Chapter Three

“Are you sure it’s alright for you to skip training like this? Aren’t you afraid of letting people down?” Lin Zimo shook her head. “That’s not important. But there’s only one of you. If you weren’t here, who would I talk to?” Hugo fell silent. Lin Zimo was even willing to miss the national team’s training for his sake; if he didn’t try to get better, it would be letting her down. Not to disappoint her, Hugo devoted himself to his recovery.

Lin Zimo had something she wanted to say, but the words caught in her throat. Hugo immediately sensed something was wrong.

“If you want to ask me something, I promise I won’t get mad.”

“Well, since you put it that way, I’ll ask you: why do you keep your hair long like a girl and tie it in a ponytail?” When Lin Zimo finally voiced her question, Hugo’s expression noticeably changed, but he quickly suppressed his emotions.

“Because I want to. All I can tell you is that these six years of my life are carried in my hair.”

“No wonder you always wear a cap every day. So you tuck your ponytail inside, don’t you?” Lin Zimo commented.

Hugo had never cut his hair nor taken care of it himself; it was always his mother who tended to it, styling it the way she would for a girl. Eventually, he grew used to it. The length of his hair marked the six years he’d spent in elementary school and also in the national team—years filled with memories he couldn’t forget.

Those six years changed Hugo profoundly. In simple terms, they were a time of pain. He both longed to return and dreaded the thought. Now, living each day in peace was his greatest happiness.

Days slipped by, and Hugo’s ankle healed. He returned to the classroom, but his grades had plummeted over the past month. After spending so long resting, he found it difficult to get back into studying; after all, wasn’t learning at home just as good? That was his thinking.

At first unwilling, Hugo gradually settled back into his old ways, once again becoming the student who only cared for books.

“Hugo… um… can I talk to you?” A female classmate approached his desk. It was Wu Siying.

He hadn’t seen Wu Siying in a month. Today she wore a blue dress, khaki shoes, and her makeup made her look especially charming. Hugo looked up at her, unfazed by her appearance. “Oh, it’s you. What do you need?”

“I… I’m sorry… It was my fault you hurt your foot. I’m to blame,” Wu Siying apologized out of the blue, leaving Hugo confused.

“My injury has nothing to do with you. If anything, it’s punishment for meddling in other people’s business,” Hugo said indifferently. He had no regrets about what he did that day—if he had to do it over, he’d make the same choice.

“Then why did you—” Wu Siying began.

“I don’t want to talk about it. If you have anything else, go find Lin Zimo. She makes all my decisions. If you want to ask something, ask her. Goodbye.”

“You’re really difficult to talk to, you know that?” Wu Siying huffed, dropping the subject. Hugo’s answer had been direct—he wanted to be left alone to read.

Why is this girl so annoying? Her grades are good, but she’s too much of a flirt—it’s driving me crazy. The real reason Hugo complained was the overpowering scent of her perfume; whether he wanted to or not, he couldn’t ignore it. So he kept his answers brief, hoping for peace.

Physical education in middle school was nothing like in elementary school. Back then, it was just a few laps around the field and then everyone could do as they pleased. Now, as a middle schooler, things were stricter than at other schools—every student, boys and girls alike, was required to run a thousand meters in under three minutes for the PE exam. Who could possibly do that?

Lin Zimo, drenched in sweat, slumped on a marble bench and wiped her face with a tissue. “Is this teacher a devil? Doesn’t he have any pity for the girls? But where’s Hugo?”

She scanned the grounds and finally spotted Hugo playing basketball with boys from another class—five against five.

What shocked Lin Zimo was that Hugo, who normally didn’t care for sports, was an outstanding basketball player. Not only did his long hair remain perfectly tied, it seemed untouched by the game, as if it was utterly pristine.

That guy—he’s got some muscle too. Looks like Hugo’s been hiding his skills on purpose. No wonder he keeps such a low profile. Lin Zimo pouted; her opinion of Hugo changed on the spot.

After a few games, Hugo left the court. Some tried to add him on social media and recruit him for their basketball team, but he ignored them. He wanted to tell them all that they were amateurs compared to him, but since they’d done him no wrong, why insult them? That would only invite trouble.

“I didn’t expect you to be so good at basketball, Hugo,” Lin Zimo said as she approached.

“It’s just a game. I’m not that great.”

“Are you sure staying so low-key is good? Wouldn’t it be better if more people saw your talent?”

Hugo just chuckled and ignored her, heading straight for the classroom, leaving Lin Zimo behind.

What’s he so smug about? Hmph, I swear I’ll make sure someone discovers your potential. It’s not Lin Zimo’s style to let someone talented stay in the shadows. It’s her own rule—she was determined to make sure Hugo’s abilities got the recognition they deserved.

What she didn’t know was that Hugo had already lived through so much; at just seventeen, he was more disillusioned than anyone else in the class, which explained why he preferred his books to the outside world.

Back in the classroom, Hugo touched his ankle. The foot that had only just healed was already sore after a few jumps in the game. At first, it was just numbness, but now the pain was returning.

Damn it, why now… But it’s nothing serious. He grinned and pulled a bottle of herbal liniment from his bag.

The smell was even stronger than Wu Siying’s perfume. In the past, whenever Hugo opened the bottle in front of others, people nearly attacked him for it. He’d learned to avoid using it around others to keep out of trouble.

He slipped off his shoes and socks, revealing his feet. His right ankle was badly swollen compared to the left. The left looked fine, but the right was obviously in bad shape.

He poured a little oil into his palm and began to rub it into his right foot.

“Hiss…” He gritted his teeth, pushing through the pain as he finished applying it. His foot burned, sweat pouring from his brow.

“Hiss…” The pain gradually eased, but the slightest breeze still made it throb. Hugo wondered if he was cursed—he’d just put on the liniment and a draft immediately made it sting again. It left him speechless.

“Hugo, what happened?” Lin Zimo’s startled voice rang out as she entered and saw him tending to his foot. Knowing him well, she was sure he’d gotten himself into trouble again.

“Ah, Zimo…” Hugo hated troubling others most of all. He always did everything himself, fearing that asking for help would only cause more trouble.

“Your foot’s hurting again? You should have told me.” Lin Zimo dodged the pungent liniment and began to reapply it to Hugo’s ankle herself.

“Zimo, I…”

“Don’t say anything. Just sit and rest. Let me take care of it.”

With practiced hands, Lin Zimo carefully applied the liniment to Hugo’s swollen ankle. Hugo was used to his mother doing this for him, but now it was his friend Lin Zimo.

“Zimo, why are you so good to me?”