Jiang Ren returned home that evening and began memorizing as if he’d been injected with chicken blood.
The modern poetry at the beginning was manageable. He stayed up late and finally memorized it all. But when he got to the classical Chinese texts, he knew he was in trouble. Those tongue-twisting “zhi hu zhe ye” made his scalp tingle.
Fortunately, Meng Ting’s book had phonetic notations for difficult characters. He repeated them over and over, knowing there would eventually be a day when they rolled off his tongue.
He memorized during the day too.
While the teacher lectured in class, he lowered his gaze, lost in thought. His thin lips moved slightly.
Hé Junming leaned over and faintly heard a sentence: “This place has lofty mountains and steep ridges, dense forests, and tall bamboo, along with clear, rushing streams, reflecting left and right…”
Hé Junming: “…” Has Ren gone crazy?
Memorizing ten passages at once was very difficult. He thought about those tongue-twisting texts even while eating, but Jiang Ren didn’t find it bitter at all.
He wasn’t afraid of anything, except Meng Ting giving up on him.
And they had agreed, that if he memorized it this time, Meng Ting wouldn’t easily give up on him.
Hé Junming didn’t know about Jiang Ren and Meng Ting’s agreement.
He pondered: “Why has Ren been so literary lately? Is he practicing writing love letters?”
This time, Fang Tan couldn’t guess either: “Why don’t we give him a poetry collection?”
Hé Junming said: “Tsk, pursuing a genius girl is so tiring. You even need to be able to recite poetry.”
Then the next day, Jiang Ren’s desk was gifted a poetry collection by his buddies.
He glanced at it but didn’t pay much attention.
Hé Junming winked: “They say this is essential love poetry for chasing girls in the 21st century.”
Jiang Ren sneered, casually flipping through it. He was originally disdainful until he saw “Slow as Before.”
Somehow, that poem didn’t need memorizing; it instantly imprinted in his mind—
Remember earlier in our youth
Everyone was sincere and earnest
A word said was a word meant
Early morning at the train station
Long streets dark with no pedestrians
The soybean milk shop steaming
The sunlight of the past became slow
Cars, horses, and mail all slow
A lifetime is only enough to love one person
He was stunned.
The seven days and nights of waiting for her in Pear Blossom Town flashed in his mind. People came and went to the station. Afraid she might leave alone, he got up as early as the breakfast shop owner to wait for her at the station.
He waited until the shops on the long street closed one by one.
Night fell, stars filled the sky, and only then did he walk back with his hands in his pockets.
He had never told her about these things because Jiang Ren also knew that few people would like someone so abnormal, so crazily obsessed.
Yet such a madman.
Indeed, a lifetime is only enough to love one person.
He closed the poetry collection and stuffed it into his desk.
Mid-May arrived quietly.
Song Qinqin couldn’t hold back anymore and cried in front of Meng Ting. This simple, studious girl cried while wiping her glasses: “Senior, I don’t want to teach anymore. Do you think the teacher will scold me?”
Meng Ting handed her a tissue: “What’s wrong?”
Song Qinqin took a deep breath and said: “Senior Jiang doesn’t know anything. He can barely pronounce phonetic symbols. He doesn’t even recognize chemical elements.”
Meng Ting empathized.
Jiang Ren hadn’t memorized the textbook, and ten days had already passed.
But Song Qinqin’s tutoring time was supposed to continue.
Song Qinqin said: “I’m even afraid of him. I don’t want to tutor anymore.”
When she tutored, that black-haired youth neither smiled nor spoke. When asked if he understood, he would either say “Mm” or “No.”
His temperament was wild; most people couldn’t handle it. The first time they met, he was smiling and seemed gentle.
But later, his angular face showed no smile, a scar on his forehead, looking fierce.
Song Qinqin’s voice became more and more stuttering and quiet as she taught.
It was practically impossible to teach.
Meng Ting also knew this couldn’t go on.
Song Qinqin couldn’t handle it, and she wasn’t professional.
Meng Ting said: “Let’s discuss it with the teacher.”
“Are we going now?”
Meng Ting was about to say yes but hesitated before speaking.
She remembered his smiling eyes that day: “Wait for me.” If he went back to memorize, she couldn’t sentence him to death like this.
The phoenix trees were tender green; summer had truly arrived.
Her eyes slowly adjusted to the strong light. Meng Ting heard herself say softly: “Let’s wait two more days.”
Meng Ting borrowed some money from Shu’s father.
Three hundred yuan, she bought ballet dance costumes and special pointe shoes.
The National Dance Competition was in June, but there would be local preliminary selections in late May. Then they would go to B City for the semi-finals and finals.
Back when Zeng Yujie had her accident, Meng Ting had won first place in H City’s dance preliminary selection.
Indescribable pain had prevented her from going to B City to participate in the dance competition finals for two lifetimes. She had never danced on stage again.
Meng Ting had never told anyone that she preferred dancing to playing the piano.
In Zeng Yujie’s words, heaven had given her an obedient, sensible little angel with broken wings. Only when dancing did the little angel regain her wings.
Free, beautiful, radiant.
All art competitions in H City were held at the Art Hall in the city center.
The preliminary selection competition was on the 25th, which happened to be a Saturday.
Before Friday’s evening self-study started, Song Qinqin came to find Meng Ting with a strange expression, whispering in her ear: “Senior says he’s finished memorizing.”
Guan Xiaoye from the class came back and happened to see Meng Ting in the corridor, slipping a pen into her hand: “A reward from the school.”
This was a monthly exam reward, either a pen or a notebook.
