Chapter 6

At the end of training that day, everyone was dismissed on the spot.
Min Enzhu hopped down from the bleachers like a little bird, wrapped her arm around Jing Ming’s and walked off with him.
He Huanhuan admired, “She’s really gorgeous. Even her back is beautiful.”
Xia Nan: “Duh. Why do you think she’s the campus queen?”
Today, Min Enzhu wore a white chiffon blouse tucked into dark blue skinny jeans. Her legs, already long and slender, looked impossibly sleek in those killer heels, she was almost as tall as Jing Ming.
Du Ruo remembered that she was a whole head shorter than Jing Ming. The way he looked down at her, literally and figuratively, was infuriating.
“She’s pretty tall,” Qiu Yuchen commented. “What, like 5’9”?”
“Yeah, taller than me.” Xia Nan was 5’7”. Du Ruo and Qiu Yuchen were two or three centimeters shorter, but height has that way, just a couple centimeters, and suddenly you’re worlds apart in presence.
“Wanna go eat?” Resident foodie Huanhuan switched topics instantly.
“I’m showering first. I feel disgusting.”
“Me too. But you two, if you’re not headed to the bathhouse, where are you even showering?”
“There’s a shower room next to the washroom.”
“Isn’t there no hot water in there?”
“Just grab some from the boiling water room.”
“You people love making your own trouble,” laughed Qiu Yuchen.
“If we’re not eating now… Let’s go buy fruit then,” Huanhuan said, still thinking about food.
The four of them chatted as they headed to the fruit shop.
Inside, the sweet scent of fruit filled the air. The place was packed with freshmen just finished with military training.
Du Ruo did a lap and nearly fainted at the prices. Kiwis cost ten bucks for a tiny one, enough for two meals in the cafeteria. Cherries were almost two hundred per pound, which was her entire six-day budget. Mangoes, durians, red grapes, longans, less outrageous, but still out of her league.
After forever weighing her options, she settled on four bananas and two oranges, exactly ten yuan.
Qiu Yuchen bought a pound of cherries, planning to wash them later and share with everyone.
Du Ruo only took one, not daring to grab more. She knew those bananas she brought for her roommates didn’t come anywhere close.
“Take some more, come on.”
“I’m good. I still have longans from Huanhuan I haven’t finished.”
“Take two more!” Qiu Yuchen insisted.
Du Ruo relented and took one more.
The cherries were plump and adorable, and delicious. No wonder they were so expensive.
She realized she’d have to find a part-time job soon. But she couldn’t rush, better to wait a couple months into the semester, see how much free time she’d actually have. School came first, especially at a place with no end of gifted students.
A few days ago, Du Ruo sat at her desk reading as Qiu Yuchen walked in humming an English song. Du Ruo was stunned, her English sounded as natural and fluent as a native speaker.
Meanwhile, Du Ruo’s own “mute English” from back home left her struggling just to speak, let alone get the pronunciation right.
Spurred into action, she bought English reading materials with audio and started reciting every morning at the track. On her first day, she discovered plenty of students got up even earlier than she did.
That’s college for you, the best students still manage to work harder than you.
…
With military training over, real college life began. Everyone clutched their textbooks, rushing between lecture halls and labs.
Du Ruo and her three roommates weren’t even in the same class. Their schedules clashed enough to make shared walks to the cafeteria a rarity.
Freshman year was no joke. The required courses, especially the theory-heavy ones, were stacked back-to-back. Everyone focused on studying, only finding time to visit the library together at night.
Du Ruo had always been an academic kid. Whether it was a core subject or an elective, small group or massive lecture, as long as she listened carefully, she could keep pace easily. Review after class, chew over the tough parts, and nothing felt unmanageable.
Still, she often felt a different kind of left behind.
So many of the guys in her class were crazy knowledgeable. Whether chatting with professors, answering questions, or just fiddling with machines, they’d drop nuggets of advanced info that left Du Ruo scrambling to look things up later.
It was pressure she couldn’t quite name, pushing her to spend more time buried in library books, from Schopenhauer to Wittgenstein, Planck to de Broglie.
