Zhang Xiaoke scratched her head in frustration.
A desolate figure drifted across like a forlorn ghost.
The once lively atmosphere was suddenly enveloped in a layer of frost.
Jiang Qinghua floated up to the podium like a wandering soul, picking up the eraser.
He listlessly wiped the blackboard.
In the midst of despair, chalk dust sprinkled down bit by bit.
It was as if it was snowing.
And he, was the snowman.
This desolation caught someone's eye.
Zhang Yue swiftly took a few steps over, snatched the eraser, and earnestly began to wipe the blackboard.
"Don't bother with me…" Jiang Qinghua sighed heavily.
"It's just wiping the blackboard, what's there to be so down about," Zhang Yue retorted as she turned, "We're all counting on you to perform in the basketball game at noon."
Jiang Qinghua's expression jolted.
The blows these past few days had been too frequent.
He almost forgot about it.
The basketball game.
It was a battle between men.
