Chapter 48: Today's Patrol, Nothing Occurred

Morning reading class ended.

Chen Shian had memorized a total of five hundred and thirty-eight words. Excluding the more than three hundred and forty words he had already learned yesterday, he managed to memorize nearly two hundred words in just forty minutes of the morning reading session alone. As his vocabulary expanded rapidly, his method of memorizing words directly from English texts meant there were fewer unfamiliar words to encounter. Judging from the seventh-grade English textbook, he no longer needed the point-and-read pen for most of the vocabulary; he could recognize and understand them on sight.

Moreover, his speed in memorizing words was increasing. What began as a painstaking letter-by-letter process had evolved into direct spelling, breaking down, and constructing words for easier memory. However, Chen Shian still did not resort to memorizing the word list at the back of the textbook. He continued to memorize words from the text itself. For him, this was not just memorizing words; it was also memorizing the text, reinforcing vocabulary, grammar, and sentence structures with the grammar materials Wen Zhixia had given him.

Few people, he thought, would approach learning English as aggressively and comprehensively as he did. “No matter what it is, I’ll just memorize it all and get it over with…”

Thinking of what Lin Mengqiu said earlier, Chen Shian pondered what else about English he could ask her. This question seemed harder for him than memorizing vocabulary or texts. The areas where he lacked most in English had already been filled in by Wen Zhixia and Teacher Ye. He didn’t see the point in asking her about things he already understood.

He thought for a long time and finally came up with something he could ask her—

“Class president.”

“…?”

Lin Mengqiu stopped writing, turned her head slightly, and glanced at him.

“?”

“I have an English question I’d like to ask you.”

As he spoke, the icy expression on the girl’s face began to melt. She discreetly tucked the hair by her cheek behind her ear, revealing her delicate little earlobe, an expression of attentive listening.

“What is it?”

“I saw your English test paper yesterday. Your handwriting is beautiful. I wanted to ask how you write English letters so well.”

Lin Mengqiu was taken aback, hesitating between speaking and silence.

Wait… I said you could ask me about something you don’t understand in English—at least bring me a question or a textbook! How is ‘how to write English letters’ a question? Or is your study partner so impressive that with just some materials, you learned all of English? Did your partner score higher than me?

“This is your question?”

“Yes, my English handwriting is really bad. I want to learn from you.”

Lin Mengqiu stared at him for a while, seeing his serious expression, not a trace of joking. She couldn’t stay annoyed.

English, as a foreign language, is rarely practiced in writing the way Chinese characters are. What Chen Shian said was true; Lin Mengqiu’s handwriting was indeed beautiful, almost a reflection of her own qualities. There was no excessive flourish, yet it carried a graceful strength. The spacing between letters was clear, just like the distance she kept with people—gentle but with boundaries. The tip of her A was sharp as an icicle, the curves of f and s delicate as silk. Especially in her composition pages, the entire sheet of English writing was slender and upright, a pleasure to behold.

At this moment, morning reading had ended and the students were gathering outside for morning exercises.

Lin Mengqiu was always ‘slow’ when it came to morning exercises. Now that Chen Shian had come to ask her a question, she had even more reason to linger.

She took out a draft notebook, flipped to a blank page, and placed it between their desks.

“Write a few words for me to see.”

Chen Shian slid the notebook over, took up a pen, and casually wrote a phrase from the textbook: [what rules do we follow?]

Truthfully, Chen Shian knew even before Lin Mengqiu said anything that his handwriting was terrible. He knew how to read, how to spell, and how to write, but his hand felt stiff when the pen met the paper. Those awkward letter shapes made him feel like he wasn’t writing but only tracing images from his mind. Not only was he slow, the letters were crooked, like a child just learning to write English.

“That’s about it,” he said, sliding the notebook back to her.

Lin Mengqiu studied his handwriting in silence.

