If it weren’t for the bizarrely exaggerated skills refreshed by the system and Jiutiao Meijie’s pressure, he really wouldn’t want to exchange for Master Level skills.
He glanced at the system interface showing [Points: 237,000], Dubian Che made his bed, turned off the desk lamp, and went to sleep.
In August, Kiyono Lin borrowed a music hall.
Just like getting familiar with the examination hall, the Wind Instrument Club practiced in this music hall, practiced and practiced like crazy.
Despite acquiring shooting skills that were second to none, Dubian Che still drank his ramune every day, tolerating the old lady from the shrine and Kiyono Lin’s cold looks, with his daily life unchanged.
On the morning of the competition, the school bus and trucks stopped in front of the club building.
Dubian Che, as one of the few boys in the Wind Instrument Club, inevitably had to move instruments.
By the time he finished, he was too tired to move.
Especially the percussion instruments, which were too heavy for him with only 6 points of physical strength.
Hanaoka Asako showed her monstrous strength for the first time, humming a tune as she carried a 100-pound xylophone down from the third floor with both hands, then immediately bounded up the stairs with a cheerful step to continue moving instruments.
Not a drop of sweat in the midsummer heat—they were still wearing long-sleeved school uniforms to look formal for the competition.
I genuinely worried for her future boyfriend. If he were a scumbag, his head might get twisted off, right?
I sincerely hoped it would be a man as devoted as I am, amen.
After moving the instruments, they checked again for any forgotten items, locked the rear door of the truck, and all members boarded the bus.
On the way to the venue, the bus was frighteningly quiet.
Some girls’ faces were pale from nervousness, looking like they might need a hospital any moment.
Kiyono Lin sat alone in the front row, resting with closed eyes.
Mayi Asuka removed her shoes, curled up in the seat, and played rhythm games with her headphones on; sitting next to her, Hanaoka Asako was staring blankly out the window at the continuously receding scenery.
In the back, Dubian Che sat with a trombone section boy, also playing rhythm games.
"Haomei, feeling nervous?" the boy whispered to Yuzao Haomei across the aisle.
"Don’t talk to me right now!" Yuzao Haomei snapped.
Her beautiful, pale face showed no flush of color; her lips moved silently, rehearsing the trombone melody repeatedly.
The boy, having been brushed off and too nervous to remain quiet, then turned his gaze to Dubian Che.
Although Dubian Che looked like the enemy of all men, the things he did—whether confessing publicly, not flirting with other girls, or the "chronic adolescent syndrome"—all made him a good bro to the boys.
"Dubian, did your girlfriend come to cheer you on?"
"It’s not a national competition. She wouldn’t attend these kinds of meetings."
"I see," the boy said, silent for a moment then asked, "Are you nervous?"
"I’m so envious of you. I’m so nervous my hands are numb and cold; do you want to feel?"
"What are you doing!" Dubian Che slapped his hand away.
Undeterred by his failed attempt, the boy asked, "How can I be as relaxed as you?"
"Can you guys keep it down!" Yuzao Haomei warned in a low voice, their voices disturbing her concentration on memorizing her music.
Dubian Che tapped on his phone screen: "Being nervous means your skills aren’t good enough. People who are skilled can’t wait to go on stage and show off."
Yuzao Haomei thought Dubian Che was talking about her!
Instantly irritated, her beautiful eyes stared intently this way.
The boy in the middle wished he could run away—if there were any other seats and if he wasn’t sitting near Yuzao Haomei, he wouldn’t have wanted to sit with Dubian Che, the most handsome guy in school, either.
"Like me," Dubian Che continued without looking up, "because I’m highly skilled. Whenever I perform, I get praised. What’s there to be nervous about? Only those who aren’t skilled feel like they’re being reviewed."
"What?" Dubian Che looked up to meet Yuzao Haomei’s biting-her-lip-in-anger face.
"Why are you always opposing me!"
"Haven’t you heard a saying? I don’t wish to be your enemy; I want to be the enemy of the world."
Dubian Che’s utterance of such a ’teenager’ line was actually aimed at lightening the mood, but Yuzao Haomei, completely missing the joke, buried her face in her skirt and began to cry.
"This..." Dubian Che was at a loss for words as his phone continually registered ’miss.’
The surrounding girls immediately criticized him, and the previously quiet bus became lively.
"What’s going on?" Kiyono Lin walked over, arms crossed, her indifferent voice like a snow closure on a mountain, silencing all other sounds.
"Dubian made Haomei cry!"
Kiyono Lin directed her gaze at Dubian Che.
"Lies," Kiyono Lin, the judge, immediately delivered her verdict.
"No, I made her cry, but I didn’t mean to. I wanted to lighten the mood, make her less nervous."
Kiyono Lin sighed, resignedly saying, "Consoling a girl by bullying her, are you still a child?"
She took out a handkerchief and handed it to Yuzao Haomei: "Ms. Yuzao, I apologize on his behalf. Mr. Dubian may sound harsh, but he is a good person."
A good person... why does it sound like an insult, although he indeed is a good person.
Yuzao Haomei’s emotions gradually stabilized with everyone’s comfort but still sobbed softly.
"Let’s keep quiet and rest well before the competition," Kiyono Lin warned with a glance at Dubian Che, then turned and returned to her seat.