Hopeless Romance (GL) - Chapter 45

Chapter 45

With the competition approaching, the few opportunities Xu Jian had to drag Ye Du out of the classroom became even more precious. Xu Jian simply couldn’t bring herself to sacrifice those precious ten-minute breaks to the classroom; after some thought, she decided to spend them in Meng Qing’s office. Although Meng Qing wasn’t always there, Xu Jian felt at ease in that space. The other teachers liked her, too, as she often helped with cleaning or tending to the plants. Lately, however, Li Jiangang had been quite dissatisfied with her. Xu Jian had always held the top rank in the grade, but in this semester’s first monthly exam, she had slipped to third, losing the crown to Class 2. This made Li Jiangang feel lose face in front of the Class 2 headteacher, so seeing Xu Jian watering plants in the office only added fuel to his fire.

“You’ll be in your senior year next semester! Why are you here watering plants?” Even in his anger, Li Jiangang couldn’t bring himself to criticize Xu Jian the way he did other students.

“Huh? I’ve always been responsible for taking care of them.” Xu Jian was almost startled into making a mistake; if she overwatered and killed the plant—Meng Qing’s favorite—she would never forgive herself.

Not wanting to cause a scene in front of the other teachers, Li Jiangang called Xu Jian out into the hallway. “Xu Jian, I know you’re preparing for the competition, so your energy is divided. But based on your usual performance, you shouldn’t have dropped to third. Midterms are coming up; you need to review properly and win back that top spot for Class 1.”

Looking at Li Jiangang’s expression, Xu Jian’s rebellious streak flared up. She was about to say she couldn’t manage it and would prioritize the more prestigious competition instead when she saw Meng Qing walking toward the office. In that instant, she changed her mind. Maintaining the top rank wasn’t actually hard for her; if she stopped playing games while doing her assignments, she’d have plenty of time. She was confident that if she truly wanted it, there was a ninety percent chance she’d be first again. So, she decided to strike a bargain. “Fine, I promise. But I have one request…” Xu Jian paused. Only when Meng Qing was close enough to hear did she continue: “I hope Teacher Meng can grant me a wish.”

Hearing this, Meng Qing was baffled. She wasn’t powerful or wealthy, and she had no hidden influence; she could barely fulfill her own wishes, let alone someone else’s. But having missed the beginning of the conversation and seeing the headteacher there, she left the decision to Li Jiangang. As a veteran teacher, Li Jiangang had never met a student as casual as Xu Jian. She was brilliant yet lacked ambition—clearly a candidate for top-tier universities like Tsinghua or Peking, yet she never fully utilized her talent, only doing enough to meet her own internal standards. Now, she was even using her grades as leverage. But what choice did he have? Realistically, teaching was a livelihood, and a student’s performance reflected a teacher’s competence—and by extension, their bonuses. Li Jiangang had no reason to turn away the results. He approached Meng Qing and walked a few steps past her. When he and Meng Qing spoke, she glanced back at Xu Jian—a thin figure standing in the bright spring light, looking somewhat out of place.

Only after Li Jiangang gave his verbal agreement did Xu Jian loosen her clenched fists. In the moment she turned her back, she regretted it a thousand times. “Too impulsive,” she told herself repeatedly. She had always felt that Meng Qing knew how she felt, so this was an unscripted probe. When she looked back, the office door was slightly ajar—from another perspective, it was as if a door had just been pushed open a crack.

When Xu Jian walked back into the classroom with two freshly filled water bottles, she found Ye Du in the exact same position as when she had left. Glancing at the cup she had just set down, she asked, “Why are you still using this cup? The pattern is all worn off.” Ye Du, still agonizing over the best algorithm for a math problem, answered without thinking: “Pupu gave it to me.” She realized what she’d said a moment later, pulling her thoughts away from the math and giving Xu Jian a bitter smile. “Don’t push yourself so hard. If you collapse, how are you going to compete?” Xu Jian knew Ye Du desperately wanted an award; the higher the rank, the better her chances for a university recommendation.

“Say something auspicious,” Ye Du muttered, rubbing her temples. She closed her eyes and leaned on the desk. She often felt she was at her breaking point, especially this semester as the teachers ramped up the intensity, trying to cram a year and a half of knowledge into one term. When the pressure became unbearable, she wanted to talk to someone. Ye Sangshu, out in the living room, couldn’t feel her exhaustion; Ye Du often felt her mother was like a machine—rusted, yet not quite broken. Sometimes she thought about calling Chen Pupu, but she figured saying it wouldn’t make things better. The unsolved problems would still be there, the exercises wouldn’t decrease, and the only thing she’d achieve was adding to someone else’s worries. She didn’t want Chen Pupu to be unhappy, especially not because of her.

While everyone was standing up to say “Good morning, Teacher,” Gu Nancheng reached back and tapped Ye Du several times. She woke up in a daze, nearly knocking over her desk as she stood. A few small items fell; a bottle of blue eye drops landed by her feet. It clearly wasn’t hers. She picked it up, looked toward Xu Jian, then toward Gu Nancheng’s seat—he had an identical bottle on his desk. Ye Du sighed softly, put the eye drops in her drawer, and forced herself to focus on the teacher’s rhythm.

Gu Nancheng couldn’t quite define his behavior. If he was pursuing her, his efforts were yielding zero results; Ye Du had rejected him multiple times, both directly and indirectly. If it was just a friend’s kindness, he knew they weren’t even really friends. He didn’t know her hobbies, nor what she was like outside of school. Lin Meixin often told him to relax—no one said every action needed a definition. Often, people don’t know their own motives; they just want to do something in the moment, and so they do it. But for Ye Du, this was a burden. Accepting unwanted kindness was a weight. Though she didn’t return the feelings, she recognized they were precious; to swallow them in silence felt like a waste, yet that was their most common destination.

