Chapter 18: Guessing Your Taste

As Bai Yingchuan turned to slip through the group of female classmates, someone approached Jiang Ruotang from behind, effortlessly sliding the racket onto the top shelf with a long arm.

Jiang Ruotang froze. The warmth of a palm covering his fingertips was unmistakable—even without turning, he knew it was Lu Guifan.

“Where’s the shuttlecock tube?” Lu Guifan’s voice sounded.

Jiang Ruotang quickly handed it over, and Lu Guifan placed it with ease.

“I suddenly feel so short,” Jiang Ruotang half-joked.

Lu Guifan replied calmly, “Exercise more, and maybe you’ll hit 178 by graduation.”

Jiang Ruotang’s eyes lit up as he followed. “How’d you know I could reach 178?”

That was indeed his final height in his past life.

“Just a guess.”

Jiang Ruotang pressed, “But, Monitor, why’d you come?”

Lu Guifan answered, “I thought your old habit was acting up.”

“What old habit?”

“Love-struck brain, prince syndrome, lust clouding your judgment.”

Jiang Ruotang blinked, stunned, then glanced back at Bai Yingchuan. From a distance, Bai Yingchuan’s smile was warm, but his eyes were cool.

“Monitor, you… you thought I was chasing Bai Yingchuan? Why would I join that circus?” Jiang Ruotang muttered.

Lu Guifan didn’t look back, heading up the stairs to the classroom. “Wipe off your sweat. Don’t catch a cold.”

“Oh.”

Jiang Ruotang’s student days had never involved this much exercise in one day. He went to the restroom, changed into a fresh shirt, and stepped out to find Zhao Changfeng peeling off his own. Drenched from basketball, his shirt stuck to his back, the collar catching on his chin as he yanked it down.

Jiang Ruotang smirked, mischief brewing. He stood behind Zhao Changfeng, lightly tugging his collar. As expected, Zhao Changfeng wrestled with brute force.

Well, damn—the guy’s muscle lines were stunning. Not bulky, but sleek and taut with a lively edge. His shoulders tensed, radiating youthful hormones.

Even if this dummy didn’t make it as an athlete, he could fall back on modeling and not starve…

But if Zhao Changfeng genuinely aimed to be an athlete, he’d need to go all in—no safety nets.

“Who’s that? Who’s pulling my collar?” Zhao Changfeng demanded.

Oh, finally noticed, dummy?

Jiang Ruotang darted out of the restroom, sprinting back to his seat, feigning innocence.

Seconds later, Zhao Changfeng stormed in, plopping down in the back row, fuming as he tried to figure out who’d pranked him.

The bell had rung a while ago, but Lin Lu still hadn’t seen Bai Yingchuan. At the equipment room, he found him chatting with classmates, their eyes clearly pleading for rescue. Lin Lu reluctantly called him to lunch.

On the way back to the classroom, Lin Lu overheard classmates gossiping behind him.

“Don’t you think Lin Lu’s kinda weird? He used to stick to Jiang Ruotang like glue, but now that Bai Yingchuan’s here, he’s all over him.”

“Yeah, last year when Jiang Ruotang was obsessed with Bai Yingchuan, I remember how Lin Lu coddled him, saying stuff like, ‘Bai Yingchuan’s so lucky to have a powerful fan like you,’ or ‘Without your support, he wouldn’t have topped that ranking,’ and ‘If I were Bai Yingchuan, I’d be grateful for such a dedicated fan.’”

“I remember that too! Thought Lin Lu was just spoiling Jiang Ruotang, but now it’s clear he’s hogging Bai Yingchuan.”

“Exactly. We’re all classmates, but if we chat with Bai Yingchuan a bit, Lin Lu pops up like he’s his manager or something.”

“Haha, more like he went from Jiang Ruotang’s ‘personal assistant’ to Bai Yingchuan’s manager!”

Hearing this, Lin Lu’s face practically turned green.

Last semester, Jiang Ruotang would’ve charged in to shoo away anyone crowding Bai Yingchuan, sparing Lin Lu the role of bad guy.

Now, Jiang Ruotang was… subtly distancing himself.

At lunchtime, Jiang Ruotang picked up takeout, including the zero-sugar milk tea he’d promised Jian Sha.

Returning from heating her meal in the microwave room, Jian Sha spotted the milk tea on her desk and raised it toward Jiang Ruotang. “Thanks!”

“Play badminton with me next PE class?” Jiang Ruotang teased.

“You buy milk tea, I’ll do anything—unless Teacher Wang thinks we’re dating!” Jian Sha laughed, her knack for bro-ing out with guys shining through.

“Perfect, we’ll hold hands and flaunt our love in front of Teacher Wang!”

Grinning, Jiang Ruotang carried his insulated bag to Lu Guifan’s desk. Lu Guifan’s meal was simple—braised tofu and stir-fried eggs with green peppers—but it smelled appetizing. Jiang Ruotang set a paper cup on his desk.

