SWTHTC - 11

Chapter 11: “Add Some Meat”

[This person... he trusts her way too much.]

Hou Zihao never imagined that one day he would have to create a blackboard newspaper.

His artistic skills were abysmal; give him a pen, and he wouldn’t even know if he could draw all the facial features of a person. Especially the hair—his best attempt was just a row of vertical lines. How could someone like him be expected to design a blackboard newspaper? But Teacher Pan insisted, saying it would be best to use watercolors because the colors would look more vibrant. The theme had already been decided for him: “Youth Soaring, No Regrets in Senior Three.”

“No regrets”?

For others, sure, but for him, this whole thing was a misunderstanding.

Zhou Leqi wasn’t usually one to take pleasure in others’ misfortune, but when Hou Zihao returned from Teacher Pan’s office looking utterly defeated, she couldn’t help herself. The notice about the blackboard newspaper sat on his desk, and he didn’t even want to glance at it. This scene reminded her of the German Shepherd her neighbor used to own—a big dog that looked fierce but never got angry. When upset, it would just lie down and ignore people.

It was both pitiful and amusing.

The association made Zhou Leqi stifle a laugh.

Hou Zihao happened to turn his head just as she laughed, making him even more frustrated.

Though he loved seeing her smile, part of the blame for this predicament rested on her shoulders. If she hadn’t suddenly chuckled beside him on the day of the class committee elections, he wouldn’t have lost his wits and missed the chance to decline becoming the Cultural and Sports Committee member.

Now here they were, with her—the root cause of his troubles—laughing without a care.

But there was no way to pin this on her, so Hou Zihao swallowed his frustration and asked after a while, “...Do you know how to draw?”

Zhou Leqi knew a little.

She had taken some art lessons as a child, though she hadn’t continued practicing regularly. Still, her skills were sufficient for creating a blackboard newspaper.

However, judging from Hou Zihao’s tone, it seemed like he wanted her help, and working on the blackboard newspaper usually required staying late after school. That would mean getting home later, which would worry her mother.

After thinking for a moment, Zhou Leqi asked, “How good are you at drawing?”

That question was hard to answer.

Hou Zihao fell silent for a moment, then pulled out a draft notebook from his desk drawer, uncapped his pen, and said, “Let me show you.”

Ten seconds later, he finished sketching something and pushed the notebook toward Zhou Leqi.

After glancing at it, Zhou Leqi remained silent for a moment before asking, “…So do you have any other friends who can help you?”

Hou Zihao cleverly interpreted two meanings in her response:

First, she clearly agreed that his drawing was a mess;

Second, if he tried hard enough, there was still a chance she might help him.

Encouraged by this realization, Hou Zihao calmly capped his pen, gave a regretful glance at Ge Ao, who was picking his ear, and Yan Lin, who was deep into mock test papers. He shook his head and said, “I think they might be worse than me.”

Zhou Leqi wanted to say that no one could possibly be worse than him, but she held back. Instead, she simply asked, “Teacher Pan suggested using watercolors?”

There was hope in her tone.

Hou Zihao’s mood brightened, but he maintained his composure. “I can buy watercolors after school, and I can write the text on the blackboard. My main problem is the drawing.”

Zhou Leqi pursed her lips and didn’t respond.

At that moment, the bell rang, and the English teacher entered the classroom. Hou Zihao didn’t continue discussing the blackboard newspaper with Zhou Leqi, but throughout the day, he didn’t give up either. He’d occasionally sigh in front of her, then glance back at the empty blackboard at the rear of the classroom.

A textbook example of survival hints.

As it turned out, effort truly was the key to life. With enough persistence, even something useless could become valuable.

In the end, he managed to convince her.

Zhou Leqi didn’t agree just out of sympathy for Hou Zihao; she also felt grateful to him. She remembered how he had bought her bread, treated her to shaved ice porridge, and let her copy his homework. Her life was chaotic, but he had shown her kindness, which was enough to make her appreciate him.

Once the classmates had left, Zhou Leqi stood in the middle of the classroom and examined the blackboard at the back. She said to Hou Zihao, “Why don’t you go buy some poster paint first? I’ll clean the blackboard and sketch a rough draft.”

By then, the classroom was empty except for the warm hues of the setting sun and the two of them. As Hou Zihao watched her roll up her sleeves, exposing a small section of her pale arm, he felt his heartbeat quicken.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

It was strange. He had spent plenty of time alone with her this week. On the nights they rode home together, they sat close, much closer than now, yet he hadn’t felt this nervous. Now, standing five or six steps away from her, his heart raced fiercely.

Why?

Could it be because the first time he heard her voice was also in the classroom, during such a twilight?

He didn’t know.

