The man was eventually driven off by the security guard. Wei Qingyue stood and watched the whole time. At last, he watched the man’s figure disappear into the distance before buying water and heading back to the track.

It was nearing late spring now — warm winds, fragrant blossoms, a run of fine clear days. A faint undercurrent of heat moved through the air. Wei Qingyue was someone who could bear cold but not heat. While everyone was still in long sleeves, he had already switched to a white short-sleeved shirt. The veins on his arm rose with the action of twisting open the bottle cap. He had gotten even taller.

Jiang Du was easy to spot in the crowd — she was the most delicate of them all. Wei Qingyue took advantage of the post-class commotion to call out to her. Groups of two and three were drifting back. Jiang Du turned — her face pale, drained of all color.

She was a little tense, standing there rigidly without moving. Wei Qingyue, as always, was far more natural and at ease than she was. He came straight to the point: “There’s something I want to ask you about.”

You’re not my homeroom teacher, are you? Jiang Du gave a small internal protest. In reality, she was quietly overjoyed — but all that showed on her face was a composed, steady expression: “What is it?”

“What about your parents?” Wei Qingyue was, as expected, quite direct.

Jiang Du blinked, then shook her head: “I don’t know. My grandparents never bring them up, and I’ve never met them.”

Wei Qingyue’s expression was one of genuine bafflement — he entertained the fleeting notion that Jiang Du might have been an abandoned infant picked up by the elderly couple. The thought passed, and he said: “Do you remember the middle-aged man we saw at the bookstore that time — the day it was raining and we ran into each other in the bookstore? Do you remember?”

The details were revolting; Wei Qingyue didn’t bring them up. From Jiang Du’s expression, it was clear she knew who he meant: “I remember. A while back, I was with Zhang Xiaoqiang and Liu Xiaole and we saw him near the school. Liu Xiaole said he was a pervert and told us to be careful.”

Wei Qingyue thought it over, and didn’t repeat the man’s full words — he was afraid of frightening her. But even the mere fact that the man knew her name was already enough to leave Jiang Du visibly shaken, her expression like scattered dust turning and spinning chaotically in sunlight:

“How could he know my name? I don’t know him at all.”

Wei Qingyue didn’t know either, but his mind was sharply clear: “The school notice board and honor roll frequently have students’ names posted on them. With so many students, he’s unlikely to be fixated on you specifically. You weren’t individually featured on any bulletin boards — the probability of being singled out that way is very small. First, let the school know about it. Then when you go home for the weekend, tell your family.” He furrowed his brow. “The man had needle marks on his arm. I suspect he’s using illegal substances — committing criminal acts wouldn’t be out of character.”

Using illegal substances — a phrase Jiang Du had only ever encountered while watching public-service drama programs as a child. Hearing it now, her face drained to a pale white.

“Don’t be afraid. I’ll walk you home on the weekend. On Sunday evening, have your grandfather escort you back. Just keep your guard up for the time being.” Wei Qingyue gave her a small smile and pressed the water bottle into her hands.

Jiang Du hugged the water bottle to her, her alarm settling. Thin-framed and slight, she curved her lips into a tentative, youthful arc: “I take the bus to school from near home — there are always other Mei High students going the same direction.”

“On the day school lets out, wait for me at the school gate. Once you see me, we’ll walk to the bus stop one in front of the other — separately, not together.” Wei Qingyue laughed, pausing briefly. “What do you keep trying to avoid me for? Haven’t we already established that we’re friends?”

Jiang Du glanced down at her feet, fighting the urge to crouch down and re-tie her shoelace: “Not that — I just felt it wasn’t very proper. I was worried about what people might say.”

“Say what? If anything, they’d say — is Wei Qingyue chasing Jiang Du?” He said it so naturally that even as the words left him, he seemed to realize they weren’t quite right, and covered his tracks quickly. “I’m joking. See you when school lets out on the weekend.”

Out on the track, Jiang Du stood alone clutching the water bottle for a while before she slowly started making her way back. The water had warmed itself to body temperature in her arms.

