Criticizing Love - Chapter 15

Chapter 15

The 3000-meter race was the final event of the morning, and the sun now hung at the very zenith of the sky.

Gu Nianyin looked up at Lin Xi, her thick, curled lashes catching the brilliant, falling gold of the sun. A layer of a smile floated over the usual distant coldness of her features.

Lin Xi’s gaze was more chaotic than the swirling autumn leaves outside; her face, usually layered with temper, showed a visible startle. She wasn’t entirely sure if Gu Nianyin had just smiled at her—perhaps the sun was too high, casting illusions into her vision.

But the girl’s eyes were indeed lifted. Her rapid breathing lacked its usual refined poise, and she looked almost delirious, speaking words that made little sense.

Sunset Moth? Lepidoptera… that shouldn’t just be butterflies, right?

If this had been the past, Lin Xi would have definitely thrown back a line like: “You ran yourself stupid, didn’t you?”

But this time, looking into Gu Nianyin’s eyes, she somehow plucked something out from those strange words and asked proactively: “You really like that kind of stuff?”

Gu Nianyin nodded. Somewhat forcefully.

She seemed to have regained a bit of strength, leaning on Lin Xi’s hand to steady herself. She whispered a “Thank you.”

This time, Gu Nianyin’s voice was much less breathless; her calm tone had returned to its usual cool state. It was as if her previous state truly was just a lack of oxygen to the brain, causing her to babble incoherently.

And that moment of “babbling”—a departure from her “Ice Queen” persona—had been witnessed by Lin Xi.

Lin Xi couldn’t quite put words to her feelings. Disdain? A sneer? Thinking that even this high-and-mighty person was only human? Or was it the realization that this person wasn’t just a facade, but a living, breathing soul?

“Great One, you’re so awesome!” “You have no idea, the people from Class 10 were completely stunned, hahahaha!” “I have so much more confidence for our 4×100 this afternoon now!”

Before Lin Xi could analyze her thoughts, Gu Nianyin was swarmed by Zhong Sheng and the others running over from a distance. Lin Xi glanced at Gu Nianyin, who could now stand on her own, let go, and turned to walk away from the excitement surrounding her.

The autumn wind brushed across the grass, and the heat lingering on her wrist faded abruptly. Gu Nianyin’s lowered arm paused in the empty air; she curled her fingers. Because she was surrounded, any look she gave would be obvious, so there was nowhere she could look.

“Gu Nianyin.”

Suddenly, in a single second, Lin Xi’s voice carried over the wind from a distance. Gu Nianyin looked up instantly.

A shadow flew toward her against the deep blue sky; she instinctively reached out with both hands to catch it. It was a bottle of water. Having sat on the empty ground for a while, the autumn wind had chilled it, and the coldness pressed against Gu Nianyin’s palm.

Lin Xi tilted her head at Gu Nianyin, signaling: “No one’s touched it.”

Lin Xi had noticed earlier when she left—the crowd was there to celebrate, but not a single one had brought water. Being the outsider of the class group, she had gone back to the stands and grabbed a bottle.

It wasn’t for Gu Nianyin. She would have done the same for Zhong Sheng.

Having said her piece, Lin Xi turned and walked away again without even getting close. Sunlight shimmered, casting a long shadow on the artificial green grass, which slowly shrank into a small silhouette.

Gu Nianyin seemed to see a little girl, also with her hands in her pockets, saying the exact same thing. A short ponytail swung with every cocky tilt of her head—unbearably smug.

“Latest news! Class 10 swapped their first leg to the third leg!”

At lunch, the “1111” group was eating at one table when Zhong Sheng, who had vanished while getting food, came rushing back in a panic. The cafeteria was a sea of people; Zhong Sheng slid through like a fish holding her minced meat rice.

Listening to the chatter, Lin Xi asked a key question: “Is this Class 10 you’re talking about very good?”

“It’s Old Liu’s class,” Qin Zhuo replied, somewhat helpless at Lin Xi’s total disregard for the enemy. “Their class got a guest-student athlete this year. They aren’t using Old Liu for the anchor leg anymore; she moved to the first leg.”

With Qin Zhuo providing the context, Zhong Sheng cut to the chase: “Should we swap?” She was nervous about the opponent’s change. “I feel like I… can’t really handle Old Liu.”

“I’ll swap with you,” Gu Nianyin offered proactively. “My position is relatively easy to adjust.” She looked at Qin Zhuo, the captain, and Lin Xi, who sat across from her.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Qin Zhuo nodded.