After waiting a while without receiving a response from Hou Zihao, Zhou Leqi assumed he didn’t want to run errands. She thought for a moment and suggested, “Or we could switch roles—I’ll buy the supplies, and you clean the blackboard.”

That snapped Hou Zihao out of his daze.

He coughed lightly, glanced out the window, and suddenly asked, “Are you hungry?”

Zhou Leqi: “Hmm?”

He turned back to face her, his figure silhouetted against the light from the window. Smiling, hands in his pockets, his eyes deep and calm.

“I’m hungry,” he said. “Let’s grab something to eat first.”

That evening, they shared bowls of beef noodles at a small street lined with food stalls behind the school gate. While waiting for their meal, Hou Zihao went to a nearby stationery shop to buy watercolors and brushes. By the time he returned, the steaming bowls of beef noodles were placed on the table.

This noodle shop had been around for years. Zhou Leqi recalled that it celebrated its fifth anniversary when she was a freshman, and now it was nearing a decade in business.

Though small, with only a few seats, the owner kept the place impeccably clean. There was never any sticky oil residue on the tables. Most importantly, the noodles were delicious, generously topped with tender, flavorful beef—a beloved gem among the students.

Zhou Leqi was a regular customer, and the owner knew her well. While serving their meal, the owner chatted casually, “Little girl, just having one bowl of noodles today? Not adding extra meat?”

Hou Zihao, sitting across from her, raised an eyebrow upon hearing this.

Embarrassed by the sudden exposure of her modest appetite, Zhou Leqi blushed furiously. She quickly nodded at the owner and muttered something incoherent before the owner walked away, leaving her still flushed.

Hou Zihao couldn’t help but chuckle.

He touched his nose, trying to suppress his laughter, and said naturally, “Don’t hold back on my account. Add meat if you’re not full.”

Even more flustered, Zhou Leqi reached for chopsticks from the container, bowing her head to hide her embarrassment, and murmured, “No, it’s fine… You eat first.”

Hou Zihao casually responded, but inwardly, he was smiling. He thought to himself: Her awkwardness is so cute.

Unable to resist, he observed her while eating his noodles.

She ate slowly but with evident enjoyment. She especially relished the meat, savoring each bite. Occasionally, she used a spoon to sip the hot broth, steam rising continuously from her bowl, causing her to sweat slightly. Her complexion glowed with a rosy hue, enhancing her beauty.

So she liked meat.

Within two seconds of realizing this, Hou Zihao recalled at least ten restaurants, each known for standout dishes. He also thought of the sweet-and-sour pork ribs Aunt Ding made—it was delicious. He wanted to take her to try them all.

Visit every restaurant.

Eat every meal together.

Lost in these thoughts, he was surprised to see Zhou Leqi put down her chopsticks across from him. “You’re done?” he asked.

She wiped her hands with a napkin and replied, “Yes.”

Hou Zihao glanced at her bowl: she had eaten all the beef but left half the noodles.

Hou Zihao: “….”

No wonder she was slim—she only ate meat and skipped the carbs.

He considered urging her to eat more but noticed she seemed like she wanted to say something. He asked, “What is it?”

Zhou Leqi pressed her lips together and asked, “Do you have your phone with you?”

Caught off guard, Hou Zihao nodded. “Yeah.”

Without hesitation, he pulled his phone from his pocket, unlocked it, and handed it to her without asking why she needed it.

Zhou Leqi hadn’t expected him to hand over his phone so readily. Phones were private, and for someone they weren’t particularly close to, he should’ve at least asked what she needed it for.

[This person… he really trusts her too much.]

Though he hadn’t asked, Zhou Leqi felt compelled to explain. “I need to call home and let them know I’ll be back a bit late.”

She was explaining herself to him.

Though it was a routine courtesy, Hou Zihao felt a warmth in his chest—he appreciated her clarifying her actions, as if giving him an explanation.

He took another bite of noodles and said, “Sure, feel free to use it.”

Zhou Leqi murmured an “Okay” and stepped outside with the phone. She returned shortly, handing it back to him.

By then, he had also finished his meal.

“Shall we go?” she asked.

Hou Zihao nodded, stood up, and said, “I’ll pay the bill. Wait for me outside.”

Zhou Leqi nodded.

While he settled the bill, she waited outside. By then, the sky had darkened slightly, and the evening glow had softened.

When he looked at her, she was half-bowing her head, kicking a small pebble at her feet. Her profile was gentle, strands of hair swaying softly in the evening breeze. Behind her, cars and pedestrians hurried past, busy and preoccupied.

Everything around her was ordinary, but she stood out, distinct and unique.

He smiled faintly. While the owner was counting his change, he took out his phone and found the number she had just dialed in the call log.

It was a landline number.

Looking at the string of digits, he felt a sudden pang of nervousness.

After a moment’s thought, he saved it.

The contact name was—

“Her home.”