Chapter 39: Threesome

“Why didn’t you move?
Waiting to get hit and bleed again?” Wu Xin Yu scolded, hand on hip, pointing at Chen Qiao’s nose.

Her chest heaved with each breath, rattled by his “like” comment, her mind still buzzing.

Like?
Good friends?

He clearly liked Lin Na—why drag her into it?
Just dodging the truth.

Ugh, how can he toss “like” around so casually?

Lin Na chimed in, “Exactly—not every face-smack brings good luck.”

She thought Chen Qiao wasn’t ready to confess to Wu Xin Yu, so he included her as a friend, which already thrilled her.
She was ready to wingman for them, repaying him.

Could she have no fantasies?
Impossible—she was a normal girl, but against Wu Xin Yu’s overwhelming edge, she’d surrendered before the fight.

If Chen Qiao knew their thoughts, he’d be torn between laughter and tears.

“Saw the ball, couldn’t dodge—my PE sucks,” he said, shrugging.

“Shouldn’t have slacked in PE,” Wu Xin Yu snapped.

“Sorry, I’ll be careful.
Mercy, heroines—the PE teacher’s calling roll,” he said, clasping his fists.

They set their sketchbooks and pencils on a tree-shaded bench, joining the lineup.

Chen Qiao and Lin Na stood at the front, counting off after the teacher’s “attention, at ease.”

“1,” he called, turning his head.

After two laps and stretches, they dispersed.
Some returned to class; others stayed—girls jumping rope, boys joining in, either playing or holding ropes, often mocked as “sissies.”
Chen Qiao used to be among the mockers.

Now, he played with girls—an “ugly duckling” few approached and a “swan” no one dared.

They grabbed their supplies.
Lin Na scanned the surroundings, planning her sketch.

Wu Xin Yu, uninterested in drawing, frowned.
“Chen Qiao, you’re tutoring Lin Na, but her grades dropped while yours soared.
Why?”

That confusion drove her to push for the seat swap.

“Her math foundation’s worse than I thought.
Sixth-grade stuff alone confuses her.
I’m building her basics to catch up with the teacher’s review, then cramming sixth-grade content.”

“What?
Really?” Wu Xin Yu gasped, realizing her massive misunderstanding.

He wasn’t harming Lin Na—he was helping.
After school, he wasn’t slacking but writing stories, yet still matched her scores, infuriatingly.

Not fully swayed by looks, she still saw his “love” for Lin Na as true, though early romance was bad.

His frail image grew taller; her meddling felt vile, self-disgusting.

“Should I ask the teacher to swap us back?” she offered.

“No!” Lin Na shook her head, thinking Wu Xin Yu was testing her feelings for Chen Qiao.

“No need—it’s messy.
The teacher’d find it odd, it’d affect your rep, and classmates might gossip.
We’re not desk mates, but next week we move to the first row, Lin Na’s in the second—closer,” he said.

Seats rotated biweekly.

“Good point.
I’ll help Lin Na too—I’m free,” Wu Xin Yu said, easing her guilt.

Her tense nerves relaxed after reading his work.

“Thanks,” Lin Na said, flattered but worried—two top students tutoring her, and if she still failed…

“Where should we draw?” Wu Xin Yu twirled her pencil.
“Got ideas?”

“I’m thinking which angle—front gate or side,” Lin Na said.

“I’ve got it.
We each draw a part, combine for the whole school.
It’s just art homework—not worth overdoing, but too casual’s lazy.
This could mark us becoming friends,” Chen Qiao said.

He’d bridge Wu Xin Yu and Lin Na, both friendless, through group activities, aiming for an inseparable trio—a stable triangle breaking harem clichés.

“Sounds good,” Lin Na said, his ever-agreeing fan.

“Fine with me,” Wu Xin Yu said, indifferent to what they drew.

“What parts?
Let’s split it,” he said.

“I’ll do the gate, dorms, and teacher housing,” Lin Na volunteered.

“I’ll take the office building, stage, and part of the field,” Chen Qiao said, central as always.

“That leaves the other field half and classroom building,” Wu Xin Yu said.

No stone benches on the field, just two occupied ping-pong tables.

Lin Na needed the gate view, he and Wu Xin Yu the field and buildings.
Not wanting to split, he suggested, “Let’s sketch from the office building’s overlook—railings or windows.
Maybe even a teacher’s office if lucky.”

“But you can’t see the office building from inside,” Wu Xin Yu said, arms crossed.

“We check it daily—we know it best.”

“True, but…”

“What if we meet teachers?” Lin Na asked, raising her hand nervously.
For a mid-to-low scorer, the office building was forbidden territory.

“It’s their workplace—of course we’ll see them,” Wu Xin Yu said matter-of-factly.

