What Should I Do If My Ex-Girlfriend's Pheromones Smell Too Good? - Chapter 84

Chapter 84: Portrait

The next day’s exams were entirely practical. After completing a test in the training area, Shu Qiong received a high score, which was no surprise. However, she had no time for celebrations; she sprinted toward her next exam hall.

On the way, she encountered Yan Xiangyu, who was also racing against the clock. The two unfortunate souls—victims of the registrar’s anti-human exam scheduling—exchanged a quick glance, unable to spare a single word as they passed each other like two gusts of wind.

The administration wasn’t entirely to blame. The faculty had originally assumed the school team members would skip the mid-terms due to the off-site training, so they were left off the initial seating charts. No one expected the incident at Base Star, which skipped the final summary days and sent them back early, right into the middle of the school anniversary holidays and mid-term exams.

The schedules couldn’t be overhauled at the last minute, so Shu Qiong and the others were squeezed into whatever empty slots remained. The teachers patted the young students on the shoulders, claiming that as military academy cadets, they shouldn’t miss any opportunity to “exercise”—even if that meant an extra mile of sprinting between exams.

Shu Qiong, forced to sprint after a grueling test, was full of disdain and mentally raised a middle finger at the unreasonable system. As she brushed past Yan Xiangyu, the latter tossed a small object toward her. Shu Qiong caught it—a candy. She tore open the wrapper and popped it into her mouth; the sweet mint flavor instantly chilled her entire palate. Shivering from the coolness, she didn’t slow down as she charged into the teaching building.

The testing site for the Mecha Master specialty was a spacious training hall. A long row of wide workbenches lined the walls, each with a mecha stationed beside it. These were clearly the tools for the exam.

As Shu Qiong entered, she saw Song Lianqiao and a few other familiar faces from the night before, all queuing at the entrance. Song Lianqiao looked at a panting Shu Qiong in surprise. The latter tried to steady her breathing. “My last exam hall was too far; I had to run here.”

Just then, a proctor stepped out to announce that they should prepare, calling out student IDs for the draw. Shu Qiong was in the first batch. She stepped forward and pulled a slip of paper from the box in the proctor’s hand.

“Shu Qiong, Row 1, Mecha No. 3. Go in,” the teacher said, reclaiming the slip while adding a reminder: “You cannot touch the mecha before the timer starts, but you can check if the tools and materials on the workbench are correct. Report any issues immediately.”

Shu Qiong thanked her and walked to her assigned station. Aside from tools and materials, a digital screen was embedded in the workbench, neatly listing the exam requirements.

She noted that the specialty exam was quite rigorous. Every student was assigned a different problem: some had scrapped drive units, some had balance issues, and some mechas were technically fine but required the student to perform a specific structural upgrade using limited materials. Because the assignment was randomized, it effectively eliminated any possibility of copying or cheating.

The mecha Shu Qiong drew had joint issues. The screen displayed its specs and a rough blueprint. It was a typical close-combat offensive model, but its original designer had limited skill—the joint structures were poorly arranged, leading to an abnormally high damage rate.

If she wanted to take the easy way out, Shu Qiong could simply replace the heavily worn joints with new ones. She estimated that would earn her a passing grade, provided she identified every damaged part. But that only treated the symptoms, not the cause. Looking at the data, she decided she needed to redesign the joint structure itself.

Coincidentally, she had been obsessively researching the joint structures for Starlight 2.0 recently. Some of those principles could be applied here. Since Starlight wasn’t an offensive model, she couldn’t copy the design exactly; she needed to adapt it for an offensive pilot.

The proctor rang the bell, and the countdown began. The hall immediately filled with the sounds of metal clashing and mecha parts shifting as students rushed to disassemble and repair.

Shu Qiong remained still. She leaned over the workbench, pen in hand, sketching and calculating on a sheet of white paper. Half an hour passed, and she remained in this posture while other students were already deep into fine-tuning their machines.

The proctor circled by her station. She didn’t say anything, but she lingered longer than usual. Shu Qiong let her hair fall loosely by her face, remaining as still as if she were asleep, save for her moving fingers.

When the teacher returned after another round, Shu Qiong wasn’t even writing anymore. She was staring blankly at the “scribbles” on her paper. The teacher knew who Shu Qiong was. Almost every Mecha Master in the Alliance knew Shu Ci; she had grown up idolizing her. Naturally, she held expectations for the idol’s daughter. She had even heard the team leader, Chu Yimeng, praising Shu Qiong a few days ago. Seeing the girl so seemingly indifferent to the exam now, she felt a flicker of disappointment. Could she really be stumped by a mediocre practical problem?

The proctor found herself standing behind Shu Qiong, looking down at the densely packed sheet of paper.

“Teacher?” Shu Qiong looked back in surprise.

