Fang Zhuo put down the phone and ran off to help Ye Yuncheng in the kitchen.
The kitchen was quite spacious, though the old-fashioned setup still used a wood stove; the area for the gas canister, by contrast, was rather cramped. Once Fang Zhuo came in, Ye Yuncheng could hardly move around.
The two of them worked away for two hours, not quite in sync with each other, before finally getting dinner sorted. Fang Zhuo moved the table and chairs in front of the TV, turning up the volume to listen to the songs from the gala.
This was the first proper holiday Fang Zhuo had ever celebrated. Though she was happy, she also felt a sense of trepidation. She worried that if she came too many more times, she would eat through Ye Yuncheng’s savings, accumulated over so many years.
Seeing her gaze unfocused on the TV, even her eating distracted, as if she were turning over some worrisome thought in her mind, Ye Yuncheng patted her thin shoulder, gesturing for her to pull her chair closer, and laughed. “Are you worried your uncle doesn’t have money? Your uncle has money. Didn’t I even send you some before?”
Fang Zhuo: “I know.”
She knew Ye Yuncheng had saved up a sum of money—and it was precisely because she knew how he’d saved it that she couldn’t bear to spend his money.
Fang Zhuo had lived through hard times before. When she was young, the state’s subsidies for impoverished rural households weren’t yet so substantial. Her grandmother had no elderly-care subsidy, nor land-loss insurance, and so had no stable income. Fang Yiming wasn’t a filial man—over more than ten years, he’d only come back twice, staying less than half a day each time, and presumably wouldn’t offer them much financial help. Because of this, the two of them had lived in extreme poverty for a very long stretch of time.
Poverty meant being unable to feel society’s progress or technology’s development—the only thing you could notice was the bowl of rice in front of you. Only once you had food, only once you could eat your fill, did you have the strength to open your eyes and look at the world. Even if that strength amounted to nothing more than the faintest of struggles.
Fang Zhuo couldn’t bear to watch Ye Yuncheng scrimp and save, tightening his belt to support her. She didn’t like it either.
She hated, more than anything, the feeling of being a burden to others.
Ye Yuncheng suddenly said, “I went to see you once before, you know.”
Fang Zhuo looked over, curious.
Ye Yuncheng smiled a little, tilting his head, half his face shadowed, his tone quite even as he said, “I wasn’t very old back then—about your age, still in high school. But I was far worse off than you, understanding nothing, capable of nothing. There was only me left in the family; I didn’t even know what I was supposed to do myself.”
Fang Zhuo took a bite of rice, lowering her voice. “Honestly, I don’t really know either. All I know is how to study.”
Ye Yuncheng said, “Studying is the right thing to do, but I couldn’t keep going with it. When I became disabled in elementary school, I took a leave from school once. When my parents passed away in my third year of middle school, I took another leave. I felt it was just too exhausting—every time, having to face so many unfamiliar people, unfamiliar knowledge, and none of it could tell me what my future would look like.”
A look of confusion crossed Fang Zhuo’s face. She didn’t know what her own life would have turned into, were she in his place.
Perhaps if you really had to face it, no matter how miserable the life, you’d still want to keep living it. People like her were just like the stray cats on the street—not striving toward some bright future, perhaps unable to even see an endpoint at all, but rather, deep in their bones, simply disliking the forceful weight of so-called fate—and so fighting with everything they had to bare their sharp claws.
But Ye Yuncheng was different. He had once had a whole, healthy body, and once had a warm, harmonious family. After losing them, every day that followed tasted of life’s bitterness.
“Your grandmother may have a rather cold personality, but she’s a good person,” Ye Yuncheng said. “No one can give you everything—she couldn’t protect you forever, so you’ll have to be strong on your own.”
Fang Zhuo knew this. Aside from love, the old woman had given her everything she could.
Ye Yuncheng recalled, “I dropped out in my second year of high school. Afterward, someone introduced me to substitute teaching at an elementary school. It wasn’t an official position, but I did earn a bit of money from it.”
Fang Zhuo hadn’t expected he’d once been a teacher, and asked with interest, “Why’d you stop later on?”
“My health wasn’t very good, and I caused them quite a bit of trouble. Later on, the school wasn’t short on teachers anymore either,” Ye Yuncheng said, his expression seeming somewhat distant. “Everyone has moments of being lost…”
Like the living dead, even accepting other people’s concern felt superfluous—each day just an endless cycle between sunrise and sunset.
This man, his face etched with the wrinkles of life, first drew in a breath, then let out a long sigh, finally speaking the words he’d held back for so long with calm acceptance: “I just felt so tired. Living didn’t seem to mean much.”
