Time Has Grown Dim, And Evening Has Already Fallen - Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Cheng Xun instinctively squeezed the water bottle in his hand, his eyes locked firmly on a certain running figure.

It turned out that the “tsundere” saying no but acting yes was someone else entirely.

Cheng Xun counted the laps in his head. He watched as Lu Xingchu maintained a steady position in the top three, looking noticeably more relaxed than the runner in second place. As they neared the finish line, Lu Xingchu overtook the second runner and followed closely behind the first-place student, a sports specialist.

Perhaps feeling the pressure from behind, the first-place runner tried to accelerate to pull away for the final stretch, but the sprint sapped his remaining stamina. Lu Xingchu cleverly seized the opportunity and successfully overtook him, crossing the finish line first.

That final dash was incredibly thrilling; the cheers and screams erupting from the stands were deafening.

Cheng Xun stepped out from the crowd and rushed to Lu Xingchu’s side in a few strides, grabbing his arm to steady him. Lu Xingchu leaned on him for support as they walked along the grass for a while to cool down and mitigate the after-effects of the sprint.

Only after Lu Xingchu had fully caught his breath did he take the functional beverage Cheng Xun offered, sipping it slowly.

Seeing how pale Lu’s face was, Cheng Xun couldn’t help but worry. “Lu Xingchu, are you okay? You look a bit… dangerous. Do you need to go to the infirmary?”

Lu Xingchu shook his head. “I’m fine.”

Before Cheng Xun could say more, some classmates came over for Lu Xingchu; the medals were about to be presented.

“Go back to the stands first,” Lu Xingchu said, taking the mineral water from Cheng Xun’s hand and lowering his lashes. “I’m really okay.”

Since he insisted, Cheng Xun didn’t press further. He gave a nod and scurried back to the stands as fast as a rabbit. Lu Xingchu watched him disappear, thinking the guy fled faster than a startled deer. He casually accepted his gold medal while holding the water bottle, completely ignoring the “if looks could kill” glare from the second-place runner.

You could almost hear the guy grinding his teeth.

After returning to the stands, Lu Xingchu leaned against the steps and began to doze off, looking utterly exhausted. Seeing his listless state, Cheng Xun rummaged through his backpack for the snacks he’d brought that morning.

The chicken drumsticks were still there, but there were fewer chicken feet and preserved eggs—Xie Qiubai must have helped himself while watching the bag.

He tapped Lu Xingchu on the shoulder with a braised chicken leg.

Lu Xingchu: “?”

“Eat,” Cheng Xun raised an eyebrow. “Get some nutrients back in you.”

Nutrients from a braised chicken leg…?

Unfortunately, Lu Xingchu was too tired, and his brain was lagging. Despite having doubts, he instinctively took the drumstick. Under Cheng Xun’s eager gaze, he opened the packaging and took a bite. It actually tasted quite good.

When Xie Qiubai returned from the restroom, he saw Cheng Xun staring intently at Lu Xingchu… eating a chicken leg.

Xie Qiubai: “…” Why do these two look weirder and weirder the more I see them?

Finally, he shook his head, tossing those thoughts to the back of his mind. But the moment Cheng Xun saw Xie Qiubai, his beautiful cat-like eyes narrowed with hidden “murderous intent.”

“You ate all the lemon chicken feet?” Cheng Xun asked out of the blue once Xie Qiubai sat down.

“I was too hungry, I couldn’t help it,” Xie Qiubai defended himself. “Wait, didn’t I leave one for each of you?”

Cheng Xun gave him an elbow to the ribs. “There were five in total and you ate three by yourself. Have you no shame?”

Xie Qiubai immediately admitted fault. “My bad. I won’t touch the preserved eggs.”

“?” Cheng Xun immediately flicked his forehead. “Get out of here! You were actually planning on eating the eggs too?”

As Lu Xingchu watched them “bicker” while eating his chicken leg, he suddenly coughed, having choked slightly. Cheng Xun’s attention snapped back instantly. He turned to him, “Are you choking?”

Though he felt a bit exasperated, he naturally picked up the water bottle and handed it to Lu. “Why are you eating so fast? Did you think Xie Qiubai was actually going to snatch the leg from you?”

Lu Xingchu: “…” He silently took a drink of water; the chicken leg was indeed a bit salty.

After the three finished the snacks, Cheng Xun put the trash in a plastic bag and went to throw it away. During that brief moment, Xie Qiubai asked to see the gold medal. Lu Xingchu handed it over and leaned back against the steps to catch up on sleep.

When Cheng Xun returned, he saw Xie Qiubai smugly wearing the medal and taking self-absorbed selfies. After finishing, he showed them to Cheng Xun. Xie Qiubai’s selfie skills were so bad they were an insult to his handsome face.

Looking closer, Cheng Xun noticed that the selfie had caught the sleeping Lu Xingchu in the background. It was so unfair—the guy looked that handsome even in a random accidental photo.

