Criticizing Love - Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The early morning sun crowded in from behind Lin Xi, outlining Gu Nianyin’s face within her pupils.

Those deep brown eyes were calm and clear, showing no sign of tension. Her long, thick lashes caught the light, brushing against Lin Xi’s line of sight as lightly as feathers.

The girl’s hand was cool; the thin fabric of the shirt channeled warmth toward the palm pressed against it. Dust motes in the sunlight danced like invisible molecules, intertwining and merging.

On Lin Xi’s shoulder was the warmth she was transmitting to Gu Nianyin. And it was also the warmth Gu Nianyin had nurtured and returned.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

The nightmare dissolved under the invading sunlight.

Lin Xi came back to life. Her heart hammered with unprecedented violence, the sound so loud it crowded out everything else. Was it resentment—old wine in a new bottle of memories? Was it the fear of being unable to struggle out of the nightmare? Or was it…

Before the half-formed thought could manifest, it was crushed by Lin Xi’s furrowed brow.

The haze slowly receded from her eyes. The pure darkness of her gaze enveloped Gu Nianyin as she realized who she was with. Rejection rose like a wave hitting a stone cliff, splashing in all directions.

With a quick movement, Lin Xi brushed off Gu Nianyin’s hand. Her voice was distant: “What do I have to be afraid of?”

“Really?” Gu Nianyin asked softly. “You didn’t seem that way while you were asleep.”

Lin Xi’s heart twinged, but she didn’t show it, maintaining her aggressive front. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If you hadn’t shown it, how would I know you were having a very unpleasant nightmare?” Gu Nianyin replied, her face devoid of any extra expression.

The English teacher’s rhythmic voice, amplified by the portable mic, reached every corner of the room, making Gu Nianyin’s voice less obvious. She threw the question at Lin Xi with a casualness that masked the weight of the information.

A “nightmare” is a broad concept—certain real-life experiences can be nightmares, as can ethereal ghosts and monsters. But “very unpleasant” was a precise diagnosis.

Lin Xi looked at Gu Nianyin with defiant eyes, but her heart was racing. She was genuinely worried she might have muttered something in her sleep—specifically, if she had said the name “Lin Deyuan.”

It wasn’t that Lin Xi wanted to hide the truth. In this collision of lives caused by the irresponsible Mr. Lin, she wasn’t the one who had anything to be ashamed of. It was simply that she didn’t want Gu Nianyin to find out she was Lin Deyuan’s daughter through sleep-talking.

She wanted, in a base and cruel way, to tell Gu Nianyin herself—to tell her in a way that would obliterate her pride. She wanted to see fear on that eternally calm face; she wanted her to fall from her high horse.

She was Lin Deyuan’s child. Therefore, she was also a piece of trash.

Their eyes met in a silent clash. Gu Nianyin’s gaze flickered. She seemed to see a flash of desolation in Lin Xi’s eyes—a pride that refracted the sunlight, the patterns in her iris looking like a series of cracks.

Before she could look closer, the English teacher interrupted: “Is the article I’m reading really that sleep-inducing? It’s only the first period; wake up! Especially certain students—don’t think I can’t see you whispering just because you’re in the back.”

She glanced down from the podium and called out, “Gu Nianyin, continue reading.”

Gu Nianyin picked up the English paper on her desk and stood up. Though she had been talking to Lin Xi and seemingly not paying attention a second ago, she fluently picked up exactly where the teacher had left off.

Zhong Sheng’s praise from the previous day wasn’t an exaggeration. When Gu Nianyin read, even the same words felt different. The morning sun made the classroom warm and bright. Gu Nianyin read with a fluent British accent, the stressed glottals hidden in her throat. Under the golden light, it felt like an old British film from the last century.

Accustomed to the teacher’s monotonous drone, many students opened their eyes. Lin Xi, sitting behind her, could see the back of Zhong Sheng’s head practically radiating awe. She had to admit: Gu Nianyin’s voice was indeed stunning.

The teacher’s irritation vanished, replaced by admiration. But Gu Nianyin remained indifferent, her clear eyes moving across the paper, her steady voice matching her unhurried pace.

This was a composure that radiated from the bones—not something that could be faked in a few days.

What kind of environment did Gu Nianyin grow up in? What kind of family environment did her mother—who still hadn’t registered her marriage with Lin Deyuan—and her late father provide for her?

The first signs of autumn appeared; the leaves on the edge of the field rustled, tinged with yellow. On the track, the intense music switched to a slower tempo. From the treetops, students could be seen milling about, the smell of evaporating sweat lingering in the wind.

Lin Xi and Zhong Sheng were among them. Zhong Sheng’s hair was a bit messy from running; she smoothed it back as she spoke. “I heard the sports rep didn’t come to the run because there’s a meeting about the sports meet at the end of the month.”

Lin Xi hadn’t been paying much attention to school since the term started. She was surprised. “Starting prep so soon?”

“It’s the middle of the month, that’s not early,” Zhong Sheng countered. “I actually think they’re starting late this year.” She looked at Lin Xi’s toned arms. “Are you doing high jump and the 4×100 again?”

