Chapter 4: Grass Grows

Zou Ji, observing the situation and trying to ease Bo Ren’s tension, said, “Isn’t it possible that it’s just someone with the same name?”

Bo Ren’s expression changed drastically upon hearing this, and the anger he felt toward Yang Qiao instantly transferred 1% to Zou Ji.

Zou Ji, who hadn’t yet experienced the intense mix of love and hate that can come with such deep friendship, didn’t fully understand, but he had good instincts. He quickly backtracked, saying, “I was just talking nonsense, don’t take it to heart.”

But Bo Ren was already taking it very much to heart.

Was it just someone with the same name? He didn’t know. The thought that this “Yang Qiao” might not be his childhood friend only made him angrier.

As time passed, the moment of truth quickly approached, and by the end of the morning, all the new students were expected to have completed their registration.

When Yang Qiao walked into the classroom with his backpack, Bo Ren, who had been intently watching the door, immediately sat up straight.

Compared to a year and two months ago, Yang Qiao had grown a bit taller and thinner. His black hair was cut short, and he wore a pair of silver-rimmed glasses.

After entering the room, Yang Qiao glanced around, looking from left to right, and then back again, with a slightly puzzled expression.

Bo Ren noticed this and suspected that Yang Qiao’s nearsightedness had worsened after the entrance exams.

Instead of heading deeper into the classroom, Yang Qiao went straight to the first row right under the podium, a spot that wasn’t particularly desirable, which was why it was still vacant.

The classroom was already buzzing with chatter and laughter as many of the new students were actively socializing and making new friends.

Yang Qiao ignored the noise around him and calmly took out a wet wipe from his backpack, carefully cleaned the chair—including the backrest—hung his bag on the back of the chair, and then proceeded to wipe down the desk. After throwing the wet wipe into the trash can beside the podium, he returned to his seat, pulled out a water bottle from the side pocket of his backpack, took a drink, and then accurately placed it back in the pocket.

He appeared completely at ease, quickly adapting to his new seat, new classroom, and new environment.

In this entire classroom, the only thing that seemed old and familiar to him was perhaps the childhood friend he had abandoned for a year—the very same friend who was now sitting in the back, staring at Yang Qiao’s back and imagining a little animation where Yang Qiao was packing him into a trash bag and tossing him out. This thought made him both sad and angry.

Yang Qiao’s calm demeanor made Bo Ren extremely uncomfortable. If looks could kill, Bo Ren thought his eyes would be blazing with fiery anger.

“You’re not going to cry, are you?” Zou Ji asked in surprise, noticing that Bo Ren’s eyes were a bit red.

Bo Ren replied, “This is rage! Look closely—these are two flames of rage!”

“Oh, I see,” Zou Ji said, still thinking Bo Ren was just sad. Showing empathy, he gently offered a way out, “Why don’t you go say hello? You’ve missed him so much.”

Bo Ren gave him a look of incredulity. Him, actively going to greet someone who had betrayed him like that? Absolutely not.

Zou Ji said, “Fair enough. Then how about… beating him up?”

This suggestion left Bo Ren slightly stunned.

Zou Ji had just said it off the cuff, but seeing Bo Ren’s surprise made him realize it was a bit outrageous. He added, “Weren’t you just saying you hate him to death? He’s right in front of you—don’t you want to punch him?”

Bo Ren hadn’t seriously considered this approach, but he quickly responded, “That doesn’t mean I can’t think about it now.”

Zou Ji, seeing through him, tentatively suggested, “How about after school? We could find a quiet spot off-campus, and I’ll keep watch for you.”

Bo Ren, now uninterested, said, “Let’s talk about it later. It needs careful planning.”

By eleven o’clock, the registration process was finally winding down. In the last class of the morning, the homeroom teacher held a class meeting.

The first activity was roll call. The teacher started calling names in order of the student numbers, with the first name being “Yang Qiao.” Yang Qiao responded with a “Here,” followed by several more names and corresponding responses.

When the teacher reached the twentieth name on the list, they called out, “Bo Ren.”

Yang Qiao, sitting in the first row, was startled when he heard the name and immediately turned around to look. In the very back row, in the center, a hand was raised as a voice responded, “Here.”

Bo Ren was slouched over his desk, hiding behind the back of the student in front of him, raising his hand as he answered.

The homeroom teacher on the podium noticed the small actions of the students but said nothing and continued with the roll call. After all, they would soon have military training to instill some discipline.

