
After dropping that bombshell in the stairwell, Shen Yuze showed no further reaction and simply returned to the classroom. Compared to the calm Shen Yuze, the restless Lu Ping was just… too… too…
Lu Ping didn’t know what word to use to describe himself. Before, when other classmates said he smelled, Lu Ping felt angry, furious, insulted. But when Shen Yuze said he smelled, he felt a bit embarrassed—because Lu Ping knew Shen Yuze’s words carried no prejudice, just a simple statement of fact.
…Even though Lu Ping didn’t think he smelled “sweet” at all.
“Why do you keep staring at me?” Shen Yuze suddenly turned his head. Caught off guard, Lu Ping had no time to look away and ended up locking eyes with those deep amber irises.
Lu Ping didn’t know what to say. His eyes darted around, and he suddenly noticed the textbook spread open in front of Shen Yuze. The page was blank, not a single word written.
Lu Ping blurted out, “I… I’m just curious why you never take notes in class.”
Over the past week as desk mates, Lu Ping had never seen Shen Yuze pick up a pen. Liberal arts subjects relied on the saying “a good memory is not as good as a bad pen.” Lu Ping’s grades were average, all thanks to rote memorization. During every class, he scribbled notes densely around the edges of his book. But Shen Yuze never took notes. He would spread his textbook on the desk, hands in his pockets, lost in thought or whatever.
Lu Ping thought he might learn some study secret from Shen Yuze, but he never expected the shocking answer—
“—Because I don’t understand.” Shen Yuze said calmly.
“…???”
Shen Yuze repeated, “The teacher’s accent is too heavy, and they speak too fast. I don’t understand a single word they say.”
He said this in his usual breezy tone, as if the sun should rise in the west, water should flow uphill, and students shouldn’t study in class.
Lu Ping: “…”
Jiaojiang had a variety of local dialects, with the saying “accents differ every ten li.” Local dialects could be subdivided into several kinds, and even across the Jiao River, the North Shore and South Shore accents had subtle differences. Overall, though, Jiaojiang dialect belonged to the Wu language family, and the local middle-aged “Jiaojiang Mandarin”… really gave outsiders headaches.
But Lu Ping never imagined Shen Yuze zoned out in class for this reason!
Lu Ping blinked— in his vision, the shining “male god halo” around Shen Yuze cracked with a snap, shedding a fragment.
Facing Lu Ping’s undisguised look of surprise, Shen Yuze countered, “Is there a problem?”
[Of course there’s a problem! A huge problem!!!]
Lu Ping wanted to say that, but he didn’t dare. He swallowed and said, “But if you don’t listen to the class, how do you review? We have monthly exams next week.”
“…Monthly exams?”
“Yeah, it’s a tradition at Jiaojiang No. 1 Middle School. A full-subject uniform test every month, and the results get posted publicly on the bulletin board.” Lu Ping pointed out the window. “Right there at the entrance on the first floor, everyone can see.”
This time, Shen Yuze was the surprised one. He sat up straight involuntarily and frowned. “Everyone can see?”
“Everyone can see.”
“Isn’t that invading student privacy? What about the students at the bottom?”
“If you don’t want to be at the bottom and lose face, then study hard!” Lu Ping scratched his head and asked curiously, “Shen Yuze, what kind of school did you go to before? Doesn’t the Capital have monthly exams or class rankings?”
Before Shen Yuze could answer, a piece of chalk suddenly flew from the podium! It streaked across the entire classroom like lightning and landed precisely on their desk!
Followed by the history teacher’s explosive roar from the podium: “Lu Ping! I’ve been watching you for a while! You’ve been whispering with your desk mate forever! What are you doing! If you don’t want to listen, get out and stand in the hall!!”
The outburst jolted the drowsy classmates awake. They all turned around, eyes gleaming with gossip as they stared at Lu Ping and Shen Yuze in the back row.
The classmates’ gazes were unabashedly gossipy.
Lu Ping: “…Shen Yuze, what the teacher just said…”
“No need to translate.” Shen Yuze interrupted him. “I understood that.”
Lu Ping: “…Oh.”
So he was selectively illiterate.
…
During the break, the class monitor informed Lu Ping that Teacher Wu wanted to see him.
The class monitor’s face was full of undisguised schadenfreude, practically saying “You’re doomed!”