“Yeah, probably,” Lin Xi said noncommittally.

Though she had done those events for the last two years, she wasn’t actually interested in competing. She only did it because Wang Tingxiu pressured her with “class honor.” Since she didn’t want to be nagged—and because she was currently being blackmailed with the threat of calling her parents—she figured she’d have to sign up for two events again.

“I just don’t know if we can take first in the 4×100 this year,” Zhong Sheng said wistfully. “Old Liu was such a disappointment—transferring out after only half a semester!”

“Old Liu” was a girl who had briefly been in their class. Because of her, they had escaped the title of “Perpetual Second-to-Last,” clutching a 4×100 gold medal to struggle into third-to-last.

(If you’re wondering who was last: it was the Liberal Arts elite class.)

“Hey, Xi, how do you think the ‘Great One’ is at sports?”

Zhong Sheng brought the topic back to Gu Nianyin. Her voice was full of expectation. Lin Xi shot her a look of pure disdain. “Her—”

“She looks delicate. Forget the 3000-meter; I think even 800 would be a struggle for her.”

Lin Xi’s words were cut off by a classmate nearby. The girl sounded concerned for the person they were discussing, but her companion asked, “Then you go?”

“No way,” the girl replied instantly, avoiding the 3000-meter like the plague.

“Well, there you go.” The other girl shrugged. “She’s new. What’s wrong with her contributing a bit to the class?”

“Besides, I just told the sports rep to ask her. Whether she agrees or not is her business; I didn’t force her.”

The girl spoke with such conviction that she swayed her friend, who eventually nodded. “Fair point.”

The hallway was full of people returning to class. Navy skirts and trousers blurred together, soon swallowing the two girls. Lin Xi crossed paths with them briefly before they drifted apart. The surrounding chatter was a blur, as if the conversation had never happened.

But it had happened, and Zhong Sheng had overheard it too. She looked thoughtful and worried. “Xi, were they talking about the ‘Great One’?”

“Mm.” Lin Xi nodded. She had been certain the moment she heard the first sentence.

The 3000-meter was a major event. No one in the regular classes volunteered, let alone the “physically inactive” elite class. In the end, it always came down to the sports rep finding the most soft-hearted girls and begging them to do it.

“They want her to run the 3000-meter?” Zhong Sheng asked.

Lin Xi nodded. Gu Nianyin was new and cold, with few friends but plenty of enviers. If they didn’t push her forward now, when would they?

“Xi, this isn’t right,” Zhong Sheng, always a protector of beauties, fretted. “With her build, running 1500 would take half her life—wait, the sports rep is already there!”

Zhong Sheng gasped as they entered the classroom, grabbing Lin Xi’s arm and forcing her to look.

Gu Nianyin was back in her seat, her Chinese textbook open as if to review. But her plan was interrupted. The sports rep, Li Wei, who had returned from his meeting, stood by her desk. Li Wei was a fitness fanatic; his school uniform looked like it was about to rip at the seams. His tall shadow fell over Gu Nianyin’s slender shoulders; even just the shadow made one worry it might crush the fragile girl.

The disparity in physical strength was massive, bringing with it a psychological pressure.

Zhong Sheng’s worry was written all over her face. She pulled Lin Xi toward them. “Xi, let’s go help her say no. How can she run a 3000? They might as well make Li Wei wear a dress and do it!”

Lin Xi refused. She had vowed not to be a busybody. Her legs were planted firmly. “Doesn’t she have a mouth of her own?”

After her recent run-ins with Gu Nianyin, Lin Xi knew the girl was far from “pure and innocent.” She warned her silly friend: “Don’t underestimate her. She looks cold and aloof, but her tongue is sharp. Just watch Li Wei—”

Before Lin Xi could finish her prediction of Li Wei “crying,” the rep’s face lit up with a grin. He looked at the sign-up sheet, seemingly afraid he’d misheard. “So, I’m putting you down for it?”

Gu Nianyin nodded calmly, picked up her pen, signed her name next to the event, and handed it back. Seeing his biggest problem solved so easily, the 1.95-meter Li Wei beamed like a three-year-old.

As the sports rep walked past them with the sheet, Zhong Sheng, in disbelief, rushed to Gu Nianyin. “Great One, did you really just agree to run the 3000-meter?”

Gu Nianyin nodded, giving a calm “Mm” to Zhong Sheng.

“That’s three thousand meters!” Zhong Sheng, worried she had been intimidated, began explaining the difficulty. “Do you know what that means? Our track is 200 meters a lap. You have to run…”

She paused, counting on her fingers.

Lin Xi, hands in her pockets, tossed out a number as she walked past: “Fifteen.”

The chair was pulled out harshly from the desk, making a piercing sound. Lin Xi sat down, her mood inexplicably sour. She turned to Gu Nianyin: “Don’t you know how to say no?”

Gu Nianyin didn’t answer immediately. She raised her eyes, her gaze meeting Lin Xi’s steadily. In an extremely flat tone, she asked:

“Are you worried about me?”

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