Chapter 36: It's Nothing, Not Serious

As the midday clamor of the campus gradually swelled, Chen Shian, who had been sitting in silent meditation, slowly returned from his trance and opened his eyes. He had been studying with intense focus through several classes that morning, and though a bit weary, a brief moment of quiet meditation had restored him to his best condition.

The main issue was the school’s tightly packed schedule; if the break were any longer, he’d have found a cool spot beneath a tree for a nap. Just like waking from a regular midday rest, Chen Shian stretched with his fingers interlaced, then took a few sips from his water bottle.

Glancing around, he noticed that the seven classmates who had been self-studying in the classroom were now sprawled out on their desks. The bell had only just rung, with ten minutes left before class officially resumed. After a whole morning of resisting sleep, they could hold out no longer and seized these final ten minutes for a quick nap.

Unlike Chen Shian, the others couldn't refresh themselves so quickly with meditation. Their choices were either to dutifully nap or rely on quick-brew coffee and the like to revive their spirits. Such was the life of a high schooler: never enough to eat, and never enough sleep.

When his bottle was empty, Chen Shian got up to refill it at the water dispenser. He used an ordinary bottled water container. After filling his bottle with cold water, he saw that the water jug was empty, so he lifted it down. He’d watched others change the water before and knew how: remove the seal from the new jug, invert it, and slot it in.

Unlike others who struggled, he lifted the heavy jug as easily as if it were empty, and with a crisp click, set it firmly in place.

“Dao Master, you’re really strong!” exclaimed Dong Wenyu, who’d just woken up and come to get water as well. He was about the same height as Chen Shian, but thin as a reed, glasses perched on his nose, his limbs so slight it seemed a strong wind might blow him apart—save for his disproportionately large hands.

“It’s not that heavy,” Chen Shian replied.

“Not that heavy?” Dong Wenyu, unconvinced, crouched down and tried to lift a spare jug. Chen Shian watched as he trembled like a butterfly’s wings, barely managing the weight.

Alright, that’s enough, buddy! Even if I had lotus roots, I couldn’t patch you back together!

“Whoa—” Dong Wenyu nearly toppled, but Chen Shian reacted swiftly, taking the jug from his hands and steadying him by the shoulder. A solid, grounding strength came through the touch, and Dong Wenyu managed to stand, sweat beading on his brow.

“You okay?” Chen Shian asked.

“I’m fine, I’m fine... Just stood up too fast after squatting down—everything went black for a second...”

Chen Shian fell silent. Are we really the same age? The seventy-year-old grandpas in my village don’t complain about blacking out when they stand up!

Strictly speaking, they weren’t quite the same age. Chen Shian had asked Wen Zhixia about it; most second-year students were seventeen, a year younger than him. Since they all called each other “Dad” as a joke among peers, it was only fitting they addressed him as “Dao Master.”

With a glance, Chen Shian could tell that Dong Wenyu wasn’t truly unwell—just unfit from lack of exercise, overuse of his brain, insufficient sleep, and, frankly, too much indulgence, leaving him mentally and physically drained.

“You really need to exercise,” Chen Shian said earnestly.

“It’s fine! I just don’t have time, but after the college entrance exams, I’ll definitely get fit!” Dong Wenyu replied.

Chen Shian was unconvinced. From what he knew of most people, after enduring a period of immense pressure, they usually just let themselves go even more.

“Dao Master, do you want some coffee? I’ve got some—want a packet?”

“No, thank you.”

Dong Wenyu, while making coffee, looked surprised. “I saw you sitting and sleeping just now, Dao Master?”

“I wasn’t sleeping—just meditating.”

“That’s amazing! Does it work?”

“It does. You should try it sometime.”

After filling his bottle, Chen Shian returned to his seat as more classmates filtered into the room. With a few minutes left before class, he decided to visit the restroom. Dong Wenyu trailed after him.

“Heading to the restroom, Dao Master?”

“Yeah, just a quick one.”

“I’ll go too.”

...

When they returned, most students had arrived. The six who’d been studying before, aside from Dong Wenyu, had woken up, looking groggy, hair tousled, eyes blank. They’d only managed ten minutes of sleep. Those who had returned to the dorm for a full hour’s nap didn’t seem much better, yawning, listless. In kindergarten, they’d thought naps were a punishment; now in high school, they wished they could just sleep the day away.

