Chapter 3: The Classroom

Staring at the familiar yet strangely distant faces around him, Zhang Qin found no trace of nostalgia stirring within his heart. Once, he had believed that the three years of high school would leave deep, indelible marks, but reality had shown him otherwise—those so-called emotional bonds were shockingly fragile under the relentless erosion of time.

In that vibrant class full of youthful energy, few genuinely earned his affection. Friends he once thought would stand by him through thick and thin gradually drifted away as the days passed. Zhang Qin could not help but lament how easily human relationships could crumble.

Yet, what shattered his hope for his classmates entirely was a heartbreaking incident. Because of what happened today, Zhang Qin was falsely accused of theft, causing his reputation within the class to plummet. Even those who had once treated him kindly began to distance themselves, some even seizing the opportunity to mock and bully him mercilessly.

Among them, the student sitting behind him went far beyond mere cruelty. After this incident, that classmate grew more brazen—often poking Zhang Qin’s head and once secretly taking his phone after class, keeping it hidden for a long time without being discovered. It was only later, when that classmate inadvertently let something slip, that Zhang Qin learned his phone hadn’t been lost but stolen by the student behind him. This betrayal extinguished whatever trust and hope he had left in his classmates.

In these dark moments, the only person Zhang Qin could rely on was a fellow member of the football team. They shared a tacit understanding on the field and supported each other through grueling training sessions. Additionally, during university, Zhang Qin maintained contact with another classmate, with whom he shared many unforgettable memories.

Zhang Qin’s passion for sports was profound and insightful, and he was eager to impart his knowledge to these two friends. In stark contrast, the rest of the class left him utterly disappointed. Their relationships were nothing more than superficial classmates, with some even throwing bottles at him after evening study sessions.

Others had gone so far as to puncture countless holes in the seat of his electric scooter. The grievances he endured at this school were countless.

Many in the class secretly played on their phones during lessons, leading everyone to pile thick stacks of books on their desks as a facade. Each morning at 5:30, they rose for morning training that lasted until 7:30, after which they would head to breakfast—usually at a small eatery near the school gate serving simple noodle dishes or local specialties like red bean soup, buns, and steamed bread. After breakfast, whether inside the classroom or outside, students would often lie down and nap. It was not until the second break, after the morning exercises, that the class gradually stirred awake, then promptly resumed playing on their phones—some reading novels, others secretly gaming.

This was a sports class, but with the upcoming physical exams, teachers often turned a blind eye, knowing none of them were truly focused on academics.

The curriculum centered on athletic training, so academic pursuits were given relatively little importance.

Seated in the classroom, Zhang Qin’s gaze drifted down the familiar corridor to the room filled with youthful memories. An inexplicable wave of emotion welled up inside him—both nostalgia and hope. This classroom had witnessed his struggles and efforts, chronicling every drop of sweat shed in his quest for university admission.

He looked around, as if everything had returned to its original place. On the blackboard at the back, the motivational posters put up earlier by their homeroom teacher, Old Chen, remained vivid. These slogans were not merely encouragements for the athletes but vivid reflections of their lived reality.

“Spike your shoes down, smooth and steady.” Zhang Qin murmured, almost feeling the surge of energy from his past sprints on the training field—each step firm and purposeful, every landing filled with hope.

“Shot put release, long and lasting.” He recalled the days when he gave his all in shot put competitions, each throw embodying his effort and perseverance.

“Triple jump soaring, carp leaping over the dragon gate.” This phrase brought back memories of high jump contests, where every leap was a challenge to his limits, a yearning to soar to greatness.

“Sprint the 800 meters, shining brilliantly.” His eyes gleamed as he envisioned that passionate track, each sprint revealing his boundless potential.

“Success in physical tests, radiant and dazzling.” More than a slogan, this was his aspiration and conviction for the future.

Finally, his gaze settled on the phrase: “The cosmos is unsettled; you and I are the dark horses.” These words struck a deep chord within him, reminding him that no matter the past, as long as one harbors dreams and strength in their steps, anyone can emerge as an unexpected champion.

Zhang Qin took a deep breath, his heart swelling with courage and resolve to start anew. He knew this fresh start was not only to make up for lost time but also to reach even greater heights.

Soon, as Zhang Qin remained immersed in his reflections, the bell for the third period rang—class was over. His deskmate quickly pulled out a sheet of composition paper, which served as their battlefield for Gomoku. They would sketch black and white stones, engaging in a battle of wit and strategy. Their minds sharp, each move calculated as if they had hundreds of eyes, making every match fiercely even. During breaks or free time, they eagerly resumed their game.

But Zhang Qin’s interest in Gomoku had long faded. His thoughts were already fixed on the cultural college entrance exam next June, yearning for excellent results. He understood the road ahead was long, and the exam would be a pivotal turning point in his life.

Meanwhile, the other students busied themselves, pulling out their phones to connect to the class network, scrolling through short videos on Douyin. The vibrant content distracted them, easing the burden of study for a while.

Glancing at the timetable, Zhang Qin saw that the last class was Japanese. Some in the class had chosen Japanese as their foreign language, the rest English. Zhang Qin picked Japanese, finding the language fascinating and knowing he already had some foundation.

Shouldering his bag and clutching his Japanese textbook, he headed to the Japanese classroom. He knew this would be his final class for the day. Afterward, he could leave school directly without returning to the classroom to fetch his bag. This thought lightened his steps.

Arriving at the Japanese classroom, he saw their teacher—a kindly middle-aged man who maintained a warm rapport with his students. Zhang Qin still remembered attending the teacher’s wedding as a groomsman, offering his blessings. Reflecting now, it seemed as though that event had happened only yesterday.

Zhang Qin held strong confidence in his Japanese studies. He recalled the Japanese questions and answers from the previous college entrance exam in his past life, which filled him with anticipation for the upcoming test. He believed that with earnest revision and his true capabilities, he would surely achieve excellent results in the exam.