Chapter 7: “Next Time, Wait for Me”

[Aren’t you two dating?]

The rest of that day turned out to be somewhat unpleasant.

Though Zhou Leqi hadn’t argued with anyone, it was clear to anyone paying attention that her demeanor had grown cold. Without saying a word, she simply turned and walked away.

This wasn’t the most tactful way to handle things—it was too blunt and could easily strain relationships with everyone around her. But Zhou Leqi didn’t care. Her life was already burdened with so many troubles that she no longer had the patience to endure others’ discomfort. If something unpleasant came her way, her solution was always to turn and leave.

Cold and direct.

She left, leaving those who remained in an awkward situation.

The most embarrassed person, naturally, was Yuan Jiahui. She probably hadn’t expected Zhou Leqi to react this way to such a minor incident. Didn’t most people just silently endure these kinds of subtle jabs? Wasn’t Zhou Leqi afraid of alienating herself from the class by being so harsh?

Confused, Yuan Jiahui sought sympathy. Pretending not to understand what had happened, she looked around at those nearby with a startled expression and asked innocently, “What… what happened with Senior? Did I say something wrong?”

Gao Qianqian and Xu Xin both consoled her. Gao Qianqian said, “I don’t understand either—you were just talking normally. Maybe she overreacted?”

Xu Xin, more short-tempered, sneered as she glanced at Zhou Leqi’s retreating figure. “We shouldn’t worry about it—what’s there to feel guilty about? So what if her grades are good? Acting all high and mighty like that… If she’s so amazing, why did she repeat twice? Who knows, maybe those scores were all from cheating!”

Gao Qianqian, comforting Yuan Jiahui with an arm around her shoulders, chimed in, “Exactly! Exactly!”

This outburst only added fuel to the fire, stirring up even more chatter among the crowd. Everyone began discussing animatedly, except for Mi Lan from Class 43, who was completely focused on handing Yan Lin a towel to wipe his sweat. The others gleefully gossiped like spectators.

Yuan Jiahui felt reassured, believing she had won the crowd’s sympathies. After quietly basking in satisfaction for a moment, she turned to Hou Zihao with a pout, asking timidly, “Monkey… what do you think that was about? Did I do something wrong?”

When Gao Qianqian and Xu Xin heard her question, they immediately jumped in to defend her, telling her not to foolishly take all the blame upon herself. But Yuan Jiahui secretly hoped it would be Hou Zihao who said those words—she wanted him to agree that Zhou Leqi was being unreasonable, that she had bullied her.

To her surprise, however, Hou Zihao merely smiled, though his expression had already grown cold.

“You’re classmates in the same class. Why did you call her ‘senior’?”

After speaking, he glanced at her with a subtle, knowing look, as if seeing straight through her.

Yuan Jiahui’s heart sank. She vaguely felt that he had seen right through her—and that Zhou Leqi must have seen through her as well. Embarrassed, angry, and flustered, she found herself speechless.

Seeing the tension, Ge Ao tried to mediate, but Hou Zihao had already turned to Xu Xin. With an impassive face, he said, “It’s best not to spread baseless rumors. Or, if anyone else is so capable, why don’t they try cheating their way to a score over 700?”

Xu Xin flushed red, her earlier indignation vanishing. She instinctively shrank behind Yuan Jiahui.

The once lively playground fell silent. Everyone felt uneasy. Hou Zihao didn’t linger; he glanced at the water bottle in his hand—it was already open—and then at Yuan Jiahui. After a moment’s thought, he said, “Thanks for the water. I’ll pay you back when we get back to class.”

With that, he picked up his school uniform jacket, pushed through the crowd, and walked away. Yan Lin raised his voice slightly and called after him, “You’re not playing anymore?”

Without turning around, Hou Zihao waved a dismissive hand behind his back.

For the rest of the day, Zhou Leqi didn’t speak to anyone.

As usual, she sat alone in her seat, taking notes during class and either sleeping or doing homework during breaks. Though she hadn’t said a word, the entire class could sense the heavy atmosphere. Everyone walked more lightly than usual, as if tiptoeing around her.

Hou Zihao also bore some collateral damage—Zhou Leqi stopped speaking to him as well.

Though she hadn’t spoken much to him before, today’s atmosphere had clearly shifted. During biology class in the afternoon, her pencil fell to the floor. He bent down to pick it up and handed it back to her, but she didn’t even look at him, let alone say “thank you.”

Sigh…

That afternoon’s weekly test was in math.

Math was pure hell. It made their brains explode. Though Class 1 was filled with top students, many still stumbled. Not only was the final problem on derivatives unsolvable, but the second-to-last problem on sequences was also a mess. Even the vector problem in the fill-in-the-blank section left everyone baffled. Damn it—all they could confidently solve were the trigonometry problems; every other question was a roadblock!

