Volume 1 / Chapter 64: The Cooling of Autumn

Time flew by, and in the blink of an eye, two more days had passed.

It was now Thursday, October 21, 1999.

Mò Xuěyáo's first period had finally ended that very morning—it hadn’t lasted as long as she’d feared.

The pain in her lower abdomen had also mostly faded—like a wound that had healed overnight.

 The drizzle had stopped, the air had turned chilly. In the mountains, the late-autumn cold was especially sharp.

Dead yellow leaves carpeted the ground. A cool breeze swept through the mountain paths.

That morning, after washing up, Mò Xuěyáo didn’t tie her hair and stepped out onto the balcony of the attic, squinting as she watched golden leaves flutter around her in the breeze. Her long black hair danced lightly in the wind.

“Mò Xuěyáo, morning,” Lǐ Wǎnyán called cheerfully as she stepped up beside her, smiling with clear, bright eyes.

In these past few days, people around her had been taking care of her. Even though the class monitor hadn’t been particularly close before, she’d helped out quite a bit.

Their relationship had quietly grown closer because of it.

“Morning, monitor. You’re always up this early?”

“Got used to it,” Lǐ Wǎnyán said, brushing the bangs from her eyes.

As Mò Xuěyáo looked out over the distant cliffs, she tied her hair into a plain black ponytail.

“You always wear a ponytail, huh?”

“Yeah...”

“Because it’s convenient?”

“Right...” Mò Xuěyáo laughed a little awkwardly. “You think so too?”

“Mm. That’s why I like ponytails too. But sometimes, I switch it up.”

“Huh?” Mò Xuěyáo didn’t quite follow.

“Because a new hairstyle brings a new mood...” Lǐ Wǎnyán smiled—a rare, genuine one—as she tied her hair into twin tails.

It was Mò Xuěyáo’s first time seeing her like that.

She still wore her usual black-rimmed glasses, the only change was the hairstyle.

Yet somehow, she looked like a different person. The sharp, serious, intimidating air around her had vanished—or at least, softened considerably.

Thanks to the twin tails, she now had a touch of cuteness too.

Noticing Mò Xuěyáo’s gaze, Lǐ Wǎnyán asked, slightly shy, “What do you think?”

“Ah... it looks really nice,” Mò Xuěyáo replied, scratching her head. “Uh... makes you seem easier to talk to than usual.”

“Really?” Lǐ Wǎnyán smiled again. “Then I’ll keep it like this today.”

“You sure?”

“Of course. What’s wrong?”

“I just think... the others might be really surprised.”

And sure enough, her gut feeling was spot-on.

The girls were immediately curious—maybe even shocked—by Lǐ Wǎnyán’s new look.

With twin tails, she seemed far more approachable. At least in Mò Xuěyáo’s eyes, she blended more naturally with everyone than before.

Even Yè Wēn was caught off guard and grinned as she asked, “Whoa, our monitor’s changing up her style now?”

Lǐ Wǎnyán replied with a bashful little shrug, “Just once in a while...”

“Aw, look at you getting all shy—so rare!”

Even as she tried to keep her face stern, the earlier blush had already given her away. No one could take her usual serious face seriously anymore.

That kind of contrast—stern one moment, cute the next—made her all the more memorable.

So thought Mò Xuěyáo quietly.

====

Clouds drifted lazily across the sky. The sun hadn’t fully risen yet, and what little light there was got further dulled by the heavy cloud cover.

By the time they reached the school field, most students looked half-asleep.

Even after several early mornings, it was still hard to adjust.

To be honest, getting up at this hour was already a stretch for most people.

Staying awake? That was asking too much.

They could go to bed early to fix it, sure.

But when you’re not used to sleeping early, that’s easier said than done.

And when the scattered boys caught sight of Lǐ Wǎnyán’s twin tails among the girls, their reactions were priceless.

“Holy crap, when did we get a new girl in our class?” Gāo Yuán asked dramatically.

“You blind? That’s the monitor.”

“No way.”

“Seriously, first time seeing her with twin tails.”

“She looks way less intimidating now.”

“So all the monitor’s pressure came from her hairstyle?”

As the murmurs spread, a sharp, clear whistle cut through the air.

The students scrambled to form ranks—morning drills were starting.

“Today we’re running—down the mountain and back up again! One full lap! Start now!” shouted Captain Tiān.

No one dared to object. Everyone followed the group down the slope.

Since it was only a jog, Mò Xuěyáo was able to join.

Though truth be told, she probably shouldn’t have.

But if she could push through, she would.

Simply put, she had a hard time admitting weakness.

She hadn’t run in ages, and after just a short while, she was already gasping for breath.

Like a broken bellows—her breathing was fast, but no air seemed to reach her lungs.

And this was downhill, where the main concern was not tumbling over from going too fast.

If running down was this hard, how bad would going up be?

And when they finally turned back uphill, Mò Xuěyáo hit her limit.

