BTO CH47

“Director Gu,” Xu Sheng hid behind Shao Zhan, turning the very words Director Gu had once used to warn them back on him: “With so many students below the stage, including those from other schools, we need to showcase Linjiang Sixth High’s serene and elegant school ethos…”

Director Gu was pinned down tightly by Meng Guowei and other teachers, his whole body practically airborne, feet hovering off the ground as he kicked wildly at the air: “Like hell there’s any elegant school ethos left for Linjiang Sixth High! Shao Zhan, what are you coming up on stage for? Don’t protect him, move aside!”

Shao Zhan stood firmly in front of Xu Sheng, so Director Gu couldn’t get a hand on him.

Below the stage, Zhang Feng was doubled over laughing: “Holy shit!”

His big bro was still his big bro. Zhang Feng pulled out his phone to record this shocking, historic scene, the camera shaking until it tilted up, accidentally focusing on the scorching sun overhead.

Without a shadow of a doubt, the name Xu Sheng of Linjiang Sixth High became utterly famous across this multi-school joint National Defense Education event.

This self-reflection incident ended with Director Gu roaring on stage, “You write another three thousand words for me!”

The remaining days of activities were nothing more than continued marches, visiting various exhibition halls in the defense sector of Lüzhou Base, and the signature attraction of Lüzhou Base—a simulated aircraft carrier.

“Who didn’t dream of becoming a naval officer when they were little?” mid-tour, a classmate sighed with emotion. “Look at this equipment, so cool.”

“I’ve always dreamed of becoming a writer,” Shen Wenhao pushed up his glasses and said. “I just published my maiden work on XX Website. Everyone can go support it.”

Shao Zhan: “Website?”

Shen Wenhao had never given up in the field of novel writing; the school magazine could no longer contain his ambitions. XX Website was reportedly a newly emerging literature site.

Shao Zhan wasn’t familiar with his classmates’ hobbies, but Xu Sheng had heard a bit about it and explained: “Wenhao seems to be writing a sci-fi novel online lately. Usually, just boosting his hit count is enough. Monkey even encouraged everyone in the class chat group to actively leave reviews last time.”

After listening, Shao Zhan saw the others pass the topic around until, somehow, it drifted onto Xu Sheng: “What does Sheng-ge want to do in the future?”

When this question came up, Xu Sheng, who was usually capable of spouting endless nonsense, fell silent for a rare two seconds. However, this silence went unnoticed in the noisy environment. Shao Zhan stole a few extra glances at him, watching Xu Sheng lower his eyes, shove one hand into his pants pocket, and step through the door to the deck outside.

“Don’t know,” half a moment later, facing the wind, he said: “Never thought about it.”

The instructor began introducing the new equipment, and everyone quickly shifted the conversation elsewhere.

On the fifth day of National Defense Education, after the closing gala ended, everyone returned to their dorms to pack their belongings. Tomorrow morning, they would take the bus back to school.

The final night of military training sent many students into an inexplicable state of frenzy. Perhaps thinking that endless studying awaited them back at school, everyone particularly cherished this last night at Lüzhou Base.

After showering, Xu Sheng opened the bathroom door and stepped out. Hou Jun and the others had just agreed on how to spend this precious night.

Hou Jun: “We’ve discussed it, tonight we’re doing a dorm activity.”

Xu Sheng paid little mind: “Let’s hear it.”

Hou Jun grinned: “That movie we watched last time? It has a second part. Unexpected, right?”

Xu Sheng: “…”

That really was unexpected.

Xu Sheng felt a chill down his spine, pondering what excuse he could find to dodge it.

However, Hou Jun gave him zero time to think of an excuse as he sneakily pulled a tablet out of his backpack: “Our school dorms can’t charge devices, but I didn’t expect the outlets at Lüzhou Base to work! Good thing I was smart and brought my tablet.”

At this time, Shao Zhan was in Meng Guowei’s dorm room.

Meng Guowei had called him over last time to discuss the math competition, but before they could finish, Shen Wenhao had burst in and interrupted them. Only this time did they get everything clarified. By the time Shao Zhan returned to the dorm, the movie was just reaching the end credits.

Xu Sheng sat on his bed with his hair half-dry. Although his face showed no emotion, the sound of Shao Zhan pushing the door open still made him shudder involuntarily.

