Criticizing Love - Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The sun gradually slanted westward.

The light fell across the two desks joined together, drawing a straight line along the center gap—a clear boundary of “minding one’s own business.”

Yet, something had crossed that line. It was placed conspicuously on Lin Xi’s desk by its owner, lying brazenly under Lin Xi’s gaze.

Lin Xi frowned at the band-aid. It was the most ordinary kind of Yunnan Baiyao bandage; the plain packaging had no extra patterns. It just lay there quietly, devoid of any emotion, just like its owner.

What is this? A desk-mate gift? Who wants her gift?

Lin Xi knew she was being a bit ungrateful, but she had never liked using these things since she was a child. Moreover, this came from Gu Nianyin. She felt no need to be “grateful” toward this person.

“Don’t need it.” With a sweep of her hand, Lin Xi pushed the band-aid back to Gu Nianyin.

She wouldn’t accept this “gift.” She didn’t even want this desk-mate.

But only seconds after she retracted her hand, a pale forearm reached back into her peripheral vision. The wrist bone was slightly prominent, and the sunset gilded her fingertips, giving her rounded nails a natural elegance. She pushed the band-aid back to Lin Xi once more.

“This is a gift for you. How you choose to handle it is your business; you don’t need to specifically tell me.”

The person’s voice was thin, like plain water that had gone cold, making it impossible to tell what she was feeling. Yet, it easily provoked the person across from her.

Lin Xi stared directly at Gu Nianyin. The sunset fell into her dark pupils like a bonfire ready to ignite. In the next second, she snapped: “Who’s being ‘specific’!”

“Then I misunderstood. My apologies.” Gu Nianyin lifted her hand from the band-aid and lowered her eyes slightly to express regret before withdrawing her gaze.

The light through the window illuminated the girl’s profile as she focused on her homework. Her dark hair was tucked neatly behind her ear; the sunset cast a soft pink glow on her cheek, making her look gentle—an image that contrasted sharply with the coldness in her eyes.

Lin Xi sat frozen, her gaze locked on Gu Nianyin. She wasn’t attracted to how the girl looked; she was frustrated.

Even though Gu Nianyin’s words had followed her own lead and she had offered a sincere “sorry,” Lin Xi didn’t feel any satisfaction. It had been a long time since she felt this way. No matter who she faced, Lin Xi’s untamable defiance usually kept her on top, leaving others speechless. Yet here, several times in a row, she was being pinned down by this person—pinned down hard.

“Damn it.”

Irritated, the band-aid on the desk became an eyesore. She moved to throw it back at Gu Nianyin, but remembering what was just said, she shifted her wrist and tossed the thing into her desk drawer instead.

Under the window, a math paper where a single problem took up half a page was spread out. Before even finishing the question, Lin Xi scribbled a bold, wild “Sol.” (Solution). Her fluent steps lined up row by row, the tip of her pen tapping the desk with the force of her calculations.

As Zhong Sheng often said, Lin Xi’s math skills were “outrageously good.”

The sun eventually hung halfway down the teaching building. The focus of the seniors in the final self-study period was beginning to waver.

The preparatory bell rang for a while before the students in the hallway sluggishly returned to the classroom. Even when the final bell rang, the building didn’t quiet down—except for Class 1 on the far east side.

The desks in this room were all covered with the math opening exam papers, as if by prior agreement. A few moments after the bell, a short man, trying hard to cover his bald head with the few hairs left on the sides, walked in unhurriedly carrying a cup of goji berry tea.

This was Cheng Jianbang, the math teacher for the elite class. A veteran teacher who had helped write textbooks, he had more awards than he knew what to do with. He had written this opening exam, and it had defeated almost everyone—especially the final problem, which was a total massacre.

While such problems were too advanced for regular classes and usually weren’t explained, the elite class demanded it.

Cheng Jianbang took a slow look around the room before standing at the podium. He seemed surprised. “A new student, I see.”

Gu Nianyin, sitting in the back row, gave him a small nod. Her dark hair fell softly, but her back was perfectly straight. Her polite and composed manner gave even the world-weary Cheng Jianbang a small shock. With just that brief exchange, he knew this child was not to be underestimated. He nodded in approval. “Good. I’ve said for a long time this class should expand. Those people in the Academic Affairs Office are too rigid.”

As he spoke, he adjusted his portable microphone. “I’ll finish this quickly so you can go home early. I’m going to explain the last two sub-questions we didn’t finish this morning. First, this part is a setup for the next two…”

Cheng Jianbang wrote a series of numbers on the blackboard. The students looked up, following his logic intently—except for one head that remained stubbornly lowered.