The seconds ticked by, and she endured them until Friday evening, when the sky blazed with a vast sweep of sunset, color rolling and flowing across it. Jiang Du deliberately waited for the peak crowd of the first ten minutes to pass, then came out with her bag. From a distance, she spotted tall Wei Qingyue immediately — one strap of his schoolbag over a single shoulder, hanging loosely at a slant.

As she drew closer, Wei Qingyue gave a silent smile — his way of saying hello. Jiang Du shot him a quick glance, her expression carefully neutral, and walked on past him.

Wei Qingyue followed behind, amused. Truly one behind the other — once they reached the bus stop, pretending not to know each other.

Getting on the bus was a crush of chattering, laughing students. Jiang Du hated being jostled — she was always very polite about it. Wei Qingyue, watching from behind her, couldn’t stand it any longer. If she didn’t get on now, they’d be waiting for the next bus. He simply put his hands on her back and pushed her into the crowd. Jiang Du glanced back; he let his eyelids drop and kept his expression neutral.

There were no seats on the bus, of course. Shoulders brushed shoulders, backs bumped backs. Jiang Du had a habit of gripping the railing near the rear door. Wei Qingyue settled himself just behind her, holding onto the handles. His schoolbag had slipped a little on his shoulder, and it nudged her elbow — back and forth, with his slight swaying movements, tapping against her elbow again and again.

Jiang Du didn’t move, fully aware that Wei Qingyue was right behind her. She didn’t point it out: your bag keeps bumping my elbow.

All around was the din of conversation, yet she felt the world was perfectly quiet — like the depths of the ocean.

Stop after stop, the students thinned out. The adults on the bus remained silent, watching the neon lights glittering to life in reds and greens outside the window. Their expressions were blank and weary — with the knowing resignation of those who have lived long enough, they wondered what all these chirping young people had to be so happy about. They didn’t know that on this perfectly ordinary bus, a heart could flutter for one person to a degree that could never be fully described.

Wei Qingyue had been standing right behind her all along. Jiang Du thought this quietly. He wasn’t first in his class rank, he wasn’t the so-called most handsome boy in school that the girls giggled about in excited clusters. She never joined those discussions, never let on that she paid any attention to him at all. He was simply Wei Qingyue — growing slowly in the privacy of her heart, roots spreading, branches thickening, gradually taking root in her entire world. Even if he was only passing through Mei High, even if he would soon be gone and on his way to somewhere far beyond.

Both real and dreamlike. He had said — haven’t we already established that we’re friends? The nature of this friendship was murky and undefined. And precisely because it wasn’t quite clear, she could permit herself one tiny, shimmering thread of feeling.

One stop before her home, most of the students had gotten off, and many adults too, freeing up some seats. Wei Qingyue reached over and tugged the hood of her pink sweatshirt, gesturing for her to sit down.

The plastic bag rustled like a sleeper being shaken awake. Jiang Du rarely used a proper schoolbag — the bags that clothing stores gave away had become her substitute.

She was sitting beside Wei Qingyue again. It felt like the time over winter break hadn’t quite finished being savored, and now here was another unexpected gift. She was even a little afraid — afraid of using up all her good fortune at once, leaving nothing left for the future.

Wei Qingyue said nothing. He sat on the outer seat of the two-seat pair, one leg habitually bent and resting across the other knee, arms crossed, lost in some thought.

That was fine. Jiang Du didn’t speak either. She turned toward the window, which was open. From the dust of the world below, the city rose into view — high-rises nearby, high-rises in the distance, everywhere awash in glittering light blanketing the whole city.

All manner of sounds poured through the window in an endless stream: the booming popular music from the shops, the laughing voices of young women, the cursing of a taxi driver, the rumbling surge of passing cars — all of it noisy and vibrant, rising like steam, merging into one great and abundant river flowing through the city, exactly as it did on every evening.

Out there was a life so utterly real and solid — and yet here she was, falling for Wei Qingyue, falling for a boy… Her shoulder was nudged. Wei Qingyue broke into her daydreaming:

“This stop?”

The two got off.

Threading through a lively night market street — about a hundred meters or so — and at the far end was the residential compound where Jiang Du lived.

