Chapter 61: The Sun and the Puddle!

“Hiss—” Wang Chen drew in a sharp breath.

Whether it was the fact that Tang Ruotong had once disliked him, or the calmness with which she spoke of it now, both left him at a loss for how to respond.

After a moment’s silence, he still asked, “Can you tell me why you used to dislike me?”

Tang Ruotong’s fingers twisted at the hem of her clothes. “Do you remember what happened when we first started school?”

“It was the first class quiz. Our rankings were close—you were fifth from the bottom, I was sixth.”

Wang Chen paused, his voice growing quieter. “I remember.”

How could he not remember? Academic achievement had once been his only source of pride. In the face of countless setbacks and a life marked by hardship, he clung to that slender thread of hope, building the confidence that kept him afloat.

But after entering No. 1 High School, even that last support was ground to dust.

Thinking back on those days now, all he could recall was darkness and gloom.

“And after one semester, you were at the top of the class. A year later, you were first in the entire grade,” Tang Ruotong continued.

“So you disliked me because I stopped being at the bottom with you?” Wang Chen joked.

“No, back then it was just the seed of something unpleasant—mostly, I envied you,” Tang Ruotong said, looking at him. “What truly made me dislike you started with that group project in our second year.”

Wang Chen was momentarily blank, then recalled, “The one where we had to research fierce beasts and submit a log?”

“Yes.” Tang Ruotong’s gaze drifted into the void, as if lost in memory. “Each group was supposed to have three to five people. It was a lot of work, and this arrangement balanced the workload with our other studies.”

“Everyone quickly found friends to team up with, including me. Only one person was left without a group,” she went on.

Wang Chen gave a bitter smile. “That person was me.”

At the start of the second year, he had swept through No. 1 High like an upstart, becoming a regular on the honor roll and the subject of teachers’ praise.

But at the same time, Wang Chen’s relentless diligence made other students appear lazy and unmotivated in the eyes of the teachers. He became the target of his classmates’ cold, sometimes hostile stares—both intentional and unintentional. The one leading this silent ostracism was Cai Kun.

“At that time, I felt a little relieved—relieved that I hadn’t ended up like you, pushed out by the group. Relieved that I found people who were willing to accept me,” Tang Ruotong said, her tone still detached, as if telling someone else’s story.

“And at the same time, I mocked you in my heart. I mocked your desperate efforts, mocked you for not fitting in, mocked you… for not fawning over others.”

Her voice finally wavered. “It was as if I’d proven to myself that I was right—that enduring and submitting to the gentle bullying within the girls’ clique was worthwhile, because it kept me from ending up like you.”

“Back then, I prayed silently: Wang Chen, just give in. Beg. Break down! Please, just be weak—then my own shame would be less obvious…”

By now, Tang Ruotong had twisted the hem of her clothes into a knot. “But you didn’t. You kept on, unbroken.”

“You stood up from your seat and told the teacher you wanted to be a group of one. The teacher said that would be a lot of pressure, but you said it was fine—you’d finish the assignment on time, and to the highest standard.”

Tang Ruotong bit her lip and looked at Wang Chen, her eyes misting. “And you did it. At the cost of dark circles under your eyes each day, at the cost of leaving yourself only ten minutes for lunch.”

Wang Chen watched her closely, trying to read more of her thoughts, not knowing she had been silently observing him all this time.

“Your project was displayed by the teacher on the projector. He praised you—said your work, in both breadth and depth, far surpassed the other groups. It was hard to believe one person had completed it all.”

“But you remained so composed, a slight smile at your lips, as if none of it had been difficult for you, as if you’d always expected to succeed.”

Tang Ruotong’s voice rose, little by little.

“It was then I finally understood: in your eyes, none of what mattered to me existed. There was no choosing to give up, not for you. You simply pressed on, straight ahead, never paying mind to doubt or hesitation.”

Two tears slipped down her cheeks. “From that moment on, Wang Chen, I hated you! I hated your effort, your perseverance, your refusal to yield, your air of aloof pride!”

Her voice trembled with sobs. “Why did you have to be like the sun? As soon as you rose, I could no longer ignore my own weakness! I was like a muddy puddle, destined to be evaporated by your brilliance, all the filth beneath laid bare.”

Wang Chen remained silent. Facing a young girl and the burdens she’d carried across so many days and nights, he could only listen.

“You probably never noticed such darkness in me, did you? You’d probably think I’m unreasonable, wouldn’t you?” She finally broke down in tears. “Isn’t that right? You just keep forging ahead, so proud, crushing everyone and everything that defeated me, until nothing is left but the servile, groveling me underneath, and then you pass judgment, slicing me a thousand times with that haughty gaze of yours!”

She glared at Wang Chen, and something about that stubborn look felt familiar to him—he’d once seen such unwillingness in his own reflection.

They stared at each other, neither looking away.

After a long time, Tang Ruotong turned her face, wiped away her tears, and continued:

“I was afraid of that day—afraid of the sun’s final judgment of the dirty puddle.”

“But it never came.”

“On the day of the Awakening Ceremony, you awakened as a support class—a Life Shaman. That sun that had weighed on me so heavily seemed finally about to set.”

“But do you know? I didn’t feel glad. Not even a trace of joy at your setback,” she said, her profile tinged with sorrow. “I just felt hollow, as if something important had been lost, leaving only emptiness inside.”

“Even though I awakened a rare class, the Holy Shield Knight, that vast emptiness still shrouded me.”

“So it turns out, even if it means being evaporated, a muddy puddle still longs for the sun to rise.”

“It wasn’t until I saw your silhouette outside the lair of the Six-Tailed Venom Centipede King that everything changed.”

“I didn’t dare to be sure it was you—I was afraid my hope would be for nothing.”

“But here—” Tang Ruotong touched her chest—“here, I was filled with excitement bit by bit. And when you broke the record in the Virtual Realm, it cheered for the first time in ages…”

She smiled through tears. “The sun rose, as always.”