But there was another gap she felt, one she couldn’t seem to cross, their wild, inventive imaginations, and ideas that just exploded out of nowhere.
All she could do was watch in awe, half-learning, half-wondering why she could never think that way herself.
She remembered her high school homeroom teacher’s words, when she first got admitted: When you get to college, you’ll meet so many people who outshine you. Don’t panic, don’t get mad, don’t get discouraged. Study well, live well, and walk your own path, step by step.
She took those words to heart. She didn’t rush, didn’t fret.
She genuinely admired her male classmates, their curiosity was endless, their passion for learning infectious. Even the shyest boy would light up and talk a mile a minute once you hit his favorite subject.
They were always kind to Du Ruo, sometimes even doting. Whether it was academics or daily life, they’d answer any question, help out whenever. Once, Du Ruo was asking Wan Zi’ang for help. A few others overheard and all crowded over, each eager to explain, until she understood and picked up all sorts of side knowledge too.
It was like having twenty big brothers scattered through the classroom and lab.
The first row in their little classroom became her personal spot, no one else ever took it. In the lab, the seat nearest the instructor was always saved for her too.
Even at big department lectures, they’d save her a spot.
One time in public English class, Huanhuan followed her to a great seat and sighed, “Being class belle has its perks, huh?”
Du Ruo shot her a silent side-eye.
Public English was a mega lecture, the stepped classroom packed edge to edge.
The bell hadn’t even rung yet,
Du Ruo opened her book, silently reciting words, when a lazy voice sounded behind her:
“No one’s sitting here, right?”
Instantly, every hair on her body stood on end.
Why him again?
Wasn’t the back row good enough for him? What was he doing up here?
She knew he was asking Wan Zi’ang, seated diagonally behind her, they were from neighboring dorms and had known each other since orientation.
Wan Zi’ang said, “No one.”
Jing Ming dropped his book on the desk and slouched into the seat. “Shit, I’m late. All the good seats in the back are taken.”
Du Ruo: “…”
Wan Zi’ang: “You want me to answer roll call for you next time if you’re skipping?”
Jing Ming sighed, “This teacher went to college with my mom. She knows me.”
Du Ruo: “…”
Term just started and he’s already plotting to skip class. Way to waste all his dad’s hopes.
She hadn’t noticed how sharp her internal monologue had become with him lately, a kind of petty rebellion against his constant arrogance.
While she was silently insulting him, there was a loud “clunk” from under her seat, his foot had knocked the bottom of her chair, making it shake.
Du Ruo’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest: ???
“Oh. Sorry.” Jing Ming leaned forward, his low voice brushing right past her ear.
Her ears went hot.
The seats in the front row were too short, and with his impossibly long legs, he’d stretched and accidentally bumped her chair. Jing Ming quickly folded his legs back in and adjusted his pose.
“Back row’s got way more room,” he muttered to himself.
Du Ruo kept her head down, glued to her book, not daring to look back.
Jing Ming noticed, finally catching on. He hadn’t been especially quiet, yet she didn’t react. Was she annoyed?
He squinted, staring at the back of her head for a moment, piecing it together. He tilted a bit sideways to see her face, yep, he remembered now. It was Du Ruo.
Her ears were burning red.
He smirked and let it go.
The bell rang. Class began, the room settling into silence.
Du Ruo wasn’t fazed by Jing Ming, and he didn’t move or make a sound behind her. It was as if he’d vanished.
She listened intently, taking notes, whispering English words under her breath.
Halfway through, the teacher called for someone to read the passage aloud.
Du Ruo quietly lowered her head, not risking eye contact.
At that moment, everyone did their best to become invisible, a hush deepening over the crowded room.
But Du Ruo couldn’t resist, out of curiosity, she glanced up and locked eyes with the teacher.
Busted.
Teacher: “You, read the first few paragraphs of the text.”
She tried to struggle, weakly pointing behind her, maybe he meant him???
Teacher said, “Not him. You.”
