After Differentiation, My Arch-nemesis Thinks I’m Fragrant - Chapter 27

The queuing area in the gymnasium was a cacophony of voices.

Some people stood high on their tiptoes, raising their phones in hopes of capturing Shu Youzhan’s “classic moments.” This naturally put invisible pressure on the nearby Alphas. However, the story of Shu Youzhan being provoked by pheromones that morning and subsequently beating a senior student to a pulp had just spread. Furthermore, an Alpha teacher was watching from behind… for a moment, none of them dared to act rashly.

They could only pray silently in their hearts, hoping her “feel” for the weapons wouldn’t be too good in the next round.

Whether it was their prayers working or just luck, the weapon randomly refreshed for Shu Youzhan in the fifth round was a bow and arrow. Following the handguns and semi-automatic rifles, this was considered the least competitive weapon. First, a bow can only fire one arrow at a time. Second, the process from releasing the string to the arrow hitting the target requires meticulous aiming; human power, after all, cannot surpass the speed of a bullet leaving a muzzle.

The crowd erupted in even greater clamor upon seeing this.

“Aw, why is it this one?”

“Is she at full marks yet? Has anyone calculated her score from the first four rounds? Has she reached the maximum standard?”

“She hit full marks long ago. It doesn’t matter if she misses this round. After all, it’s a cold weapon… it’s the Imperial Era, why is anyone still using this kind of thing?”

“Little Shu, go for it! You can do it! Hitting even one would be amazing!”

“Yeah, you’ve already got full marks, don’t be afraid! Don’t feel pressured!”

It was unclear who started the cheering first. Shu Youzhan was originally looking down, adjusting the bowstring. Hearing the cheers behind her, she turned her head in surprise. Then, she puffed out her cheeks and blew a kiss to the crowd before regaining her composure and looking back down to continue adjusting the string.

The heavy longbow, crafted from alloy, was nearly as tall as she was. If holding a rifle earlier gave off a contrasting sense of “roses paired with weapons,” then her perceived fragility as an Omega was magnified threefold against the backdrop of this cold bow.

One couldn’t help but break into a cold sweat for her.

Across half the gymnasium, on a high platform shielded by transparent soundproof equipment, Zhao Qinglan had just tripped an opponent off the stage. She glanced over toward the shooting range, unconsciously wiping the sweat from her chin with the back of her hand. She then turned to the nearby referee and scoring teacher:

“Did I pass?”

The teacher looked at her record of defeating ten consecutive opponents and pushed up their glasses, stating truthfully: “You’ve already achieved a full score—”

Before the words fully landed, Zhao Qinglan nodded and jumped off the platform without hesitation. She didn’t even notice the next opponent, who was already eagerly stepping onto the stage. The hem of her school uniform fluttered in the air before settling back down. A girl with a blushing face handed her a packet of tissues.

Zhao Qinglan spared a glance, said “thank you,” took a tissue to press against her sweaty neck, and shifted her gaze back across the gym toward the shooting test.

The girl who had approached was petite with a “good girl” hairstyle. She quietly observed Zhao Qinglan’s profile—the jawline covered in a thin layer of sweat and her cool expression. Thinking of Zhao Qinglan’s high-spirited demeanor on the platform, the girl felt she embodied every expectation of a “valiant and heroic” Alpha.

Her heart raced for half a minute. Hesitantly, she whispered:

“Zhao… Classmate Zhao, what kind of person do you like?”

Zhao Qinglan was focused, watching Shu Youzhan—partially obscured by the crowd—as she seriously tested the tension of the string. When she saw Shu Youzhan look up and pull three polished steel arrows from the quiver, Zhao Qinglan’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and her posture became more casual, as if she had silently breathed a sigh of relief.

She wanted to step forward a few paces to get a better look when she realized a classmate was still standing in front of her. She looked down, meeting a pair of eyes filled with anticipation. Zhao Qinglan paused for a moment and spoke politely:

“Sorry, should I buy a new pack of tissues to pay you back later?”

The girl: “…”

The red on her face vanished instantly. Her lips trembled as she managed only a faint: “No need…”

On the other side.

Because Shu Youzhan’s adjustments were slow—and since the exam didn’t factor in assembly time—the Alphas in her group, having familiarized themselves with their weapons, were mostly waiting for her. They had originally suppressed their tempers to watch her fail, but upon seeing her pull out three arrows, someone finally couldn’t resist speaking up:

“Hey, if you don’t know how to do it, just give up. Your previous performance was good enough anyway. This isn’t the age of cold weapons anymore. It’s fine if you can’t use a bow; don’t force it.”

