Chapter 15: Take Care of Yourself

The bell rang, joined by the rousing “Athletes’ March.”
Time for morning exercises.
The worst was when teachers ran over, forcing a mad dash to the field.

The only perk of a sixth-floor classroom was clear stairs down—lower grades cleared out, and the school had fewer students now.

The teachers’ office building faced the stage where events, like next month’s Children’s Day, were held.
The broadcasting room sat dead center behind the stage, door open.
To the right, the library, smaller than a classroom, held mostly old, worn books, with a few new donations.

Chen Qiao once found a Gundam novel there with a brief bed scene, sparking his imagination.

As class librarian, his first proactive role, he took it to borrow books he liked.
Only librarians could borrow on Fridays, preventing chaos and easing the teacher’s load.

Ten books max, two weeks, one returned for one borrowed.
Early on, classmates eagerly told him their preferences—comics, picture books, unrealistic hopes.
Some tattered Wulongyuan comics were hot items.

Borrowed books went to the class reading corner; taking them home required his registration.

The corner had “100,000 Whys,” moral tales, and an old, worn “Red Rock.”

The field’s left side had parallel bars, ladders, and climbing frames; the right, toilets.
Between them, a huge tiled world map where kids played “ruler of the world,” searching for Lanhe Town’s spot.

The flagpole stood in front.

Sixth graders lined up on the far right, boys and girls separate.
Chen Qiao, short, was first in line.
Low grades had a top student lead exercises.

Equally short Lin Na stood to his right, Class 1 girls to his left—near the girls’ toilet.
Fate?

Tian Zhen and Zheng Hui Jun, sashed, stood behind, monitoring for sloppy exercises or chatting.

“All stand at attention!
Front row, arms out sideways; back row, arms forward.
Align forward, stand tall, at ease!”

Chen Qiao raised his arms, fingertips inches from Lin Na’s.

“Seven Colors Sunshine, begin…”

Last year’s new routine, practiced all year in PE, replaced “The Times Are Calling.”

At his mental age, exercises felt childish, awkward.
But in the front row, under teachers’ eyes, he had to be serious—no slacking, or the class might redo it, which wasn’t fun.

Might as well do it well, maybe build some strength.
He executed each move precisely—straight arms, high legs, jumping when needed.
His arm brushed Lin Na’s hand; he’d shifted toward her.

Before, he’d have stepped back, extra careful not to touch her.
Now, he let it slide, hoping for more.

Lin Na noticed, usually barely touching once a week.
Today, stretching hit her hand multiple times, her palm grazed by his fingers, sending a jolt through her.
She froze, nearly missing the next beat.

Glancing at the teacher, she panicked—not for herself, but fearing Chen Qiao would get scolded, hate her, and stop tutoring.

“Chen Qiao, too close…” she whispered.

“Oh, thanks for the heads-up.”

He didn’t want to push too far under scrutiny.
Teasing Lin Na needed finesse, or she’d bolt like a scared rabbit.
Slow and steady, build trust, then get playful.

He stepped back, nearly in the gap between boys and girls.

Back-row kids chatted or slacked, few noticing his shift, except Wu Xin Yu, suspicious since the head-pat.

Jumping off-position was normal, but stretching?
Deliberate.

Chen Qiao finished seriously, sweating lightly under the sun.

It was Tuesday, no big announcements.
The vice-principal warned against river swimming, then passed the mic to the discipline director.

“Courtesy team, stay for a meeting.
Others, dismiss by grade—first grade, then sixth…”

Twelve team members lined up on the stage by class.

The director paced, hands behind back, face stern.

“I hear some team members broke rules.
I’m disappointed.
You’re role models!
How can you not lead by example?
Are you worthy of your outstanding Young Pioneer status?
I won’t name names, but fix it.
No slipping next time!”

Wu Xin Yu glanced at Chen Qiao.
She thought he was like her, the last rule-abiding sixth grader.
Disappointing.

“And sixth graders, you’re graduating soon.
Take your roles seriously—you’re seniors!”

“Yes,” Chen Qiao and others replied.

The sixth-grade team was lax, with little to show—no rule-breakers caught, just blank reports.
Zheng Hui Jun was busy dating, Chen Qiao and Tian Zhen gaming.
Wu Xin Yu didn’t care for the role, only chosen for her grades.

After scolding sixth graders, the director praised fifth graders, encouraged fourth graders, and dismissed them.

Tian Zhen slung an arm around Chen Qiao, grumbling.
The role once felt cool—confiscating cards for personal use.
Now it was a drag, unpaid school labor.
Certificates were meager rewards, and poor grades could nix those.

At the stair platform, they parted—classes on opposite stair sides.

“Chen Qiao…” Wu Xin Yu started, then stopped.

“What?”

“Nothing.
Behave yourself.”

He was baffled.
What did that mean?

For Lin Na, he’d boost her grades.
For Wu Xin Yu, he’d crush her in the next exam to grab her attention—she’d been class top forever.

Turning bad students good and good students bad—that was the fun.

Next was English with a young volunteer teacher, already in class prepping.