The weekend after the competition, Ye Du had her mother ask the tutor for a leave of absence so she could sleep away the afternoon. Though her dreams were filled with numbers and formulas, they vanished as soon as she opened her eyes. Since starting high school, Ye Du increasingly felt like an ordinary student. Her rank fluctuated—sometimes in the top ten, sometimes near fiftieth. Ye Sangshu had criticized her for it, but she had also seen how hard Ye Du studied. Eventually, Ye Sangshu stopped complaining, seemingly accepting that Ye Du wasn’t a genius, just a reasonably bright child who worked hard. Strangely, as her grades became less stable, her relationship with her mother seemed to improve; in the past, Ye Sangshu would never have let her skip a single lesson.

After waking up, Ye Du called Chen Pupu, but Qin Wei answered. Hearing it was Ye Du, Qin Wei chatted for a while, offering the usual praises of her being “excellent and sensible.” She mentioned that without Ye Du’s supervision, Pupu’s attitude toward studying had slipped, and she hoped Ye Du could “help her out” when she had time. Ye Du agreed to everything, but the phrase “grades slipping” stuck in her mind. High school wasn’t as easy as middle school, and the importance of the college entrance exam was undeniable. She didn’t want Pupu to have any regrets. But when she finally found time to go to Class 12, she saw the one scene she least wanted to see.

At school, Chen Pupu and Tong Yuyao had an agreement to never have contact beyond that of classmates. Lunch and dinner were always spent with Cui Tong, Lin Meixin, and Cao Yijing. The most “daring” thing they did was when Tong Yuyao would take Chen Pupu to a secluded corridor in the teaching building. Since those classrooms were rarely used, no one passed by. As long as they were careful, they wouldn’t be caught. Chen Pupu hadn’t expected that as she and Tong Yuyao walked back toward the classroom, they would run right into Ye Du, who had just come upstairs. Chen Pupu’s first instinct was to violently shake off Tong Yuyao’s hand. In that moment, she had never hated herself more—this foolish version of herself.

Ye Du, still breathless from the stairs, couldn’t process the scene. She couldn’t even recognize the boy next to Chen Pupu. As she realized this, a question surfaced: Have Pupu and I become this distant? Though she had many questions, she knew she didn’t have the strength to listen to Pupu right then. She didn’t even have the strength to speak. Before anyone could notice her heart breaking, Ye Du fled the scene. Staying there would only make her look more pathetic. Terrified that Pupu would follow her to Class 1, she ran to the girls’ restroom. For the first time, she found the design of the doorless stalls incredibly cruel. She had to hide her fragile privacy, constantly telling herself that this wasn’t a “normal” reaction to seeing a best friend dating. She should be happy, gossiping, asking how they met and how far they’d gone, perhaps even teasing them. But she couldn’t. At that moment, she felt the literal weight of “heartache”—a pain she could never voice.

It was two periods later when Xu Jian called Ye Du out for Chen Pupu. During those two hours, Ye Du hadn’t heard a word the teacher said, yet she had to maintain the appearance of focus. The college entrance exam was her only way out in life, and though she had always imagined her life including Chen Pupu, she had no room for failure.

“Ye Du, please don’t be mad? I can break up with him right now.” Chen Pupu believed that no matter what, Ye Du would always be there. So when Ye Du had turned and left, Chen Pupu had panicked. Seeing the girl before her with red-rimmed eyes, Ye Du felt a pang of pity and her own eyes began to sting. Pupu was right there, yet she felt a thousand miles away.

Ye Du was silent for a long time. “I’m not mad. I’m just… disappointed.” She suddenly remembered the thick stacks of notes she had stayed up late organizing before the middle school exams. “Your mom told me your grades dropped. I was worried. Time is running out, and I can’t devote myself to your studies like I did in middle school. There’s nothing wrong with dating; you’re likable, it’s normal. But if you truly feel this relationship is worth sacrificing your study time for, then as a friend, I can only offer my blessings.” This was the truth, but it was incomplete. There was more sadness and grief, but Ye Du hadn’t found a proper name for them yet.

“So, you’re just worried about grades?” Chen Pupu asked in a petulant tone. Ye Du hesitated but finally answered, “Yes. I don’t want you to have regrets.” This time, it was Chen Pupu who fell silent. In those two hours, she had prepared so many things to say—to tell Ye Du she didn’t actually like Tong Yuyao, to find the courage to confess her own feelings, because she had interpreted Ye Du’s desolation as the same as her own. Feeling foolish yet finding it logical, she realized this was indeed Ye Du’s way of thinking. For years, studying had always been the priority in Ye Du’s life. She couldn’t help but wonder why she had fallen for such a “boring” girl.

Chen Pupu looked intently at the girl she had grown up with, as if trying to see something hidden. Finally, she smiled and said, “Fine. I’ll study hard. I’m going back to class now.” She wanted to ask if her smile looked hideous, but she was afraid she’d cry. Just as Ye Du wanted to ask, “Do you really like him?” but kept it buried. Though Pupu had already given an answer, Ye Du was afraid to believe it—or rather, afraid of what it would mean to believe it. She had never considered how to face a world where Chen Pupu loved her back. Once the floodgates of love open, it only grows more wild, and no one knows if they can afford the price.