Once he’d said it out loud, many images floated up before his eyes. All those long, insignificant years of his past. It felt as though that weary self from before had also been freed along with the words, returning to the very starting point—back when he’d still had family.
Ye Yuncheng held Fang Zhuo’s hand, gazing at her earnestly, all the burning dampness in his eyes hidden behind his half-closed lids.
After a long while, he laughed, his gentle voice carrying a touch more strength than before.
“From now on, I’ll go find work, you’ll go to class, and we’ll both do what we’re supposed to do, living a normal life. I believe things will get better soon.”
Her hand, held in his, was damp all over. Fang Zhuo raised her gaze and nodded firmly.
·
On the day before the holiday ended, Yan Lie arrived at school at noon, played a round of basketball with classmates from another class, and only returned to the classroom in the evening. By then Fang Zhuo had also come back.
Yan Lie sat down with his hair still damp, the fresh scent of shower gel lingering on him. He smiled at her, tilting his body sideways. “Fang Zhuo, my classmate, long time no see—can I ask you a question?”
Fang Zhuo was good at jumping in with quick answers, skipping straight ahead. “I had a great time, everything’s fine, didn’t get lost. The chicken’s still alive, living in a luxury twenty-some-square-meter mansion. To express my thanks, my uncle had me bring you a gift.”
Yan Lie, stunned speechless by this whole speech, forgot what he’d meant to ask in the first place. Fang Zhuo had already pulled a familiar lunchbox out of her backpack, setting it on the table.
“Sweet glutinous rice balls, red bean filling. There was too much mung bean steamed, so I also made a few mung bean cakes on the side. No proper mold, so they might not look great, but the taste is alright.”
Yan Lie, unable to catch his breath for a moment, could only manage, “Thank you.”
Fang Zhuo asked amicably, “Anything else you wanted to ask?”
Yan Lie’s mind had gone completely blank; he shook his head, doubting himself.
“Alright then.” Fang Zhuo hung her bag back on the chair, then suddenly remembered something and said, “I have a question.”
Truthfully, Yan Lie really didn’t want her to ask. Because of this, he still hadn’t remembered what his own pre-empted question had been, and the suppressed frustration was eating at him.
Fang Zhuo asked of her own accord, “Do you like eating five-kernel mooncakes?”
Yan Lie hesitated. “It’s alright, I guess.”
“Wonderful, then!” Fang Zhuo reached into her backpack again, pulling out a small paper bag, saying enthusiastically, “This is for you too!”
Seeing her face full of relief at having offloaded her burden, Yan Lie couldn’t help laughing. “You all have such a bias against five-kernel mooncakes—they’re actually quite good.”
Fang Zhuo nodded absentmindedly, urging him on repeatedly. “Eat up, have more. If you like it, I can share more with you again next year too.”
Yan Lie, unwrapping the package, paused for a moment at this, glancing up with a meaningful look, as if he’d caught hold of something important. “Next year?”
Fang Zhuo thought about it, then added, “If I perform beyond my usual level and manage to get into the same university as you.”
Yan Lie laughed, his smile carrying a hint of youthful slyness, his eyes alight with spirit, his tone half-joking. “Well then, for the sake of this precious friendship, your desk-mate will have to push you to study hard from now on.”
“I’ve always been studying hard,” Fang Zhuo said, perfunctorily shouting the slogan. “Hurry up and eat. May our friendship last forever.”
Once she’d dealt with the five-kernel mooncakes, Fang Zhuo, feeling lighter in body and mind, got up to fetch the perforated plastic bottle from the storage rack in the back, filled it with water, and went to water the plants as usual.
Wei Xi and a few roommates wove their way past the desks toward her, surrounding her on all sides.
Fang Zhuo felt completely encircled, four hands pressing down on her shoulders, leaning heavily forward.
Wei Xi whispered into her ear, “Fang Zhuo, what’s going on between you and Yan Lie right now?”
Fang Zhuo said, “We’re desk-mates.”
Wei Xi said, half-believing, “I thought you two were having an early romance.”
“There’s no such thing.” Fang Zhuo, not understanding why they would ask this, thought it over for a moment and asked in surprise, “Do you all like five-kernel mooncakes too?”
“That’s not the same thing!” Wei Xi said seriously. “But you really do look down on five-kernel mooncakes!”
The room monitor: “??” Are your thought processes even still human?!
A girl beside them said, scratching at her own face anxiously, “It’s because we feel like Yan Lie has double standards. He usually doesn’t accept gifts from other girls.”
She leaned closer to Fang Zhuo, whispering, “Didn’t Yan Lie tell you he likes eating cake? Someone overheard nearby. A girl from the room next door sent him a cake, and he turned around and gave it to a teacher, acting like nothing happened. It was right before the holiday, you remember, right?”
