Chapter 11

When Du Ruo walked into the boys’ dormitory, the dorm auntie didn’t stop her.
The hallway felt chilly, full of that not unpleasant but faintly wild, masculine energy, dry and restless, making her just a little uneasy.
She held her breath, catching sideways glances from the guys who passed her as she made her way up to the third floor.
Along the corridor, she could see girls scattered through several rooms, all arguing over materials as they prepped props for the sports day parade.
Room 308 had its door propped open.
Li Wei and a few of the class guys were crouched on the floor, deep in arts-and-crafts mode. Paint, drawing paper, wooden dowels, ribbons, and gold-foil strips littered every surface.
The guys were roasting each other nonstop:
“Red and green? Hideous.”
“As if yours isn’t worse, you’ve got red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet, that’s a rainbow stick, not a prop.”
Du Ruo knocked on the door. “What’s all the yelling?”
“Perfect timing! Fairy wand girl, what kind do you want? All the supplies are here, just say the word, and we’ll whip it up.”
“Or you might hate our designs, though.”
“He wants to glue a bunch of gold strips all over the stick. So tacky.”
“You’re tacky! That’s not tacky, that’s dazzling! Eye-catching!”
The guys were off bickering again.
After hearing everyone’s ideas, Du Ruo realized her brilliant classmates, who normally crushed design problems and hands-on projects, actually had absolutely zero clue about fairy wands. Their aesthetic: somewhere between Sailor Moon and the cheesiest low-budget magic show on TV.
Since she’d have to carry the stick through the field, meaning all the embarrassment would be hers, she decided, “I’ll make it myself. You guys handle the rest.”
“Fair enough. Still gotta design the class sign and t-shirt.”
Du Ruo knelt to sort through the materials.
The guys kept gossiping as they worked:
“How did Jing Ming do in his match yesterday?”
“He made the finals.”
“Duh. I could have guessed. I mean the score!”
“He KO’d the other robot in twenty seconds.”
“Damn!”
She was curious, so she asked Li Wei, “Is Prime competing in something these days?”
“Nope. Jing Ming’s doing a solo competition.”
“Oh.” She didn’t probe further.
The dorm was packed, nowhere to sit. Li Wei said, “Du Ruo, come hang in my room. It’s quieter.”
Her internal alarm bells started blaring: Li Wei roomed with those three guys from the class next door.
He said, “My roommates are all out, so nobody’ll bother you. My desk is by the door, to the right.”
She hesitated for a second, then hugged her materials and headed to 307.
The lights were on in dorm 307. Empty.
Bunk beds, towels, a plastic water basin, a bottle stuffed with cigarette butts, shirts tossed over a chair... not exactly pristine, but not a disaster zone either.
The room carried a faint mix of guys’ body spray and laundry detergent, impossible to pin on any one person. But the whiff of smoke, definitely not Jing Ming’s. As far as she remembered, he didn’t smoke. He always carried this subtle, impossibly clean scent. You only had to lean a little closer to catch it.
She set her things down on the desk by the door, to the right.
Li Wei’s desk was a mess, books and crude notes piled everywhere. She cleared a little space, then glanced at the other three bunks. Jing Ming’s desk was easy to spot: right by the window, to the right, next to Li Wei’s.
It was obvious.
The bottom cabinet overflowed with what looked like a fortune’s worth of shoes. On top: a Mac, a pair of over-ear headphones, stacks of textbooks and mechanical models, and a hoard of robots under the desk.
Jeans with a hole and a black hoodie were thrown over his bed.
She’d just sat down when Jing Ming’s computer screen flickered, the laptop was open. He could walk in any second.
Thinking fast, avoiding awkward run-ins was an art, she gathered her things, ready to flee next door.
Suddenly, outside, Jing Ming’s voice: “You really don’t have anything better to do, huh?”
She froze, heart pounding. Before she could move, the door swung open. Jing Ming ended a call, stormed in with a scowl, then stopped short. Shock registered for half a second, then that familiar, sharp once-over:
“What are you doing here?”
His tone hit like a dart. She blurted, “Li Wei told me to come.” Then dropped her stuff squarely on Li Wei’s desk.
Jing Ming stared at her a moment, then let out a cold, crooked smirk: “Fine. Stay if you want.”
He strode to his desk, yanked the clothes off his bed and tossed them into the closet, then lounged against the bunk’s ladder. Who knew what he was up to. After a minute, Du Ruo heard the whir of a machine.
She looked back: a tank-like robot barreled toward her, stubby arms waving, full of bravado.
Du Ruo stared, bewildered. The little robot rolled right up to her ankles, its big cartoon eyes swiveling to give her the once-over. Then it lifted a tiny paw and, thunk, bopped her on the ankle.