It was arrogant, but she had the skill to back it up. In a near-total massacre, Lin Xi was the lone survivor. She was incredibly good at math, occupying the throne of “Grade Number One” for years. She had scored full points on this final “boss” problem.

Since the lecture was useless to her, she leaned her head on one hand and flagrantly flipped through a manga, engrossed in how the protagonist would solve their crisis.

“So, what’s the next step? Right! We move this over here…”

On the podium, Cheng Jianbang was in his element. Even without verbal responses, the sound of his explanation and the frantic scribbling of pens accelerated. This scene overlapped with the manga Lin Xi was reading; the chalk dust became an explosion on the page, pulling her deeper into the story.

But then, Lin Xi noticed a strange sound in the background: a persistent pen scratching.

Tap-tap, tap, tap-tap-tap…

Frowning slightly, Lin Xi looked to her side. The clouds at the horizon were set ablaze by the sunset, spilling across the desk. A few strands of hair caught the gold as they brushed Gu Nianyin’s face. She was looking at the board, wearing a pair of silver-rimmed glasses.

The glasses weren’t trendy; the thin wire frames reflected a cold light, hiding her deep features behind the lenses. However, this only amplified her cold, noble air, making her seem even more untouchable.

One wouldn’t usually use the word “abstinent” to describe a seventeen-year-old girl, but compared to the gentle, green looks of her peers, Gu Nianyin truly fit the description. With her eyes slightly raised and her fingers against her pen, she looked elegant and aloof. With the glasses, “abstinent” was the most accurate word.

Lin Xi’s gaze lingered for a moment. Realizing what kind of evaluation she was giving Gu Nianyin, her brow furrowed and she looked away.

Abstinent my foot. She’s just a ‘dodder flower’ clinging to Lin Deyuan. What’s with the act?

Moreover, with her meticulous way of copying the problem, she couldn’t possibly keep up with Cheng Jianbang’s speed. The faster her pen moved, the more futile it seemed.

Tch, why so disciplined? What a little sister (young/naive).

Lin Xi couldn’t help but let out a small, visible smirk. Watching Gu Nianyin take notes became a form of entertainment. On the podium, Cheng Jianbang’s writing was flying. In a short time, half the board was filled with the steps for the second-to-last question.

He leaned against the desk and drank half a cup of water, clearly impatient to move on. He picked up the eraser and asked rhetorically: “Everyone finished? Let’s look at the next one…”

“No.”

A second before the students could start their collective groan, a lazy voice rang out from the back of the room.

Cheng Jianbang pushed up his glasses in disbelief and looked toward the source—his favorite student, Lin Xi. “Lin Xi?” His voice was confused, even worried. “Did you not solve this problem?”

“The logic for the steps isn’t very clear,” Lin Xi replied nonchalantly, yet with a hint of seriousness. “And since you wrote this problem, Teacher, I want to study it carefully.”

Cheng Jianbang was pleased by the last comment. He laughed and put down the eraser. “I did put quite some thought into this bonus question… fine, another minute.”

At those words, the class breathed a sigh of relief.

Gu Nianyin’s gaze flickered. In her peripheral vision, she caught Lin Xi’s face—raised for the first time this class—melting into the sunset light, her rebellious aura wrapped in orange shadows.

Throughout the rest of the lecture, Cheng Jianbang intentionally slowed his pace and explained things more thoroughly. By the time the final point was written on the blackboard, there were fifteen minutes left in the period. After answering questions from a few students who came to the podium, Cheng Jianbang picked up his bag and left early.

Zhong Sheng, looking at the second-to-last question she still hadn’t finished copying, turned piteously to Lin Xi. “Xi, I didn’t get it all down. Let me see yours.”

Lin Xi’s gaze on her manga paused. She guiltily slid her math notebook under her book and told Zhong Sheng flatly: “Didn’t take notes.”

“Didn’t take notes?” Zhong Sheng didn’t believe her. “Didn’t you just tell Old Cheng you wanted to copy it and study it?”

Zhong Sheng thought Lin Xi was holding a grudge because she had retreated from being her desk-mate earlier. She leaned over. “Xi, are you still mad at me? I didn’t mean to—”

“I’m not,” Lin Xi cut her off.

Zhong Sheng was even more confused. Something felt weird about Lin Xi. She locked her eyes on Lin Xi’s face, determined to figure it out. “Then what’s wrong? It’s just notes, why won’t you show me? Do you have something embarrassing in your notebook? After all these years, what is there—”

Zhong Sheng chattered on, and Lin Xi felt like she was “eating bitter melon in silence.”