“Exactly. You’ve already surprised everyone enough for an Omega. It’s fine even if you don’t compete in the last round… but pretending to know what you’re doing is inappropriate. Even thousands of years ago in ancient times, few could pull off a ‘Triple Pearl’ shot. Whether you can even draw that string is one thing; don’t just stand there trying to look cool.”

Someone added out of kindness: “Why not just let her try?”

But the tone carried a sense of magnanimous charity, as if looking down from a high position. Shu Youzhan initially treated these noises as wind past her ears. After nocking the three arrows and testing the draw, she gave the referee an “OK” hand sign.

In the instant before the mockers could even react—

Shu Youzhan focused her mind, her eyes fixed solely on the clay pigeon launcher. The moment she drew the bow to full power, three arrows whistled through the air, shattering the plates the moment they emerged, before they could even begin their flight path.

The crisp clink of the impact rang in everyone’s ears.

Those who had drawn firearms finally reacted. Amidst the crack-crack of shattering sounds in the arena, someone, unable to keep up with the speed of the moving plates, angrily ripped off their noise-canceling headphones and shouted toward Shu Youzhan:

“She’s cheating!”

Shu Youzhan raised an eyebrow and mouthed four words: “All’s fair in war.”

Then, she casually drew another arrow, listened to the sound of flight in the air, and found a gap between the pop-pop of gunfire to burst another plate.

At this point, every target in the arena had been pulverized into white dust, drifting down like blossoms.

The moment the referee blew the whistle to announce the end of the round—

Applause broke out from some corner, followed by the people outside the window clapping fiercely, whistling, and screaming “Boss!” at the top of their lungs. Shu Youzhan took off her headphones, pressed a fist to her lips, and feigned a cough:

“Teacher, was that performance… a pass?”

An evaluator who had been drawn to her side since the first round looked at her for a few seconds and nodded solemnly. Only then did Shu Youzhan break into a smile. Pei Yi and Shu Mi appeared out of nowhere, running toward her and throwing their arms around her: “Ahhh! Sis, you are seriously amazing!”

“Teacher Shu, the eternal goddess!”

Shu Youzhan was pulled into their embrace. Without even pausing to wipe her sweat, she beamed and hugged them back one by one.

Zhao Qinglan lowered her hands from clapping and turned to walk toward the exit. She planned to head back to the classroom to grind through practice problems; after all, she had finished her required physical training project and had no interest in staying for more excitement.

However, she didn’t expect the girl who gave her the tissues to still be there. After following her for a few steps, the girl took a deep breath the moment Zhao Qinglan turned around. In the noisy gym where even, close conversations were hard to hear, she shouted:

“I-I’ve liked you for a long time! Since the first semester of tenth grade! I was in the same class as you back then…”

She spoke somewhat incoherently, jumping from how she defended Zhao Qinglan on the school forums to how she was encouraged and inspired when she sat behind her. She spoke very fast; it was only because Zhao Qinglan listened intently that she could barely make out the meaning.

As she reached the end, her face turned red again, and she stuttered, unable to hit the key point: “I… so I, I want to… I…”

Under Zhao Qinglan’s calm and deep gaze, the girl felt as though all her thoughts were exposed. A strange sense of shame washed over her, making her want to stop immediately, yet she felt this might be her last chance.

The more anxious she got, the more she lost her words. Finally, she looked at Zhao Qinglan with hope: “You… you know what I want to say. You understand what I mean…”

Zhao Qinglan nodded gently.

Seeing her nod, the girl let out a sigh of relief and continued to look at her expectantly. Zhao Qinglan, rare for her, curved her lips slightly and said in a very soft tone:

“I really appreciate your feelings, classmate.”

The girl’s expression froze. It was as if she had already predicted what was coming next. Zhao Qinglan didn’t give her an opening, continuing without a pause: “But my heart already belongs to someone. Your feelings deserve someone who will cherish you more.”

Shu Youzhan’s good mood lasted all the way until she got home.

Because of the excellent recovery power of her glands, it seemed that after the last “devastation,” the time it took for the pain to fade was much faster. Or perhaps it was because she had been humming to herself all through the afternoon classes that she hadn’t noticed. Regardless, by the time she got home, she had almost forgotten the fact that she had been marked by Zhao Qinglan for a second time.

Until.

Ring, ring, ring…

A voice call came through.

Shu Youzhan sat up straight at her desk, looking at the caller ID in confusion. When she answered, her voice was full of bewilderment: “Hello?”