Mission accomplished, it spun and zipped away, hiding behind Jing Ming’s legs.
Du Ruo: “...”
Leaning against the ladder, Jing Ming asked, “Did that hurt?”
“It hurt!”
Hard to believe, little robot, surprisingly strong.
“Good.” He said it like the answer made sense.
Du Ruo was left mystified.
Jing Ming didn’t elaborate. He seemed in no mood, sat down, grabbed his headphones, barely acknowledging her. But the little robot held her attention, curiosity winning out over awkwardness. She finally ventured, “Did you make that robot?”
“Yeah.” He didn’t even look back, voice totally flat.
Embarrassed, but way too interested, she pressed on in a murmur, “It moves so steadily. Then again, with treads, that makes sense. Do robots like that still use gyroscopes?”
He paused, headphones halfway on, giving her a bland side-eye: “Pretty sure your textbooks don’t cover that yet.”
“Oh. I learned it on the side.” She was still obsessed with the robot. “Is there a robotics contest coming up?”
“Mm.” He let the headphones dangle around his neck, raked a hand through his hair, and flicked at his laptop’s touchpad.
Du Ruo nodded thoughtfully, making a mental note to look up the event schedule and venue later.
This was her chance, she wouldn’t miss it for the world.
Just then, he glanced over. “You want to watch?”
“Huh.” She nodded automatically.
He pulled the headphones off his neck, stood up, and walked over to another desk. From the bookshelf he drew out a single ticket and handed it to her.
She stared, surprised, then took it. “Thanks.”
The match is scheduled after the school sports festival. VVIP ticket, no seat number.
“Call me twenty minutes before you get there.”
“Okay.”
Jing Ming went back to his desk, headphones clamped on, shutting out the world. As if her mere presence was a personal torment.
She shot him a look, head bowed, headphones on, fingers flying on the keyboard, the cool blue screen reflecting across his sharp profile. There was a flicker of light in his eyes.
Suddenly, she was hit with déjà vu, back in that internet café, all over again.
She took a deep breath, tucked the ticket away, sat down, and calmly got out her arts and crafts.
She snuck glances at the robot every so often. It sat docilely at Jing Ming’s feet, silent as a mouse.
It’s way too cute, she thought.
Robotics. I want to learn too. I’ll look up resources when I get home.
The two of them got along just fine in their own little worlds. His keyboard snapped crisply; her colored paper rustled softly.
Suddenly, a phone started ringing, a pop song in English, coming from his bunk, bright and a little lazy. Du Ruo couldn’t catch the lyrics.
The phone just kept going; Jing Ming made no move to notice.
Finally, she caught one line: “I’m listening to you.”
The ringtone stopped. Ten seconds of silence. Then it rang again.
Still no reaction from Jing Ming.
Come on, does he need the game that loud? Du Ruo called out, “Hey!”
No response.
She picked up a stick and rapped it against the ladder by his desk. He glanced her way, expression blank as if fending off a chatty stranger.
She pointed to the bunk above his head.
Jing Ming slid off his headphones, stood, grabbed the phone from his bunk, and picked up. He shot Du Ruo a slightly wary look, guess he was on guard with someone else around.
On the other end, a girl’s voice started rattling off, rapid fire, barely a pause between words.
His voice was still cool: “Can you not?”
After a second, he answered, “I’m in the dorm. What’s up?”
“You’d rather play games than come see me! Don’t tell me you’re busy with your stupid robots!” The accusation was loud enough for Du Ruo to hear.
Jing Ming’s face darkened, visibly annoyed. He walked toward the balcony, clearly needing distance, because another tirade started up on the other end.
He slid the balcony door shut.
Du Ruo’s spool of colored string rolled onto the floor. As she bent to pick it up, she saw Jing Ming’s computer screen: Protel, schematic design.
No game in sight.
She slunk back to her seat, guilty. On the balcony, the drama kept escalating.
The next time Jing Ming spoke, he was downright exasperated: “Fine. Fighting with you every damn day is exhausting.”
Whatever Min Enzhu said next, it set him off. “Have you lost your damn mind?”
“We’re done. Min Enzhu, this time it’s over for good. Don’t come begging later if you can’t handle it!”
“First person who caves is a loser!”
“...” Du Ruo’s heart skipped a beat.
Did she just witness a break-up?
She had no business being in this blast radius. Time to bolt. She’d barely stood when Jing Ming stomped back from the balcony, tossed his phone onto the desk, didn’t even glance at her, and dropped back in front of his computer.
His headphones landed with a crash.
Du Ruo, nerves shot, slipped out to the next room.
Half an hour later, she finished her project. Passing by 307 on her way out, she glanced in out of habit. Desk lamp and laptop were both on, but no Jing Ming. His phone was still ringing.