The bed never asks questions, never criticizes you; it’s soft, warm, and always waiting—how wonderful beds are!

“When will these miserable days end?” someone wailed from across the room.

Chen Shian sat back down; the seat beside him was still empty—Lin Mengqiu hadn’t arrived. Just as he wondered, footsteps sounded behind him and the girl entered through the back door.

Before she could say a word, Chen Shian stood to let her pass. Lin Mengqiu slipped off her backpack, careful not to knock over the books on the desk behind her. The bag looked heavy; its straps pressed into her delicate fingers, leaving faint red-white marks on her skin.

She pulled out her chair and sat down, placing the backpack on the desk with a dull thud. Without a word to Chen Shian, she set about her own business. First, she took out a pack of tissues to wipe the perspiration from her face and neck, tossing the used tissue into the garbage bag hanging on her desk.

Chen Shian harbored no strange habit of collecting tissues used by pretty girls; instead, his gaze lingered on Lin Mengqiu’s face. From the moment she’d entered, he sensed a vague trace of resentment in her manner, her movements—sitting, setting down her bag—somehow heavier than usual.

He was baffled. Surely he hadn’t offended her? He’d even made a point of letting her through quickly.

Outside, the afternoon sun blazed. She looked as though she’d walked a long way; her fair cheeks were flushed, a few strands of hair clinging to her elegant face, which she lifted with slender, delicate fingers.

As Lin Mengqiu unscrewed her water bottle, she noticed Chen Shian watching her. She turned to face him, didn’t speak, but a question mark all but hovered above her head.

“Is the teachers’ dormitory far from the classroom?” Chen Shian asked.

“Not far.”

“Why do you look like you walked a long way?”

“I went home.”

“Oh—”

There it is again, that sarcastic “oh!” Minus one point for that.

Chen Shian didn’t ask why she’d gone home, and Lin Mengqiu didn’t offer an explanation. She hadn’t planned to, but although her house was nearby—a ten-minute walk each way—going back at noon barely left enough time to rest.

It was all because she’d promised that morning to lend him her old practice books from junior high! Though she’d said she’d bring them next weekend, once she’d agreed to something, she simply couldn’t let it go until it was done.

After picking up her lunch from the cafeteria, she’d decided on a whim to take it home. Her father, in the middle of his own lunch, was startled by her sudden return. Once he heard the reason, he said, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I’m free today—if you’d said something, I’d have cooked a few dishes, and you could’ve invited Shian home for lunch with us.”

That made her skin crawl! Her father was acting so strangely that if Chen Shian didn’t look so unlike him, she’d have suspected they were half-siblings!

Usually, she’d nap for half an hour in the dorm at noon, but today she skipped her rest. After eating, she spent the entire break searching her study for old math workbooks and exam papers.

She found a great many; it was impossible to bring them all, so she picked out only those she thought most useful. Even so, she stuffed her backpack to the brim.

She almost regretted promising him, but now that she’d fulfilled her word, Lin Mengqiu felt relieved.

[Ziiiiip—]

The sound of her backpack zipper being opened caught Chen Shian’s interest.

He watched as Lin Mengqiu pulled out nearly ten workbooks of varying thickness and a sheaf of exam papers. With a soft thud, she placed the pile in the middle of their shared desk. The overburdened backpack, like its owner, finally sagged with relief.

“These are the workbooks I’m lending you,” she said, her face expressionless. “They’re all seventh-grade math, both semesters. Once you finish these, you should have a pretty good grasp. As for the rest… we’ll talk about those later.”

Chen Shian was momentarily stunned, then beamed with delight. Moving the stack to his side, he flipped through them, touched. “So you went home just to get these for me? I thought you’d wait until the weekend when you were free… Class monitor, thank you so much!”

“I just happened to go back, so I brought them along.”

“Still, thank you! I really appreciate you remembering.”

A faint flush crept across her cheeks. Though she’d cooled off after her walk, her face now felt hot again.

Chen Shian’s gratitude was sincere—his expressions and words both—leaving her a little fluttery inside. As she fanned herself with a dainty hand, she couldn’t help but glance sideways at him. Seeing him carefully leaf through each book, she felt her efforts were not in vain; the annoyance she’d felt earlier vanished.

“So many just for seventh grade… How about next time I go and pick them up myself, so you don’t have to go to all this trouble?”

“It’s fine, they’re not heavy.”

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