Hopeless Romance (GL) - Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The first monthly exam arrived sooner than Ye Du had imagined. After all, her first month at Yunchuan Middle School had been quite leisurely. Because Ye Sangshu had decided to arrange her tutoring schedule based on her performance in the first major exam, Ye Du only had to complete her daily homework and previews during this period, which felt like a breeze. Her remaining time was spent being dragged to the restroom by Jiang Xinwan or joining forces with Chen Pupu and Wang Zhu for “Cafeteria Operations.” The latter two were responsible for scouting and occupying seats, while Ye Du and Jiang Xinwan charged into the fray to get the food. This division of labor was highly successful, making even the meals taste better.

The exams were scheduled for Thursday and Friday—only the three core subjects, lasting a day and a half. Friday afternoon was reserved for class meetings. Besides checking on how students were adapting, Zhang Jianwei planned to use the opportunity to lay the groundwork for the official election of class committee members. For students, exams were naturally painful; regardless of their effort or innate talent, they had to face unknown results. However, for Jiang Xinwan, exams had a unique perk—especially at Yunchuan. In the gaps between exam sessions, students could move freely in and out of the school, which meant she had the chance to explore more food. Her life creed was simple: “Food is the people’s heaven, and eating comes first for me.”

The exam rooms were assigned based on the entrance exam scores. Ye Du was in the first room, Wang Zhu and Chen Pupu were in the fourth, and Jiang Xinwan was in the sixth. Because they were so scattered, the four decided to meet at the school gate after the exams. After the Chinese exam, the first thing Wang Zhu said upon seeing Ye Du was, “Ye Du, do you remember your answers for the multiple-choice questions?” Ye Du remembered them, of course, but adhering to the principle of letting everyone enjoy a good meal, she simply shook her head.

Jiang Xinwan decided to take them for clay-pot rice noodles. She had seen a recommendation on a forum saying that one hasn’t truly studied at Yunchuan Middle School without eating here. The shop was near the school—not a formal storefront, but a stall under a shed at the entrance of a residential complex. Most of the customers were students. There were only four flavors: Three Delicacies, Spicy, Sour-Spicy, and Original. Conveniently, the four girls ordered one of each. Jiang Xinwan felt this was the best part of having a large group.

The piping hot rice noodles were a good fit for the early autumn weather. The four girls sat on low plastic stools, their four clay pots squeezed onto a small square table coated with layers of old grease. Steam wafted across their faces with the wind, but it couldn’t block Jiang Xinwan’s reaching chopsticks. She took a clean pair of chopsticks to sample a bit from the other three bowls and declared, “Ye Du is still the best at choosing. The Three Delicacies flavor is so good!”

Chen Pupu, who couldn’t handle spicy food, had chosen the Original flavor, only to find it a bit bland. Hearing Jiang Xinwan’s praise, she involuntarily fixed her gaze on the small clay pot in front of Ye Du. Although Pupu didn’t have much of an appetite, she didn’t want to waste food, so she kept picking up noodles and blowing on them to cool them down. Suddenly, a small bowl appeared before her, filled with oyster mushrooms, ham, and crispy fried pork. She followed the hand that pushed the bowl and met Ye Du’s eyes.

“You look like you’re struggling with that. The Three Delicacies flavor is quite good; do you want to try some?” Ye Du explained her reason clearly and gracefully. She was observant and naturally inclined to look after others, seeing nothing wrong with treating a friend this way.

Chen Pupu felt a warmth in her heart. Although her parents doted on her, it hadn’t made her spoiled or entitled. Qin Wei often told her that no love comes without effort—even the bond between parents and children. If others cared for her, she should be grateful and use that love as strength to become a better person worthy of such care. At the time, Pupu didn’t fully understand her mother’s words, but she certainly remembered to thank others for their kindness.

“Ye Du, you are so thoughtful,” Chen Pupu offered her praise from the bottom of her heart.

“I think she’s just okay,” Jiang Xinwan interrupted, perfectly ruining the moment.

Ye Du knit her brows and pulled back the piece of crispy pork she had been about to give to Jiang Xinwan.

On the way back to school, Wang Zhu and Jiang Xinwan walked ahead to buy a small cake. Because Chen Pupu had suffered from cavities as a child, she didn’t eat much sugar, so she and Ye Du walked back slowly. “I thought people who are good at studying have great memories,” Pupu suddenly remarked.

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, you couldn’t remember your answers,” Pupu said, referring to Wang Zhu’s earlier question.

“So, what did you choose for the first question?” Ye Du asked instead of answering.

“Me? I chose A,” Chen Pupu said after a moment of confirmation.

“Hmm… I also chose A,” Ye Du replied after a brief thought.

“Really? I wasn’t very sure, but if we both chose it, I must be right! I’m so happy!” To have the same answer as Ye Du—according to Wang Zhu’s logic—meant it was definitely the correct one.

“Want to keep checking?” This scene was strange to Ye Du. Why was Chen Pupu so happy over just one question? There were many questions on a 150-point paper, and ten multiple-choice ones alone. Wasn’t there still a possibility of getting the other nine wrong?

