Fourty-three: Making the First Move – Fourty-two: Making the First Move May the Buddha protect us—thank you, Old Iron, for successfully persuading that stubborn old romantic, the crooked chicken roast. Otherwise, I’d have had to face another embarrassing moment in front of the whole class. It seems Miss Tie’s words made a difference—the crooked chicken roast didn’t start asking questions one after another as he did earlier in the morning. Instead, he simply lectured on the lesson content with calm composure, like nothing had happened at all. Lu Yun exhaled deeply and felt his racing heart finally settle into normal rhythm. The afternoon passed in a haze of boredom. When the bell for dismissal rang, Lu Yun burst out of the classroom like a flying arrow. Liang Hongyu watched Lu Yun’s swift figure and pursed her lips, murmuring under her breath: “He must have gone straight to see the school belle, Lu Xiao-ying.” Her tone was sour; she shoved her books into her desk with a sense of weary frustration. Lu Yun dashed out of the classroom and borrowed a football from the PE teacher before heading straight toward the playground. Dribbling, weaving through defenders, scoring—goal! Lu Yun performed various moves, shooting goal after goal into the empty net, until beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. Within fifteen minutes, more students joined in to play with him, and soon a full team of twenty-two players formed, marking the official start of the game. Lu Yun’s speed and agility were outstanding—especially his ability to finish off chances at the finish line—and despite having only been at the school for just over a month, he had already earned a reputation as one of the most reliable scorers in the school. The match was fiercely competitive; back-and-forth exchanges kept both teams active, yet no clear scoring opportunity emerged. After ten minutes, the score remained 0–0. “Pass it quick—pass it over!” Lu Yun, having sprinted tirelessly, finally broke through the opponent’s defensive line. His teammate delivered a long pass that landed precisely at his feet. Lu Yun paused briefly before charging forward with relentless momentum. He skillfully passed through three defenders in succession and then glanced toward the nervous goalkeeper, who held his breath. With decisive intent, Lu Yun struck—the ball arced beautifully through the air, curling into the top-left corner of the net. Goal! The keeper stood stunned as the ball settled into the net. On the sidelines, a cluster of girls erupted in cheers. Yet football simply didn’t draw large crowds—few female spectators, and most were so unenthusiastic they could barely be called anything but “dinosaur-level” fans. Lu Yun shook his head, clapped hands with teammates to celebrate, when suddenly he spotted a familiar figure. He blinked several times, double-checking that he hadn’t mistaken the person—then said to his teammates: “You go ahead and keep playing—I’ve got something I need to do now.” His teammates, still buzzing from excitement, were startled by Lu Yun’s sudden departure. “Lu Yun,” they exclaimed in unison, “what are you doing? We’re just about to win—you’re going to leave now?” Lu Yun wiped sweat from his brow and gestured helplessly with both hands: “I truly have something urgent—I’ll catch up with you another time.” Without waiting for agreement or permission, he turned and started off. “Wow—what a jerk!” one of the teammates muttered in disbelief. Lu Yun smiled gently at the behind-the-scenes complaints, inwardly thinking: “Honestly, I don’t have time to play football with all of you anymore. I’ve got to go out and meet some girls now.” “Ms. Ling,” Lu Yun said as he hurried up beside her, “do you enjoy football?” Ms. Ling Xiao-man was strolling slowly along the edge of the field when she heard someone calling her name. She turned gracefully and paused a moment before smiling: “Ah, Lu Yun—how come you’ve taken up football now?” Lu Yun panted his way to her side, doing his best to steady his breath, then smiled warmly with genuine enthusiasm: “It’s so hot today—I thought I’d take a break.” Ms. Ling gave a gentle smile; the little dimples on each cheek stood out beautifully as she walked with arms folded. “Your footwork is quite good,” she said, “I actually saw you score just now—great job!” Lu Yun blushed slightly and rubbed his head awkwardly: “I just run faster than others. By the way, Ms. Ling, thank you today.” “For what?” “Had it not been for you today, I wouldn’t have known when or how long I’d be expected to go along with my homeroom teacher.” “Oh,” she chuckled softly, “well, physically disciplining students or making them miss class without proper reason—those are legally binding actions. I’m merely doing what every teacher should do—fulfilling a basic duty.” Lu Yun silently admired her professionalism: the grace of her demeanor, the softness in her posture, the way her slender arms moved naturally—and especially how the fabric of her blouse subtly revealed two lovely little bumps under the sleeves. Her waist was firm and graceful, her skirt flowing gently—every inch of her looked like something out of a fairy tale. In Lu Yun’s eyes, Ms. Ling Xiao-man had truly descended from heaven—a living embodiment of elegance and perfection. “Honestly,” he continued, “our teachers are all native rural folk. How could they possibly match someone as accomplished as you? If every teacher at this school were like you—what a difference it would make!” He knew well the adage: *No matter how many things one wears, nothing beats a good compliment.* Especially when speaking to someone beautiful. Ms. Ling smiled brightly and said: “Lu Yun, don’t you think it’s unkind to talk behind teachers’ backs?” “I’m telling the truth,” he replied, “and doesn’t your teacher often say that students who lie aren’t considered good students either?” She laughed at this and didn’t press further. Instead, she turned and began walking slowly away, occasionally glancing back at the group of boys engaged in lively play. Lu Yun followed close behind like a devoted shadow, eyes fixed on the pair of elegant white legs beneath her short skirt. “Why is it today,” he thought, “that not even a single breeze seems to stir?” ... Rural Beauty—Fourty-Three, updated! Fourty-Three: Making the First Move—Completed!