Chapter 19: Matching Outfits and the Unveiling of Secrets

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“Aren’t you two good desk mates?”
“Who’s good with him?”
Zhang Shutong had thought she was one of the few in the class who could talk to him.
He set down his backpack, not minding a chat with Miss Gu:
“Didn’t you just give me an example yesterday?”
As he spoke, Zhang Shutong pointed at the glass.
Unexpectedly, Gu Qiumian curled the corner of her mouth and turned away: “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
She ignored him completely.
Zhang Shutong reminded her:
“You forgot? It was the drawing you made…”
“Zhang Shutong, don’t you have any emotional intelligence?” Gu Qiumian quickly turned her head, her long eyelashes flickering as she glared at him.
The term “emotional intelligence” was quite trendy these days. Zhang Shutong decided not to provoke her further, but Gu Qiumian rolled her eyes and, unusually in the mood to explain, said:
“At first he was fine, but later he kept talking beside me, nagging and nagging. Whatever I did, he was just watching, so annoying.”
“Is that your way of warning a new desk mate?” Under the tutelage of Trainer Gu Qiumian, Pokémon Zhang Shutong’s emotional intelligence had improved.
“Of course.”
“So, I’m your shield?”
“Because you don’t talk much.”
“Alright, alright.” Zhang Shutong laughed and sat down, unsure whether to be pleased that the young lady thought so highly of him.
But being a shield wasn’t bad either; sitting here, no one dared come close, and he enjoyed the peace.
“What’s the reward?” he asked Gu Qiumian, wanting some cookies—not out of craving, just for fun.
“We still have three unsettled accounts!” The girl gave him a look that said, “Can’t you keep track?”
Which three?
Zhang Shutong wanted to ask, but his silence was his strength, so he refrained. Instead, he pondered another matter:
As he approached his seat earlier, a boy said something indistinct, but Zhang caught a few key phrases:
“Don’t take it lightly, I really heard it at the time…”
What was that warning about?
He had just been to the restricted area; early morning paranoia perhaps, his mind subconsciously suspecting the culprit.
Zhang Shutong analyzed that this conversation wasn’t triggered by his return to eight years ago or any changes he made, but was part of the original timeline. Could it be that someone had already discovered a setup targeting Gu Qiumian at this moment?
Not only discovered but warned her, yet judging by Gu Qiumian’s attitude, she seemed to think the other was just trying to flirt and paid no attention.
The chance was slim, but better safe than sorry—he should ask.
Just as he was about to speak, a paper ball hit him.
Turning around, he saw it was Feng Ruoping, standing at the back of the classroom, tiptoeing and waving at him.
If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t bother going over, forcing them to come instead. But Feng Ruoping was an exception—not only a close friend but the only girl among them. Most of the time, Zhang Shutong was more patient with her than with Dukang Qingyi.
“What’s up?”
“Today’s the British style, huh? What made you dress up?” Feng Ruoping pointed at his clothes, praising him.
Her tone was almost motherly; she was definitely a hopeless romantic.
Zhang Shutong didn’t understand British style. Looking down, he noticed his scarf was loosely draped around his neck. Could that be it?
He simply took off the scarf and rolled it up in his hand. Now Feng Ruoping had nothing to see and sighed in disappointment:
“Aww, I was hoping to snap a photo.”
Sometimes she’d use him and Qingyi as models, regardless of their willingness, capturing spontaneous shots to post on social media—not to show off, just because they looked nice. When Dukang caught a beautifully patterned fish, she behaved the same, but then she only photographed the fish, not people.
“How did you sleep last night? Well rested?”
Zhang Shutong, rarely showing concern, asked.
“Oh, going for the warm guy vibe today, huh?” Feng Ruoping laughed, covering her mouth. “But I’m not buying it, handsome, save your act.”
At moments like this, Zhang Shutong was at a loss for words.
Feng Ruoping continued:
“I just wanted to tell you to call Qinglian out. I have something to say to her. Yesterday was too rushed; I only realized after going home that I hadn’t properly thanked her. Without her, we’d be doomed.”
Zhang Shutong thought she was right but then wondered—why not say it yourself? No need to pull him into it. He felt speechless.
Feng Ruoping misread his expression and laughed even more, like a teasing child sulking:
“Don’t be upset, don’t be upset. It was thanks to you that we got through it. Hero, what do you want for lunch? Shall I treat you to bubble tea?”
“…I mean, why don’t you call her yourself?”