“Thanks for feeding me balls, Monitor. Please keep feeding me next week!”

Lu Guifan glanced at the cup, hesitating, but said, “Thanks.”

He didn’t like milk tea; it felt impure, the milk diluting the tea’s clarity, the tea muddling the milk’s richness.

But in over two years of high school, this was one of the rare times someone treated him. Even if he didn’t like it, he should respect Jiang Ruotang’s kindness.

As if reading his mind, Jiang Ruotang’s curved lips held a relaxed, pleasing charm.

“Try it. See if I guessed your taste.”

At his urging, Lu Guifan inserted the straw and took a sip.

Hm? Not milk tea.

A floral aftertaste, like osmanthus, crisp and pure.

Turning the cup, he saw the label: “Jin Xuan Oolong.”

This was the first time at this school someone cared about his taste—and got it right.

Jiang Ruotang, carrying his eel rice, returned to his seat. He shot Zhao Changfeng a pitying look. “Must be tough for you athletes, controlling body fat… I could never eat like that.”

Zhao Changfeng glanced at Jiang Ruotang’s hefty eel rice and smirked. “You barely move, sitting all day, eating such high-calorie stuff. You’ll grow a belly in no time.”

Ouch, Zhao Changfeng, you know how to hit where it hurts.

“A belly? It’d be a happy belly.”

With that, Jiang Ruotang took a big bite of eel, flaunting it in Zhao Changfeng’s face.

Lin Lu, sitting nearby, felt Jiang Ruotang’s distance keenly. Last semester, if Jiang Ruotang bought milk tea for semi-strangers like Jian Sha and Lu Guifan, he’d never leave Lin Lu out.

Was it because he didn’t play badminton with him? But Jiang Ruotang never liked sports before.

“Ruotang, where’s mine?” Lin Lu pouted, looking aggrieved.

Jiang Ruotang smiled. “Xiao Lu, you’re getting chubby. Skip the milk tea—have Yakult with me!”

He fished a small plastic bottle from his drawer and placed it on Lin Lu’s desk.

“I’m not chubby! Isn’t this for kids?” Lin Lu turned away.

Normally, Jiang Ruotang would’ve caved and gotten him milk tea.

But instead, he didn’t coax. “Oh? If you don’t want it, I’ll drink it.”

As Jiang Ruotang reached for the Yakult, another hand intercepted, landing on his fingers.

Bai Yingchuan leaned in, smiling warmly. “I’d like to try it. May I?”

“Huh?” Jiang Ruotang froze, trying to pull back, but Bai Yingchuan held firm. “Uh… it’s yours…”

“Yingchuan, are you curious because you’ve never had Yakult? It’s pretty sweet,” Lin Lu said, recalling Bai Yingchuan’s dislike for sugary things.

“When I filmed with Director Jiang, he shared some with the crew. It’s good.”

Bai Yingchuan glanced at Jiang Ruotang, mentioning Director Jiang, expecting a reaction. But Jiang Ruotang just ate his rice.

After lunch, Jiang Ruotang took his lunchbox to the big trash bin at the corridor’s end.

As he tossed it in and turned, he nearly jumped out of his skin, his eel rice almost coming back up.

Bai Yingchuan was standing there.

“Do you walk without making a sound?” Jiang Ruotang exhaled, moving to pass him, but Bai Yingchuan grabbed his forearm.

Jiang Ruotang looked up. Backlit, Bai Yingchuan’s faint smile contrasted with the inscrutable gloom in his eyes.

“Jiang Ruotang, it feels like you’ve been avoiding me.”

“Huh?” Jiang Ruotang was baffled.

To you, Bai Yingchuan, I’ve always been a nobody. I’m trying not to get in your way—how’s that avoiding?

Human relationships were a headache. Too close, you’re a nuisance; too far, they take issue.

No wonder TV dramas romanticize the push-and-pull dynamic.

Jiang Ruotang tugged his arm back, but Bai Yingchuan’s grip, though subtle, was strong.

“I just don’t want to bother your life like others do.”

“Oh?” Bai Yingchuan tilted his head slightly, his eyes flickering between doubt and amusement. “The first day I transferred, everyone stared at me with shock and curiosity. But you—you just looked down and smiled. I’ve always wondered—what were you mocking?”

Jiang Ruotang’s body tensed instinctively.

He’d thought Bai Yingchuan’s keen perception of others developed later in life. Had he been this sharp even in high school?

“That morning, everyone was scrambling to finish summer homework, but you didn’t have to. I was laughing at myself—compared to you, I’m just a beast of burden enslaved by assignments…”

Bai Yingchuan lowered his gaze, his voice soft. “Really?”

His tone, like a line from a movie, carried an emotional pull. If you lied, guilt would creep in, and Bai Yingchuan would catch the tail of your emotions.