In a corner of the playground, the physical education teacher is checking the list with a list. Now the ones who are preparing are already the last batch of the men's 100-meter group in the first year of high school, and when this group of boys finishes running, Xu Youzhi's side should go to the battlefield.

The propaganda committee members originally wanted to come over to see the excitement, but Fan Xiao appeared in time, stopped the two children who were free, and forced them to press their heads and let them obediently write cheering drafts here.

Occasionally, she would go downstairs to check on the children in her class in physical education class, and basically hide in the shadows and quietly observe them.

Therefore, their lazy and playful appearance is all reflected in her eyes.

She didn't have any expectations at all for the first place in the Games.

She didn't come to see the morning project, and she didn't know how this group of children played, but she didn't pay much attention to the ranking of results, after all, as long as it wasn't the last place, it wasn't too embarrassing, as long as it wasn't embarrassing, everything was negotiable.

Writing a cheering draft and handing it over to the rostrum can also be counted. So even if their class can't score on the field by winning, they must work hard to earn points on their ability to write.

Xu Youzhi was originally staying alone on the side to warm up, his pupils were dilated, as if he was in a daze again.

A gunshot rang out.

Xu You subconsciously raised his eyes, missed the figure in front of him, and moved his footsteps slightly to the side.

The field of view is finally broader.

With the sound of gunshots, on the starting line of the runway, several teenagers rushed out like arrows from the string.

"Teenagers, like the morning sun spewing out! Step out, heroic! Your sweat is the brightest cub on the field! Come on, Ho Chiri, you are the best! ——Manuscript from the second class of high school art. ”

"A small wooden stick connects unity and fraternity; A small wooden stick conveys courage and strength; A small wooden stick, the interpretation of hard work and struggle! Your sweat is sprinkled on the runway, irrigating the flowers of success. Your laughter is flying in the arena, winning glory for the class, you are the best! ——Manuscript from the second class of high school art. ”

Running at the front was He Zhili, a thin and slender teenager, with the zipper of the school uniform pulled under the collarbone, and the jet-black school uniform pants were loose, wrapping the other party's straight and good-looking legs.

"Come on !!!"

The girls in several classes pulled up the column lines around the runway and roared heartbreakingly.

Don't know who they're cheering for.

…… Exercise.

Xu Youzhi frowned almost subconsciously, and there was a faint impetuousness in his heart.

He Zhili was the first baton, as soon as the game started, he distanced himself from the boys in other classes, Chen Xuyang was the penultimate baton, and when the slightly cold baton was passed to him, several of the other classes were about to catch up.

The hem of the school uniform is slightly raised, lined with a pale red plastic track.

Full of youthful vitality.

"Second class awesome!"

The moment Chen Xuyang arrived at the end, the second American classmate who was watching took the lead in reporting a rough sigh!

"Class 2 is really sweary!"

At the 4×100 check-in office for girls, the comrades who were waiting here also cheered happily.

The results are based on a time system, and although the United States won overwhelmingly in this group, after all, there are so many groups in front of them, and everything has to wait until the statistical time results come out to calculate the ranking.

"Xu Youzhi."

After the boys' competition, they dispersed, and He Zhili did the opposite, unzipping the school uniform casually, and walked towards Xu Youzhi.

Xu Youzhi smiled: "You're here to cheer me on?" ”

He Zhili's eyebrow bone was jokingly raised, and his lips were lightly pursed and slightly hooked.

Pull back on one leg, lower your waist, and crouch down in front of her.

"It's not."

His voice was light and deep, and his white, slender fingertips hooked the other's shoelaces.

Then he raised his eyes.

"I'm here to help the fool tie his shoes."