Outside the dorm, she ran into Min Enzhu, anxiously calling someone downstairs.
Seeing Du Ruo come out, Min Enzhu looked surprised, then caught up to her, a little awkward. “Hey… classmate?”
“Yeah?”
“Girls can go into the boys’ dorms?”
“Normally, no. But the week before the sports festival, it’s allowed. Just these few days.”
“Ah, thanks!” Min Enzhu gave a relieved smile before hurrying inside.
She really does have a beautiful smile, Du Ruo thought. Tall, and her style is so on point.
She couldn’t help but wonder, did they really break up?
She didn’t have to wait long for an answer.
The day of the sports festival dawned bright and clear.
The autumn sky blazed blue and high. Around the track, the trees were half green, half golden, colors popping against the blue.
The parade of classes was a wild showcase of creativity.
Some students wore old-school uniforms, some went with Ancient Chinese looks, others were decked out like European aristocrats… there was even a squad in army gear, lugging a fake rocket launcher. One class came out as a literal steam train.
Du Ruo’s class was the last to make their entrance.
That morning, Xia Nan insisted on doing her hair and makeup. At first she protested, but Xia Nan told her, “Seriously, you’re the class beauty. Don’t let us down!”
So Du Ruo relented.
After half an hour, the whole room gawked at her. “Whoa, for real, you have amazing features! You just look too tan usually.”
“My family’s from near the tropics. It’s sunny year-round.”
“Beijing barely gets any sun. You’ll lighten up soon. …Your collarbones are so pretty, by the way.”
Pushed in front of the mirror, Du Ruo was taken aback, she actually looked… gorgeous?
Her face was made up, hair woven into braids with a white camellia tucked in. White dress, heels, delicate shoulders and collarbones visible in a strappy skirt, a sparkling conductor’s baton in hand as she led the team past the grandstand.
She picked up the baton and gave instructions one by one, hold it straight, lift it high, raise it overhead, spin it, or lift it with both hands and twirl.
The boys followed her lead in lines and rows, shifting into increasingly elaborate formations at her command: squat, stand, change position, crisscross, do the robot, break out in a mechanical dance.
The whole performance was fresh, joyful, and a visual feast.
The audience on the dais erupted in applause. Out on the field, classmates cheered wildly, especially He Huanhuan and her crew.
Performance over, Du Ruo gathered up her baton. The look in the crowd’s eyes told her what she already knew, she'd crushed it. She flashed a radiant, confident smile at her friends, but her gaze unexpectedly locked onto Jing Ming in the crowd. His class was standing over there too.
Their eyes met for a quick second before he looked away.
After the opening ceremony wrapped up, Du Ruo floated up the bleachers, feeling light and cheery. It just so happened that Jing Ming was coming down from the upper steps as she arrived.
She held her breath and moved aside to let him pass; as they brushed past each other, he seemed in a pretty good mood and said casually,
"You look good today."
Du Ruo froze, but he was already striding away down the stands, soon vanishing into the crowd.
A soft breeze whispered through the treetops, and inside, she felt like a bouquet had just burst into bloom. With a skip in her step, she climbed to the very top and sat down.
The tree overhead was lush and thick, its branches rustling and swaying in the wind.
Autumn sunlight filtered through the canopy, dappled green and gold, falling in soft flecks across her dress.
She carefully straightened her skirt, absentmindedly touching her collarbone, remembering her roommates’ compliments that morning, how they raved about how pretty she looked today.
She’d barely sat down when Qiu Yuchen came over, holding out his jacket: "Hurry up and put this on before you catch a cold."
"It’s not cold," Du Ruo said, hugging the jacket to her chest instead.
"Alright, enjoy your moment as a beauty queen," Qiu Yuchen grinned, ruffling her cheek. "Seriously, babe, you look amazing! Just promise me you’ll put something on soon, don’t freeze yourself."
"Yes, Mom."
From her vantage point, Du Ruo had a perfect view. She glanced toward the track, eyes wandering over to the next class’s section of the stands. He wasn’t there.
But soon enough, she spotted Jing Ming.
He’d left the podium and changed out of his class T-shirt, swapping it for a sleek, tri-leaf sports set that set off his fair skin and six-foot-something build. He looked like the poster boy for youth, all sunny energy and long legs, catching more than a few looks on his way.
He’d barely walked a few steps when a girl hurried to catch up, falling into step beside him. The two of them climbed up to the stands together.
Min Enzhu was wearing couple’s sportswear to match his.
She was model-tall, and the sporty outfit looked fantastic on her, fresh, crisp, effortless.
Du Ruo fell silent for a moment, then slipped into her jacket.
The autumn breeze stung her bare legs. So much for being a beauty, she was freezing.