Episode5

When Yunhao returned to the classroom, the air felt heavier than before. He slid quietly into his seat, arranging his pencil case and pretending to review his notes.

“Hey, new guy!”

A bright, lively voice broke through the low hum of conversation. Yunhao looked up to see a boy with messy hair and a grin so wide it seemed glued to his face. He was carrying two lunch boxes. Without waiting for permission, the boy set one down on the desk beside Yunhao.

“You really have the guts to sit there,” the boy said, pointing his chopsticks toward Yunhao’s deskmate—still sleeping, head against the window.

Yunhao blinked. “Why?”

The cheerful boy leaned closer, voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. “That’s Li Cheng. You know, the school’s resident troublemaker. Fights, skipped classes… rumor has it he once made a senior cry just by staring.”

Yunhao turned his head slightly, looking at Li Cheng. His hair was slightly overgrown, his uniform jacket unbuttoned, long legs stretched out under the desk. His expression was unreadable even in sleep, but there was a faint tension in his posture, like a coiled spring.

The cheerful boy straightened up. “I’m Han Zhihao, by the way. If you need anything—homework tips, snacks, someone to sit with at lunch—I’m your guy.”

Yunhao gave a polite nod. “Thanks.”

Zhihao’s grin widened. “You’re welcome!”

But after that, Yunhao didn’t say anything else. He wasn’t sure why, but Zhihao’s friendliness felt a little too bright, like staring at the sun for too long.

---

The week passed quickly. A blur of introductions, whispered gossip, and trying to remember the layout of the school corridors. Then came the mock exams.

Yunhao stared at the thick stack of review papers in front of him the night before. He took a deep breath, sat down at the desk in his small rented apartment, and told himself: You can do this. Just focus.

For the first hour, he did well—flipping through pages, scribbling notes. But somewhere after midnight, the lines of text blurred together. His head dipped lower and lower…

The next thing he knew, sunlight was streaming through the curtains. His review papers were still open, his pen lying across the page.

---

The results came two days later.

Failed.

Not just barely—bad enough that the red marks across his paper looked like a warning sign.

“Yunhao.”

He looked up to see his homeroom teacher at the door. “Come to the office. We need to talk about your performance.”

The words “performance” and “talk” echoed unpleasantly in Yunhao’s mind as he stood, the weight of his classmates’ curious glances pressing against his back.

The homeroom teacher, Mr. Qian, was leaning back in his chair when Yunhao stepped inside. The office smelled faintly of chalk and instant coffee.

“Yunhao,” Mr. Qian said, sliding the test paper across the desk, “this isn’t good. But… it’s not the end.”

Yunhao lowered his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

The teacher smiled faintly. “Do you know what I scored in my first mock exam?”

Yunhao shook his head.

“Worse than this.”

That made Yunhao glance up.

Mr. Qian chuckled, tapping the paper. “The point is, improvement takes time. What matters isn’t where you start—it’s whether you keep moving. You’ve just transferred here. Adjust first, then aim higher. I’ll help you.”

Yunhao nodded slowly. Something in the teacher’s tone—calm but certain—loosened a knot in his chest.

---

When he got home, voices floated from the kitchen.

“Ah, look at these scores!” His mother’s voice was light, proud. “Top ten again! My little one’s amazing.”

His little brother laughed, the sound full of youthful triumph.

Yunhao hesitated at the doorway, one hand still on his bag strap. The warmth in the room didn’t quite reach him.

He slipped away before anyone noticed.

---

The lighthouse stood at the edge of the coast, its white walls weathered by years of salt and wind. Yunhao climbed the small hill toward it, his sneakers crunching against the gravel.

From up there, the sea stretched endlessly, waves glinting in the fading sunlight. The air was sharp, tinged with salt.

He sat on the low stone wall, pulling his knees close, watching the horizon. The steady rotation of the lighthouse lamp swept across the water like a slow heartbeat.

Somehow, it felt easier to breathe here. The world was vast, the ocean was endless, and for a moment, his problems felt… small.

Still, in the back of his mind, Zhao Yichen’s smile flickered like the light from the tower—bright, far away, unreachable.

---

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***