When he got back to the dorm, Henry Webb finally noticed the clear, touching marks of laundry detergent on his clothes—he hadn’t rinsed them well enough. Streaks of white looked just like dried sweat stains.

He laughed again.

He took his own basin and went to the washroom to rinse them a few more times.

Military training only lasted a week—not long, but this autumn wasn’t going well. No one knew who started it, but someone caught pink eye, and the infection spread fast. By the fourth day of training, there were already twenty cases of pink eye in the class.

Little Foster kept reminding everyone to be careful, but the most anticipated military training was now just a shadow. With nothing else to do, everyone ended up pulling at each other’s eyelids and putting in eye drops.

Brian Clark didn’t get it, nor did Jason Walker, but the girl sitting in front of them did, which made everyone uneasy.

“Class rep,” Helen Brooks in front turned around and grinned at Brian Clark. She never called her by name, always “class rep.” As she picked up Brian Clark’s pencil case, she rubbed her own eyes and then smeared it on, saying, “You have such a weird immune system. You can’t do military training, but you don’t get pink eye. We all thought you were weak and would definitely catch it! I’m going to infect you, so we’ll all be the same.”

Helen Brooks was half-joking, always laughing, looking like she was just playing a prank. Brian Clark was anxious but too embarrassed to say anything, so she could only force a stiff, dry smile, watching helplessly as her pencil case was deliberately touched all over by Helen Brooks.

When Helen Brooks was done, she turned back around, satisfied. Brian Clark opened her mouth, but in the end, said nothing. Why were new classmates like this? She just felt quietly disappointed for a while.

Outside the window, the early autumn evening breeze drifted by, as if sighing aloud.

Thanks to Helen Brooks’s efforts, Brian Clark finally caught pink eye. Her eyes were full of discharge and always tearing up. Jason Walker pinned her down on the bed to put in eye drops, unafraid of catching it herself, and did it three times a day.

She even turned around and scolded Helen Brooks fiercely. Jason Walker was serious, saying Helen Brooks was short but full of tricks, which made Helen Brooks cry.

“Why the hell are you crying? You got pink eye and just wanted to infect others—how mean can you be!” Jason Walker rolled her eyes dramatically.

Brian Clark tugged gently at Jason Walker’s sleeve, asking her to stop arguing. Jason Walker looked disdainful and said, “Helen Brooks, if you dare mess around again, believe it or not, I’ll throw your bedding into the boys’ dorm across the way?”

The onlookers burst out laughing again. The boys jeered, “Jason Walker, you have to do it if you say it! If you don’t, you’re not a real Chinese!”

Only Grace Bolton was seriously trying to mediate.

The class was in chaos, so loud it disturbed the class next door. Their temporary class monitor came over and knocked on the window from the back door, saying, “Hey, keep it down. Some people want to study even if you don’t.”

Even though they were parallel classes, everyone knew Class One had the best grades. After being reminded like that, the boys in the back were a bit annoyed: “It’s not class time, can’t we talk?”

That class monitor gave them a look that said, “So this is Class Two’s quality,” shrugged, and left.

At fifteen or sixteen, it was the most rebellious age. Being so blatantly looked down on by Class One, everyone’s defiance flared up. Since it was still military training and no new lessons had started, the boys began banging on desks and singing military training songs loudly on purpose.

Soon, a familiar face appeared at the back window.

“Your class is really noisy. Please keep it down.” Henry Webb happened to be standing at the window by Brian Clark, speaking coolly. His slightly impatient look gave everyone an inexplicable sense of pressure.

The classroom fell silent instantly.

Hearing that voice, a surge of prickly emotions rose in Brian Clark’s heart. She couldn’t describe it, but her heartbeat spun out of control.

Suddenly, a warm liquid gushed from her nose and trickled down. Every autumn, Brian Clark was prone to nosebleeds.

She knew the feeling well and could only tilt her head back, fumbling for tissues in her drawer.

What Henry Webb saw was a girl’s pale face dotted with a string of red. Adolescence was just this unpredictable, this strange. He immediately thought of that pink, private item for girls.

Brian Clark sensed someone’s gaze on her face—it was Henry Webb. In a flash, her mind buzzed, and she just wanted to escape as quickly as possible. So, grabbing a pack of tissues, she almost instinctively dashed out of the classroom.

The hallway was spotless, not even a scrap of paper. Each drop of blood that fell left a tiny red flower. Henry Webb watched as Brian Clark ran past him.

Chapter 5 This little episode soon passed, and everyone...

This little episode soon passed, and everyone knew that Brian Clark had someone looking out for her—her fierce, wild friend Jason Walker. Jason Walker was a powerhouse; not only could she handle her peers, but back in third grade she could even argue with grown women and make them cry in the end.

Everyone was here to get into college, sure, and cared more about studying, but outside of studying, you always needed something to spice things up—like watching some drama.

In today’s drama, Helen Brooks was no match for Jason Walker. She was the classic bully of the weak and coward before the strong. After a few rounds, all she could do was cry. No one knew either of them well enough to be biased, but still, it felt like a shame—a kind of disappointment that comes from being a spectator and not getting enough.

Helen Brooks sobbed and stopped talking to the two of them.