Meng Ting thanked her and went downstairs to room 101 in another teaching building.
He had memorized for twelve days.
So fast it seemed unbelievable. After all, for someone who couldn’t recognize all the characters, being able to memorize ten passages without mistakes would be considered fast even in a month. Jiang Ren had no talent for studying; he wasn’t clever in this matter, yet he only took twelve days.
Meng Ting kept her promise and went to room 101.
The incandescent light shone down, he frowned, afraid of making a mistake, and read through the least familiar “Ode to the Red Cliff” once more.
Meng Ting stood outside the door watching him.
She knew what irritability disorder was. Medically explained, “Irritability disorder is a personality defect manifested by flying into a rage when stimulated unfavorably in certain situations.”
Particularly severe cases were rare.
As a child, he also had hyperactivity disorder. When all the other children sat quietly listening to the teacher, only he couldn’t sit still, feeling very uncomfortable.
So teachers didn’t like him from a young age.
As he grew up, many defects could be hidden. Gradually, he also learned to forget the world’s unfairness towards him.
Meng Ting lowered her gaze and knocked on the door.
Seeing her, Jiang Ren’s eyes showed pride: “The ten passages you marked, I now know them all.”
He looked as if he had won some championship.
Meng Ting walked over. Her two books showed obvious signs of being repeatedly flipped through these past few days. Her mood was somewhat complex.
Then she gave him a pop quiz.
Meng Ting used the exam paper method.
“‘Bright as the moon, when can it be plucked?’ What’s the next line?”
Jiang Ren thought for a moment: “Worry comes from within, it cannot be severed.”
Meng Ting: “What’s the line before ‘When one rejoices in what one encounters, temporarily obtaining it for oneself, quickly feeling satisfied, not knowing old age is approaching’?”
Jiang Ren: “…”
Most people could react when asked about the following line, but the previous line…
He silently began reciting from the first sentence of this text in his heart.
After a long time, he gritted his teeth: “Although their destinations differ by ten thousand, their stillness and movement are not the same.”
He looked at her and only then realized she was smiling.
Under the light, her eyes were filled with laughter, lively and charming. She was seventeen this year, and her smile was more beautiful than a thousand trees in bloom. Meng Ting couldn’t help it, laughing so much that her shoulders trembled lightly.
So stupid. Hahaha!
Jiang Ren knew she was laughing at him and gently pinched her face: “Try laughing at me again.”
Meng Ting bit her lip, trying hard to hold back her laughter.
When she quizzed him again, she deliberately asked about the first half of sentences.
As expected, he frowned with his sharp brows.
Silently, it took him a long time to continue.
Although very slow, he didn’t make a single mistake in all ten texts.
Meng Ting was momentarily stunned. He had done it. The youth’s eyes were filled with intense emotion: “I’ve finished memorizing. Does your promise to me still count?”
She didn’t lie to people. Meng Ting nodded.
He smiled.
“Little teacher, I memorized one extra. Do you want to hear it?”
One extra?
Meng Ting went to check; she had only marked ten.
He held down the textbook, smiling as he looked into her eyes.
“You good students like to recite poetry, right? I’ll recite one for you.”
The youth smiled and recited his eleventh poem.
“If we had never met
Perhaps the heart would never have felt heavy
If we truly missed each other
Perhaps a lifetime would not be at ease
One glance
Is enough to send a hurricane across the sea of the heart”
That was Wang Guozhen’s modern love poem “As Long as We Loved Once.” The male poet’s words were domineering. Meng Ting’s face turned red: “Alright, you win, okay? I’ll continue teaching you next week.”
He smiled a bit wildly: “Why are you hiding? Look at me, I’m reciting it for you to hear.”
“I don’t want to hear!” Meng Ting felt so embarrassed hearing him recite this. Even the tips of her ears turned red. Afraid he might continue reciting, she pushed the book into his hands, “That’s enough for today.”
Jiang Ren couldn’t stop laughing: “Then praise me for being awesome.”
Meng Ting: “Don’t push your luck.”
He said: “Look into my eyes.”
She raised her gaze and was startled to see his eyes. So many bloodshot lines.
For the sake of these classical Chinese texts, he hadn’t slept well for twelve days. Even when sleeping, he was muttering.
For the first time, she realized how difficult it was for him to do something that she could do so easily.
Jiang Ren chuckled: “I wanted to see you sooner.” He was a man; he would do what he promised her.
She blinked, truly seeing the sincerity in his eyes for the first time.
Very pure, very intense.
Making someone with irritability disorder memorize texts, must have been very uncomfortable these past few days.
Meng Ting’s fingers touched the pen in her pocket: “Hold out your hand.”
Jiang Ren held out his hand. He lowered his gaze to see an ordinary silver Hero brand fountain pen in his hand, still carrying the young girl’s warmth.
She remembered the principle of encouraging poor students. Her small face was serious: “You’re very impressive. This is a progress award.”
He clutched the pen tightly in his hand, his heartwarming.
Like a fool who couldn’t find north.
Coaxed by a five-yuan pen until he couldn’t tell east from west.
Damn it! He felt his blood was about to run dry. Now, even if he had to memorize ten thousand of those ghostly “zhi hu zhe ye,” it wouldn’t be a problem.
After Meng Ting left, he leaned against the door, watching her back.
The campus lights twinkled like stars. The night breeze blew her hair. Jiang Ren narrowed his eyes and gently sniffed the pen in his hand.
It carried a trace of her fragrance.
He smiled. In the past, time was slow.
So slow that her single smile, a word of praise, could be savored for a lifetime.
A lifetime is only enough to love one such person.