The physical examination involved numerous tests.
Although Huang Xiu had never undergone a full-body check-up, he suspected that Tiandu University’s examination list was even more extensive than a comprehensive physical.
The tests ranged from basic vision, color blindness, blood pressure, blood sugar, and electrocardiograms to more advanced procedures like X-rays, routine urinalysis, and complete blood counts.
It seemed every test available in a hospital was performed.
Only then did Huang Xiu understand why Bald Liu had been so uncharacteristically benevolent, allowing them to keep their phones and instructing them to rest thoroughly after the examinations.
He was utterly, overwhelmingly exhausted.
“Damn it! How long are we going to be stuck in this line?”
Huang Xiu gazed at the serpentine queue winding in front of the X-ray room, feeling on the verge of tears.
Behind him, Shi Lei’s face mirrored his despair.
There were simply too many people!
The sheer number of second and third-year students from No. 1 Middle School, combined with the hospital’s regular patients, made the wait for each test terrifyingly long.
Initially, Class Four had moved as a single unit, queuing for each test sequentially.
However, they soon realized this approach was utterly impractical, as their efficiency plummeted.
Consequently, they split into several smaller groups, each tackling the examinations independently.
“How many more tests do we have, anyway?” Shi Lei inquired.
“Let me check.”
Huang Xiu glanced at the physical examination form in his hand, where tests were densely listed across two full lines.
Completed items were marked with red stamps and signatures, yet more than half of the form’s boxes remained blank.
“Roughly a dozen more, I’d say. We’ll just have to take our time,” Huang Xiu said, spreading his hands in resignation.
“You know, Xiu Ge, sometimes I think everything about Great Xia is perfect, except for the sheer number of people,” Shi Lei grumbled.
“But consider this,” Huang Xiu countered, patting Shi Lei’s shoulder, “even though there are many of us, our per capita resources are scarce!”
“No, actually, that makes me even sadder,” Shi Lei replied, shuffling two steps forward behind Huang Xiu.
“Did you know,” Huang Xiu remarked, glancing sideways, “Uruguay has a population of 3.457 million, while Australia alone has 47 million kangaroos. If those kangaroos decided to invade Uruguay, every single Uruguayan would have to fight off 14 kangaroos.”
“Meanwhile, Great Xia has a population of 1.4 billion, meaning on average only one kangaroo could be distributed among 28 people, which isn’t nearly enough to eat. But you don’t care about that; you only care about your place in line.”
“Nice one.”
Shi Lei, engrossed in his phone, didn’t even lift his head. “But I don’t like eating kangaroo,” he mumbled. “Xiu Ge, you’ll have to eat my share too.”
“Wait, no, I was just making a point! You’ve actually eaten kangaroo?” Huang Xiu was dumbfounded, his wide eyes reflecting a profound, if small, shock.
“They sell it online! You could buy some and try it yourself.”
Recalling the taste of kangaroo meat, Shi Lei’s face contorted in disgust. “It’s absolutely foul, honestly. Even a dog wouldn’t touch it.”
If even Shi Lei, who ate everything without discrimination, like a human garbage disposal, found it unpalatable, then kangaroo meat must truly be awful. Huang Xiu silently scratched it off his personal list of foods to try.
Since junior high, he had kept a running list of all the foods he wished to sample.
In truth, the most challenging aspect of queuing wasn’t the waiting itself, but the pervasive loneliness; when engrossed in conversation, however, time seemed to vanish entirely.
As the queues in the hospital dwindled, and the red stamps on their examination forms multiplied, the sun outside the window began its slow descent towards the west.
Huang Xiu finally completed his last test.
He handed his fully stamped examination form to the doctor specifically assigned to collect them in the main hall.
He then quickly made his way outside to locate his class’s bus.
“Xiu Ge, Leizi, come grab something to eat and fill your stomachs.”
The class monitor, Wu Qing, had long since finished his examination and was now distributing the school-provided dinner on the bus.
