In early spring, the school held an open class competition. The little old teacher seemed rather unconcerned, only mentioning it once during a class meeting. It wasn’t until one afternoon when English class ended ten minutes early and a group of administrators flooded into the classroom, with the little old teacher standing at the podium in a suit and tie, that everyone realized this was an important activity that could earn face for their teacher.

Chen Huaner had been listening attentively with an attitude of detachment, but unexpectedly, halfway through the class, the homeroom teacher suddenly called on her to explain her problem-solving approach. In the more than half a year since her transfer, she could count the number of times she’d been called on with one hand.

Could it be because she had improved in these recent tests?

She secretly delighted in the thought. The problem wasn’t difficult, and she spoke quickly, but after a few sentences the little old teacher interrupted, “What?”

Huaner repeated, “cos…”

The surroundings fell silent.

“Ah,” the little old teacher suddenly smiled, correcting her while laughing, “cos, cosine.”

Now the classmates laughed, and the observing director of studies, grade leader, and all the teachers, whether she knew them or not, also laughed. The classroom erupted in laughter.

Only Chen Huaner couldn’t laugh. Because she finally understood why the homeroom teacher had asked her to repeat, why he had corrected her, and why everyone was laughing.

She had pronounced the function as she was used to, “kăi sài,” but that was the heavily accented way her teacher at Shui had taught it.

Funny, rustic, even incomprehensible.

The homeroom teacher lowered his hand to signal her to sit down, “Your approach was completely correct, very good. Don’t worry, mathematics tests don’t examine pronunciation.”

Another wave of laughter swept through the classroom, as the small-town girl’s unexpected speech pushed the open class atmosphere to its climax.

Even after class, as the observers filed out, some were still laughing and imitating her pronunciation.

Huaner knew everyone meant no malice; perhaps she had inadvertently even earned the little old teacher extra points.

How interesting. What should have been smoother than an expressway, everything orderly but certainly dry and dull had an open class airdropped with a different species.

She just felt somewhat embarrassed, and a bit lost.

During New Year’s visit home, meeting many relatives, attending a class reunion, and linking arms with close friends while shopping, everyone unanimously commented that Huaner now spoke like a city person. But thrown among real city people, she was still a girl from an unknown backwater, carrying Shui’s accent. Chen Huaner had completely become a neither-here-nor-there misfit, but as for how all this happened, when it happened, she had no awareness at all.

Because of this open class, Chen Huaner and her hometown Shui County’s presence both rose simultaneously. After morning exercises, people vividly described the “kăi sài” incident from Fast Class 3; classmates would ask her to demonstrate the standard Shui pronunciation of English words and phrases; even the protective red string tied around her wrist became a kind of special identifier—”Do all babies in your place wear these when they’re born?”

Qi Qi, being sensitive, quietly asked her during lunch break one day, “When everyone talks like this, does it make you uncomfortable?”

“No,” Huaner said with certainty, “Once the novelty wears off, they’ll quiet down.”

“Yes, and there’s no malice,” Qi Qi patted her chest, “Thankfully I didn’t mention the ‘Flower of Shui.'”

“Hey, small honors aren’t worth mentioning.”

No malice anyway. Chen Huaner repeated these five words to herself—truly an all-purpose excuse.

A week later after evening self-study, Song Cong was mysteriously absent. Usually, all four would walk home together. After waiting fifteen minutes, Qi Qi couldn’t hold back anymore, “I have to go, if I’m late for tutoring the teacher will call my mom.”

The Fast Class 1 area was restricted and it inconvenient to go upstairs to look, so Huaner nodded, “Go quickly then, be careful riding your bike.”

“I’ll escort you,” Jing Xichi volunteered to be the flower protector, “The way you’re rushing, hope we don’t find you missing tomorrow.”

“No need,” Qi said while quickly pushing off on her bike—she was genuinely in a hurry, forgetting even to put up her kickstand.

