Summer in Your Name - 30

Sheng Xia felt a bit at a loss.

The so-called dressing room was actually a repurposed dispatch office, furnished with just a few desks and chairs. The changing area was a former staff bedroom. The space was cramped, already packed with people. Desks and chairs were cluttered with all sorts of makeup products, and the floor was strewn with dresses—tulle skirts and petticoats scattered everywhere, leaving barely any room to step.

Sheng Xia wasn’t great at socializing, and with Fu Jie still not here, facing a dozen pairs of curious eyes, she had no idea how to break the ice.

Instinctively, she glanced back at Zhang Shu, unaware that her eyes carried a plea for help.

Zhang Shu sighed inwardly. She should look in a mirror sometime and stop staring at people so pitifully, who could resist calling her ‘grandpa’ when she did that?

“Wait over there,” he said, guiding Sheng Xia by the shoulder to step aside. He pulled open the door behind her, scanned something on the back, then strode to one of the desks, pushing aside the messy pile of items to reveal a number at the desk’s corner: 6

Turning back, Zhang Shu asked the room, “Whose stuff is this?”

People exchanged glances, shaking their heads.

“Take it away,” Zhang Shu said. “This desk belongs to Class 6.”

Tall and imposing in the low-ceilinged dispatch room, he could reach the ceiling with a stretch. His tone was cold, carrying an air of authority.

The previously noisy Room 105 fell silent.

As the standoff lingered, the changing area door swung open. A floaty beige tulle dress stepped out into view, its waistline cinched high and tight. Paired with chestnut curls and a radiant face, the look was youthful and stunning.

“A-Shu? What are you doing here?” Chen Mengyao’s eyes lit up as she approached, lifting her skirt’s hem.

“Dropping off our goddess,” Zhang Shu replied, stepping back and pointing to desk number 6. “Is that your stuff?”

Chen Mengyao followed his gesture and nodded. “Yeah.”

In that same direction, her eyes landed on Sheng Xia.

A girl she’d noticed multiple times—Class 6’s transfer student, Zhang Shu’s deskmate, the one who’d taken Zhou Xuanxuan’s spot as the signboard goddess.

Whenever this girl passed Class 4 to get water, a few boys would nudge each other, whispering, “Hey, that’s the Class 6 girl!” or “Look, quick!” as if they’d spotted a panda.

Sheng Xia’s arms, clutching a box, stiffened, whether from holding it too long or from Zhang Shu’s ‘our goddess’ comment, she wasn’t sure.

Though everyone called her that, Sheng Xia hadn’t fully adjusted to the term and felt a touch awkward.

“Don’t you have your own desk?” Zhang Shu glanced at another cluttered table nearby, letting out a laugh that could’ve been mocking or exasperated, his usual nonchalant attitude. “Didn’t you see the schedule on the back of the door?”

Chen Mengyao blinked. “What schedule?”

Zhang Shu didn’t bother explaining. “Never mind the schedule. Just move your stuff. We’ve got things to put down too.”

Chen Mengyao suddenly toyed the pendant on her necklace. “A-Shu, does it look good?”

Zhang Shu stepped back, noticing the necklace was the same one he’d bought for Zhang Sujin. His brow lifted slightly, and he nodded. “Not bad.”

Chen Mengyao lifted her skirt again, showing off the dress. “Pretty, right?”

Zhang Shu urged, “Can’t look. Hurry up and move your stuff.”

“Your mouth’s got a problem, Zhang Shu. Get it fixed before it’s too late,” Chen Mengyao shot back, glaring, then waved to her two companions. “Go grab it.”

One was a girl Sheng Xia recognized from passing encounters at the water room or bathroom, someone from Class 4. The other, a boy with makeup on, didn’t seem to be from Affiliated High School, probably a cosmetics counter makeup artist.

Both passed Zhang Shu cautiously, barely daring to breathe.

Watching their banter, Sheng Xia found it a bit odd. Wasn’t Zhang Shu pursuing Chen Mengyao? Why did he seem so… cavalier?

Did he chase people with this kind of attitude?

Once the desk was cleared, Zhang Shu set the things down and glanced at the girl standing obediently to the side. “Don't you have stuff to do? Get to it.”

Sheng Xia snapped out of her wandering thoughts, embarrassed by her own thoughts. “Oh,” she mumbled, fumbling to open the dress box.

The moment she opened it, she froze.

The dress came with breast pads, previously tucked beneath unnoticed, but after being rummaged through last time, there they were, sitting conspicuously on top.

Flesh-toned, silicone, two… mounds.

She stared, dumbfounded, and slammed the box shut, but it was too late. Zhang Shu was standing right beside her. No way he hadn’t seen it.