Hou Zihao had always excelled in math, but this weekly test was giving him a headache. Its difficulty felt higher than the college entrance exam. He even resorted to using the shameless method of plugging in special values, yet he still couldn’t crack the last fill-in-the-blank question. And time was running out—he was still stuck on the second part of the sequence problem, with the derivatives question untouched.

Meanwhile, Zhou Leqi had already put down her pen and begun packing her bag, preparing to hand in her test early.

Hou Zihao: …?

When Zhou Leqi handed in her test early, the entire class was stunned. Most people still had several major problems left, along with a few unanswered questions earlier on. They watched as Zhou Leqi casually submitted her paper. Math teacher Xue Jun collected the test, glanced at it briefly, nodded in satisfaction, and told her she could leave early. Thus, under everyone’s watchful eyes, Zhou Leqi slung her backpack over her shoulder and walked out of the classroom alone.

It wasn’t until she stepped out of the school gates that she finally relaxed. Yet the sound of Yuan Jiahui calling her “senior” earlier still lingered in her ears.

“Senior…”

She was reminded of last year, during her repeat year, when she’d had a similar experience. There was a boy who had consistently ranked first before she joined the class. After her arrival, he could never surpass her scores, which led to some teasing. That boy, unable to bear it, began mockingly calling her “senior,” as if trying to prove to others that he wasn’t inferior to her—she was just repeating the year.

That had been a suffocating year.

Her family issues were endless, and at school, she had to endure the repeated taunts disguised as “senior.” It made her feel trapped, so much so that she developed an aversion to the term—even though she knew there was nothing inherently wrong with being called “senior.”

Today’s Yuan Jiahui was no different.

Zhou Leqi knew she had overreacted, but…

Never mind.

Let it be.

She walked slowly, heading to the Cultural Palace bus stop. When the bus arrived, she boarded. Today she had come early, so there were more empty seats than usual. She chose a window seat and sat down. Soon, a middle-aged man plopped down beside her.

He wasn’t tall, slightly overweight, and balding. He sat very close to her but wasn’t looking at her.

Zhou Leqi frowned and glanced around the bus: there were plenty of empty seats, many with no one nearby. Why did this man insist on sitting next to her?

She considered standing up to move to another seat, but the middle-aged man suddenly turned his head and initiated conversation, asking if she was a student at No. 1 High. As soon as he opened his mouth, a strong wave of bad breath hit Zhou Leqi, making her instinctively turn her face away.

She felt at a loss.

“Zhou Leqi.”

At that moment, someone suddenly called her name. She looked up—

…and saw Hou Zihao.

He was carrying his backpack on one shoulder, slightly out of breath. Before she could fully process it, he had already bypassed the middle-aged man and grabbed her wrist.

His palm was warm.

In a daze, she let him pull her up and followed him toward the empty seats at the back of the bus. As they walked, she heard him say casually, “Didn’t I tell you to wait for me? Why did you leave on your own?”

So natural… as if they were already close.

Zhou Leqi, of course, wasn’t ungrateful. She understood that he was helping her out of an uncomfortable situation, and there was a protective undertone to his actions. At the same time, she noticed that the middle-aged man was still staring at her, making her nervous. Trying to act naturally, she responded to Hou Zihao, “…Next time, I’ll wait for you.”

This response left Hou Zihao momentarily stunned.

…Could such a thing really happen?

He gave an almost imperceptible smile, then coolly grunted, “Mm,” gesturing for her to take the inner seat. Once she was seated, he settled in beside her.

He glanced at the middle-aged man up front. The man quickly averted his gaze, turning his back to them.

Seeing that the man had finally looked away, Zhou Leqi breathed a sigh of relief. Only then did she realize that Hou Zihao was still holding her wrist. She pursed her lips, gently pulling her hand free while softly saying to him, “…Thank you.”

Hou Zihao only then realized he had been holding her wrist this whole time. Feeling slightly embarrassed, he cleared his throat and said, “No problem.”

After that, Zhou Leqi showed no intention of continuing the conversation. Hou Zihao unconsciously glanced at his hand, still feeling the lingering sensation of her skin—soft and…

Stop.

Hou Zihao, can you stop being so lecherous?

He inwardly scolded himself and subtly glanced at Zhou Leqi again. She was looking down, her mood still low. Naturally, he assumed she was still upset about what had happened during PE class.

Wanting to comfort her, he cleared his throat to catch her attention. She turned her head to look at him—her skin was fair and delicate, reminding him of the sensation of holding her wrist earlier.

…She was truly beautiful.

“About what happened earlier today,” he began earnestly, “I think…”

But before he could finish, Zhou Leqi interrupted him.

She shook her head and said, “It’s fine. I understand what you mean.”

Hou Zihao: …?

He furrowed his brows and asked, “What do you think I mean?”

Zhou Leqi thought he was being evasive: What else could he mean? His purpose was obviously to explain on Yuan Jiahui’s behalf, to mediate and smooth things over. He might even want her to apologize to Yuan Jiahui, urging both sides to compromise.