Fang Zhuo felt her ears itching, instinctively turning her head aside, not answering, just looking at them with a baffled expression.
The group, unnerved by her stare, gradually began to suspect they’d overthought things, misreading such a pure friendship typical of student years.
Thinking about it carefully, indeed, Fang Zhuo’s stubborn yet earnest personality made it hard to dislike her, and her thin, frail appearance made people want to lend a hand.
Wei Xi muttered, “Looking at it this way, maybe Yan Lie isn’t so much of a straightforward guy after all? Was he being intentional back then?”
Perhaps it was the intensity of five pairs of eyes staring, but Yan Lie, in the middle of eating his mooncake, seemed to sense something and turned to look toward them. The group on the other side, however, all turned away in unison, dispersing with disappointment.
Fang Zhuo, returning from watering the plants, found Yan Lie still mulling over that deeply complicated look, asking, “What were you all talking about just now? Were you looking at me?”
Fang Zhuo thought the comment sounded somewhat like a compliment and reported it truthfully. “They said you’re not that straightforward.”
Yan Lie: “??” How was he not straightforward?
Fang Zhuo, sensing he wasn’t quite pleased, added, “It means you’re thoughtful and considerate. Nothing else meant by it.”
Yan Lie’s expression turned even more sour.
Treating him like one of the guys was one thing, but surely this woman wasn’t treating him like a girlfriend confidante too?
Fang Zhuo, unable to understand, decided to say nothing more.
·
Having just returned from the holiday, the students were all rather unmotivated, especially with the sports meet and National Day holiday immediately following. The teachers didn’t push too hard either, treating it as a bit of a break for them, handing out a few exam papers due by the weekend, leaving the rest of the class time for them to practice their formation for the sports meet’s opening ceremony.
Yan Lie was good at sports and good-looking on top of it, so he’d been put forward as the lead, holding up a sign and walking casually—still managing to be the most eye-catching one there.
Fang Zhuo blended into the middle of the formation, just making up the numbers. Fortunately, their class had never been particularly creative—change formation once in front of the reviewing stand, shout a couple slogans, and that was it.
This same perfunctory routine had been used for three years running, and would no doubt continue to be passed down to the underclassmen who would follow in their footsteps of going through the motions.
Apart from Fang Zhuo, all the other students were brimming with enthusiasm about the sports meet.
Zhao Jiayou, for instance, had already spent several days in a row in class loudly declaring he was going to break the school record.
Yan Lie, listening to him boasting up there, leaned forward onto his desk and slowly scooted closer to Fang Zhuo, bumping her shoulder with his and asking, “Will you come watch my event?”
Fang Zhuo was in the middle of doing practice problems, her thinking a bit slow, and only after four or five seconds replied with a single syllable: “Hm?”
Yan Lie asked again, “Do you think the guys doing high jump look cool?”
Fang Zhuo paused her pen, thought of those zombie-like poses, and somewhat reluctantly said, “Don’t know.”
Yan Lie, undeterred, asked, “What about the guys playing basketball?”
Fang Zhuo wanted to say she didn’t know again, but opened her mouth and instead said, “I guess it’s alright. I like Slam Dunk*.”
*[Translator’s note: 灌篮高手, the Chinese title for the anime/manga “Slam Dunk.”]
Yan Lie perked up. “You like watching Slam Dunk too?”
“I also like Naruto,” Fang Zhuo said, sounding a bit regretful. “But what I probably watched the most was Shugo Chara*.”
*[Translator’s note: 守护甜心, “Shugo Chara!”, a magical girl anime.]
“Huh?” Yan Lie, very accommodatingly, tilted his head and asked curiously, “Why?”
Fang Zhuo said, “Whatever they picked, that’s what I watched.”
Yan Lie pondered alone for a good while before understanding, and said, “You mean the song-request channel? Now that’s a relic of a bygone era.”
Fang Zhuo didn’t quite agree with him. “That’s not a relic of a bygone era, that’s the joy of my childhood.”
Two minutes passed before Yan Lie realized that his question hadn’t actually been answered. Every time he tried to talk to Fang Zhuo about something, he’d end up listening so attentively that his focus got strangely sidetracked.
Last time it was about why she hadn’t replied to his text; this time it was wanting her to come watch his event—both ended up the same way.
Yan Lie, somewhat dissatisfied, wrote the question clearly out on a piece of paper, preparing to pass it over to her. Pinching the paper between two fingers, he glanced at his desk-mate, fully absorbed in her sea of practice problems, and decided against it after all.
A melon forced to ripen, though sweet, would never truly taste right*.
*[Translator’s note: a play on the Chinese idiom “强扭的瓜不甜” (“a forcibly twisted melon isn’t sweet”), referencing the idea that you can’t force someone’s affection.]