Chapter 23

The girls watched a pack of boys noisily hoist Lin Zhe on their shoulders and charge toward the pillar, disgust written all over their faces.

“Boys... are they all idiots...”

Another girl: “Pretty much.”

Suddenly airborne, Lin Zhe felt like a lone skiff on a choppy sea.

“Put me down, you morons!” he yelled.

The outburst only made the boys wilder.

They cackled like a squad of circus freaks. “Ha-ha-ha, the louder you scream the more pumped we get! Stop struggling, Xiao Lin!”

We’re doomed...

Lin Zhe pinned his last hope on his beloved dorm head, Yang Zhen.

But when he looked over, Yang Zhen’s grin was even more twisted than the rest.

Catching Lin Zhe’s eye, Yang Zhen instantly swapped to a mask of pity and sighed, “Sorry, Xiao Lin.”

Whooping like chimps, the boys sprinted toward the pillar with their cargo: “Ao-ao-ao-ao!”

Drill-ground cadets from other companies spotted Third Company’s commotion.

“Ha-ha, it’s time for Third Company’s traditional show again.”

“Oh, it’s the kid they call ‘Hai University’s Most Deeply Affectionate’!”

At the sight of Lin Zhe, Han Xinglong and Liu Xuefei from the other platoons howled and joined the parade.

More and more people piled on until every cadet on the field was craning to watch.

Lin Zhe gave up; despair had won.

Just as his face was about to meet the Gan Pillar, a voice as bright as a searchlight cut through the darkness.

“FALL IN!”

The instructor had appeared out of nowhere, company roll tucked under his arm, barking the command in a chest-deep blast.

In a heartbeat, the boys hoisting Lin Zhe froze mid-stride, locked in their freak-show poses like someone had hit pause.

Then muscle memory kicked in.

Days of drill had hard-wired them to the instructor’s voice; one syllable and their bodies snapped into motion.

With a whoosh the entire mob vanished.

Lin Zhe plopped onto the lawn—thankfully thick grass, barely felt a thing.

He straightened his crooked glasses and scrambled to fall in.

The moment he looked up, Yang Zhen’s “loving” face hovered overhead, hand outstretched. “Xiao Lin.”

Jerk. Mood swing faster than a page turns.

“You’re first on my hit-list,” Lin Zhe muttered, slapping the hand away. He rolled to his feet and sprinted to First Row’s position.

The instant Lin Zhe and Yang Zhen slipped into line, the instructor clicked his pocket-watch, boots planted, eyes raking the formation.

“Not bad. Improvement!”

His boots cracked like whips across their fragile souls.

Another morning of devil training—no mercy for anyone.

By noon, boys and girls alike moved like soulless robots, obeying on autopilot.

Lunchtime, canteen. Liu Xuefei, struck by inspiration, cleared his throat and bellowed, “FALL IN!”

Instantly, every cadet snapped to attention.

“HERE!” The combined roar nearly lifted the ceiling.

Seniors jumped; the serving auntie flinched so hard the last spoonful of food slid off her ladle.

Ten-odd seconds later the victims realized they’d been pranked and hunted for the culprit.

Liu Xuefei sat stone-still, playing innocent—narrow escape.

Afterward, Hai University’s campus forum sported a bounty post: “Wanted—Liu Xuefei. Reward generous.”

Lin Zhe and company were tempted.

“Heh-heh, Lao Liu,” Han Xinglong grinned, “you don’t want the whole canteen knowing it was you, do you...”

In the end, Liu Xuefei begged and bought them lunch; the matter dropped—temporarily.

During the lunch break Lin Zhe polished his club-application forms and proposal one last time.

Afternoon roll-call arrived—and he still couldn’t dodge Third Company’s heritage event: the Gan Pillar.

Cadets from other companies poured in when they heard the guy who sang “Mercury Records” that night—the so-called “Most Deeply Affectionate” of Hai U—was up.

Three rings deep, the field was jam-packed.

The military-training cameraman immortalized the moment Lin Zhe kissed the pillar.

After that, the Gan Pillar ceased to be Third Company’s private ritual; every company wanted in, and the scene played out daily on the drill ground.

When the dust settled, Yang Zhen clapped Lin Zhe’s shoulder, oozing fake wisdom:

“Xiao Lin, military training isn’t complete until you’ve Gan’ed a pillar.”

At day’s end, the two dragged their exhausted carcasses toward the canteen.

Just before they left the drill ground, Zhao Lin and Chen Zhijing showed up.

The moment she saw the two boys, Zhao Lin stepped forward, tugged Yang Zhen aside, and said to Lin Zhe, “Xiao Jing scraped her knee near the end of drill this afternoon. I was going to take her to the infirmary, but she insisted on waiting for you here.”

Zhao Lin pressed her palms together. “Sorry—just take care of her, okay?”

Lin Zhe glanced at Chen Zhijing crouched beneath the plane tree, then answered calmly, “No problem. You two go eat; I’ll get her to the infirmary.”

With that, Zhao Lin pulled Yang Zhen toward the canteen.

Lin Zhe adjusted his glasses, knelt slowly in front of Chen Zhijing, and reached for the graze on her knee.

“Xiao Lin... I don’t want to do military training anymore...”

Chen Zhijing’s voice was small, her eyes downcast.

Lin Zhe knew her well; for a girl with social anxiety, lasting even these few days had been a miracle. So her confession didn’t surprise him—in fact, he felt relieved she hadn’t pushed herself past her limit.

Head lowered, he said nothing at first. He simply rolled up her trouser leg with gentle fingers.

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