Zou Ji, who was keeping an eye on the situation for Bo Ren, reported Yang Qiao’s reaction in real-time: “He looked back at you, seemed to smile a little, and then turned back around.”

Bo Ren sat up straight, frowning. “How could he smile? What kind of smile was it?”

“Uh…” Zou Ji, trying to gauge Bo Ren’s mood, carefully responded, “A mocking smile, a sneering one, the kind of smile you’d expect from someone who’s pleased with themselves.”

Bo Ren, feeling a surge of anger, exclaimed impulsively, “I can’t take it anymore! I have to punch him, I must!”

At the end of the class meeting, the homeroom teacher reminded the students to check their military training supply lists when they got home at noon, ensuring they had everything they needed. The students were instructed to return to school on time in the afternoon, ready to depart for the training base in the suburbs, where the new student military training would begin the next day.

When the bell rang, signaling the end of the first class meeting, the homeroom teacher gave a cheerful parting message: “Good luck with military training, everyone. See you next week,” and then left the room in high spirits.

Several students in the classroom let out small cries of despair. Those who had moved up from the school’s middle school division wailed the loudest, having already experienced the same military training in middle school, at that same dreadful base with its horrendous conditions. The coming week was not something they looked forward to—it was hell, pure hell!

This didn’t include Bo Ren, though. He had been so angry during the class meeting that it made him drowsy, and he had unknowingly fallen asleep at his desk.

Zou Ji, looking resigned to his fate, had no enthusiasm for the upcoming training. He pulled out his Nokia Lumia, read a message he had just received, and nudged Bo Ren awake with his elbow, saying, “I have to go now. My parents know I’m going to jail this afternoon, so they’re treating me to a good meal before I go. They’re waiting for me at the school gate. Want to join? We’re having roast goose.”

“No,” Bo Ren replied, half of his face red from sleeping. He stood up, stretched his arms, and loosened his shoulders, saying, “I need to go home and get my stuff for military training.”

“So, is Operation Hunt One on hold for now?” Zou Ji asked.

It took Bo Ren a moment to remember what the “operation” was, and he replied, “We’ll talk about it later.”

“Then I’ll take my leave,” Zou Ji said as he was about to go, but then he looked up and warned, “Your Majesty, be careful—the target of our hunt seems to be coming over.”

Bo Ren looked up and saw Yang Qiao leaving his seat in the first row and heading toward them.

Bo Ren gasped and immediately ducked down, almost lying flat on the desk again.

Zou Ji: “…”

As soon as Bo Ren ducked down, he realized: Why am I hiding? I’m not the one who wronged Yang Qiao!

Yang Qiao had already reached their table, and now it would be even more awkward for Bo Ren to get up. So, he slightly adjusted his position, pretending to be searching for something under the desk.

Yang Qiao looked at the busy Bo Ren with a face that said, “…”

Being somewhat familiar with him from their school days, Zou Ji offered a polite smile.

Yang Qiao then looked at the smiling Zou Ji with the same expression, “…”

“Hello, Yang Qiao,” Zou Ji greeted him. “Don’t remember me? I was also in Class Three.” He was referring to the class number from their middle school days, where he and Bo Ren had been classmates.

Yang Qiao clearly didn’t remember, saying, “You seem… a bit familiar.”

Zou Ji didn’t take it too seriously and introduced himself, “I’m Zou Ji. Didn’t you transfer schools? How come you’re back?”

“Yeah. Oh, yes,” Yang Qiao responded absentmindedly, his gaze constantly drifting toward Bo Ren, who seemed to be busy with something under the desk. Yang Qiao’s expression was full of confusion.

Zou Ji reached over and ruffled Bo Ren’s hair, saying, “Your Majesty, stop fussing. Your dear childhood friend has come to see you.”

His words carried a bit of a sarcastic tone, aimed at Yang Qiao, who had left without a word.

It seemed Yang Qiao either didn’t catch the tone or wasn’t paying attention at all to what Zou Ji was saying. He asked in a puzzled voice, “Who is he? … Who is this person?”

“?” Zou Ji, confused, replied, “Little Biscuit.”

“…” Yang Qiao looked utterly bewildered. “Huh?”

Zou Ji asked, “Have you lost your memory?”

“I… haven’t,” Yang Qiao seemed plunged into deep doubt about everything around him, stumbling over his words, “Who is he? No, I mean, who did you say he is? Can you… say that again? Who is he?”

Suddenly, Zou Ji realized—when Yang Qiao had left, Bo Ren hadn’t looked like this.