Shao Zhan closed the door and asked: “What are you watching?”

Hou Jun: “Murder Game 2. You came back too late, Zhan-ge, it’s almost over.”

After finishing the movie, the group huddled together to play a few rounds of mobile games. Just past midnight, the guys who had previously shouted “all-nighter tonight!” couldn’t hold out any longer, dropping their phones to fall fast asleep.

Xu Sheng’s mind was filled with rolling bullet comments, primarily consisting of “fuck.” Those few rounds of games earlier hadn’t helped him recover from the movie’s terrifying visuals at all.

On a hot summer day, the temperature in the dorm wasn’t low, yet Xu Sheng still wrapped himself tightly in his quilt, curled inside, randomly finding people from his friend list to chat with.

Zhang Feng: Boss, you’re still not asleep?

Xu Sheng: Came to catch up and connect with you.

Zhang Feng: What time is it? Let me connect in my dreams.

Xu Sheng: Are we brothers or not?

Zhang Feng: We are brothers, so why don’t we connect in our dreams? Training has been so exhausting these past few days, I wanna sleep early.

…

In the pitch-black dorm room after lights-out, only Xu Sheng’s bed area vaguely glowed with faint phone light.

Xu Sheng replied to Zhang Feng with “Fine, scram to sleep,” exited the chat box, and received a new message.

It was from Shao Zhan.

Succinct, just three words.

• Still not sleeping.

Xu Sheng was panicking inside like crazy, completely different from his domineering, historic appearance on the self-reflection stage two days ago. If his newly minted fangirls and fanboys saw him now, they’d probably question their entire existence. His fingers paused for a moment before he replied, feigning composure: Isn’t it normal for young people to stay up late cultivating immortality? You’re not sleeping either.

Shao Zhan: Going to sleep soon.

At this hour, catching someone who wasn’t sleeping was a rarity.

For some unknown reason, seeing those three words instantly brought Xu Sheng an immense sense of relief. Perhaps it was because this person who was awake crossed the network cable and was separated from him by less than half an arm’s width of aisle.

Xu Sheng, true to his instincts, replied: Don’t.

After a few seconds, the top of the chat window showed typing…

The words sent by Shao Zhan seemed to possess magic; Xu Sheng could almost visualize the teenager’s low, cold voice.

• Scared, yet you still watched?

The phone’s glow illuminated Xu Sheng’s face as he carried his posturing to the very end.

• Fuck.
• Who says I’m scared?
• Just that tiny bit of stuff, how could your Sheng-ge possibly be scared?

A moment later, a rustling sound came from the bed opposite, producing a very faint noise. It sounded like the friction of a quilt against a bedsheet, exceptionally clear in the quiet night.

Then, Xu Sheng saw two more words added to the chat box.

• Reach out your hand.

Reach out your hand?

Reach out what hand?

Xu Sheng didn’t react right away. He stared at the chat box for a moment before loosening one hand and slowly extending it out from under the quilt.

Xu Sheng had actually grown quite warm inside the quilt. Once his hand reached out, the heat trapped beneath the blanket quickly dissipated. Halfway into extending his arm, his knuckles bumped into something—very familiar, slightly firm, and even warmly hot to the touch. After his brain went blank for a second, it felt as though something exploded inside his mind. He instinctively wanted to pull his hand back, but the other party, without a word, covered his hand directly.

This felt completely different from when Xu Sheng had accidentally grabbed Shao Zhan’s hand while watching the horror film with Monkey and the guys in the dorm last time.

In the silence, the phone screen automatically went dark.

The world before his eyes plunged into darkness, and all sounds around his ears receded into the distance. For a moment, all senses vanished, leaving only touch.

No one knew how much time passed before the phone screen lit up once more.

Shao Zhan: Letting you grab the wrong hand once.

Xu Sheng didn’t even know how he fell asleep that night, nor how long he and Shao Zhan had stayed holding hands like that. In the dorm, Hou Jun and the others were sleeping soundly—Tan Kai’s snoring, Yuan Ziqiang’s occasional sleep-talk blurted out from his dreams. Perhaps only the moonlight streaming through the window had inadvertently witnessed what transpired that night.