The cherry blossoms in the compound were in full, riotous bloom. Under the lamplight, white as snowballs — though in daylight they were a faint blush-pink. Petals drifted down on the wind and settled on her face like leaping butterflies. Jiang Du waved them off. She adopted her grandmother’s politely formal phrasing:

“Wei Qingyue — why don’t you stay for dinner before you go?”

Wei Qingyue showed not the slightest hesitation. He said simply: “Sure.”

This left Jiang Du in a moment of stunned disbelief. She had never brought a boy home before, and she had never imagined that issuing this kind of invitation would actually result in the other person accepting. Wasn’t the expected response “no, no, it’s fine”?

She hadn’t mentioned anything to her grandparents beforehand, and she could no longer turn to Wei Qingyue and say “I was just being polite.” Jiang Du forced a smile and said: “Our apartment is on the smaller side.” As she spoke, she made her way toward the building entrance with a conflicted expression, already thinking about what she would say to her grandfather when they got inside.

“Is that significant in some way?” Wei Qingyue lifted his schoolbag slightly.

Jiang Du looked at him, puzzled: “Hmm?”

He furrowed his brows slightly: “You just told me your apartment is small. What did you mean by that?”

“Nothing.” Jiang Du retreated. Then, thinking about it, she added: “I just meant — don’t laugh, that’s all. I’ve heard from other classmates that you live in a very upscale complex.”

“Upscale my ass — stop listening to people talk nonsense.” When Wei Qingyue said this, a sharp edge came into him, his voice carrying contempt. He was like a young beast that hadn’t yet grown into itself — unbridled, channeling his suppressed frustrations through instinct whenever a moment called for it.

This put Jiang Du in an awkward position. She glanced at him, and thankfully they had now entered the building stairwell — she could stomp her feet a little to cover the awkwardness. The sensor light flickered on.

She rapped on the door and said: “Grandmother, it’s me.”

Voices from inside, the door opened, and her grandmother’s smile slowed as it traveled across her face: “Dear, this is…”

Jiang Du’s delivery was as practiced as she could make it: “My classmate — the one who always gets top marks in our school. Wei Qingyue. He walked me home, and since there’s no one cooking for him at home, I invited him to have dinner with us.”

Several layers of meaning were woven into those words. Whether her grandmother had grasped them all, Jiang Du wasn’t sure — above all, please don’t ask Wei Qingyue about his parents at the dinner table.

“Oh — well then, come right in, child.” Grandmother called out warmly. The truth was, the old woman was quite caught off guard — she hadn’t sorted out why Jiang Du had suddenly been walked home by a male classmate.

“Dinner is just about ready. Wash your hands and we can eat. Dear, show your classmate where to wash up.” Grandmother produced a pair of slippers for Wei Qingyue, had him change into them, and turned back into the kitchen — presumably to say a few words to grandfather, who was still at work in there.

Jiang Du led Wei Qingyue to the bathroom. She gestured toward it and said shyly: “You can wash your hands here.”

Every inch of the air seemed saturated with awkwardness — except for Wei Qingyue, who wasn’t awkward in the least. He washed his hands, pulled out a few paper towels to dry them, and dropped them in the wastebasket. He gave the room’s furnishings a brief appraisal, then turned and sat down at the dining table.

“Wait here a moment — I’ll just pop in and check on things.” Jiang Du dropped the words quickly and ducked into the kitchen.

The kitchen was small; with three people in it all at once, it felt cramped.

“There’s been a pervert near the school gate, so a male classmate walked me back.” Jiang Du explained flatly, clutching the hem of her sweatshirt without realizing it. “Please don’t ask him about his parents while we’re at the table — he has a very bad relationship with them. You can only ask about school.”

Grandfather was ladling soup and shot a laughing glance her way: “So Jiang Du’s bringing her boyfriend home now? And I hear he’s the top student in the school.”

“Grandfather, what are you saying?” Jiang Du looked horrified, her face burning red with urgency. “He’ll get upset if he hears that.”

“What do you mean upset — my granddaughter is lovely and sensible, she’s a perfect match for the top student.” Grandfather was the easygoing, good-humored sort who loved a joke. Jiang Du gave him a petulant look and said: “If you keep saying things like that, Wei Qingyue will leave without finishing dinner.”

“Alright, alright, I won’t say another word.”