It was clear Chen Shian was trying to imitate the textbook’s printed font, but the result was barely recognizable.

Your English learning sequence is completely reversed! Who else memorizes hundreds of words but writes like someone just learning the alphabet? You’ve hardly written in English at all!

Lin Mengqiu picked up her pen and wrote a row of English words beneath his.

Comparing the two, it was like a toad and a swan sitting side by side.

“Class president, your handwriting is so beautiful. Please teach me.”

Many classmates and teachers had complimented her handwriting before, but nothing delighted Lin Mengqiu quite as much as this sincere praise from a novice like Chen Shian.

She put away the draft notebook and took out a special English exercise book, with each big row divided into four smaller rows to help regulate handwriting.

“You just haven’t written enough,” she said as she wrote. “To write English letters well, you first need to master the basic strokes, like A and a…”

As she spoke, Chen Shian listened intently.

They both leaned toward the center of the desk, their bodies inclined toward each other.

Chen Shian’s gaze followed her hand, her pen, and the letters she wrote.

Perhaps because she was so fair or so slender, the skin on the back of her hand was so delicate that faint veins showed through. Her long, slender fingers held the pen at just the right height. Such soft hands, and yet her writing was full of strength—her script was neat and upright, sharp and natural.

Watching someone with beautiful handwriting write is indeed a pleasure.

“The spacing between letters must be uniform—not too tight, not too loose. You can use reference lines to control the spacing. If you must, use a ruler against the lines to practice…”

“Like this?”

“Yes. When writing a lowercase w, start and end with a slight hook.”

“Are there different fonts for English handwriting?”

“Generally, there’s cursive, print, italic, Gothic, and so on—mostly used in art and design.”

“Class president, you know so much.”

Lin Mengqiu had never imagined she could feel such a sense of accomplishment from teaching someone to write English letters.

Her mood was relaxed and cheerful. When she came to herself, she realized she and Chen Shian were sitting very close.

How close? As she wrote, the back of her hand could feel the warmth of his breath. When he spoke softly, she could hear the resonant vibration from his chest and throat. Her elbow was almost touching his arm, his body heat coming through the thin school uniform, mingling with that unique scent of grass and trees after the rain that lingered on him, swirling at her nose…

“Does this look better now?” Chen Shian asked naturally, turning his head.

Lost in thought, Lin Mengqiu’s pupils widened, and his face was almost within reach in her field of vision. The morning light from the window scattered across his face, and she could even see the iridescence in his eyes, like mountain ridges.

Lin Mengqiu discreetly looked away, her fingertips curling, long lashes lowering to hide her fluster.

She hadn’t even heard what Chen Shian said just now, only murmured an ‘mm’ in response, and took the opportunity to drink from her water bottle, putting distance between them.

“Anyway…”

The class president drank water.

“Just practice more. It’s not hard.”

She put the bottle down and tightened the cap.

“Alright.”

Chen Shian nodded.

Suddenly, a stern voice echoed outside the classroom—

“You two over there! What are you doing? What time is it? Why aren’t you downstairs for morning exercises?”

Only then did Lin Mengqiu realize what time it was. She looked up and around; the quiet classroom was empty of other students.

Even the corridor outside was deserted, save for the grade director standing at the door.

The girl moved quickly!

Chen Shian hadn't even gotten up yet, but she was already on her feet. With her slender frame, she slipped between the back of his chair and the desk behind him.

The class president, usually slow for exercises, now moved with unprecedented speed; by the time Chen Shian looked back, she was already jogging toward the classroom door.

“…Oh, it’s Mengqiu?”

But Lin Mengqiu ignored the grade director and hurried down the stairs.

“And the other student… Oh, it’s Young Master Chen?”

“Sorry, teacher—I was practicing handwriting and lost track of time.”

“No problem, no problem. Hurry downstairs.”

The grade director chuckled, his stern expression turning friendly.

Today’s inspection ended, with nothing amiss.

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