She stole a glance at him. He turned away just before their eyes met, his lashes fluttering unnaturally…

He was totally pretending he hadn’t seen it!

He saw it!

Could time rewind? Just one minute would do!

Dear heavens, bury her now!

Fu Jie arrived late, lugging a small suitcase. The room quieted as students saw a teacher and settled at their spots, preparing and chatting softly. Fu Jie, oblivious to the earlier tension, instructed Sheng Xia, “Hurry and change. I thought you’d be done by now. We’re running out of time.”

“Mm.” Sheng Xia’s ears burned red. She didn’t dare open the box again, clutching it as she darted to the changing room.

Zhang Shu rubbed his nose, said something to Fu Jie, and left to rejoin the class formation.

Sheng Xia couldn’t even bring herself to look at the breast pads. The dress was strapless, so she had no choice but to wear them. She’d seen pigs run but never eaten pork—she had no idea how to put them on. Plus, the dress was heavy; she could barely lift it.

So, she poked her head out and called for Fu Jie’s help.

As Fu Jie adjusted the strapless dress, she clucked her tongue. “Sheng Xia, you’re hiding it pretty well, huh?”

Sheng Xia ducked her head in embarrassment.

Back in middle school, she’d noticed her body developing quickly, but fuller-chested girls were often the subject of gossip. Unaware of her size and with a small frame, flat collarbones and a low chest, loose clothes made her look average, and had kept her out of the rumor mill. So she’d always assumed she was small-chested.

In high school, she vaguely picked up on the admiration for fuller figures. When Tao Zhizhi asked about her size, she casually said, “Oh, just a C.”

Tao Zhizhi went ballistic and playfully hit her.

That’s when Sheng Xia learned that a C-cup was rare for her age, especially with her slim arms and waist.

The dress was meticulously tailored, the strapless bodice hugging tightly without being revealing, accentuating the curves of her chest and waist.

With her front and back exposed, Sheng Xia felt vulnerable.

When Fu Jie moved to pin up her hair, Sheng Xia quietly pleaded, “Teacher, can I keep my hair down?”

Fu Jie understood her concern. “But with the crown, an updo would look better, don’t you think?”

“Um…” Sheng Xia’s voice was full of hesitation.

“Alright, I’ll curl it and let it down,” Fu Jie relented, unable to resist the girl’s subtle, pleading expression.

The student council came in to hurry everyone along, and the room buzzed with final preparations.

Some still stole glances at Sheng Xia through mirrors.

After that earlier ‘standoff’, everyone was mentally scoring Sheng Xia against Chen Mengyao.

It was clear today’s spotlight belonged to these two.

The coordinating teacher was rushing them. Sheng Xia caught a quick glimpse of herself in someone else’s mirror, she was still herself, not transformed into someone unrecognizable.

That was enough.

Leaving the dispatch room, she headed to the main stage to collect her signboard before rejoining her class formation. Sheng Xia felt eyes on her the whole way, more intense than at her old school’s sports festival.

She told herself not to shrink back. Everyone was dressed up; she didn’t need to feel nervous about embarrassing her class. If she weren’t holding the signboard today, she’d probably be among those curiously admiring the goddesses too, right?

These gazes were kind.

With that in mind, when the camera swung her way, Sheng Xia mimicked the others, waving at the lens with a smile.

Suddenly, a scream erupted from the field. Sheng Xia followed the sound and saw a bright yellow block waving wildly at her—a banner reading “Knockoff Pastoral Poet” flapping in the air. It was Class 6 cheering.

The big screen was broadcasting her, and they’d all seen it.

“Hurry, who’s writing the newsletter to hype up our goddess?” someone shouted.

 

“She’s doing us proud!”

“I’ll write it—angel face, devil figure!”

“Hahaha, which announcer’s brave enough to read that?”

From the back of the formation, Fu Jie’s scholarly voice chimed in: “Graceful in form, poised in manner, shy yet composed, melancholic yet radiant.”

“Teacher Fu, that’s epic!”

Fu Jie beamed. “Of course, you guys are epic too!”

“Hehehe…”

Sheng Xia crossed the track to rejoin Class 6.

Chen Mengyao and Class 5’s goddess walked ahead. Class 5’s goddess nearly twisted her ankle, probably unaccustomed to thin heels on the rubber track. Chen Mengyao, also in towering stilettos, moved effortlessly, striding like she was born for the spotlight. Truly star in the making.

Sheng Xia was grateful for her chunky heels, comfortable and track-friendly. Her long skirt hid most of her shoes anyway.

Zou Weiping was considerate of everything.