She had been deriving inspiration from the faulty mecha’s structure and had lost track of time as she added more and more details. She realized the faulty design wasn’t entirely without merit; the original designer was innovative, making the joints very easy to maintain—they simply lacked a proper transition structure. Taking this opportunity, several new ideas had sparked in her mind.

She exhaled and brushed some dust off the paper. On it were not only the joint structures for the exam mecha but also some structural diagrams for Starlight.

The proctor only caught a glimpse, but she was momentarily speechless, struck by the textbook-perfect diagrams and the exhaustive data annotations.

“You… forty minutes of the exam time have passed,” she said with difficulty. Producing such high-level designs in forty minutes? Were students these days really this formidable?

Shu Qiong thought the teacher was telling her to hurry. She nodded with a smile. “Yes, teacher, I’ll catch up.”

She grabbed her tools, stepped toward the mecha, and began the loud work of disassembling the joints. The proctor wanted to look at the drawing again, but her professional ethics kicked in. She moved on to avoid distracting the student, though her gaze kept drifting back. She watched as Shu Qiong worked with incredible speed, every modification deliberate and precise.

With thirty minutes left on the clock, Shu Qiong jumped down from the cockpit. She had just personally piloted the mecha to feel the movement and was satisfied with the results. It was a bit of a rush, but more than enough for an exam. More importantly, she had gained more practical experience, which would allow her to be even more precise when fine-tuning Starlight.

“Teacher,” she pressed the button on her screen. “I’m applying for early submission.”

The proctor walked over with a stoic face. “No problem.” Seeing Shu Qiong about to leave empty-handed, she called out, “Student, aren’t you taking your scratch paper?”

Shu Qiong didn’t really care; the important parts were etched into her brain, and the Starlight sketches were only fragments. But since the teacher mentioned it, she didn’t want to overthink it. She turned back, folded the paper, and tucked it into her pocket. “I forgot. Thanks for the reminder.”

With that, her mid-term exams were officially over. Shu Qiong walked out of the building with her hands in her pockets. Most people were still testing in the silent, solemn halls, and she felt a surge of happiness at being “liberated” early. This meant she could beat the crowds at the cafeteria.

Reaching the cafeteria, she found it nearly empty. She turned on her wristband to message Yan Xiangyu. A few unread messages popped up. She skipped the first few, focusing on the most recent one.

Yan Xiangyu: Don’t get distracted while walking, be careful not to bump into anyone.

Shu Qiong paused. Her forehead bumped into something warm. Simultaneously, a familiar pair of shoes entered her lower field of vision.

“…”

Shu Qiong looked up at Yan Xiangyu, who was standing there waiting for the collision. “Why didn’t you say something? Is it fun to let me walk into you?”

Yan Xiangyu lowered the palm that had shielded Shu Qiong’s forehead and handed back the wristband that had almost slipped from her hand. “It’s fun.”

Shu Qiong gave her a look of mock condemnation as they walked into the cafeteria together. “You finished early too?” she asked as they sat by the window. “I heard the Mecha Master specialty exam was supposed to be harder this year.”

Shu Qiong poked a piece of broccoli, her eyebrows arching. “Not hard. It was a piece of cake.”

Then, remembering something, she pulled the folded scratch paper from her pocket with two fingers. Yan Xiangyu gestured toward it. “For me?”

Shu Qiong nodded, watching as the other girl reached for it and opened it. Upon catching just a corner of the drawing, Yan Xiangyu froze, a faint, barely perceptible smile touching her eyes.

Shu Qiong felt a bit slighted. “You found the trick that quickly?” The proctor had looked twice and seen nothing out of the ordinary.

Yan Xiangyu threw her words back at her: “Not hard. A piece of cake.”

Shu Qiong reached out to snatch it back. “Then give my ‘piece of cake’ back.”

But Yan Xiangyu had already refolded the paper and tucked it into her pocket. Shu Qiong’s hand hit empty air.

“Didn’t you say it was a gift?” Yan Xiangyu picked up her chopsticks unhurriedly. “Adults must be responsible for what they say.”

Shu Qiong huffed but didn’t call her out on the slight redness of her ears.

The paper was covered in mecha structures—it looked like nothing but dry technical data at first glance. But only Shu Qiong knew that deep within the “chest” of the Starlight diagram, she had sketched a tiny face.

It was a woman’s face—simple lines, but with all the distinct features: cool, sharp eyes, thin, pursed lips, and a small mole on the bridge of the nose. There was no doubt who it was.

In truth, when the proctor had approached her, Shu Qiong had been daydreaming. Sensing a stranger’s presence, she had snapped back to reality and hurriedly covered the sketch with a mass of data annotations. The teacher had been so stunned by the sheer volume of technical information that she hadn’t noticed Shu Qiong’s secret little distraction.

Somehow, Yan Xiangyu had noticed those few “out of place” lines without even fully unfolding the paper.

Maybe there really is such a thing as a ‘telepathic connection,’ Shu Qiong thought.