bet
Class meetings at the end of September always carry a languid autumn air. During the third period, sunlight filtered through the canopy of the sycamore trees on the west side of the teaching building, slicing diagonally into the second-floor classrooms, casting long, narrow patches of light on the concrete floor. Within these patches, tiny bits of chalk dust drifted slowly, like warmed dust. On the podium lay a folded sports meet registration form. The beige kraft paper had become slightly brittle from the sun, and the edges were still stained with chalk dust from last week's duty. The blank spaces after the "3,000-meter" and "high jump" events stood out against the densely packed handwriting.
Our homeroom teacher, Miss Zhou, tapped the edge of the blackboard with a half-stub of white chalk. The clatter of chalk against the wood interrupted the chatter in the classroom. "There are still two events left unsigned up—the 3,000 meters and the high jump. Our class came in last in the overall score at last year's sports meet. If we can't even get a full complement of events this year, we'll be laughed at by the next door class." His gaze swept across the class, landing on a few tall boys in the back row. "You guys are pretty active in basketball, why not try the 3,000 meters? Think of it as an endurance test."
The boys in the back row immediately shook their heads like rattles. One of them leaned back in his chair, his fingers hooked on the zipper of his school uniform, swinging back and forth: "Teacher, the 3,000 meters is not like playing basketball. Last year, my brother ran the 3,000 meters and was taken to the infirmary straight after crossing the finish line. He was out for two days." The boy with glasses next to him echoed, his voice a little exaggerated with fear: "I heard that at the end of the race, he couldn't even see the road clearly, and he just rushed forward on instinct."
The discussion in the classroom gradually became louder. Some people were flipping through the sports meet schedule on their desks, while others were whispering with their deskmates about whether to sign up for a safe group event. No one looked at the registration form on the podium anymore - especially the "3,000 meters" column, which was like a hot potato that no one wanted to touch. Li Huaizhou lay on the table, his elbows resting on the slightly cold surface, his fingertips unconsciously turning a black fountain pen, the pen still stained with some drum oil from last week's band rehearsal. His eyes fell on the music score spread out on the corner of the table. There were dense annotations next to the staff. It was the rhythm pattern that Chen Qitang had just revised yesterday. He had originally planned to go to the "Neon" bar for extra practice after the sports meet. If he signed up for the 3,000 meters, he would probably be paralyzed for several days after the run and wouldn't be able to hold the microphone.
He secretly turned his head. Xie Mo sat there with his back straight, like a poplar tree facing the sun. In front of him was a math exercise book, with the tip of his pen hovering over the draft paper, but he didn't write anything. It was obvious that he was also listening to the discussion in the class. The sunlight fell on his side face, stretching the shadow of his eyelashes very long, casting it on the exercises in the exercise book, swaying gently with his slight breathing. Li Huaizhou's heartbeat inexplicably slowed down for half a beat - he remembered the last time he had a make-up class, after Xie Mo helped him finish the last geometry problem in the second-hand bookstore, he casually drew a rabbit with a thumbs-up on the edge of the draft paper. At that time, he laughed and teased, "Xie Daxueba also draws this kind of elementary school graffiti." Xie Mo did not refute, but just pushed the draft paper towards him. It seems that this guy really only likes to study
"Is there really no one willing to give it a try?" The head teacher's voice was filled with frustration. He picked up the chalk and wrote the three characters "3,000 meters" on the blackboard. "Can't there be a group of young men who don't even have one person who dares to take on the challenge?"
At that moment, Ji Jiancheng suddenly leaped up from his seat, the chair legs scraping against the ground with a harsh sound. He patted his chest, the hem of his school uniform swaying as he did so. "Teacher! I'm signing up for the high jump! I may not jump very high, but participating is what matters." The classroom erupted in laughter, and even the homeroom teacher couldn't help but smile. He wrote Ji Jiancheng's name in the high jump column, paused his pen, and looked at the remaining 3,000 meters. "Good job! What about the 3,000 meters? Who else is willing to contribute to the class?"