“Swap then,” Lin Xi said. Her voice, compromising for the team’s score, carried a sense of resignation. She should have realized long ago—ever since Wang Tingxiu used both threats and bribes to make her help Gu Nianyin move classrooms—that contact with this person was unavoidable.

And…

Lin Xi glanced subtly at Gu Nianyin eating across from her. She watched her unhurriedly finish a small piece of bok choy, her thin lips shimmering with a light, oily pink glow.

She didn’t seem to find this person quite as… repulsive as she did at the start.

The sun was high when the afternoon sports meet resumed. The morning chill had been baked away, and after a lunch break, everyone was full of energy.

The 4×100 relay, with its many participants and fast pace, was always the highlight of the meet. Waves of heat rolled off the stands. After the freshmen and sophomores finished, it was the seniors’ turn. Perhaps because it was their last high school relay, every runner took on a remarkably serious attitude.

Lin Xi walked with Zhong Sheng to the second leg position. Looking ahead, Gu Nianyin was already standing at the third leg. The girl stood tall; her quiet silhouette stood out like a crane among the moving crowd on the track.

Watching her, Lin Xi silently clenched her hand—the hand she had practiced passing the baton with countless times. Whether it was the atmosphere or something else, she felt a flicker of nervousness.

“Don’t be nervous,” Lin Xi squeezed Zhong Sheng’s shoulder.

“Waaaaah, Xi, you’re so nice.” Zhong Sheng’s hands were cold from nerves; she was touched by Lin Xi’s rare show of concern. ” I’m really nervous. I don’t think I can easily outrun the second leg of Old Liu’s class.”

“Just don’t let them pull too far away,” Lin Xi comforted her, leaving the second half of the sentence unsaid.

—Leave the rest to Gu Nianyin and me.

Grouping herself with Gu Nianyin felt awkward. They were supposed to be like fire and water.

Once everyone was ready, the starting gun went off with a “Bang!”

The cheering never stopped. Standing at the anchor leg, Lin Xi watched from afar. It seemed Zhong Sheng’s “jinx” had worked—even with Qin Zhuo running neck-and-neck with Class 10’s first leg, Zhong Sheng was overtaken on the second leg, falling into a struggle for third place.

“Zhong Sheng!! Hurry up—!!” Lin Xi watched anxiously as Qin Zhuo shouted.

Zhong Sheng gritted her teeth and pushed, barely staying half a body length behind the fourth-place runner as they both handed the baton to the third leg.

“Gu…”

Zhong Sheng was full of guilt and apologies, but before she could speak, a gust of wind rose in front of her. Gu Nianyin was like an arrow released from a bow. With a face as calm as a breeze, she unleashed a violent burst of speed.

She passed the fourth runner. Then the third. She was closing in on Old Liu.

“I told you… the Great One can sprint too!” Zhong Sheng panted, leaning on Qin Zhuo. Qin Zhuo patted her, teasing: “This is the greatest contribution you’ve made to the team.”

The wind whistled past Gu Nianyin’s ears, the roar mixed with the surrounding cheers. Gu Nianyin didn’t recognize any “Old Liu.” Her vision was locked entirely on the person waiting for her at the final exchange point.

Closer. Closer.

Her breathing was on the verge of high-frequency chaos. Every nerve cell in Gu Nianyin’s body was working desperately to get her to that person’s side faster.

Lin Xi followed their practice, turning her head to watch the distance between them, ready to start her stride. The sunlight blurred her vision; she watched the girl she once called a “glass-house princess” get closer and closer, enlarging their hope for victory with every step.

Heaven only knew how Gu Nianyin did it—even in this situation, not a single frame of her expression broke. She remained as indifferent as ever, except for her eyes, which were locked onto Lin Xi—dark, deep, and determined to win.

Yet, it was impossible to tell exactly what it was she was determined to win.

“GO! GO—!!” “GREAT ONE! GO!” “PASS HER! ALMOST THERE!”

Perhaps the cheering was too loud; the decibels hammered against Lin Xi’s chest, making her heart pound wildly. Counting the seconds with her steps, two batons that had been far apart were extended simultaneously.

Amidst the boiling cheers, Lin Xi took the baton from Gu Nianyin’s hand. The wind was thick with heat. For a split second, the girls’ fingers brushed against each other. Then they tore apart.

Panting, Gu Nianyin’s cool voice was no longer steady: “Sorry. I couldn’t pass her.”

Lin Xi didn’t look back. Before she shot out like an arrow, she threw a line back to Gu Nianyin:

“Sorry my ass. Wait for me to bring you back the gold.”

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