Chapter 301 Morning Run

The first week of school flew by, like a movie that was fast-forwarded.

The novelty gradually fades, replaced by a rhythm unique to university life—unhurried and relaxed. When there are classes in the first two periods of the morning, it's chaotic, but when there are no classes, it's as lazy as a cat basking in the sun.

Zhou Heng's biological clock remained as stable as a precision instrument.

I get up at 6:20, make my bed, wash up, change my clothes, and go out. Sometimes I eat breakfast in the cafeteria, and sometimes I run a couple of laps around the track before going to the cafeteria.

He doesn't listen to music or look at his phone while running. He just runs lap after lap, breathing evenly and with steady steps, like a wound-up machine, precisely executing a preset program.

There weren't many people on the playground in the morning. Apart from a few people jogging, there were only one or two students who had gotten up early to memorize vocabulary sitting on the stands, muttering to themselves.

Zhou Heng liked the playground at this time of day; it was quiet, spacious, and there weren't many people or things to deal with.

After finishing the fifth lap, he slowed down, switched to a slow walk, and adjusted his breathing.

Sweat trickled down my forehead, and the morning breeze made it feel cool.

He bent over, bracing himself on his knees to catch his breath. When he straightened up, he saw a figure slowly walking towards him at the entrance of the playground.

He was very tall, wearing a gray sweatshirt, and his hair was a little unruly, as if he had just gotten out of bed and hadn't had time to style it.

Xiao Jue.

He approached, holding a cup of soy milk in his hand, and was clearly stunned for a moment when he saw Zhou Heng.

"You still run?" Xiao Jue switched the soy milk to his left hand, casually brushing aside a stray strand of hair. "No wonder your bed is empty every morning when I open my eyes."

Zhou Heng wiped the sweat from his face with the towel draped around his neck. "You're up so early?"

He glanced at the time; it was just past seven.

Xiao Jue was not the type of person who would appear on the playground at this time.

They had been living together for almost a week, and Zhou Heng had already figured out Xiao Jue's daily routine—he went to bed late at night and got up even later in the morning. If he had classes in the first two periods, he would rush into the classroom as the bell rang, and if he didn't have classes, he could sleep until nine or ten o'clock.

"I didn't have class this morning, but my mom called." Xiao Jue shrugged, a hint of helplessness in his voice. "She said I hadn't called home for a week and sent my little nephew to urge me. The little guy called me 'Uncle' on the phone, which melted my heart. I couldn't sleep, so I came out."

As he spoke, he naturally followed Zhou Heng's pace, and the two walked slowly along the track.

"What time do you get up every day?" Xiao Jue asked.

"6:20."

"6:20?" Xiao Jue's voice rose half an octave, then fell back down. "Damn, no wonder you're like a ghost every morning; I haven't heard a thing."

Zhou Heng tilted his head slightly and glanced at him.

"I'm used to it," Zhou Heng said.

"You're really ruthless to yourself," Xiao Jue commented, taking a sip of soy milk.

The two walked around most of the playground without saying another word.

A morning breeze blew in from the stands, carrying the unique scent of the grass on the field after it had been dampened by dew, mixed with the faint sweet aroma of the soy milk in Xiao Jue's hand.

When they reached the exit of the playground, Xiao Jue suddenly stopped.

"By the way, there's something I wanted to tell you."

Zhou Heng also stopped and looked at him.

"I sometimes play games late into the night, and I know you don't like noise, so I always wear headphones. But I'm going in and out, and opening and closing doors and drawers can make noise. If you're uncomfortable, just tell me and I'll be careful."

Zhou Heng didn't expect him to say that.

He looked at Xiao Jue and remained silent for two seconds.

"It's alright," he said.

"What do you mean, 'alright'?" Xiao Jue raised an eyebrow.

"You're not very loud," Zhou Heng said. "You've never woken me up."

This is the truth.

Zhou Heng's sleep quality is not good. He is sensitive to sound, and even a slight noise can pull him out of his light sleep.

But for the past week, while Xiao Jue was out and about every night, he lay on top and was never disturbed by any sudden noises.

Xiao Jue smiled after hearing his words.

"Then I'll keep doing it," he said.

Zhou Heng lowered his eyes, folded the towel, and draped it over his arm.

Life went on like this, neither exciting nor dull.

During class, after class, eating, and studying, Xiao Jue would occasionally drag me to the snack street outside the west gate of the school for a barbecue.

Zhou Heng discovered that he was not incapable of integrating into this kind of collective life.

He still doesn't like crowds and isn't good at taking the initiative to socialize. When Cheng Yue organizes a dormitory dinner, he is still the most silent one.

But he found that when he didn't need to speak, just sitting there quietly, listening to Cheng Yue tell those nonsensical jokes, and watching Fang Yuzhou's expression freeze at Xiao Jue's lame jokes, he even felt that these moments weren't so hard to endure.

-

That evening, Cheng Yue went home. His parents picked him up in their car, saying they would take him out for a nice meal to replenish his energy. Before leaving, they posted a selfie of him eating a chicken leg in the back seat of the car in the group chat, with the caption "Brothers, I'm going home to have some fun."

Fang Yuzhou is at the library. He said he has a big assignment to submit and probably won't be back until closing time.

There were only Zhou Heng and Xiao Jue in the dormitory.

Zhou Heng sat at his desk reading a book for leisure, not a textbook for his major courses, but a novel he had borrowed from the library, Gabriel García Márquez's "One Hundred Years of Solitude".

He reads very slowly, sometimes flipping through a single page two or three times, thoroughly understanding every sentence before moving on.

Xiao Jue sat opposite him, wearing headphones and playing games.

The light from the screen reflected on his face, flickering between bright and dim.

Unlike usual, he wasn't muttering anything to himself; he was unusually quiet, and the rhythm of his mouse clicks was unhurried. It didn't seem like he was playing a competitive game, but rather like he was engaging in some kind of relaxing activity.

Zhou Heng turned the page.

The only sounds in the room were the hum of the air conditioner, the clicking of the mouse, and the rustling of papers turning.

Quiet, but not deserted.

Xiao Jue suddenly took off one earphone and turned to look at Zhou Heng.

"Zhou Heng".

Zhou Heng raised his head.

"Do you want some instant noodles?" Xiao Jue asked. "I'm a little hungry. I'm thinking of cooking a pack, and I'll cook one for you too."