Time Has Grown Dim, And Evening Has Already Fallen - Chapter 12

Chapter 12

“Love me, love my dog,” my foot.

Cheng Xun was speechless. “…If you don’t know how to use idioms, you really don’t have to use them.”

However, Lu Xingshu had indeed exceeded his expectations today. He hadn’t expected this guy to be so good at basketball, or that he’d be capable of fighting. It was quite a surprise.

“I’m not that good,” Lu Xingshu said dismissively.

Unbelievable, he’s playing it cool again, Cheng Xun grumbled internally.

They didn’t dwell on the little scuffle; instead, they focused on the upcoming first monthly exam. Rumor had it that No. 9 Middle School’s tradition was to make the first major exam of the year incredibly difficult—a “wake-up call” to intimidate the students into taking their studies seriously.

The scope given by the teachers was vague, meaning they had to rely on brute-force practice and memorization. Cheng Xun’s goal wasn’t overly ambitious; he planned to master the basic questions first and simply give up on the complex ones.

Whenever he hit a snag, he’d ask Lu Xingshu. It was awkward at first, but it soon became a habit—a classic case of “not being ashamed to ask those below” (or in this case, those much smarter).

As the exams neared, a cloud of gloom hung over the campus. Except for those who had checked out entirely, everyone spent their self-study periods in a frantic state of revision.

After finishing his own review, Lu Xingshu found the time to highlight key points for Cheng Xun. He picked out basic question types where points shouldn’t be lost and explained them clearly. If Cheng Xun followed this guide, his grades would undoubtedly see a massive leap compared to last semester.

Effort doesn’t guarantee success, but without it, you don’t even get a chance to try. Wouldn’t that be a waste?

The monthly exams arrived as scheduled. Desks and cubbies had to be cleared, so everyone piled their belongings in the lockers outside.

After struggling through the “tragic” Chinese exam, Cheng Xun’s mind actually cleared up. For the other subjects, his pen moved as if guided by a god.

Two exams in the morning, one in the afternoon, and the final two the next morning. Instead of letting them go home early after the first day, the school scheduled self-study periods.

After the first day’s papers, students huddled in groups to compare answers. Some looked jubilant; others looked defeated. Cheng Xun was the type to just be glad it was over; he was too lazy to discuss answers. Why stress over the past when you could study for tomorrow?

Evidently, Lu Xingshu felt the same. Seeing his seatmate buried in his work, Cheng Xun watched him for a moment before speaking up.

“Lu Xingshu.”

Lu Xingshu’s eyes stayed glued to his exercise book. He gave a distracted, “Mm?”

“I used to think you were like a robot.”

The classroom was noisy, but Cheng Xun’s random comment reached him clearly. The black pen in Lu Xingshu’s hand paused, leaving a small ink blot on the paper.

He turned to look at Cheng Xun, his usually cold, calm eyes filled with confusion. “?”

“I don’t think so anymore,” Cheng Xun propped his face on his left hand, flipping through a textbook with his right. His voice was lazy. “When you’re not studying, you’re actually quite… good.”

That was a weak explanation. And that “quite good” sounded like a last-minute correction for whatever he was actually going to say.

“…Oh,” Lu Xingshu didn’t know how to respond. “Thanks for the compliment?”

Cheng Xun: “…”

Sensing the awkwardness of the topic he’d just started, he cleared his throat twice and buried his head back into his practice book. Lu Xingshu looked down and, imitating Cheng Xun, propped his face on his left hand—hiding the faint, fleeting smile on his lips.

How hardworking are the teachers at No. 9 Middle School? By the time Cheng Xun and the others were taking their last exam, the papers from the first day were already graded.

By the next afternoon, the Chinese class rep was handing back papers. When Cheng Xun saw his rather pathetic score, his heart sank. A bad start—the very first subject was a disaster.

He looked around and realized the atmosphere in the room was low. Was everyone doing poorly?

He peeked at Lu Xingshu’s paper. As expected, he did well, but it wasn’t a “staggering” score. Cheng Xun looked at him, puzzled. “So when you said you had ‘unbalanced’ grades, you weren’t just trying to comfort me?”

Lu Xingshu nodded. “It’s a fact.”

He flipped the paper over. Lu Xingshu’s biggest point-loss was the essay. His essay score is actually as bad as mine, Cheng Xun thought, feeling a secret sense of solidarity.

