Not long after Long Qi returned to class, the homeroom teacher came to the classroom door and called Dong Xi out.

The homeroom teacher spoke, Dong Xi listened, and Long Qi watched from inside, lightly rubbing the frame of her black glasses with her index finger pad as she watched. Dong Xi’s hands rested quietly behind her waist. This scene in the slanting sunlight was soundless, but when Dong Xi nodded gently to the homeroom teacher, Long Qi seemed to hear the faint rustling sound of her hair sliding off her shoulders.

After the homeroom teacher left, Dong Xi entered the classroom as the class bell rang. She didn’t look at Long Qi, as if the topic she’d just discussed with the homeroom teacher had nothing to do with Long Qi at all.

All morning, Dong Xi didn’t come looking for her.

Not at noon either.

It wasn’t until the second-to-last period in the afternoon, a self-study class, that there was movement from Dong Xi’s seat. She finally finished the notes she was working on, and carrying her notes and a stack of exam papers, she crossed half the classroom to arrive in front of Long Qi’s seat.

Long Qi looked at her.

Her clothes carried a very soft fragrance that would make one think of the most comfortable-textured knit sweater. Her voice was the same—all around was clamorous noise, yet her voice separated itself from that clamor to ask: “Do you have time today?”

Her deskmate also looked up at Dong Xi, then continued playing with their phone with head bowed.

“I have time.”

Dong Xi pulled out a sheet from the stack of papers in her arms and placed it on her desk along with the notebook.

“The teacher asked me to form a study group with you, so from now on, if there’s anything you don’t understand, just ask me. This notebook is what I use to take notes in class, mainly for science subjects. I’ll give you the humanities ones tomorrow. And this exam paper—this is the practice test from the first day you missed class. Do it at home, and I’ll help you check the answers tomorrow.”

After Dong Xi finished speaking, she looked at Long Qi.

Long Qi withdrew her right hand that had been propping up her cheek, set down the pen she’d been spinning in her left hand on the desk surface, took the exam paper and notebook, flipped through them briefly, and nodded.

At this moment, her deskmate left their seat and ran outside the classroom to use the restroom.

As Dong Xi was about to leave, Long Qi asked: “How have you been lately?”

Perhaps because this question appeared in too casual a form, Dong Xi was slow to react for two or three seconds after turning around, before finally answering: “I’m doing okay.”

The people around them were chatting and making noise—hardly anyone was paying attention here. After Dong Xi answered, she should have left by rights, but at this moment, Long Qi didn’t hear her say anything else for quite a while, nor was there any sign of her leaving. In this brief pause, Long Qi understood something and gently prompted: “Then are you and he still okay?”

Long Qi was the only person who knew about Dong Xi and Jin Yiken’s relationship. Long Qi was also the only one who could serve as a listener and comforter when she felt down.

With her back to her, Dong Xi answered: “He’s also doing okay.”

As Long Qi was pondering these four words, Dong Xi took out her phone from her pocket and, with head lowered, placed it on her desk. On the screen was a text message. The message was from Jin Yiken, containing just one passage.

—I’m not suitable for you. Let’s not contact each other anymore. Best wishes.

The message had been received around ten in the morning—right when she’d had that confrontation with Yu Jingli. After reading it, Long Qi immediately looked at Dong Xi, but Dong Xi’s face remained as calm as water. She silently pressed her index finger to her lips, giving Long Qi a discreet reminder, hiding the meaning of “you know, I know, heaven knows, earth knows, and he knows—let’s just end things here.”

Dong Xi was stronger than she had imagined.

This was quite beyond her expectations.

After school, Long Qi found Jin Yiken at the bleachers on the west side of the school field. He was alone.

She first tossed her bag from the outer side of the bleachers to the inner side. Jin Yiken heard the sound and squinted in her direction. Long Qi then vaulted over the railing into the inner side of the bleachers, picked up her bag from the ground, walked into the aisle, and headed toward his row.

For a period of time, Jin Yiken had been particularly fond of a Japanese streetwear brand’s T-shirts. Long Qi had given him a limited edition one—incredibly expensive, costing her quite a bit of money. He’d already had several at the time, but when he wore that particular one out, a girl had secretly left her phone number on the hem of his shirt with a marker pen. He only discovered it after getting home, and was annoyed about it for many days, even getting angry. Long Qi had laughed at him for his romantic fortune, laughed at him for being petty. After that, he never wore that shirt out on the street again.

But today he was wearing this T-shirt. The marker pen mark at the hem still had traces, very faint, very faint.

Between his fingers was an unlit cigarette. He was silently gazing at the empty field. After Long Qi sat down beside him, she pulled a lighter from her pocket, clicked it to produce a flame, and held it toward him.

He brought the cigarette to his lips, tilted his head to get a light from her side. After Long Qi closed the lighter, she put it in his pants pocket: “Keep it. I’ve quit, and you never bring one.”

He looked at the field, not responding to her.

“I just came to say, thank you for letting Dong Xi go.”

Jin Yiken still didn’t speak. The cigarette burned slowly between his two fingers. Long Qi picked up her bag to leave, and it was at this moment that he finally said: “Don’t mention it.”

But he also continued: “From now on, don’t look at me, don’t find me, don’t light cigarettes for me, don’t casually talk to me. We’re on different levels. You be your poor student, I’ll be my school’s number two. Whatever happened between us is best buried in our hearts. I don’t want others to know I had entanglements with a poor student—it’s embarrassing. Don’t come looking for me because of any old feelings either. I won’t help you with your problems, not a single one starting from today.”

Long Qi stood in the wind, looking at the empty field in the orange-red dusk, and replied: “Okay.”

“Don’t drop my name when you’re out.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t say you know me.”

“Okay.”

Jin Yiken stubbed out the cigarette on the seat where she’d been sitting and said: “Nothing else. Get lost.”