Canteen Drama and a Sports Festival Dilemma

Just as class finally ended, Zhou Yi was still feigning studiousness, his head buried in his textbook, when Chen Hao, however, had already pushed his chair back with a triumphant yell.

“Brothers! Time to raid the canteen!”

No sooner had he spoken than he lunged forward, his powerful arms snaked around Zhou Yi and Jiang Chen’s necks, hoisting them both from their seats.

“Come on, come on! If you’re not eager to eat, something’s wrong with your priorities! I’m so hungry my stomach’s practically glued to my back!”

Zhou Yi, nearly choking, rolled his eyes. “You unfilial son! Trying to murder your own father?”

“My bad, my bad!” Chen Hao quickly loosened his grip, scratching his head with a sheepish grin.

Truth be told, he couldn’t quite articulate why he felt such an inexplicable closeness and gratitude towards the two of them at that moment.

While they had always bickered and played around, seeing his two brothers now brought an extraordinary sense of peace. It was like comrades who had fought side-by-side; merely slinging an arm over their shoulders filled him with a profound sense of security.

As the trio flowed with the throng towards the canteen, Chen Hao suddenly halted, pulling two meal cards from his pocket. “My treat today!” Before either of them could react, he darted towards the serving window.

Watching Chen Hao’s vibrant, boisterous energy, Zhou Yi suddenly felt that all their previous efforts had been worth it.

Perhaps the greatest reward for saving someone who had lost their way was seeing them once again shine like a little sun.

He idly stirred the potato and chicken chunks in his bowl when he glimpsed the towering mound of sweet and sour pork ribs on Chen Hao’s plate across from him. A smile unconsciously tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Routine inspection by the quality control officer.” His chopsticks traced a swift arc above the plate, precisely snatching the largest rib. “Just checking if the canteen auntie’s cooking skills have declined.”

“Thief!” Chen Hao playfully cursed, snatching it back, yet then pushed the entire glistening, fragrant plate of remaining ribs towards Zhou Yi. “Eat up! Don’t tell me all this food still can’t shut you up!”

Just as Zhou Yi was about to retort, a sudden, deafening crash echoed from a corner of the canteen. This was immediately followed by the shattering of dishes and the splattering of soup.

The entire canteen fell into an abrupt silence. Every eye in the room pivoted in unison towards the source of the noise.

There, a meal tray lay violently flung onto the floor, its contents scattered messily everywhere.

“Are you doing this on purpose?!” A sharp, shrill female voice cut through the silence.

The girl, quite delicate in appearance, was currently glaring with utter disgust at the tall, thin boy standing opposite her. “You know I want to vomit at the mere smell of cilantro, yet you still got so much? Are you doing this on purpose!”

The boy’s face flushed crimson as he frantically knelt to clean up the mess, apologizing profusely. “My fault, my fault… I’ll go get new food right away… Please wait for me.”

The girl, arms crossed, stomped her foot, showing no inclination to help whatsoever. “Can you hurry up? I have plans, I’ll be late.”

“Right away! I’ll be done in a second!” The boy frantically swept the shards into a dustpan, then looked up, forcing a fawning smile. “Is there anything else you’d particularly like? I’ll buy it all!”

The girl rolled her eyes exasperatedly. “I said ‘whatever’! You can’t even handle such a small thing, truly useless!”

Zhou Yi’s chopsticks clattered onto his plate. “This guy must be used to being manipulated, huh? How can he take that?”

“This girl…” Chen Hao clicked his tongue, shaking his head in dismay. “Her temper is spicier than Sichuan hotpot.”

Jiang Chen merely cast a fleeting glance and shook his head noncommittally.

Chen Hao suddenly put down his chopsticks and stood up. He grabbed a rag, walked over in a few swift strides, and knelt to help wipe the spilled soup from the floor. “Brother, don’t bother picking up what’s fallen on the floor. At least stale food can feed stray dogs.”

The boy paused, startled, then lowered his head and murmured, “Thank you, but this really is my fault… I remember she doesn’t eat cilantro, I just got distracted when I was getting the food…”

Chen Hao’s hand, mid-wipe, froze. He looked up, giving the boy a long, penetrating gaze, but in the end, said nothing. He silently stood, tossed the dirty rag aside, and walked back to his seat, dropping into it heavily before resuming his meal.