The Chinese teacher was clearly disappointed. Dropping her usual gentle demeanor, she harshly compared Class 5’s average to the other classes. While the overall rankings weren’t out, Class 5 was dead last among the science classes for Chinese.

After venting, the teacher analyzed the errors and praised the class monitor, Yin Xiaowen, for his essay. The monitor smiled humbly, looking perfectly composed.

Cheng Xun didn’t like him. Although most people thought Yin Xiaowen was fair and friendly, Cheng Xun could sense a double standard in how he treated students based on their grades.

Why did Cheng Xun know this? Because the victims of that double standard were him and Lu Xingshu.

Cheng Xun strongly suspected Yin Xiaowen had seen everyone’s freshman final scores. Otherwise, there was no reason why he’d been so obsessed with bringing difficult “bonus questions” to Lu Xingshu since the start of sophomore year. Or maybe he knew Lu Xingshu had come from the Provincial Experimental School?

Though cold, Lu Xingshu seemed to enjoy the challenge of solving those bonus questions, and communication between “top students” was usually effortless. The annoying part was that Yin Xiaowen always timed his visits for when Cheng Xun left his seat. Every time Cheng Xun came back from the bathroom, he’d find his chair occupied by that guy.

Cheng Xun wanted to kick him out, but seeing Lu Xingshu so focused on the math, he felt bad interrupting. After this happened a few times, Cheng Xun got fed up. He could feel Yin Xiaowen’s faint sense of superiority over him; they basically lived in a state of mutual dislike.

Eventually, Lu Xingshu put a stop to it, telling Yin Xiaowen not to take Cheng Xun’s seat and suggesting he go to the teacher for help instead. Only then did the monitor back off.

When the final results were tallied, the school ruthlessly released the rankings. However, they spared the sophomores some dignity; the rankings were only distributed within the class rather than being posted on the public bulletin board like the seniors’.

Cheng Xun immediately spotted Lu Xingshu’s name. The guy firmly held the #1 spot in both the class and the entire grade. His Math, Physics, and Chemistry scores were nearly perfect. English was excellent too. The only “weak” link was Chinese, and even then, it was only weak relative to his other scores.

Damn, he’s a beast, Cheng Xun thought. Then he scrolled straight to the bottom and started looking for his own name from the back.

To his surprise, he was in the upper-middle range. His ranking in the grade was actually decent. However, his subjects were heavily skewed; his Chinese and English teachers would likely want a “chat” with him soon.

Grandmother was beaming when she saw their report cards. She was proud of Lu Xingshu, and seeing Cheng Xun’s significant progress made her so happy she wanted to tell all the neighbors. Cheng Xun was mortified.

“I think Grandma is being too dramatic,” Cheng Xun said, sprawling out like a starfish on his bed. “All this praise makes it sound like I’m actually going to get into a top-tier university.”

The main lights were off; only the small desk lamp on the nightstand emitted a dim glow.

Lu Xingshu was also lying down, absentmindedly playing a mobile game. Hearing Cheng Xun, he murmured, “It’s fine.”

“What do you mean ‘fine’?” Cheng Xun asked.

“If you work hard, a top-tier university isn’t out of reach,” Lu Xingshu explained, a rare occurrence.

“…You have such a high opinion of me?” Cheng Xun hadn’t even considered it. Based on his freshman performance, getting into any university would have been a miracle. But everything had changed since Lu Xingshu arrived.

“On the condition that you work hard,” Lu Xingshu added.

“Sure thing,” Cheng Xun agreed instantly, then pushed his luck. “It’d be even better if you’re willing to tutor me. Who knows, maybe I’ll hit a 985 or 211 school.”

From the bottom bunk came the sound of a game victory. He faintly heard Lu Xingshu reply, “Okay.”

Meanwhile, after receiving a “friendly” call from the sophomore head teacher, Xie Qiubai’s deadbeat father finally decided to care about his son’s education. He ruthlessly scolded Xie Qiubai for being useless, confiscated his gaming console, and slashed his allowance.

“I’m finished,” Xie Qiubai moaned, lying like a useless salted fish in the shade of the sports field. “No money, no games, no love.”

The school’s scheduling was weird; Class 5 and Xie Qiubai’s Class 12 had PE together.

Cheng Xun rolled his eyes. “That last one was never going to happen anyway. Stop flattering yourself.”