Lu Ping could guess with his feet why Teacher Wu called him—it must be because the history teacher complained… One hand can’t clap alone; Shen Yuze talked too, so why only scold him?
Thinking of the storm about to hit, Lu Ping’s mood was as gloomy as attending a funeral.
He dragged his heavy steps to the office. It was bustling inside; all the liberal arts class teachers shared one big office. Some were writing lesson plans intently, some were explaining difficult exercises to students, and others—like his homeroom teacher—sat with a serious face, waiting for her unlucky student.
“Teacher Wu…” Lu Ping dawdled over to Wu Yingxia, head lowered, putting on an obedient look.
But unexpectedly, Wu Yingxia didn’t criticize him for talking in class. Instead, she asked an out-of-left-field question: “Do you interact much with Wang Bin?”
“…Huh??” Lu Ping looked up in surprise. Though Wang Bin had only been suspended for a week, recalling the conflict with him now felt like ancient history. “N-not really.”
“Not really? That’s not what I heard.” Wu Yingxia turned, pulled out a drawer, and placed a folder in front of Lu Ping.
Lu Ping puzzledly opened the folder and found Wang Bin’s suspension notice inside! The following pages were Wang Bin’s thousand-word self-criticism, where he admitted everything: bullying classmates, threatening others to cheat for him on exams, even extorting protection money from underclassmen…
It was more like a confession than a self-criticism.
Wu Yingxia pointed to the line about “bullying classmates” and said to Lu Ping, “I always thought our class had a positive and united atmosphere. But I got a report from a concerned classmate that the night before the seat change, Wang Bin called you to the sports field and hit you with a basketball.”
“…”
“From the school’s perspective, we can only suspend him; we have no other ways to punish him. But that male classmate’s family are lawyers. He suggested you bullied students band together to sue him, make Wang Bin’s parents compensate. Of course, the lawyer fees are free; you just need to sign this power of attorney, then write a detailed incident statement at home—the more detailed, the better. You won’t have to worry about the rest… Lu Ping, Lu Ping, are you listening?”
“…I heard you.” Lu Ping stared blankly at the documents in front of him.
He understood, yet it felt like he didn’t understand at all.
He couldn’t believe the person who bullied him had fallen so easily?! Suspension wasn’t enough; he was going to court too!!
Before today, he’d never thought of protecting himself and punishing bad guys this way… Sure, he’d heard of suing and such, but it was too distant for a high school sophomore like him, like stars in the sky.
In that moment, endless courage surged through Lu Ping’s body; he trembled with excitement. He picked up the pen nearby and signed his name forcefully, every stroke penetrating the paper.
After signing, he set down the pen and looked down at his bold signature.
Then, he said, “Teacher, can I ask who that classmate is who helped us? I want to thank him in person.”
“…” Teacher Wu hesitated, then shook her head. “That classmate doesn’t want to be too high-profile.”
Lu Ping wasn’t disappointed. In his eyes, that do-gooder without a name was a superhero hidden in the crowd, quietly burning himself to light the way for others!
With that thought, Lu Ping blurted out, “Then how about this? I don’t want a single cent of Wang Bin’s compensation… Please pass it on to him for me. Whether it’s tens, hundreds, or thousands—it’ll be my thanks to him, okay?”
Lu Ping was determined.
He knew that classmate surely didn’t lack this bit of money, or he wouldn’t have offered free lawyer help. But he couldn’t take someone’s kindness for granted just because they were wealthy.
When someone extended a helping hand in his time of need, he naturally had to repay it with a spring.
“…Fine.” Wu Yingxia agreed. “I’ll pass it on.”
Lu Ping got the answer he wanted, bowed happily to Wu Yingxia, and left the office with much lighter steps.
Standing in the corridor, he turned his head to gaze at the brilliant sunlight outside the window, his mood bright and clear.
…
That day, the popular account @fake-diaond posted two updates in a row.
In the first post, fake-diaond told everyone that though he didn’t want to be too high-profile at school, his mom insisted on having the driver take him.
In that post’s comments
So fake-diaond posted a second update.
@fake-diaond: Don’t call me a male god. Handsome guys can’t be male gods; those who pity the weak are the real male gods. [Sun][Sun][Sun]