“Hopeless.” Zhou Yi declared, shaking his head in utter exasperation. “Late-stage love-struck syndrome, cancer cells spreading throughout the body.”

Jiang Chen calmly pilfered a rib from Zhou Yi’s plate and remarked with cool detachment, “Terminal illness. Advise immediate cessation of treatment.”

In the distance, the boy was jogging back to get new food. The girl, after answering a phone call, suddenly broke into a smile. “Alrighty then~ I’ll be right there to find you!” Without so much as a glance at the boy, she walked straight towards the exit.

“Xiao… Xiao Su! Your food…” The boy stood frozen, clutching the freshly prepared meal tray.

The girl turned back, waving a dismissive hand impatiently. “Just dump it! The sight of it makes me lose my appetite.”

Chen Hao stared at the subservient figure of the boy. Suddenly, he slammed his chopsticks onto the table. His hands braced against the tabletop, he was about to stand. “I’m gonna…”

Just as he began to speak, Zhou Yi grabbed his sleeve. “Calm down!”

They watched as the boy hastily put down the meal tray, pulled out his phone, and jogged to catch up with the girl. He asked cautiously, “So… what do you want to eat tomorrow? I’ll go early to save you a spot?”

Without turning her head, the girl snapped, “Aren’t you annoying!”

…

Chen Hao slowly sank back into his seat. His face pale with anger, he picked up his chopsticks again and snatched the last rib from Zhou Yi’s plate.

Zhou Yi stared at his now-empty plate. “???”

Jiang Chen silently pushed his plate of braised pork towards Zhou Yi. “My condolences.”

From a distance, the boy’s dejected mumble drifted over. “Then… then I’ll go early tomorrow to save a seat…”

The three of them silently gazed at the abandoned meal. None of them bothered to touch their chopsticks again. Instead, they each picked up their trays, stood, and deposited their untouched leftovers into the recycling bin.

As they exited the canteen, the boy’s figure was still crouched in the corner, meticulously wiping away the oil stains on the floor with a rag.

“Tell me,” Zhou Yi mused, gazing at the dull, gray sky, “what exactly is he holding onto?”

Chen Hao kicked a pebble from the roadside. “Holding onto being a doormat.”

Jiang Chen’s words were sharp, cutting. “Holding onto proving he deserves to be trampled.”

The three of them returned to the classroom, each lost in their own thoughts. Before they could even settle into their seats, Zhao Lei, the sports committee head, rushed over, a registration form clutched in his hand and a mournful expression on his face. “Dads! Dear Dads! A crisis! The school sports festival still needs eight more participants!”

Zhou Yi and Jiang Chen instinctively took half a step back in unison, gently pushing Chen Hao forward.

Chen Hao took the well-worn registration form and scanned it. As expected, popular ‘slacking off’ events like badminton and standing long jump were long gone. Only hardcore events like shot put, the three-thousand-meter race, and high jump remained, shivering pathetically in the cold wind.

Zhou Yi leaned in for a look. He immediately clutched his head and wailed. “Damn it, why are only these killer events left?”

Zhao Lei clasped his hands together in a pleading gesture. “If there were any easy ones left, I would’ve signed up myself ages ago!”

An eerie silence suddenly descended upon the classroom. Students who had just moments ago been chatting and laughing now transformed into diligent scholars. Some buried their heads in calculations, others earnestly memorized texts. Even the rustle of turning pages carried an overt, almost theatrical, deliberateness.

“I’m really out of options!” Zhao Lei cried, tearing at his hair in anguish as he looked at his ‘dramatic’ classmates. “The counselor announced that if we can’t find enough people, I’ll have to run the three-thousand-meter race in a dress!”

Zhou Yi’s eyes lit up at the news. “Then let the slots remain empty!”

With that, he suddenly grasped Zhao Lei’s hand with mock affection. “Truth be told, I’ve always dreamed of seeing you twirl in a Lolita dress…”