But She Doesn't Deserve It

If you asked why Fang Jun liked Luo Ruiyu,

it was entirely because Luo Ruiyu was genuinely good.

At least in how she treated him as a neighbor, she was really kind.

Fang Jun opened his mouth but found he couldn’t argue.

She was right—if he went up there alone, he’d probably just embarrass himself. But with her there, at least it wouldn’t be a complete disaster.

“Fine,” Fang Jun sighed. “So what are we singing?”

Luo Ruiyu’s eyes lit up. She tapped the table twice with her index finger. “I already thought of it. We’ll sing ‘Take Me to Your Heart.’”

“Huh?”

Fang Jun froze, thinking he’d misheard.

“‘Take Me to Your Heart’? That old classic?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you serious? My dad plays that on loop in the car—he’s been listening to it for ten years. Isn’t it too old?”

“Hold on,” Luo Ruiyu cut him off, gesturing in the air. “Just singing the Chinese version would be dated, but you know there’s an English version, right?”

Fang Jun knew, of course.

His dad’s USB drive had both versions, and sometimes he’d switch between them while driving.

“Start with the Chinese version, then switch to the English in the middle,” Luo Ruiyu said, getting more excited. “We’ll blend the two versions, alternating between male and female vocals. That way, the song’s a classic, but the format is fresh. The judges will definitely give us points for creativity.”

Fang Jun looked at her and had to admit it was a smart idea.

An old song given a new twist, maximizing the sense of contrast.

Plus, the melody of “Take Me to Your Heart” was simple, hard to mess up. For someone at his level, not messing up was already the biggest victory.

“How did you come up with this one?”

Luo Ruiyu shrugged. “I picked something you’d be familiar with. We don’t have much time, after all.”

The two discussed it and jotted down a mixed version of both songs’ lyrics in their notebook, even dividing the lines.

That way, it’d be easier for them to coordinate.

Afternoon classes ended.

Luo Ruiyu slapped Fang Jun on the shoulder—hard enough to make him stumble forward.

“Come on, let’s go to your place to practice. At least we can get our timing down. You do play guitar, right?”

Fang Jun rubbed his shoulder, feeling a bit nervous.

He’d learned guitar in middle school, purely because he thought it looked cool and might catch Luo Ruiyu’s attention.

He’d practiced for half a year, but his skill only reached “can play”—nothing more.

Between “can play” and “plays well,” there was a galaxy of difference.

“Uh, sure. Let’s try when we get back. The chord progression for ‘Take Me to Your Heart’ isn’t too complicated.”

Luo Ruiyu shot him a sidelong glance. “Don’t talk like you’re headed to the execution ground.”

“I call it being cautious, you know.”

“I call it being a coward.”

They bickered as they walked out side by side, neither thinking anything of it.

But to others, it looked completely different.

A few guys in the back row nudged each other, exchanging knowing glances.

A girl in the front whispered to her deskmate, “Did you see that? Luo Ruiyu actually volunteered to sing with Fang Jun?”

Her deskmate lowered her voice, “Of course I saw. I’m not blind.”

“So, do you think they’re…”

“Don’t ask me. I’m just here for the show.”

Cai Junhuang sat by the window, packing her bag.

She didn’t join the whispers, but her gaze kept drifting uncontrollably in their direction.

These past few days, she couldn’t explain it to herself—she kept looking for Fang Jun without realizing it.

When her mind wandered in class, when she was spacing out between periods, even when she passed his desk to get water.

But every time she looked, the result was the same.

Fang Jun and Luo Ruiyu were huddled together, sometimes scribbling on paper, sometimes whispering, occasionally sharing a laugh.

She pulled her gaze away, shoved her pencil case into her backpack, and yanked the zipper shut with extra force.

Just then, Ma Ruixiang sauntered over.

The guy walked with a swagger, holding a sheet of paper outward like he wanted everyone to see it.

It was the registration form for the art festival, in handwriting she knew all too well.

“Cai Junhuang, you’re still here?”

Ma Ruixiang stopped, his tone deliberately casual. “I’ve already got someone to take over your act with Fang Jun. I was worried he couldn’t handle it alone, but then Luo Ruiyu offered to sing with him. Funny how that worked out, huh?”

He scratched his head, wearing that annoyingly smug “just letting you know” expression.

“Saved me a lot of trouble. I was about to borrow someone from the next class.”

Cai Junhuang didn’t reply.

Ma Ruixiang didn’t expect her to.

He was just here to twist the knife.

Twist and leave, clean and sharp.

If you don’t want it, someone else will.

He stuffed the form into his pocket, turned around, and headed toward the podium. After two steps, he glanced back and added, “Oh, and they’re heading off to practice now. Pretty enthusiastic, huh?”

A few classmates still around heard it all. Some smirked, others pretended not to notice.

Everyone in the class knew what was going on.

Fang Jun hadn’t done anything wrong. After being dumped, he’d moped around for a while, and everyone felt bad for him. Now that he was finally showing some spirit, Ma Ruixiang was just getting back at Cai Junhuang for him.

The method was crude, but effective.

Cai Junhuang’s fingers tightened on her backpack strap, then loosened.

She glanced toward the door.

The corridor was already empty—no trace of Fang Jun or Luo Ruiyu.

She stood up, pushed her chair under the desk, and moved quietly.

Without a word, she slung her backpack over her shoulder and left.

Ma Ruixiang leaned against the podium, watching her silhouette disappear around the corner of the hallway. He whistled.

Gao Yuanqiang sidled up to him. “Did you have to go that far?”

“Yes,” Ma Ruixiang said with certainty. “You saw how Fang Jun was. He turned into a silent zombie. And her?”

Gao Yuanqiang clicked his tongue. “Alright. Whatever makes you happy.”

Ma Ruixiang was indeed happy.

Sure, Cai Junhuang was pretty, but that didn’t mean everyone had to like her.

Of course, there were others who did.

But he, Ma Ruixiang, wasn’t one of them.

At that moment, on the way home, Fang Jun and Luo Ruiyu walked with a bit of distance between them.

“Hey! So why did you even sign up?”

Fang Jun looked up and sighed.

“Let’s just say it’s my last time taking the fall for someone.”

Luo Ruiyu suddenly stopped, her ponytail swinging as she turned to face him.

“What do you mean, ‘last time taking the fall’? Who are you taking the fall for?”

Fang Jun scratched his head.

“Well, here’s the thing…”

After hearing the whole story, Luo Ruiyu fell silent. After a long pause, she lifted her head and stared at Fang Jun.

“It wasn’t your fault. You shouldn’t have had to take that blame. You must have really liked her, but she didn’t deserve you.”