Even though Zou Ji and Bo Ren were in the same class, he was often shocked by how much Bo Ren had changed over the past year. For Yang Qiao, who hadn’t seen Bo Ren in such a long time, the transformation must have been overwhelming, enough to shatter his perception.

Zou Ji couldn’t help but laugh, “It really is him, I’m not joking! He’s really Little Biscuit!”

Unable to bear it any longer, Bo Ren shot up from his seat, first snapping at Zou Ji, “Zou Ji, shut up!”

Then, turning to Yang Qiao, he said, “Do I know you well? Why do you care who I am? I’m your father.”

Yang Qiao was left utterly speechless: “………………”

Before Zou Ji could say anything, his Lumia phone vibrated. His dad was calling from the school gate, urging him to hurry up since they couldn’t park there for too long. Although Zou Ji wanted to stay and watch the drama unfold, he had to reluctantly say a quick goodbye to the two and dashed off to join his dad for the roast goose.

With Zou Ji gone, Bo Ren deflated like a punctured football, losing all his earlier bravado.

He blamed this sudden loss of confidence on his earlier use of foul language. He wasn’t sure if his words had embarrassed Yang Qiao, but he himself was already feeling a bit uncomfortable and regretted saying it.

Yang Qiao, however, seemed to understand that Bo Ren had spoken in the heat of the moment. He didn’t show any displeasure or resentment. Instead, his gaze was still full of astonishment, as if he wanted to say something but hesitated.

Bo Ren reconsidered—wait, why was he still worrying about Yang Qiao’s feelings now? Who had cared about his feelings over the past year?

He glared at Yang Qiao again.

Yang Qiao, seeing the glare, grew visibly nervous, blinking rapidly behind his silver-rimmed glasses before saying, “You… Bo Ren, you… what have you been eating every day? In just over a year, you’ve… you’ve grown so much!”

Bo Ren: “…”

He kept a blank expression, but internally, that single sentence had shattered his composure.

A year—Yang Qiao, you actually know it’s been more than a year.

Without saying a word, Bo Ren stood up, slung his shoulder bag over his back, and walked briskly past Yang Qiao, heading straight out.

Yang Qiao looked bewildered for a moment, then quickly followed.

Out of the classroom, through the hallway, Bo Ren hurriedly descended the stairs with Yang Qiao jogging behind him.

“Wait for me,” Yang Qiao called out anxiously, his tone cautious, “Bo Ren, wait for me.”

Their classroom was on the third floor, and Bo Ren, with quick strides, was already nearly down to the first floor. Suddenly, he stopped abruptly and whipped around. Yang Qiao, still running after him, couldn’t stop in time and crashed right into Bo Ren, almost knocking his glasses off. He hurriedly grabbed his glasses with one hand and the stair railing with the other to steady himself.

Bo Ren looked at him coldly.

Standing on the steps, Yang Qiao’s face slowly turned bright red—whether from the rush of running or the embarrassment of nearly losing his glasses. He adjusted his glasses again and quietly said, “I told you to wait for me. Why did you walk so fast?”

Bo Ren, incredulous that Yang Qiao dared to reprimand him, shot back, “You think I’ll wait just because you tell me to? Who do you think you are?”

It was dismissal time, and several students were walking by.

Yang Qiao grew even more embarrassed and said, “Don’t be mad. Can we just talk calmly?”

“Talk calmly, my ass,” Bo Ren retorted. “You think I have to listen to you just because you want to talk? Why should I? You leave when you want, come back when you want—what do you take me for? If you cared about me even a little, you wouldn’t have treated me like this.”

Yang Qiao: “…”

The passing students: “…”

Bo Ren didn’t think there was anything ambiguous about what he said. He was genuinely upset, and after saying his piece, he turned and walked away even faster.

He went to the student parking lot, grabbed his electric bike, and sped home, the wind blowing so hard it made his eyes uncomfortable.

That afternoon, the new students gathered with their belongings and boarded the school-arranged buses, heading to the training base for a week of military training.

Yang Qiao got on the bus early and took a seat right by the door.

When Bo Ren boarded and their eyes met, Yang Qiao hesitated for a moment, then quickly moved to the window seat, looking at Bo Ren with a hopeful expression, wanting him to sit beside him.

But Bo Ren, without even glancing his way, walked straight to the back of the bus.

Yang Qiao’s gaze followed him until Bo Ren sat in the last row. Resigned, Yang Qiao turned back, sat quietly for a moment, and then lowered his head to fasten his seatbelt.