Chapter 39: Ji He: What a pity—he clearly…

He Qinglan had brought back lucky pouches inscribed with “Peace and Health, May All Go Well.” No favoritism here—everyone got the health version.

Zhou Zhuoyuan hung his pouch above his bed before diving into his afternoon studies.

After days of intensive cramming, he’d finally covered most of the exam material. His quiz scores had slipped a bit, but they were still within an acceptable range—no need for a one-on-one chat with the teacher yet. He was confident he could reclaim a ranking close to his old one in the Final Joint Exam.

Ji He had spent a week recuperating, returning to school with his arm in a sling. He was terrified that Zhou Zhuoyuan hadn’t cooled off yet and might demand a seat change, so he’d holed up at home. But a week was as long as he could stand it.

In just that one week away, the number of people clinging to Zhou Zhuoyuan had grown, especially He Qinglan. The guy stuck to him like iron to a magnet, clanging together every so often, only to be pried apart by an invisible hand when the class bell rang.

The teacher asked them to report their wrong answers by number, and amid the chaos, Ji He prodded Zhou Zhuoyuan with a pitiful poke. “Is the Class Monitor your best friend now?”

Zhou Zhuoyuan scooted away. “What’s it to you?”

“You spent the entire morning chatting with the Class Monitor, Yuanyuan,” Ji He accused.

“Don’t bother me,” Zhou Zhuoyuan said.

In his panic, Ji He had once again picked the worst possible moment, driving Zhou Zhuoyuan’s opinion of him even lower.

When He Qinglan strolled over with his water cup, he spotted Ji He slumped over his desk, face turned toward Zhou Zhuoyuan as he chanted, “Forgive me, Yuanyuan. Forgive me, Yuanyuan. Forgive me, forgive me…”

Zhou Zhuoyuan handed his empty cup to He Qinglan, then whipped around irritably. “Quit chanting. Fine, you’re forgiven!”

Zhou Fuxuan was always calling him petty. If he could help it, Zhou Zhuoyuan didn’t want He Qinglan thinking that way. Truth be told, when Ji He had offered to help last time, the thank-you had already meant forgiveness. But Ji He just wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed—he had to keep digging until he got to the bottom of it.

Saying the words aloud somehow sapped his momentum.

Zhou Zhuoyuan took the cup of hot water He Qinglan had filled for him, feeling stifled. He didn’t notice the flicker of wariness and scrutiny in the glance that passed between the other two.

Ji He had sensed something off about He Qinglan for a while now, and that unease had reached its peak. Even the oblivious He Qinglan had finally picked up on Ji He’s ulterior motives.

Those closest to the water got the moon first. After He Qinglan returned to his seat and before class resumed, Ji He seized the moment to sow discord. “Yuanyuan, don’t you think the Class Monitor’s been acting a little weird toward you?”

Zhou Zhuoyuan had no idea what he was getting at. “Weird how? He’s been great— even fetched water for me.”

Ji He raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Sure, the Class Monitor’s nice to everyone, but it’s different with you. Haven’t you noticed something off in the way he looks at you?”

Of course it’s different, Zhou Zhuoyuan thought. You’re not the target—He Qinglan is.

Seeing the blank confusion on Zhou Zhuoyuan’s face, Ji He gave up on the hints and leaned in close. “Don’t you think he likes you? Like, wants to date you. Wants to top you!”

Zhou Zhuoyuan watched him grow more agitated by the second and realized he hadn’t let on about anything.

A flush crept up his face in a hurry, his voice turning sheepish. “You figured it out, huh?”

Ji He’s heart thudded hard in his chest.

What did that mean?

Zhou Zhuoyuan quickly spelled it out for him. “It’s a secret—don’t tell anyone.”

“I’m with the Class Monitor now.”

For a moment, all Ji He could hear was his own ragged breathing, followed by the crash of thunder and lightning in his mind.