Even at a slow jog, her legs felt like they were filled with lead. She couldn’t lift them anymore. Her face turned a deep, flushed purple, as if she were about to pass out.

“Mò Xuěyáo, are you okay?” Their ranks had long since scattered during the run. Somehow, Lǐ Wǎnyán had ended up behind her and had clearly been watching her closely for a while.

Mò Xuěyáo couldn’t even speak—just kept gasping for breath.

“Hold on, if this keeps up, you’ll pass out.” Lǐ Wǎnyán acted quickly, grabbing her wrist and pulling her to the side of the uphill road.

Luckily, they were at a bend in the road—a stretch wider than the previous straightaways, with a temporary pull-off area set aside for emergencies.

Lǐ Wǎnyán took her by the hand and pulled her into that rest spot.

Mò Xuěyáo had no strength left to resist and was entirely at her mercy. Once they stopped, she leaned forward with her hands braced on her knees, barely able to stand, gasping for breath.

“Huff... Huff...”

Right then, even the air felt sharp—each breath scouring her throat like she was swallowing shards of glass.

“You okay? Don’t push yourself if you can’t keep up. It’s not good for your body,” Lǐ Wǎnyán said, full of concern.

“It’s not that... I just... Alright...” Mò Xuěyáo’s heart, which had been pounding like it was having spasms, finally began to slow. “I didn’t think I’d be this useless...”

“What are you talking about? Your health hasn’t been great to begin with, right? If you’ve got a heart condition, you still need to exercise, but it has to be the right kind of exercise.”

“But it wasn’t even fast,” Mò Xuěyáo muttered bitterly. “I didn’t think I’d get this tired...”

“That’s normal. You haven’t worked out in ages, and your heart isn’t in great shape. No way, I’m getting you a pass from military drills today.”

“No, no!” Mò Xuěyáo blurted, “The drills... the content... it’s fine, really.”

“Are you sure? You already look exhausted."

“Just need to rest a bit.”

“Okay then, take a break first. I’ll go with you later,” Lǐ Wǎnyán said, handing her the water bottle she’d been carrying. “I brought water in case I got thirsty on the way. Want some?”

“Can’t drink right now...”

Mò Xuěyáo waved her hand weakly and grabbed onto the guardrail beside the road, taking another deep breath.

Finally, the air stopped feeling like it could cut her up inside, and her heartbeat eased.

Just moments ago, her mind had been consumed by the thump-thump-thump of her pulse.

After all, she’d been bedridden for a full month after surgery—she could barely walk at first.

Her body was severely out of shape. She had, admittedly, pushed herself too far this time.

Or maybe, she still held herself to the standards of a man.

Because as a man, you’re not allowed to admit you can’t. No matter how hard or how painful, you grit your teeth and keep going.

But girls... it’s different. From a young age, girls are always told—if you can’t go on, stop. If you’re tired, rest. If you don’t feel like eating, don’t eat...

Words like that.

Roughly five minutes passed. The road was now completely deserted; even the students in the very last group had already gone far ahead.

Mò Xuěyáo wiped her dry lips, and Lǐ Wǎnyán, as if reading her mind, handed her the water bottle again.

“Uh...”

“Don’t worry, it’s freshly poured, I washed the bottle last night, and I haven’t taken a sip,” Lǐ Wǎnyán said quickly, sensing her hesitation.

Truthfully, that wasn’t why Mò Xuěyáo hesitated.

She just felt a little awkward drinking from a girl’s water bottle.

“Well... I’ll drink it then?”

“Go ahead.”

Unable to resist her thirst any longer, Mò Xuěyáo took the warm bottle, twisted the cap off, and gulped the water down.

Water spilled down her chin and soaked into her camo uniform.

“Slow down! Don’t choke.”

“Mmph...” Mò Xuěyáo downed over half the bottle in one go, then sheepishly capped it and handed it back. “Uh... thanks.”

“It’s nothing. Let’s get going. We’ll have to walk up now, but it might take twice as long.”

“Okay. But won’t we be late?”

“It’s fine. I’ll explain it to the drill instructor."

That had become Lǐ Wǎnyán’s most common phrase to her these past few days.

Or at least, the one Mò Xuěyáo remembered most clearly.

In fact, halfway up the path, the instructor himself came running down to look for them. Missing two students during headcount was no small issue.

“What’s going on with you two? Everyone else is already up there,” Instructor Huáng said, approaching them.

“Instructor, Mò Xuěyáo couldn’t catch her breath earlier, so I stopped with her to rest,” Lǐ Wǎnyán explained.

“Oh... it’s you. Didn’t I hear you shouldn’t be doing intense exercise?”

“I just... wanted to try... and... and slow jogging doesn’t really count as intense, right?” Mò Xuěyáo mumbled.

“Haha, well even if it’s not intense, the road’s long enough. Look at you go. Alright, the two of you take it slow and walk up. I’ll wait for you at the top.”

“Got it.” Lǐ Wǎnyán nodded.

“Thank you, Instructor,” Mò Xuěyáo said gratefully.