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The moment he said that, Feng Ruoping’s eyes widened:
“Zhang Shutong, are you really bewitched or just playing dumb?”
“What?”
“Come on, should I say you’re just slow or pretending? Why do you think I don’t stand next to you?” She pointed behind him. “Look at who’s your current desk mate.”
Zhang Shutong didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.
Feng Ruoping’s reminder made him recall the little feud between them.
“That’s all?” he asked, puzzled.
“That’s all! Not okay?”
Feng Ruoping stopped smiling and stared behind him. Strangely, Gu Qiumian seemed to sense it and just happened to turn around at that moment. Their eyes met briefly; both snorted coldly before turning away.
Zhang Shutong felt like an Oreo cookie caught in the middle… Why was he always having Oreo trouble these days?
Feng Ruoping smiled broadly, taking on the big sister role:
“Zhang Shutong, you decide what to do.”
“…”
“Oh, now I get it! No wonder you’re going for the British look today—it’s couple’s fashion.” She covered her mouth in mock surprise. “One red scarf, one black scarf, you two actually match quite well.”
Zhang Shutong admitted defeat:
“I’ll call her for you... anything else?”
“Nope. Bubble tea is on you at lunch.” Feng Ruoping waved happily and left.
She had just said she’d treat him to bubble tea; now it was reversed?
Zhang Shutong pondered this, suspecting she never intended well from the moment “bubble tea” was mentioned.
But he didn’t mind treating her—it was just friendly teasing, so let it be.
Feng Ruoping was that kind of person; just wanting bubble tea wasn’t enough. She had to set a trap, get you stuck, then feel accomplished.
But Zhang Shutong wasn’t Dukang. Threatening Dukang with Lu Qinglian’s name was enough to shut him up; forget bubble tea, he’d bring a whole dairy farm if needed.
With Zhang Shutong, it was just playful banter. As the saying goes, desireless means strong, and he was exactly in that state.
Back at his desk, before calling Lu Qinglian, his mind returned to the earlier conversation. He wanted to ask Gu Qiumian what they had talked about, but as soon as he opened his mouth, he found her cold and ignoring him.
Probably slapped with the traitor label again.
Her ignoring was amusing; she had her textbook propped on Lu Qinglian’s chair back, eyes fixed straight ahead, tiny hands tucked in her sweater sleeves, which covered her ears, scarf covering most of her face, fully focused on morning reading—no matter what was said, she wouldn’t listen.
Loyalty or justice? No.
Seeking righteousness or favor? Still no.
Zhang Shutong felt this was a replay of the chocolate incident:
Back then, Gu Qiumian quarreled with Feng Ruoping over chocolates. That afternoon, Miss Gu stormed into the classroom with a bag of chocolates, asking if he wanted some. Zhang Shutong declined politely, and from then on, he and Gu Qiumian were at odds, branded a traitor.
From Gu Qiumian’s perspective, she probably thought Feng Ruoping had called him over to talk bad about her or forbid him to speak to his desk mate.
In short, her imagination must have run wild.
He found girls’ social relations strange. For example, last night Feng Ruoping and Lu Qinglian chatted briefly and already considered each other friends, though their bond wasn’t deep.
And Gu Qiumian—was there a huge grudge? Not really. To boys, a few days would smooth things over, but the two remained at an impasse, more like a matter of pride.
Zhang Shutong couldn’t figure it out. If it happened again, emotionally he’d side with Feng Ruoping, but to avoid trouble and not escalate tensions like before, he’d stay neutral and offend no one.
Just then, Miss Gu got up—probably to use the restroom. Without looking at Zhang Shutong, she tapped his chair back with a serious face.
Giving up a seat felt like a secret signal between them. This time Zhang Shutong understood and moved his chair aside, watching her leave.
He’d have to ask the boy directly for clues about her.
He sincerely thought dealing with simple-hearted girls was easier.
Like Lu Qinglian.
Such a pure girl.
Though sometimes puzzling, it meant no headache-inducing conflicts. Thinking so, he poked Lu Qinglian, who was reading, feeling oddly relieved.
Suddenly, the girl paused, turned around, and before speaking, furrowed her thin eyebrows.
Her frown was intimidating, especially after last night’s incident, reminding one instinctively of those explosive kicks—now it felt like she was staring him down.
Zhang Shutong didn’t understand what he’d done wrong this time. One was enough; why another?
“Don’t touch my waist,” Lu Qinglian said slowly, her gaze almost murderous.