But for Chen Pupu, this was enough. Choosing the first one correctly meant there was at least a possibility of getting them all right. She often felt her greatest strength was her optimism and contentment; she could find joy in things others might find trivial. Actually, she did want to keep checking, but the truth was she only clearly remembered the answer to the first question. Too embarrassed to tell Ye Du the truth, she simply said, “No, this is good. It’s enough,” with a convincing smile on her face.

“It is good. After all, I only remember the answer to this one question too.” This answer delighted Chen Pupu, and she couldn’t help but laugh even harder.

Before the class meeting began, Qin Zibei organized everyone to rotate seats. According to the school’s unified plan, each group moved one row back and one column to the right. It was said that adapting to different angles helped with healthy eyesight development. Ever since Qin Zibei was responsible for moving textbooks at the start of school, he had naturally become the acting class monitor. He was tall, wore glasses, and had a scholarly air, but he organized things with great order and showed a decisiveness beyond his years. Even though he wasn’t a “jolly nice guy” type—and was perhaps a bit too polite and distant—he was still well-regarded by both students and teachers. After all, a class monitor who is willing to work, does it well, and doesn’t act superior is hard to find.

After the adjustment, Ye Du sat in the very last row. She quite liked it; she didn’t have to worry about bothering Liu Zhou behind her when she stretched her neck. Ever since she accidentally swiped her hair across his wet painting, she had been considering cutting her hair short. Her hair was thick and hard to dry, taking forever and leaving her arm aching from holding the dryer. Liu Zhou, however, was not happy. Sitting right in front of the teacher meant his serialized manga would have to stop for a week. Besides diligently taking notes and following the teacher’s rhythm, what else could he do? Oh, he could probably get covered in chalk dust and watch a “small waterfall” (the teacher’s spit) from up close.

“Pupu, you’re sitting in the back row next week. Are you excited?” Jiang Xinwan had already prepared her “supplies” for the week, her desk cubby stuffed to the brim.

“Not at all. Even from here, I feel like there are a thousand obstacles in front of me, especially since Mr. Huang loves writing on the bottom of the blackboard. I can barely see,” Chen Pupu said, having bid farewell to the joys of the back row due to her height. She was more at peace with being short than her mother was; there were plenty of short people in the world, and she was just one of them. It wasn’t a big deal—except when copying notes.

“Here, drink more milk.” Jiang Xinwan handed Chen Pupu the daily nutritional breakfast her family’s housekeeper had prepared. “I really can’t stand the taste. If you don’t mind, help me out.”

“Xinwan, if you don’t like it, why don’t you tell your mom?” Chen Pupu noticed she brought a carton of milk every day but never saw her drink it.

Jiang Xinwan ripped open a bag of crispy noodles, poured in the seasoning, and crushed the noodles. Shaking the bag, she replied, “My mom… she thinks pure milk is good for me, regardless of whether I like it or not.”

Ye Du, who was doing math homework, stopped her pen and sighed. “Sounds just like my mom.”

After a mouthful of noodles, Jiang Xinwan made a suggestion: “How about we introduce our moms to each other and see which one can convince the other to drink this milk?”

“You should drink some milk to grow,” Ye Du said, returning her focus to her homework.

Jiang Xinwan couldn’t be bothered to argue with Ye Du. She planned to form a long-term partnership with Chen Pupu—from now on, all her milk would go to Pupu. Otherwise, she’d feel guilty about wasting so much food.

“Every day? I can’t do that either,” Chen Pupu said, the thought of that much milk making her feel a bit nauseous. But she quickly thought of a solution. “How about this: you ‘donate’ it. Put it in a fixed spot, and if anyone in class wants to drink it, they can just take it. What do you think?”

As long as the milk wasn’t on her desk, Jiang Xinwan was all for it and nodded vigorously. However, when Qin Zibei came over to talk to her, she felt a brief flash of nervousness, thinking her stash of snacks had been discovered. She didn’t care about losing conduct points, as long as her food wasn’t confiscated. Chen Pupu figured they should let the class monitor or Zhang Jianwei know so they could inform the class.

However, when Qin Zibei was pulled aside by Chen Pupu and told of the plan, he felt like he had accidentally wandered into a “Charity Breakfast” project at a rural primary school.

“Are you providing one carton every single day, without fail?” Qin Zibei didn’t understand why she insisted on carrying it from home to school if she didn’t drink it.

“Not necessarily. If the housekeeper forgets to buy it, there won’t be any.” Though that was rare, Jiang Xinwan felt she shouldn’t be too absolute.

“Then just give it to me when you get to school.” Qin Zibei habitually pushed up his glasses, wondering what kind of container would be suitable to hold the donations.

Jiang Xinwan really wanted to ask if Qin Zibei would drink it himself, but then she thought it didn’t matter who drank it as long as it wasn’t wasted. From that day on, the first thing Jiang Xinwan did when she arrived at school was to find Qin Zibei. As the monitor, Qin Zibei always arrived early. Within two weeks, Jiang Xinwan—who usually struggled to remember faces—had Qin Zibei’s appearance firmly etched into her memory.