From shoe size to dress fit, even the breast pads—everything was perfect. Sheng Xia was not that familiar with Zou Weiping, yet she seemed to understand her so well. She must’ve also researched Affiliated High School’s past sports festivals. Looking around, the field was full of strapless and halter dresses, all formal attire. Sheng Xia’s loose hair was practically conservative by comparison.

As Sheng Xia rejoined Class 6, the formation erupted in cheers, drawing looks from nearby classes.

Sheng Xia’s ‘Hepburn’ look was elegant and distinct. Earth-toned eye makeup, no glittery shadow, paired with bold black brows, gave her a vibrant glow.

The masterstroke was her dried-rose lip color, avoiding the classic ‘black dress, red lips’ combo to keep her look understated, matching her slightly cool aura.

Like a pure white jasmine or a graceful black swan.

Xin Xiaohe slipped from the back of the formation to Sheng Xia’s side, whispering, “You won, babe!”

Onstage, the emcee had started speaking. Xin Xiaohe ducked back to her spot, flashing Sheng Xia a heart gesture.

Sheng Xia couldn’t help but smile, turning to face forward when she caught sight of Zhang Shu, towering at the back of the formation.

He stood with one hand in his pocket, chatting with Hou Junqi beside him, but his eyes were on her, distracted.

Hou Junqi was laughing and gesturing animatedly, suggesting their conversation wasn’t heavy. Yet Zhang Shu’s brows were furrowed, his face dark.

Like he was out for blood.

Sheng Xia’s shoulders tensed, and she quickly turned away.

A series of speeches from school leaders followed, with the big screen cutting to close-ups of each class’s formation. Class 4’s shot caused a stir, Class 5’s brought a hush, and Class 6’s sparked chatter again. Whispers spread, and the speaker onstage, startled by the sudden ‘enthusiasm’ paused to glance at the screen.

“If Chen Mengyao is a dazzling visual of a girl group ready for a music video, all sparkle and shine. Sheng Xia is the elegant actress heading to an awards ceremony, classy and refined,” Xin Xiaohe mused, stroking her chin.

“Spot-on,” her roommate agreed.

Zhou Xuanxuan muttered, “No need to go that far.”

The director seemed to be stirring the pot, lingering on Class 6’s shot for at least five extra seconds.

Class 5, sandwiched between Classes 4 and 6, swiveled heads left and right in unison, creating a comically synchronized scene.

The opening ceremony’s final segment began: the class formations’ marches. Each group marched past the main stage before returning to their designated bleacher spots. As seniors, the third-years went first, which caught Sheng Xia off guard; she'd expected it to be the same as at her old school with the first-years leading. 

This was better; less time standing.

As Xin Xiaohe predicted, the main stage area was a spectacle—whistling, singing, chanting “Long live Class X,” even a group cosplaying Ultraman fighting monsters. One class performed a chest-breaking-boulder stunt, earning cheers as they passed the main stage.

Mascots were a show of their own.

By comparison, Class 6’s Pikachu mascot felt tame, chosen just to match their class uniform’s colors.

“Now approaching is the senior class, Grade 3 Class 6, led by their Pastoral Poet, embodying the spirit of rustic charm and thriving in their final year…” the announcer declared.

Sheng Xia, holding the signboard steady, nearly tripped over the introduction, stifling a laugh with her head lowered. The camera zoomed in, capturing her restrained, graceful smile, utterly charming.

A loud shout erupted from the field’s waiting formations: “Senior sister, you’re gorgeous!”

Cheers and jeers followed.

Sheng Xia kept her eyes forward, appearing calm, though her ears were red, her heart pounding. The few hundred meters felt endless.

“Senior sister belongs to the senior brother! Cry about it!” came a booming retort from behind her.

Was that Hou Junqi?

Wasn’t he in the Pikachu costume? Where was his mascot dignity?

Sheng Xia didn’t look back, but the crowd burst into laughter.

Apparently, Pikachu had attempted a kick toward the waiting area, its stubby legs betraying the long ones inside, and tripped flat on its face.

A flurry of hands rushed to help it up.

“Pikachu’s reputation is ruined!”

“The ugliest Pikachu owes us an apology!”

Even the school leaders on the main stage chuckled.

The back-and-forth pushed the atmosphere to a peak.

Bang! Fireworks burst, and balloons, released in sync, floated into the sky, vibrant and colorful.

The clear blue sky, dotted with youthful hues, was bold and fervent.

Fu Jie and Lai Yilin, seated in bleachers near the main stage, sighed.

“We’re getting old.”

“Nonsense!”

“That’s just youth for you.”

“So good to be young.”

So good. Dressed in splendor, burning bright, tasting life’s sweetest flavors, shining with the brilliance of youth.

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