Many of the tests required an empty stomach, so the school hadn’t arranged lunch, merely handing out a few candies per student to prevent low blood sugar.
The entire group was utterly famished.
The school’s dinner offering was meager: a single bun, a bottle of milk, and a cold egg.
Having long grown accustomed to the school’s parsimony, Huang Xiu collected his dinner and settled into his seat from earlier, beginning to eat.
He turned his head to watch through the window as students continued to emerge from the main hall, having completed their examinations.
Today’s physical examination was finally over, but his personal ordeal had yet to conclude.
After all… the complete blood count, the test he dreaded most… wouldn’t yield immediate results.
A knot of anxiety tightened in Huang Xiu’s chest.
Routine blood test results typically took one to two hours.
With such a large number of examinees, delays were inevitable, but the results shouldn’t take more than a day or two at most.
If they were quick, perhaps the results would even be available now…
Lost in thought, he instinctively glanced at his phone.
As if summoned by his apprehension, the Honor phone in his hand suddenly lit up and began to vibrate.
A call was coming in!
Huang Xiu’s pupils constricted sharply, but upon seeing the caller ID, he immediately exhaled in relief.
He answered the call.
“Mom, why the sudden call today?”
“Can’t I call my own son without a reason? You rascal! You only ever call when you need living expenses, but when you don’t, I don’t see so much as a single call a week,” his mother retorted without ceremony.
“Mom, don’t falsely accuse me!” Huang Xiu protested, as if he had suffered the greatest injustice imaginable.
“I clearly called you the night before last!”
“Besides, what I meant was, how did you know I hadn’t turned in my phone today?” Huang Xiu asked, genuinely curious.
Normally, he surrendered his phone every Monday, a fact his mother undoubtedly knew.
Could the homeroom teacher have mentioned it in the parent chat group? It was possible.
“Hmph hmph, and who do you think your old mother is?” a triumphant voice chimed from the other end of the line. “It was WeChat Steps! I saw you had over 10,000 steps today, more than me, so I knew you hadn’t turned in your phone and that the school must be having some activity.”
“I bought you something online; remember to pick it up when it arrives!”
“What is it?” Huang Xiu asked, intrigued.
“You’ll know when you get it; it should arrive by Thursday.” As she spoke, a loud “Bang! Hu!” (TL Note: “Hu” is a winning condition in Mahjong, similar to “Mahjong!” or “Gin!” in other card games.) suddenly erupted from her end of the call.
“Alright, I’ve got to go, I’m resuming my card game!” his mother announced loudly.
“Alright, Mom, hope you win big!”
Huang Xiu smiled as he hung up the phone, then turned to put his bread wrapper into a plastic bag. As he did, he noticed Fang Miaoging, seated to his front-left, turning her head to look at him.
As their eyes met, a faint blush unexpectedly crept up Fang Miaoging’s ears.
Huang Xiu was no better; he froze as if struck by an electric current, then, like a thief caught red-handed, swiftly averted his gaze.
‘Why do I feel like… Xiu Ge has suddenly become much more handsome these past few days?’
Fang Miaoging rubbed her earlobe, a strange thought blooming in her mind.
She and Huang Xiu shared a purely platonic classmate relationship.
Yet she was acutely aware that Huang Xiu seemed to harbor some vague, nascent affection for her.
Previously, she had never given it much thought.
During high school, it was common for people to suddenly develop feelings for one or two individuals, often without a clear reason.
Perhaps it was a sudden spark of recognition, or simply an admiration for their looks.
Pinpointing a specific cause was often difficult.
Such things were entirely normal.
As long as one didn’t respond or simply refused, it would be fine—Fang Miaoging had always handled such situations this way.
She firmly believed that, with the passage of time, those hazy, youthful infatuations would transform into cherished memories of adolescence.
‘Perhaps I should find a time to speak with him directly.’
Fang Miaoging resolved to have a clear-cut conversation with Huang Xiu, believing it would be better for both of them.
She did not wish to be distracted before gaining admission to Tiandu University.