It serves me right. Being kind to someone I shouldn’t be kind to—it’s just asking for trouble.

Just as Lin Xi was regretting her actions, a notebook was pushed between her and Zhong Sheng. Gu Nianyin, unhurried, handed her notes to Zhong Sheng. “You can look at mine.”

Zhong Sheng looked up, her chattering stopping instantly. Gu Nianyin hadn’t taken off her glasses yet; the clean, transparent lenses on her pale, cold face gave her an air of refined elegance.

Zhong Sheng searched her vocabulary and could only come up with one vulgar exclamation: Is this an ‘abstinent’ beauty? Xi, you have such good luck!

Envious, Zhong Sheng eagerly looked at the notes. On the lined paper were rows of handwriting—not the typical soft, dainty style, but something sharp, bold, and decisive.

The writing reflects the person, Zhong Sheng thought. She was genuinely impressed. “Wow, how did you take such organized notes in such a short time, Goddess—I mean, Great One!”

Gu Nianyin didn’t react to the titles. She only said, “Please return it to me after you’re done; I haven’t reviewed it yet.”

“Sure, sure! I’ll be quick!” Zhong Sheng nodded vigorously and took the notebook away, along with her incessant noise.

The back row was finally quiet again. Lin Xi sighed wearily, only for her sigh to be met by another’s voice.

“Thank you for just now,” Gu Nianyin said to Lin Xi, her voice low enough that only the two of them could hear.

Lin Xi’s nerves, which had just relaxed, tightened instantly. Gu Nianyin’s voice was calm, but it was like a thunderclap in Lin Xi’s head.

Gu Nianyin was thanking her for stopping Cheng Jianbang from erasing the board.

Even Zhong Sheng hadn’t suspected anything; how did she find out?

Lin Xi panicked for a second, then denied it. She hadn’t said who she was saying “No” for. Half the class hadn’t kept up; she wasn’t necessarily doing it for Gu Nianyin. Especially Zhong Sheng. Zhong Sheng was right in front of her, her back moving frantically as she looked up and down at the board. Couldn’t she just be pitying her best friend?

As expected of someone who lives under the same roof as Lin Deyuan. Naturally narcissistic.

Having convinced herself, Lin Xi snapped back: “Look, not everything revolves around you, okay?”

“Mm, I know.” Gu Nianyin gave a small nod, withdrew her gaze, and returned to her exercise book.

That calm again. Lin Xi’s punch landed on cotton once more, making her frown.

Then, thinking of something, she leaned back and whispered provocatively, “Hey, how does it feel to not be able to keep up?”

Gu Nianyin didn’t answer, seemingly focused on analyzing the genetic probability of pea flowers.

Lin Xi didn’t stop. She still didn’t want Gu Nianyin as a desk-mate. Since Wang Tingxiu wasn’t here, the seating wasn’t permanent. She looked for any opening to intimidate her. “Hey, I’m telling you, from this spot you can’t just miss math. You can’t see the board in English, and you won’t be able to see the experiments in Chemistry. If you’re smart, you’ll tell Tingxiu early—”

Clack.

The sound of the pen being set down cut Lin Xi off. Amidst her rebellious arrogance, she met Gu Nianyin’s eyes. The dark pupils with brown undertones were like pool water seen from a cold bank; a rush of cool, absolute clarity hit Lin Xi, a sharpness that made her stop talking.

“What?” Forced to be steady, Lin Xi looked back, trying to overpower her with her aura.

But Gu Nianyin remained calm, her thin lips parting slightly: “Are you worried that I won’t be able to keep up with the class?”

Lin Xi’s eyelid twitched. She stared at the person who said that. She really wanted to crack open Gu Nianyin’s head to see what was inside. She ground her teeth. “Are you… out of your—”

Gu Nianyin didn’t look intimidated. Before Lin Xi could finish, she added: “If you are worried that I can’t keep up and my grades will drop, I can consider it.”

A warrior can be killed but not insulted. Pride was the very bone that held Lin Xi up. Even to get rid of Gu Nianyin, she couldn’t bring herself to admit she cared about the person she despised most.

“You’ve studied yourself into idiocy.” Enraged, Lin Xi pulled out a physics book and refused to give Gu Nianyin another look.

But Gu Nianyin wasn’t finished. She called the name of the girl who refused to look at her: “Lin Xi.”

She knew Lin Xi wouldn’t look back. Her gaze met the sunset outside the window as she stated calmly:

“This spot isn’t as bad as you say.”

“This spot is very good.”

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