“Hey!” Jing Xichi caught up, using his foot to hook up her kickstand, then turned his head to shout at Huaner, “Wait for Song Cong! If anything happens to you my mom might operate on me!”

His voice still lingered as he disappeared.

“Okay,” Huaner responded to herself. With major exams approaching, graduating classes’ evening self-study was extended until eight o’clock. To be honest, more than herself, she was more worried about “pretty boy” Song Cong having any mishaps.

The sky was half dark, with students from late classes gradually emerging from the teaching building. Huaner leaned against a corner post of the bike shelter and stuffed earphones into her ears, but after pressing the buttons repeatedly the screen still showed no movement. The old-style Walkman’s batteries were increasingly unreliable.

So she just left the earphones in, showing an attitude of isolation to avoid being disturbed.

After waiting a while longer, two girls walked near the bike shelter chatting and laughing. Huaner hadn’t paid attention at first until she realized who they were talking about.

“You must have seen her. Not tall, short hair, really provincial.”

“I know, that country girl from Class 3. She’s chasing Song Cong? Don’t joke.”

“She sticks to him every day, okay? Going to and from school together, sometimes even squeezing next to Song Cong at meals, super calculating.”

“Who told you that?”

“No one needed to tell me, it’s all over the grade.”

“Come on, I don’t believe Song Cong could be interested in her.”

“Exactly, she should look in the mirror, doesn’t know her measure.”

“Haha, to put it nicely it’s not knowing her limits, really it’s just being shameless.”

Word by word, wave after wave of mockery, Chen Huaner standing two meters away heard everything crystal clear.

Seeing them prepare to leave, Huaner turned her face away.

Suddenly there was a dull thud—the outermost bicycle had been kicked over forcefully. The domino effect began, and the entire row of bicycles fell to the ground.

The two girls who had been talking froze, and Chen Huaner located the culprit at the same time they did—Jing Xichi walking toward them.

“Keep your mouths clean.” Jing Xichi stood in front of them, his voice cold, “Making up rumors about what you think you know, got water in your brains?”

“You psycho! What class are you from?” One girl cursed, about to step forward but was quickly pulled back by the other, the two whispering to each other.

Huaner was too far away to hear clearly what they were saying, but Jing Xichi heard, as he raised his chin, “Yeah, that’s me. I also walk with them every day, got a problem with that?”

“What’s it to you? Go play hero somewhere else.” The two girls tried to walk around him to get their bikes.

“Don’t you dare talk bad about Chen Huaner, you hear me!” Jing Xichi got angry, grabbed the soccer ball in his hand, and threw it hard. The girls had their backs to him and screamed at the sudden noise as the ball precisely grazed their clothes before rolling away.

Students just coming out gathered at the teaching building entrance to watch, no one daring to come forward.

“Say any more bullshit and I don’t care if you’re male or female.” Jing Xichi pointed at the two, his gaze fierce.

Huaner suddenly came to her senses, wanting to go forward to stop things from getting bigger. However, just as she took a step, she saw Jing Xichi raise his hand slightly in her direction.

He knew her position, and sent a silent signal: Don’t move.

She could only stand in place, watching the two girls quickly leave without a word. After they were gone, the students blocking the teaching building entrance dispersed in action—some running straight for the school gate, some passing the scene pushing their bikes without stopping for even half a second, and some bolder ones secretly glancing at Jing Xichi before pretending they hadn’t seen anything and walking away quickly.

Like a summer thunderstorm, the bike shelter quickly returned to quiet.

Huaner sighed, silently picked up the soccer ball, and then watched Jing Xichi slowly walk up to her. She directly grabbed his shoulder bag, stuffed the ball in, zipped it up, and patted it lightly, softly saying “Thank you.”

There were many, many things to say, but she couldn’t figure out how to express them at the moment.

The once excellent, cheerful, unanimously elected class monitor Chen Huaner, one day would be described so terribly by strangers.