“Don’t worry, we’re not playing—just doing art during PE’s free time,” Chen Qiao said, squeezing Lin Na’s hand to calm her.

Wu Xin Yu shot a scornful look.
He reached for her left hand; she blocked it with her right, stepping back, glaring.
“That’s not what I meant!”

“Oh, thought you wanted to hold hands too.”

Lin Na shyly pulled her hand back, hoping she hadn’t upset Wu Xin Yu.

Classic—no drinks for either girl.
The trio’s path was long.

They climbed the dim, narrow office building stairs, Lin Na clutching his shirt, tiptoeing like a thief.

No teachers spotted, they reached the fifth floor—principal’s office level.

Balconies extended from corridor corners, perfect for sketching, flowerpots secured in iron racks against wind.

A meeting’s chatter drifted up—likely a teacher conference.

Lin Na dove into her sketch, entering a focused state.
Her draft was meticulous, using a ruler for clean lines.
Wu Xin Yu roughed out a basic outline, taking shape.
Their styles differed.

Chen Qiao idled, marking what to draw where, planning to have Lin Na teach him—drawing himself wasted chances.

The bell rang, the meeting ended, chairs scraping below.

Wu Xin Yu packed to leave; he grabbed her arm.
“Wait—let teachers go first, or we’ll ‘hello’ our mouths off.”

He withdrew quickly—rushing physical contact looked desperate.
He needed her to accept it like eating or sleeping.

“Mm-hmm,” Lin Na nodded vigorously, dreading teacher encounters.

Two minutes later, they descended slowly, avoiding collisions.

The cafeteria steamed, prepping dinner.

On the third floor, Lin Na and Wu Xin Yu raced to class, forgetting slowpokes.

Wu Xin Yu, first to arrive, didn’t sit but read Chen Qiao’s new satirical story for Story magazine.

He sat; she waved his notebook.
“New stuff?”

“Haven’t started.”

“Useless.”

“What kind of reader nags like that?
Write your own and submit with me.”

“Hmm, worth considering.”

Homework was easy, but stories stumped her.
After struggling for a few dozen words, she gave up, lacking reading depth, and reread his novel, analyzing his intent.

“Like?” she wrote, pointing to a line where the protagonist said it to his childhood friend.

“Yeah, what?”

“A confession?
They’re just elementary kids—too early, no?”

“‘Like’ has types.
I like my sister and niece—family love.
You and Lin Na—friendship.”

Her pinch on his hand stung more than her earlier foot stomp.

“Then I like teachers—respect,” he added.

Love could coexist with these, but he didn’t say.

Wu Xin Yu mulled his “nonsense,” planning to ask her parents.
She’d walk home with Lian Shu Mei, first time in a while.

Lian Shu Mei gossiped, “Xin Yu, heard you’re with Chen Qiao?”

Other girls perked up.

“Who said that?”

“Both classes!
He scored high thanks to your tutoring, and you walk home together.
No wonder you ditched me.”

“Not often!”

Just recent.

“You got the teacher to swap seats for him—bold.
Everyone admires you.”

“What’s all this…”

“I’ll keep it from your parents,” Lian Shu Mei teased, zipping her lips.

Wu Xin Yu wanted to clarify but couldn’t out Chen Qiao and Lin Na’s “romance.”

Middle school gave married teachers kitchen-equipped bungalows and a pricier, better cafeteria some students sneaked into.

At home, Wu Xin Yu set down her bag, watching her mom, Qi Huan, cook.
“Mom, can puppy love boost grades?”

“Someone confessed to my Xin Yu?” Qi Huan teased.

Sort of—friendship kind.

“Which boy?” Principal Wu Shao Jing asked, feigning anger.

“No!
Just… a good student likes his desk mate, helps her study, improves her grades.
Is that good?
Should we encourage it?”

Qi Huan and Wu Shao Jing exchanged smiles—a common case.

Qi Huan took her hand.
“Xin Yu, love might boost grades, but a breakup?
They’d avoid each other, especially in the same class or school, with rumors disrupting studies.”

“Oh!” Wu Xin Yu realized her seat swap was a blunder.
She should’ve asked Mom sooner—they mustn’t break up!

“So, no breakup, no problem?”

“Hard.
Even a class change can split them.
You’ll understand when you’re older.
Even your dad and I aren’t always harmonious,” Qi Huan said, winking at Wu Shao Jing.

He coughed awkwardly.
“Sixth graders in love?
Ridiculous.”

“You don’t get it—kids mature fast.
They’re graduating soon, your future seventh graders.
Figure it out,” she said.

“Headache,” he sighed.

Middle and high school romances risked bigger dramas.