She wasn’t particularly interested in any of that, but she didn’t want to hold a grudge either. After a moment’s thought, she said, “I haven’t taken today’s incident to heart, and I won’t have any conflicts with her in the future. You can rest assured.”

These words… somehow didn’t sound reassuring at all.

Hou Zihao mulled them over, finding them increasingly unsettling. Finally, he said, “You’ve got it all wrong—I’m not speaking on Yuan Jiahui’s behalf.”

Zhou Leqi raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely surprised. She asked, “You two aren’t…”

Aren’t you two dating?

She didn’t say the words “early romance” aloud, so Hou Zihao initially didn’t understand. It wasn’t until a moment later that he caught her implication—a surge of frustration and disbelief welled up inside him.

He was utterly exasperated: “Of course not!”

Seeing his furrowed brows and slightly annoyed expression, Zhou Leqi couldn’t help but feel she had struck a nerve. It was understandable—after all, they weren’t close. Hou Zihao would naturally be reluctant to admit to any kind of early romance in front of her, likely fearing she might gossip about it with the teachers.

Not wanting him to overthink things, she pretended to believe him, nodding and saying, “Is that so? Then I must have misunderstood. My apologies.”

Zhou Leqi’s demeanor remained unchanged, her tone as flat and emotionless as ever. This left Hou Zihao momentarily unsure whether she truly believed him or not.

However, continuing to dwell on the matter now would only make things awkward. The most appropriate response was to let it go. Yet, the more he thought about it, the more frustrated and speechless he became. By the time the bus reached its final stop, he still hadn’t fully recovered.

…What a headache.

________________________________________

The two disembarked from the bus in silence. Zhou Leqi walked briskly ahead, her pace steady and deliberate, while Hou Zihao followed a few steps behind, his mind still tangled in thoughts. He glanced at her occasionally, taking in her calm yet distant profile. The streetlights cast soft shadows on her face, highlighting the subtle tension in her features.

He wanted to say something—anything—to break the lingering unease between them. But what could he say? Apologizing for Yuan Jiahui felt redundant now, and explaining further about their non-existent relationship seemed unnecessary. Yet, leaving things as they were didn’t sit well with him either.

Finally, after a long stretch of silence, he spoke up. “You don’t have to force yourself to pretend everything’s fine,” he said quietly, his voice carrying just enough sincerity to catch her attention.

Zhou Leqi stopped in her tracks, turning slightly to look at him. Her eyes met his briefly before she averted her gaze, focusing instead on the ground. “I’m not pretending,” she replied evenly. “Some things aren’t worth holding onto.”

Her words hung in the air, simple yet heavy with meaning. Hou Zihao wasn’t sure how to respond. He had expected defensiveness, perhaps even anger, but this quiet resignation was something else entirely. It unsettled him.

“Even if you brush it off,” he said cautiously, “that doesn’t mean it didn’t bother you.”

Zhou Leqi gave a small shrug, her lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile—one that didn’t reach her eyes. “People say things. People do things. None of it really matters in the grand scheme of things, does it?”

Her indifference struck him like a punch to the gut. Was this how she dealt with everything? Pushing aside her feelings, refusing to let anything—or anyone—affect her?

Before he could formulate a reply, she resumed walking, her figure growing smaller under the dim glow of the streetlights. Hou Zihao hesitated for a moment before jogging to catch up with her.

“You shouldn’t bottle everything up,” he said, his tone firmer this time. “It’s okay to admit when something bothers you.”

Zhou Leqi shot him a sidelong glance, her expression unreadable. “And then what?” she asked softly. “Will admitting it change anything? Will it make people stop calling me ‘senior’? Will it fix my family problems? Will it make life easier?”

Her questions caught him off guard. He opened his mouth to respond but found no immediate answer. Instead, he fell silent, walking beside her as the night stretched endlessly before them.

________________________________________

When they finally reached her neighborhood, Zhou Leqi paused at the entrance. She turned to him, her gaze steady but devoid of warmth. “Thank you for earlier,” she said, referring to the incident on the bus. “But you don’t need to worry about me. I’m used to handling things on my own.”

Hou Zihao frowned, his hands stuffed into his pockets. “That doesn’t mean you have to,” he countered. “Sometimes it’s okay to lean on others.”

For the first time that evening, a flicker of emotion crossed her face—something akin to surprise, mixed with a trace of vulnerability. But it vanished almost instantly, replaced by her usual stoic mask.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said simply, though her tone suggested otherwise. With a brief nod, she turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the residential complex.

Hou Zihao stood there for a while, watching the spot where she had vanished. The cool night breeze ruffled his hair, but he barely noticed. His thoughts were consumed by her enigmatic presence—the way she carried herself with quiet resilience, yet exuded an underlying fragility that tugged at his heartstrings.

He shook his head, chuckling softly to himself. “What a mystery,” he murmured under his breath.

As he retraced his steps toward the bus stop, one thing became clear: Zhou Leqi wasn’t someone who could be figured out easily. And perhaps, that was exactly what intrigued him the most.