Guo Zixuan, wearing glasses, walked slowly past the silent crowd, his face expressionless.
...
Xu Xiangyang left in another direction, wandering aimlessly through the courtyard and corridors until he found himself unconsciously heading towards the classrooms on the second floor.
He didn't have much affection for Guo Zixuan; if Wang Yue hadn't lied, Guo might even be regarded as narrow-minded. No one likes to be remembered for no reason.
Yet, despite that, the fact that Guo Zixuan had been laughed at by a group of girls earlier did not bring Xu Xiangyang any joy. For some reason, he felt an odd sense of depression deep inside.
What's wrong with being a bookworm? he thought. Isn't it the bounden duty of a student to study hard?
If one has a talent for sports or the arts, that's another story, but for those without such gifts, or without the resources to receive an artistic education, what other direction is there to strive towards, other than becoming a bookworm?