“Oh… sorry.”
They say a girl’s waist and feet shouldn’t be touched lightly, but he hadn’t noticed. He’d actually taken a pen to avoid suspicion, only to poke her waist.
“What’s up?” Her brows relaxed, returning to a blank expression.
“Feng Ruoping just asked me to call you. She wanted to thank you.”
Lu Qinglian nodded. Zhang Shutong remembered something else:
“By the way, I couldn’t find the history notes. Look…”

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“I took them from your bookshelf this morning.”
As she said this, Lu Qinglian had already turned around, carrying her textbook, her voice drifting to Zhang Shutong with the morning reading.
He thought she was like an old computer—needing a daily reboot, with the day’s cache wiped clean—like last night never happened, and their relationship remained that of ordinary classmates.
Zhang Shutong didn’t mind but suspected Feng Ruoping and the others would be confused. They had just been chatting in the group, declaring this the start of a great friendship, but as soon as they set sail, Lu Qinglian was still standing on the shore.
Compared to that, he had been quiet but not this disconnected.
He wasn’t too concerned, just relieved not to have lost her notes—hard to replace.
He turned to find the boy—finally recalling his name was Zhou Ziheng. When Gu Qiumian’s scarf was stepped on, he stood up as the first witness, claiming Zhang Shutong was the culprit.
Zhang Shutong felt indifferent—no anger. Too much time had passed; even a fight wouldn’t be held against someone so long.
Back then, he was mostly frustrated since he was somewhat suspicious; Qingyi and Dukang had confronted Zhou about it.
He had no intention to argue with Zhou Ziheng. The other boy looked nervous upon seeing him.
“What do you want?” The boy instinctively leaned back, wary. “I haven’t done anything to you, right?”
Zhang Shutong was bewildered.
Was he really that scary?
He forced a smile to seem approachable:
“Relax, I just want to ask something. Earlier, you and Gu Qiumian…”
“Don’t scare me, if you keep this up, I’ll tell the teacher…”
Saying this, the boy squeezed past him and rushed out.
Zhang Shutong stood there, half a moment before asking his desk mate:
“Was I really that scary just now?”
The girl wore glasses and was their class monitor, somewhat introverted but diligent.
She paused, adjusted her glasses, uncertain:
“I think it was okay, though I wasn’t paying close attention. Zhang Shutong, maybe… smile again?”
Zhang Shutong forced another smile.
The monitor hesitated again, about to speak but stopped.
A lively girl in front of her turned around, revealing a playful tooth and bluntly said:
“Don’t listen to her. She’s doing it on purpose, just wants to see you smile more…”
Ignoring the monitor’s blushing face, she called out ahead:
“Feng Ruoping, Feng Ruoping! The monitor is teasing your Shutong, come rescue him!”
What did she mean by “your Shutong”?
Feng Ruoping waved generously without looking back, bold as ever:
“I approve. No need to report such a small matter. Court dismissed—”
Some girls close to Feng Ruoping also looked up. Only then did they dare to tease Zhang Shutong openly. Between half-serious and half-joking, the morning reading was drowned in laughter, with Zhang Shutong as the center of attention.
His face darkened. Just as he was about to leave, the monitor called him back:
“Can I ask one more thing? Was this related to Gu Qiumian?”
Before he could answer, she quickly added:
“You, Gu Qiumian, and Zhou Ziheng—the three of you?”
A strange light reflected in her glasses—Zhang Shutong knew this was the start of gossip, like a scene from Detective Conan, as if she had suddenly become another person:
“By the way, I saw Gu Qiumian leave just now. Did Zhou Ziheng upset her, so you came to settle the score for her?”
“...You’re overthinking.”
“What about yesterday’s English class...”
Zhang Shutong smiled at her suddenly. The girl froze again. He sighed and turned away.
What a mess. Feng Ruoping’s hopeless crush was contagious.
Frowning, he hadn’t planned to worry about Zhou Ziheng, but the boy’s nervousness made him suspicious.
Probably hiding in the restroom, Zhang Shutong wondered whether to go after him.
Just then, their beloved homeroom teacher, Song Nanshan, burst in:
As usual, rolling up his sleeves on a cold day, Old Song raised an eyebrow and called out with a smile:
“Zhang Shutong, Lu Qinglian, Feng Ruoping, Meng Qingyi, and Dukang! Are you five here? Come out, come out! We have news for you. The stage will be ready soon—”