Chapter Sixty: The Training March

At six in the morning, the whistle blew and everyone sprang out of bed, scrambling to put on their clothes. After yesterday’s lesson, everyone dutifully applied sunscreen and lined their shoes with sanitary pads. Zhou Miao grabbed his sunscreen spray and doused his face, neck, and arms with reckless abandon. He wasn’t particularly concerned about his appearance, but he had no desire to be scorched by the sun.

Shen Jiawei sidled up, grinning, “Miao, spray some on me too.”

Zhou Miao aimed the spray at his face, unleashing a barrage. “With a face as broad as yours, half the can’s gone in one go.”

Shen Jiawei chuckled, “You don’t get it. High sky, broad earth, prominent cheekbones—this is the fortune of those blessed with a big face!”

Zhou Miao tossed the can onto the bed. “Fine, enjoy your luck. I’ll bear the misery of a slender face.”

“Hurry up and assemble! Your dorm is always the slowest!” The instructor was already outside urging them on.

University military training wasn’t nearly as grueling as rumors suggested. After the first day, everyone settled into the routine. Zhou Miao actually enjoyed many of the activities—especially target shooting, the quintessential male romance.

Besides training, the students found clever ways to solve daily hardships. No air conditioning in the dorm? Buy a bottle of ice water to hug while sleeping. Charging fees at the campus shop too high? Sneak your power bank into the cafeteria to charge overnight. After a shower, a bowl of instant noodles soothed their cafeteria-ravaged stomachs, and life felt full of flavor.

On the seventh day of training, everyone was dragged out at dawn for a twelve-kilometer field march. The distance sounded daunting, but walking the whole way wasn’t too exhausting—everyone chatted as they went, as if on a camping trip.

But the next day was brutal. Their thighs were sore and aching, making walking nearly impossible. Still, today’s training had to be completed in full. The instructors watched their grimacing faces with gleeful schadenfreude.

A few days later, just as their legs began to recover, the instructor led them to climb the Great Wall. It was Zhou Miao’s first time seeing it, but he had no mind to appreciate its grandeur—he was so exhausted he felt like sticking his tongue out.

Even though it wasn’t a holiday, the Great Wall was crowded with tourists. The troop of green-uniformed students marching in formation drew much attention, with people snapping photos to commemorate the scene.

A young tourist, after taking pictures, glanced back at her photos to check their quality, only to spot a familiar face.

“Hm?”

“This guy really looks like Zhou Miao.”

Climbing the Great Wall was different from the field march; it had slopes, like ascending endless stairs. After a while, Zhou Miao’s calves began to tremble. Some of the female students could barely continue, but the instructor made them persist for another half-hour before allowing a break.

“Your stamina is lacking! You need more training! Without a strong body, how can you pursue knowledge? Tomorrow, we’ll run laps again.”

The instructor flashed a devilish grin amid the students’ groans.

Despite the exhaustion, the training yielded results. Each day, the tasks became easier. What once felt like backbreaking labor was now handled with ease; at least their physical strength had improved since arrival.

Their instructor was friendly and funny, getting along well with everyone. Zhou Miao even promised to send him a signed album once training ended.

As days passed, the once-endless military training drew swiftly to its close. On the final day’s performance, everyone did well, earning second place and marking a satisfying conclusion to their training.

When it was time to say farewell, a number of sentimental girls burst into tears. The instructor hugged each one and left the camp with carefree grace—for them, such scenes were all too familiar.

People come and go; next year will bring another batch of students.

Returning to school by bus, they changed into their everyday clothes, which felt almost unnaturally comfortable. Hu San called, inviting Zhou Miao to dinner that evening.

Zhou Miao tidied up and went out, meeting Hu San and her three roommates at the appointed restaurant.

After half a month apart, Hu San looked as fair as ever, with pale face and arms—no trace of tan. Who knows how much sun care she’d done.

Seeing Zhou Miao, Hu San smiled instinctively, “This way.”

He took a seat beside her, and she introduced him, “These three beauties are my roommates: Han Linli, Tian Yuan, and Zheng Juan.”

“You all know him, Zhou Miao, my high school classmate.”

Zhou Miao greeted them with a smile. The three girls were visibly excited, staring at him so intently he felt uncomfortable.

They all had a bit of “fan circle” energy, bombarding him with questions about the entertainment industry—questions that left him at a loss for words.

“Did you ever meet Huiyuan again after your last spat?”

“‘Listen’ sold over four million copies—you must have made a fortune, right?”

“What’s your relationship with Hu San?”

Seeing Zhou Miao’s darkened expression, Hu San quickly interjected, “Enough with the questions, let’s eat before the food gets cold.”

Under the table, she squeezed Zhou Miao’s hand gently and gave him an apologetic glance. If she’d known her roommates were so inquisitive, she would never have brought them.

Han Linli, still unsatisfied, secretly opened WeChat. The girls had a dorm group chat, but unbeknownst to Hu San, the other three had made a separate group without her.

Han Linli messaged, “Try to get Hu San out later—I want to ask Zhou Miao for his contact info.”

A reply came quickly: “Okay.”

Han Linli was momentarily pleased, then mortified, realizing the reply was from Hu San herself. She glanced at the group name—Four Flowers. She’d sent the message to the wrong chat; the Three Flowers group was below.

Hu San, after replying, ignored her and calmly served Zhou Miao a Coca-Cola chicken wing, as if nothing had happened.

The three girls, however, were visibly unsettled, their faces awkward. Trying to poach a roommate’s friend and getting caught red-handed—it was a social disaster.

The meal ended in this strange atmosphere. None of the girls spoke another word, burying themselves in their food. Zhou Miao was baffled—what happened to the lively questioning from before?

After dinner, the trio made a hasty retreat, almost fleeing. Zhou Miao asked, “What’s going on?”

Hu San laughed, “No idea. Maybe they’re shy around their idol.”