He’d never taken a hit like this before—and the one delivering it was gazing at him expectantly, waiting for those words: “Congrats…”

Ji He wasn’t sure if his voice cracked or trembled when he forced out the three syllables. His hearing had gone out entirely. He watched Zhou Zhuoyuan’s expression shift from anticipation to concern, those lips he’d always longed to kiss moving soundlessly.

What a pity. He’d really wanted to hear Zhou Zhuoyuan worry about him.

Then again, maybe not. A blushing, expectant Zhou Zhuoyuan sneaking glances at him was even cuter.

His hearing trickled back, and Ji He touched his cast. “I’m okay. My arm just twinged a second ago—it’s fine now.”

“Congrats, Yuanyuan.”

His own arrogance and malice had given them the worst possible start. Pursuing Zhou Zhuoyuan was already an uphill battle stacked with obstacles, and the cunning He Qinglan had beaten him to the punch while he was still climbing.

If only he had shown Zhou Zhuoyuan a little more kindness back then, if only he had been a bit less biased. Zhou Zhuoyi had clearly told him that his older brother was a really, really good person. If he hadn’t been so stubborn, perhaps they could have become friends much earlier, and he could have confidently pursued Zhou Zhuoyuan sooner.

Just as he could keenly sense the shift in the relationship between He Qinglan and Zhou Zhuoyuan, he could also detect that, at the very beginning, the person Zhou Zhuoyuan liked most was actually himself.

In an even darker vein of thought, if only he hadn’t told Zhou Zhuoyuan the truth about that year back then.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t a prophet, and there were no “ifs.”

–

After finishing dinner, He Qinglan pulled Zhou Zhuoyuan to the playground for a walk.

He knew Zhou Zhuoyuan cared a lot about saving face, so he never brought up many things when there were outsiders around.

He Qinglan said guiltily, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten you that milk tea.”

Zhou Zhuoyuan asked, “Why does Pei He tell you everything?”

He Qinglan replied, “I asked him. He also told me that some Kill Matt said you used to vomit blood.”

He gripped Zhou Zhuoyuan’s hand a little harder, firmly trapping it in place. “When did that happen?”

“Why didn’t you tell me anything? Little Yuan, why didn’t you even tell me your stomach wasn’t doing well?”

Zhou Zhuoyuan let out a soft breath.

When he had been talking with Liu Kuo earlier, Pei He hadn’t said a single word, and afterward, he hadn’t mentioned anything either. Zhou Zhuoyuan had thought Pei He either hadn’t heard or didn’t care, but in the end, this guy had spilled everything to He Qinglan.

What a schemer—was he trying to make He Qinglan think Zhou Zhuoyuan didn’t love him enough and pick a fight?

The more mature Zhou Zhuoyuan said tolerantly, “I didn’t know you liked me back then, so why would I tell you about those things? We’ve only been together for a short time, so I just hadn’t gotten around to mentioning it yet—I wasn’t deliberately hiding it.”

He Qinglan’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, but he didn’t loosen his grip, still holding on with just enough force to avoid hurting Zhou Zhuoyuan while preventing him from pulling away. “It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about other things. Your relationship with that Kill Matt, why you fought with Ji He—none of that matters, and I won’t ask. But you absolutely cannot hide your health from me. Can you imagine how I felt when I found out you ended up in the school infirmary because of the milk tea I bought?”

Zhou Zhuoyuan stood still, letting him hold his hand, and stared into He Qinglan’s trembling light-colored eyes. “It won’t happen again next time. I’ll take good care of myself and not make you worry.”

He Qinglan corrected him, “It’s not just about not making me worry—it’s about seeking my help for any difficulties you face.”

Zhou Zhuoyuan repeated, “I’ll seek your help for any difficulties I face.”

He Qinglan finally released his hand, then pulled Zhou Zhuoyuan straight into his arms. He believed that after confirming their relationship, hugs could be given without asking permission first.