Chapter 3

The classroom is silent except for the scratching of pencils. Zhang Xǐruì sits stiffly, making sure her elbow doesn't even graze the pencil line Sang Míngzé drew. Every time she breathes, she feels like she’s invading his "territory."

Míngzé is writing fast, his hand moving with perfect precision, but Xǐruì notices something. His left sleeve is pulled down low, and he’s flinching every time he has to reach for his eraser.

Zhang Xǐruì: whispering Are you... okay? You keep moving weirdly.

Sang Míngzé: doesn't look up Focus on your own work. My "weird" movements aren't your concern.

Zhang Xǐruì: frustrated I’m just trying to be nice! Since I’m the one who ruined your other shirt...

Sang Míngzé: suddenly stops writing and turns to her, his voice a sharp whisper I don't need your "nice," Xǐruì. People who are "nice" usually want something. What is it? You want the answers to the math set? Here.

He shoves his worksheet toward her, crossing the pencil line himself. But as he does, his sleeve slides up. Xǐruì’s eyes widen. There’s a dark, purple bruise encircling his wrist. It doesn't look like an accident. It looks like a grip.

Zhang Xǐruì: gasps, reaching out instinctively Míngzé, your arm!

Sang Míngzé: yanks his arm back instantly, his face turning pale then red with anger Don't touch me! I told you to stay on your side!

The teacher looks up from her desk.

Teacher: Is there a problem in the back row?

Míngzé stares at Xǐruì, his eyes pleading and threatening at the same time. He looks terrified that she’ll say something.

Zhang Xǐruì: swallows hard, looking at the teacher No... sorry. I just... I dropped my pen on his side.

The teacher nods and goes back to her book. Míngzé hides his arm under the desk, his breathing heavy. He doesn't say thank you, but he doesn't pull his worksheet back either.

After school, Ruìzhé is waiting at the gate, bouncing a basketball. He’s been extra "golden retriever" energy lately because he thinks Xǐruì is finally noticing him more than the "robot."

Chén Ruìzhé: Xǐruì! Let’s go! I found this place that sells the best strawberry milk. My treat!

Zhang Xǐruì: looking back at the school building Actually, Ruìzhé... can you go ahead? I forgot something in the locker.

Chén Ruìzhé: his smile falters for a split second Again? You’ve been forgetting a lot of stuff lately. Want me to come with?

Zhang Xǐruì: No! I mean... it’ll be fast. I’ll text you, okay?

Ruìzhé watches her run back inside. His smile disappears completely. He knows she’s lying. He looks up at the Class 8 window and sees Míngzé standing there, looking down at the courtyard.

Chén Ruìzhé: muttering to himself I’m the one who’s been here for her since kindergarten. Why does it feel like I’m losing?

Xǐruì doesn't go to her locker. She follows Míngzé from a distance as he walks toward the back of the school, near the bike racks. She sees him take out a small first-aid kit from his bag, but he’s struggling to wrap a bandage around his own wrist with one hand.

She hides behind a pillar, watching him. He looks so different when he’s alone. Not cold or genius, just... hurt. He drops the bandage, and he lets out a quiet, shaky breath that sounds like he’s about to cry.

Xǐruì wants to step out, but she remembers his warning: "Don't touch me."

Suddenly, she sees that older student, the one from the hallway, approaching Míngzé with a mean smirk. Xǐruì’s heart drops. She realizes she isn't the only one who noticed Míngzé is hurt.

The older student kicks the bandage roll Míngzé dropped, watching it unravel across the dirty concrete.

Older Student: What’s the matter, genius? Too weak to even fix yourself up? Or did your "perfect" family finally leave a mark you can't hide?

Míngzé’s face goes completely blank, that icy wall slamming back into place. He tries to reach for his bag with his good hand, but the older student steps on the strap.

Older Student: I’m talking to you. You think you’re better than everyone because you get top marks? You’re just a freak who doesn't know how to fight back.

Xǐruì’s heart is hammering against her ribs. She sees Míngzé’s eyes flicker toward the gate. He isn't looking for a teacher; he looks like he’s waiting for the next blow, like he’s used to it.

Zhang Xǐruì: stepping out from behind the pillar, her voice shaking but loud Hey! Leave him alone!

The older student turns, laughing when he sees her.

Older Student: Oh, look. The little girlfriend came to the rescue. What are you going to do, Xǐruì? Draw a line on the ground and tell me not to cross it?

Zhang Xǐruì: I already called the security guard. He’s coming around the corner right now.

The student’s smirk vanishes. He looks toward the main building, hears a distant whistle, and scowls. He gives Míngzé’s bag one last kick before jogging away toward the back exit.

Xǐruì rushes over and picks up the bandage roll. She’s breathing hard, her hands trembling.

Zhang Xǐruì: Are you okay? I didn't actually call the guard, I just... I had to say something.

Míngzé doesn't move. He stares at the spot where the student was standing, then looks at the bandage in her hand.

Sang Míngzé: his voice is barely a whisper I told you to stay away from me. Why do you keep making things harder?

Zhang Xǐruì: Harder? I just helped you!

Sang Míngzé: he stands up, grabbing his bag and wincing Now he’ll come back tomorrow. And he’ll target you too. You’re an idiot, Zhang Xǐruì.

He starts to walk away, but his legs seem heavy. Xǐruì catches up to him and blocks his path.

Zhang Xǐruì: Then let him. I’m not leaving you here like this. Let me help you with the bandage. Just the bandage. I won't even touch your skin if you don't want me to.

Míngzé looks at her, and for the first time, the "cold genius" looks like a lost 6th grader. He slowly holds out his bruised wrist, his eyes turning toward the sky so he doesn't have to look at her.

At the bus stop, Ruìzhé is still waiting. He missed three buses already. He looks at his phone, staring at the photo of him and Xǐruì from the school festival last year.

Chén Ruìzhé: thinking She’s not coming.

He stands up to leave, but then he sees them. In the distance, Xǐruì is walking Míngzé toward the infirmary gate. She’s talking animatedly, and for a split second, Ruìzhé sees Míngzé’s head tilt toward her, listening.

Ruìzhé feels a sharp, cold pain in his chest. It’s the first time he realizes that being the "best friend" might not be enough. He realizes that while he was waiting with strawberry milk, someone else was sharing her secrets.

He turns away before they can see him, his grip tightening on his basketball until his fingers hurt.

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