Or perhaps, this was just how people here saw her. She just didn’t know it.

“Don’t cry.” Jing Xichi swung his shoulder bag behind him, the darkness making him unsure of the answer to his question, so to confirm he reached out and pinched her cheek.

Soft and plump, no tears.

He spoke too soon—just after confirming, a big drop of tears fell onto his hand.

Jing Xichi sighed, “Why do you care what they say?”

The more he spoke, the more wronged Chen Huaner felt. It was precisely because she hadn’t cared, hadn’t said a single word, yet was still talked about like this that made her feel wronged.

Jing Xichi pulled out her earphones, “I heard they had no battery this morning, still pretending. Why are you such a coward? When people talk about you, talk back! If that doesn’t work, use your hands. If you can’t win the fight, call for help. You just shrink back when things happen, making yourself look pitiful.”

“I was afraid of hurting them.” Huaner was telling the truth. For a moment, a brief moment, her fists were clenched tight, and she was indeed considering what would happen if she accidentally hurt someone.

But to Jing Xichi this sounded like a dead duck’s last struggle. He wiped away her tears, “Alright, stop crying. Being friends means sometimes getting hurt by misunderstandings. Before when I had friction with people playing soccer, afterwards a group came to the hospital quarters to ambush me but ended up beating Song Cong instead. Song Cong was getting stitches in an emergency while my mom was outside about to perform a craniotomy on me.” Seeing her staring at him, Jing Xichi glanced at the building entrance and said, “True story, he still has a scar behind his ear. What I mean is, don’t let a bit of gossip make you treat Song Cong differently…”

“I know.” Chen Huaner wiped her face; she understood his meaning.

“Anyway just…” Jing Xichi hadn’t thought through what to say, seeing her dejected appearance made him feel somewhat guilty, so he pressed Huaner’s head against his chest, comfortingly patting twice, “Ah, should have let you leave first.”

Hearing these words Huaner couldn’t help crying again—mouths belong to others, was it better to know or not know?

She couldn’t judge, only felt wronged.

“There, there.” Jing Xichi could feel her occasional sobs, but his vocabulary didn’t include words to comfort girls. Wracking his brains, he squeezed out a sentence, “Just treat them like they’re farting at you—who wouldn’t shed pearls big and small when hit with such a poisonous gas attack?”

Huaner broke into laughter through her tears—this guy with his metaphors and literary references, really was trying his best.

She straightened up, wiped away her tears, and nodded at him.

“Huaner, Xichi,” Song Cong called their names as he ran out from the teaching building, starting to apologize before he reached them, “Our class had to take a test during evening study and weren’t allowed to hand it in early. Did you wait anxiously? Sorry, sorry, I’ll treat you both to a meal tomorrow, something good.”

“You better make it up to us properly.” Jing Xichi put his arm around Huaner, “Especially to our little sister Huaner.”

“What’s wrong?” Song Cong saw her poor complexion and asked with concern, “Did you get cold waiting so long? Are you cold?”

“No.” Huaner waved her hand, avoiding his scrutiny as she turned to push her bike, “How was your test?”

“Just so-so.” Song Cong was still worried, dropping his backpack to take off his school uniform, “You wear an extra layer, it gets cold on the way back at night.”

“I’m not cold.” Huaner stopped his movement, forcing out a smile, “Let’s go quickly, I haven’t finished my homework.”

“Let’s go, let’s go.” Jing Xichi straddled his bike, one foot on the ground as he called to his companion, “First time being the last one in the whole school.”

Seeing Huaner appear normal, Song Cong picked up his backpack, “What do you mean last ones? Our whole class is still there.”

“What are they doing? Setting up camp for an all-nighter?”

“Checking answers.” Song Cong shrugged, “Against my answers.”

“Show off.” Jing Xichi snorted with laughter, “See how you’ll fill this hole later.”