Du Ruo: “…”
Her heart trembled and cried, but soon a strange courage took over. She’d only been reciting for a month, but her pronunciation had improved. At least she wouldn’t embarrass herself.
Just think of it as an early test!
She smoothed her book flat, and started to read:
“a letter or telephone call es from someone you have not met, and you find yourself imagining what the person looks like, putting a face to the hidden voice. are you any good at this? sometimes it is easy to get it wrong , , ”
Her pace was glacial, each syllable precise, the pronunciation flawless, but her reading utterly flat.
After a few paragraphs, the teacher said, “Good.”
She stopped.
“Your pronunciation’s fine, but you were too nervous. Next time, just relax, okay?”
Du Ruo nodded, honestly pleased with herself. All those weeks of early morning effort had finally paid off. Slow and steady wins the race, hard work always leads to progress.
Just as she was basking in her own success, the teacher said, "Next. Keep going."
The instant Jing Ming started reading, Du Ruo was floored.
There was a foreign guy sitting behind her.
“John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his army uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their way through Grand Central Station, ”
His pace was a little fast, every word crisp and clear. He sounded lazy, almost careless; the rhythm in his voice rose and fell effortlessly, as if he’d grown up speaking this way.
And it was a British accent.
Du Ruo had to admit, even she found the voice behind her ridiculously attractive.
He Huanhuan was so surprised, she couldn’t help turning to gawk for a moment.
He read on and on, several entire paragraphs, and the teacher never stopped him.
He frowned, got bored, and quit reading. He glanced up at the teacher.
The teacher smiled. “That’s excellent spoken English. Next one, keep going.”
Du Ruo felt like she’d just been given a blunt-force trauma; her mind was nothing but angry white noise.
A little panicked, she clung to the last crumbling bit of pride she’d reserved for mocking him.
But there was another, more devastating truth, some people will break themselves running to catch up, only to realize the race is already lost. All they ever glimpse is someone else’s back, already miles ahead.
No, it can’t be, she told herself. It’s not really that bad. It can’t be that bad.
Luckily, next class Jing Ming returned to the very last row. Now, they were separated by about as much emotional distance as the surface of Mars. With such a huge class, she was safe; her next turn to read aloud probably wouldn’t come until next semester.
She could finally relax.
At least, until the end of the month, when the student union started recruiting.
All four girls from her dorm went. There, they met Li Qinghe, the guy who’d spoken at the freshman orientation, he was the student council president.
The process was simple enough: each person stepped on stage, introduced themselves, and talked about their talents.
Qiu Yuchen and He Huanhuan both shined.
Xia Nan, as usual, just lounged around and watched for fun, no stage time for her.
As for Du Ruo, she kept her expectations low; she saw it as a way to meet a few more people in her major.
The whole thing was kind of a snooze. Xia Nan, providing much-needed background gossip, would lean over and whisper: that guy over there was top in his province, the other one was a national physics competition champ, and so on.
Du Ruo listened, feeling more and more like a whack-a-mole getting hammered over the head with everyone’s achievements.
After, walking back to the dorm, she noticed the trees outside were thick with leaves, but nothing could dim the glow of the classroom buildings and the library. Every shining window was a cluster of students hunched over their books.
Du Ruo sighed, “Our school is literally crawling with hidden geniuses.”
“Tell me about it.” He Huanhuan demolished a popsicle from the convenience shop. “Our class is full of gods. Every day I have to eat snacks just to stay calm.”
“You eat every day anyway,” Qiu Yuchen shot back. “Wait, when did you even get a popsicle? I totally missed that.”
“Just a minute ago. Want a bite?”
Qiu Yuchen bit into it.
“Xiao Ruo?”
Du Ruo shook her head.
“Xia Nan?”
Xia Nan shook her head, then suddenly said, “Oh, by the way, Jing Ming was admitted on a special program too.”
Du Ruo asked, “Athlete?”
Xia Nan gave her a weird look. “He’s on a different level.”
“He’s won first place, three times, in the International Youth Robotics Competition.”