“Time to head back to school…” Early the next morning, Hou Jun put on his clothes with eyes closed, reminding everyone to hurry up, get up, and pack. “Assembling at eight, everyone get up quickly.”

Hou Jun’s loud voice was more effective than an alarm clock: “Brothers, stop sleeping!”

Xu Sheng was awakened by Hou Jun’s shouting. Squinting his eyes, he was blinded by the morning sunlight streaming through the window.

As his consciousness slowly gathered back, his hand shielding his eyes awkwardly froze in mid-air, unmoving for a long while. Only then did he slowly lower his hand, staring through the gaps between his fingers for two seconds before remembering what he and Shao Zhan had done last night: “…”

He sat up and saw that Shao Zhan was already dressed, holding a water cup as he stepped out from the bathroom partition.

Shao Zhan glanced at him: “Awake.”

“Ah,” Xu Sheng averted his gaze, saying unnaturally, “Morning.”

Hou Jun bent down to grab his cup and toothbrush, rubbing his waist before interjecting at the bathroom entrance: “By the way, did you guys sleep well last night? Why do I feel like this bed is even harder than the ones at school… is there actually a difference in the wood material?”

Xu Sheng couldn’t answer this question.

He had held hands with someone for who knows how long into the night; was he supposed to say, “I slept pretty great last night”?

However, Hou Jun was facing him when asking. Xu Sheng climbed down from the bed, cutting in front of Hou Jun to enter the bathroom partition.

Hou Jun was blocked outside the door: “…Sheng-ge, even if you’re super handsome, you can’t just skip the line!”

In just a few short days, Lüzhou Base had left the students with countless memories.

The tree-lined path felt remarkably familiar, alongside the disassembled rifles, the toured military equipment, the frantically snatched instant noodles, the banter shouted across companies from afar, and even… the fights they had fought.

After the gala ended yesterday, Instructor Wang was also quite reluctant to see them go. He was gentle and kind, and the students of Company Seven liked him very much. When a few students reluctantly called out “Instructor,” he also smiled faintly and said: “Tomorrow you’ll be returning to school. Study hard after you go back. Spending these five days with you all has made me very happy. I’m very glad to have met you.”

The students of Class 7 packed their belongings, having their final meal in the Lüzhou Base cafeteria.

After eating, Instructor Wang escorted them to the bus, bidding everyone a final farewell through the door.

Then, the bus slowly pulled away, driving out of Lüzhou Base.

Returning to campus felt both familiar and strange. Fearing these students’ minds couldn’t be reined back in, Meng Guowei arranged for them to write an essay during the very first Chinese class after returning: “Let’s quiet our minds this class and write a classroom essay. The title is ‘My Dream’, it’s also a reminder for you all to properly plan your upcoming academic careers… As if I don’t know you guys—you go out to play for a few days and your minds float away.”

Meng Guowei had a broad imagination. Linking up with this essay, he even thought of a flashy activity: having students anonymously write down the name of their target university. “When graduation comes, you can see if you’ve achieved your goal.”

Meng Guowei wrote the essay title on the blackboard.

Xu Sheng took one look and slumped straight down onto his desk to sleep.

Shao Zhan: “Not writing?”

Xu Sheng didn’t even raise his head: “Writing poetry requires inspiration.”

Shao Zhan: “…”

He had genuinely forgotten that his desk mate was a “great poet” who never properly wrote essays.

For this class, Xu Sheng handed in a blank paper, not moving a single character.

During the break, Shao Zhan was called over by Meng Guowei. Meng Guowei always individually analyzed and explained Shao Zhan’s essays to him after class, and this time was no exception. After a brief explanation, Meng Guowei had other tasks to attend to, so he handed the collected anonymous slips of paper to Shao Zhan: “Shao Zhan, help Teacher organize these—unfold them and stack them neatly, then press them under my folder when you’re done.”

Shao Zhan gave a word of agreement.

The handwriting on these slips of paper varied wildly. Since it was anonymous, these people had written all kinds of target schools. Besides plenty of normal teaching colleges, there were no shortage of prestigious universities, and some even brazenly envisioned Tsinghua and Peking University.

Yet among this pile of paper slips, there was one target institution’s name that stood completely out of sync with all the other schools.

—Central Academy of Fine Arts.