The classroom fell silent again. Li Huaizhuo's fingers stopped on the music score, his fingertips brushed over the mark of "acceleration in the climax part", and his heart seemed to be tickled by something - he was not afraid of being tired, it was common for the band to rehearse until two or three in the morning, and he didn't feel heavy when walking back to the dormitory from the bar with his guitar on his back, but three thousand meters was a long-distance race after all, and not only would the band's rehearsal be delayed, but he would also have to trouble others to take care of him. He looked at Xie Mo again and happened to meet Xie Mo's gaze. Their eyes met in the air, and there was no emotion in Xie Mo's eyes, but it seemed to carry a silent reminder, as if saying "Don't be impulsive, think clearly." Li Huaizhuo's ears suddenly felt hot, and he quickly lowered his head, pretending to study the notes on the score, and even his breathing became lighter.
Just then, the bell rang. The homeroom teacher had just left when Zhang Lei from Class 2 popped his head in through the back door. He was fiddling with a basketball, a provocative smile on his face. "I heard no one in your class dared to sign up for the 3,000-meter race? We already had people rushing to sign up." His eyes swept across the registration form on the podium, pausing deliberately on the blank space for "3,000 meters." "How about we make a bet? If our class wins the 3,000-meter race, your class has to buy us all a week's supply of iced Coke. If your class wins, we'll treat you! What do you think? Do you dare accept?"
These words were like a stone dropped into calm water, and the classmates were instantly furious. "Who dares to answer!" The girl sitting in the front row couldn't help but shout, "It's just 3,000 meters, there must be someone in our class who can run!" The boys in the back row also followed suit, saying "We can't let Class 2 look down on us", but no one really stood up. Li Huaizhou tightened his grip on the pen, his knuckles turning white - he couldn't stand provocations from others, especially Zhang Lei's arrogant look, which was really annoying.
"I'll do it"
Li Huaizhou's voice wasn't loud, but it clearly drowned out the noise in the classroom. He stood up with a bang, and the chair legs scraped against the ground again, but this time no one laughed. He clutched his pen and quickly walked up to the podium. His eyes swept over the students below, finally landing on Zhang Lei at the door. There was a hint of unwillingness in his eyes: "I can beat you in a lap!"
Zhang Lei was stunned for a moment, then laughed: "Okay, let's pretend to be cool! But don't cry and shout that you want to give up halfway through the run." After that, he shook the basketball in his hand, turned around and walked out of the classroom.
The classroom was silent for two seconds, and then a round of applause broke out. The more familiar classmates patted Li Huaizhou on the shoulder and said, "Well done! Brother Zhou, you made those pretentious people in Class 2 lose face." The surrounding classmates also gathered around.
When he walked back to his seat, he deliberately slowed down his pace and glanced at Xie Mo's position. Xie Mo had lowered his head, the tip of his pen fell on the exercise book, and was writing something, but Li Huaizhou clearly saw that his pen tip paused on the draft paper, drawing a shallow horizontal line, as if unconsciously recording something. The sunlight still fell on Xie Mo's profile, illuminating the collar of his white school uniform. Li Huaizhou suddenly felt that the entanglement and uneasiness in his heart just now seemed to have been melted by this sunlight, leaving only a little inexplicable expectation.
Ji Jiancheng put his arm around Li Huaizhuo's shoulders, his tone a little anxious: "Are you crazy? There is a performance to be performed. It must be tiring to run 3,000 meters. Brother, you are so strong, you can't waste it like this, right?" Shen Qitang also came over with a bottle of mineral water in his hand, handed it to Li Huaizhuo, then gave Ji Jiancheng an elbow, rolled his eyes at him, and then said to Li Huaizhuo: "It's okay, it will take a few days to recover after running. I will accompany you to practice more then. At worst, we can sleep less." Li Huaizhuo smiled and nodded, took the mineral water, and the cool bottle against his palm made him much more awake.
He walked out of the classroom with his schoolbag on his back, and when he reached the stairs, he couldn't help but look back. Xie Mo was sitting by the window, holding a set of test papers in his hand, slowly turning the pages. The sunlight fell on the cover of the wrong question book, making the shallow horizontal line particularly clear. Li Huaizhou's heart skipped a beat, and he quickly turned his head and followed Ji Jiancheng and Shen Qitang downstairs. The autumn wind blew through the corridor of the teaching building, carrying a hint of the fragrance of sycamore leaves. Suddenly, I felt that this 3,000-meter race could not be so scary.
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