After I Cheated on the Heiress of a Powerful Family - Chapter 14
Chapter 14
Miss Xie was known for keeping to herself—rarely interacting with classmates and never bothering to correct misunderstandings others had about her.
So when Wen Yan heard her response, she felt oddly honored and needed a few seconds to react. “Are you… feeling better now?”
Xie just nodded slightly.
Only then did Wen Yan notice how pale Xie looked today—lips chapped, visibly worn out beneath her usual calm demeanor.
It made Wen Yan feel awkward and even a little guilty.
Xie Buyi’s complexion was naturally pale, and she hadn’t shown any obvious signs of discomfort earlier. Wen Yan had been too focused on being annoyed to realize something was off.
Wen Yan herself had stomach issues and knew how painful they could be—bad enough to make her curl up in bed crying, unable to straighten up. She couldn’t imagine enduring it all so quietly, the way Xie Buyi did.
Earlier in P.E., Xie had still run six full laps without a word, even while she was on her period. Thinking about it now… maybe she was just being stubborn.
Trying to ease the tension, Wen Yan asked, “You didn’t even bring a water bottle. How’d you take your medicine?”
“I chewed it,” Xie replied flatly.
Some pills are sugar-coated and tolerable if swallowed quickly. But if you let them sit or chew them, the bitter taste lingers horribly.
Just thinking about it made Wen Yan cringe. Her own tongue seemed to recoil in sympathy. Uncomfortable in her seat, she fidgeted before pulling out a handful of candies and chocolates from her pocket.
The school infirmary had been giving out these sweets along with water and first-aid supplies. Wen Yan had grabbed some earlier when no one was looking, intending to stash them for later.
Now, without hesitation, she handed over a few candies, a piece of chocolate, and half a bottle of water to Xie.
There’d be chances to grab more supplies later in the day, she consoled herself. She had three more events to participate in anyway.
After that, Xie quietly moved her chair in and rested her head on the desk, drifting to sleep. Wen Yan stayed up, reviewing practice questions.
When the afternoon bell rang, Wen Yan left alone for the playground.
On the way there, they passed through the middle school field. A bunch of junior high students were huddled in various positions, scribbling on paper, sprawled over schoolbags or benches.
“What are they doing?” Wen Yan asked curiously.
“Writing assignments,” Xie replied after a glance.
“Nope,” Wen Yan grinned. “They’re working on cheer posters. Points from these get added to the final school rankings.”
She explained how, back in her own junior high days, the homeroom teacher would assign everyone (except the athletes) to write motivational messages to boost the class’s point total.
“I hated writing those,” she added. “So I signed up for random events just to avoid it.”
“What about you?” she asked. “What were your school sports events like?”
“We had categorized competitions,” Xie replied. “Scored by professional judges, all filmed. Twenty-three events in total, awards given at the closing ceremony.”
Wen Yan was amazed. “Then first place must win something big! What about second and third?”
“There is no second or third,” Xie said matter-of-factly. “Only first place gets recognition.”
Wen Yan was stunned.
Only the top spot mattered? That sounded brutal. Elite-only mentality. Was this education or a boot camp?
“Sounds impressive,” Wen Yan muttered, “but also kind of cold. Didn’t your school ever preach that ‘friendship comes first’?”
“There’s no room for modesty in competition,” Xie replied. “Only exhibition games play nice.”
Wen Yan had no words for that.
Back at their class area, students were all busily scribbling notes. Wen Yan turned to Fang Sihui, asking what they were doing.
“Writing cheer messages,” Fang replied. “But you don’t have to. You’re competing—focus on resting.”
“Why the sudden writing spree?” Wen Yan asked. “No one was doing it earlier.”
Fang chuckled. “Because of you.”
She explained that last year, their class had finished dead last and had tried to make up for it with cheer points—only to still get mocked.
“But this year, since you already placed twice this morning, people believe we might not be last anymore. So they’re helping however they can.”
Wen Yan chuckled awkwardly. “Well… I’ll try my best.”
She didn’t feel like any sort of hero. She was just trying to win some prize money—she wasn’t driven by class pride or spirit.
Sitting back down, she watched everyone scribbling motivational lines and lowered her eyes. Her next event wouldn’t start until 3 PM.
She opened her test booklet and began working.
Xie Buyi sat beside her, quietly covering her phone under a school uniform jacket, clearly absorbed in something on the screen.
Wen Yan didn’t say anything. In fact, she was a little relieved. Xie was always too perfect. Maybe this time she’d slack off just a bit… and maybe Wen Yan could close the gap.
After all, if she couldn’t rise to first place through effort, she could hope her rival would slip up.
Fifteen hundred yuan was on the line. That was half a month’s pay.
Wen Yan finished one full set of questions in an hour, took a sip of water, then got ready.
“I’m off for my race,” she grinned at Xie. “I’m running the 400. If you don’t cheer me on, I won’t let you touch the medal!”
Xie didn’t respond, just used the jacket to hide her phone again.
So cold! Wen Yan thought. She’s definitely going to scare off any future partners.
As Wen Yan left, Xie glanced up.
The stretch of Wen Yan’s back revealed a toned waist under her jersey as she moved. Xie’s eyes dropped sharply, her hand clenched.
The class was getting louder. Someone nearby asked, “Is Wen Yan really doing both the 400 and 1500? That’s only an 800-meter break!”
“She can slow down if needed. She’s doing it for prize money anyway.”
“Still… she’s giving it her all.”
“Shh! It’s starting!”
The cheers exploded as Wen Yan ran past. She caught Xie’s eye for a moment. Xie nearly called out—but held back.
Wen Yan started strong, maintaining third place for most of the lap. In the final 100 meters, she surged, overtaking second place and nearly hitting first.
The noise was deafening as she neared the finish.
But just as she was about to overtake the front-runner, something happened. A student from another class collided with her. Wen Yan fell hard to the ground.
“Foul play!” someone yelled.
“What class is that from? Pushing someone like that?”
“She’s up—she’s still running!”
Xie had already stood up, face cold, stepping over a stool to get a better view.
Wen Yan, bl00d on her hand, finished second—only a step behind.
She doubled over after the race, panting hard. The sting of the injury was muted by adrenaline. Her ears rang.
Someone called her name.
She looked up and saw a familiar face. Xie was there, gently guiding her arm over her shoulder.
Wen Yan leaned in close, resting her forehead near Xie’s collarbone.
“Don’t move,” she whispered, breath hot against her skin. “Let me lean for a second.”
Xie froze mid-motion.
Then slowly, she let her hand fall.