A familiar raspy voice came from the other side: “Doing homework?”

Shu Youzhan answered blankly: “Yeah. Why are you calling?”

Zhao Qinglan chuckled: “Did you forget something?”

In the silence that followed, Zhao Qinglan prompted with a sigh: “You’re burning the bridge after crossing it quite thoroughly, aren’t you? You promised me one thing back then—”

“But didn’t you say you hadn’t thought of it yet?”

“I’ve thought of it now.”

Shu Youzhan swallowed hard. A thousand guesses flashed through her mind, fearing the other girl was going to mess with her again. Her guard went up instantly as she leaned closer to the phone: “You… you say it first.”

She was already prepared to back out if the request was too difficult. After all… she had already taken the benefits; the rest could be dealt with later.

The result was a ghost of a sentence from the other end: “Sing a song for me.”

Shu Youzhan: “What?”

Zhao Qinglan: “Is your hearing failing you?”

Shu Youzhan: “…”

She felt stifled for a moment, then answered into the phone in a bored, muffled voice: “You’re not doing homework in the middle of the night just to call and ask me to sing? What’s wrong with you?”

“Are you going to sing or not?”

“I’ll sing…” Shu Youzhan didn’t expect the promise to be so easy to fulfill. Without thinking, she began reciting a nursery rhyme: “Under the bridge in front of the gate, a group of ducks swims by, come quickly, come quickly, let’s count—”

The person on the other end interrupted her without hesitation: “Doesn’t count. No emotion. Start over.”

Shu Youzhan: “?”

She laughed out of irritation: “You have quite a lot of requirements. Do you think you’re the CEO of an entertainment company auditing a New Year’s gala program?”

Zhao Qinglan gave a non-committal “mm-hmm” that betrayed no emotion, then urged her to hurry. Shu Youzhan was rendered temperless by this unreasonable behavior and simply said: “If you have requirements, why don’t you tell them all at once? Do you want to hear something happy, sad, a breakup song, or something festive? I don’t want to waste the whole night with you. Let’s get it right in one go, okay?”

Zhao Qinglan fell silent for a moment.

Just as Shu Youzhan thought she was going to give up, she suddenly heard a string of answers: “Marry Me Tomorrow? You Who Sat Next to Me? Only Have Feelings for You? Warm…”

“Stop, stop, stop. Don’t list them. What is all this mess? Why don’t you just ask me to sing a love song?”

“That works too?”

“Like hell it does,” Shu Youzhan kept the call active, biting her pen as she looked back at her homework, answering dismissively: “You should find someone you actually like to sing those kinds of romantic songs to you. Between the two of us… this relationship isn’t appropriate.”

Zhao Qinglan gave a low “oh” and asked her: “What is our relationship? A relationship where I’ve marked you twice? Is that not appropriate?”

Shu Youzhan: “…”

She looked guiltily toward her bedroom door. In the quiet room, listening to Zhao Qinglan’s voice and her reminder, she felt some superfluous reactions—things she hadn’t noticed before—slowly beginning to surface and occupy her attention.

Shifting around in her chair, Shu Youzhan didn’t want to hear Zhao Qinglan mention that again. She quickly searched on her phone, found some lyrics, and began to hum:

“Pick an apple;  wait for you to pass by my door” “Hand it to you to help quench your thirst ” “Like cola in the summer; like cocoa in the winter…” “It’s you who let me see a flower bloom in the dry desert ” “It’s you who makes me want to write a love song for you every day” “With the most romantic chorus and you softly singing along” “Eyes steady in our choice”

Her sweet voice, singing this kind of first-love song, was like honey—exceptionally intoxicating. The other end of the line was quiet for a long time. After finishing a segment, Shu Youzhan spoke up: “Is that good enough? Don’t let me sing that for nothing and then say it doesn’t count. Welching is bad form.”

“Yeah,” Zhao Qinglan responded after a delayed moment.

Shu Youzhan was about to hang up, but at the last second, her curiosity got the better of her. She didn’t know why Zhao Qinglan was acting this way. Her heart felt itchy, and she couldn’t hold it back; the conclusion Shu Mi had suggested to her earlier kept swirling in her mind, as if desperate to come out and probe for the truth.

“Ahem, can I ask you a question?”

“Speak.”

Zhao Qinglan answered readily, but her straightforwardness made Shu Youzhan hesitate. Before the question left her mouth, she added a bunch of face-saving disclaimers: “I’m just asking randomly. If it’s not the case, then forget it. Just consider me narcissistic…”

After a pause, she threw a straight ball: “I think you might actually like me.”