In the end, their class ranked in the lower-middle tier for the sports meet. For the science track, they were nearly at the bottom, saved only by the fact that the liberal arts classes were ranked even lower.

Time slipped away, reaching the middle of the month. Once the sports meet ended, the academic atmosphere in the classroom became visibly tense again.

The reason was simple: Midterms were coming.

The second year at No. 9 Middle School still used “parallel” classes, but for the third year, they would be split into “fast” and “slow” tracks. The split wasn’t based on just one exam; it would be a comprehensive evaluation of midterms, finals, and monthly tests. One bad day didn’t mean you were out, but one good day didn’t mean you could relax.

Cheng Xun did okay on the last monthly exam—at least much better than his old grades—but he didn’t dare slack off for the midterms, especially since a parent-teacher meeting would follow.

Then there was Lu Xingchu. Even if Cheng Xun didn’t want to hype him up, he had to admit the guy had serious brains. He’d firmly taken first place in the last monthly exam, defeating the top student from Class 1 who had held the spot since the first year. Because he was a transfer student, the whole school had been gossiping about him when the rankings were posted.

Cheng Xun’s goals weren’t that far-sighted—he wasn’t even thinking about which university to attend yet. He just wanted to push his grade-level ranking up. To review, he often stayed up late after evening self-study, burning the midnight oil at home.

In the week leading up to the exams, he became even more diligent.

Autumn had truly arrived. The last lingering heat of “Late Tiger” summer had passed, and the weather was growing cold. Summer uniforms were washed and tucked away; a hoodie under the long-sleeved school jacket was now the standard.

When Lu Xingchu finished drying his hair and returned to the bedroom, he found Cheng Xun still at his desk grinding through problems. His school jacket was draped carelessly over the back of his chair, and he wore a white hoodie, head down in focus. The warm yellow lamp cast a soft halo over his face. His side profile was sleek, his lips slightly upturned, the “lip pearl” full and prominent.

Lu Xingchu lowered his eyes and quietly closed the door. He sat down in his swivel chair. Their two desks were placed side-by-side, making them “desk mates” at home as well. One desk was perfectly organized; the other was a chaotic mess, yet Cheng Xun could somehow find any textbook or paper he needed instantly.

After sitting down, Lu Xingchu didn’t start working. Instead, he propped his head on his hand and watched Cheng Xun. “Not going to shower?”

He glanced at the clock on the desk. It was almost midnight.

“In a bit,” Cheng Xun replied casually. “Just one problem left. I’ll go when I’m done.”

Lu Xingchu gave an “Mm” and turned off his own desk lamp.

“Turn off the main light too,” Cheng Xun added. “I’m fine with just this lamp. You go to sleep first; I’ll turn it off when I’m done.”

“I’m okay.” Lu Xingchu sat back on his bed, glancing at Cheng Xun’s back. “Don’t stay up too late.”

Cheng Xun chuckled softly. “Okay. Got it.”

It wasn’t until the midterms were over that Cheng Xun felt his hard work had paid off. The problems had felt smooth, and there weren’t many he felt unsure about. He slumped over his desk like a dried salted fish, sighing with relief that it was finally over.

The exams finished quickly, and the teachers graded even faster. Because it was the midterm, the school went as far as posting the grade-level rankings on the bulletin board. Cheng Xun searched through the sea of names for a long time before finding his—still in the familiar middle section.

As for Lu Xingchu, his name at the very top was impossible to miss.

The rankings for Science and Liberal Arts were posted separately. The Liberal Arts track had fewer students, so Cheng Xun easily spotted Xie Qiubai’s name. It was hanging near the bottom, looking pathetic and precarious. If his dad saw this, he might not get a beating, but his allowance was definitely going to take a hit. No wonder the guy looked like he’d lost his soul when they met in the cafeteria at lunch.

On the evening of the parent-teacher meeting, it started to rain. The small shop at home closed early. Fortunately, it was just a light drizzle; a large umbrella was enough for Grandma.

The classrooms were reserved for teachers and parents, while students were sent to the multi-media lecture hall for self-study. After the exams, Cheng Xun allowed himself a few days of laziness, secretly dozing off during the study session.

Even Lu Xingchu was only pretending to read his English text; he was actually looking at his phone. He didn’t have many friends, and since moving to C County, he’d lost touch with most of his old classmates.

Given his personality, he had been somewhat of a misfit at the Provincial Experimental High School. Plenty of people liked his looks, but only one or two were true friends. Liang Ziyan was one of them—not a classmate, but a liberal arts student from the next class whom Lu had met playing basketball. Their fathers had known each other through business dinners.

Liang Ziyan was one of the few who still reached out to check on him after the Lu family collapsed. His personality was actually quite similar to Xie Qiubai’s—sincere and genuine, the kind of person who never lacked friends.

Now in his senior year, Liang Ziyan was effectively Lu Xingchu’s senior. Senior year at Provincial Experimental was notoriously hellish. Sometimes, Lu could catch a glimpse of that nightmare through his friend’s complaints.