Grandmother shot the old man a reproving glance too, saying: “Don’t be so careless with the child — the boy gets top marks, he’s that clever about studying — why would someone like him be falling for early romance? And our girl isn’t that kind of child either.”

For some reason, grandmother seemed particularly displeased with grandfather’s behavior in that moment, a clear irritation evident in her tone.

Those words landed squarely on Jiang Du’s already taut nerves. She rolled up her sleeves and began helping to carry dishes to the table.

True to form, grandmother kept to the safest of topics. She studied Wei Qingyue carefully while heaping food into his bowl, saying: “Don’t be a stranger, child — help yourself, it’s all home cooking. You’re both good classmates; come by any time you like. Jiang Du should learn from you — to get top marks at Mei High, you must be truly smart.”

Wei Qingyue gave a mild smile: “Jiang Du is smart too — I often can’t beat her in Chinese.”

“Oh, she’s a little unbalanced across subjects. You must be excellent in every single one — otherwise how would you manage top marks? Top students are always the bright ones. Jiang Du isn’t quite as smart as all that.” Grandmother was pleased to hear Wei Qingyue compliment Jiang Du, but made sure to add a note of humility on her behalf.

Grandfather engaged Wei Qingyue in a much more concrete conversation — asking what subject he planned to study, whether with grades like his he could be admitted to Tsinghua University directly. Wei Qingyue said:

“I’m going abroad. I don’t plan on attending university in China.”

Grandfather’s expression underwent a subtle shift. He felt that with such outstanding grades, he should naturally be contributing to his country — and if he went abroad and never came back to serve foreign interests instead, then the country would have wasted its investment in nurturing such a talent.

Afraid her grandfather might say something to make Wei Qingyue uncomfortable, Jiang Du cut in with a blunt change of subject, directing it at her grandfather: “The fish soup today is particularly flavorful.”

Wei Qingyue glanced at her, thoughtful amusement crossing his face. He said: “I haven’t had food this delicious in a long time. Thank you very much, Grandfather and Grandmother.”

Grandfather was the sort of old man deeply proud of his own cooking. Hearing Wei Qingyue say so, he brightened and launched into a lengthy discourse on the finer points of cooking — which drew a nudge from grandmother’s foot under the table. She spoke gently: “Young people aren’t really interested in cooking, dear — as long as it tastes good, that’s what matters. You do go on. And who knows if the child even wants to listen.”

Grandfather heeded grandmother’s suggestion and reined himself in, saying only that Wei Qingyue should eat as much as he liked.

Wei Qingyue sat throughout with chopsticks in hand, his smile faint, glancing occasionally at Jiang Du — who barely spoke, sitting there eating in a neat, composed manner.

This was Jiang Du’s home. And her family. He lost himself briefly in thought: was every classmate’s home more or less like this?

Since they were all students, the rest of the conversation revolved entirely around schoolwork. The grandparents asked whether the competition in the sciences honors class was especially fierce, whether the classmates were all very smart, whether the teachers assigned there were different from those in regular classes — every question that interested them, the grandparents asked, more or less across the board.

By the end, even Jiang Du was feeling sheepish on his behalf.

After dinner, it would normally have been Jiang Du clearing the table while grandfather mopped the floor. Today was an exception — the grandparents told her to walk Wei Qingyue down to the compound gate.

Grandfather and grandmother stood at the door, repeatedly urging Wei Qingyue to get home safely, and insisted on watching until the two young people had gone down the stairs before finally closing the door.

Jiang Du had forgotten to change her shoes. She was still wearing her winter cotton slippers, fluffy and soft.

The two walked through the compound. Look up, and you could see the lights glowing in thousands of households. Jiang Du’s home was nothing more than one small lamp among these countless lights — nothing special.

Even so, as Wei Qingyue looked up and scanned over them, one clear thought leapt into his mind:

No one had ever left a light on for him. No one had ever waited for him to come home. Among these tens of thousands of lights, not a single one truly belonged to him. Where was his own light? He didn’t know.

“Did you eat enough?” Jiang Du was still somewhat tentative. Even now, she still didn’t quite know how all of this had come to pass — Wei Qingyue, sitting down for a meal in her home.

When she thought it over, there was actually nothing particularly remarkable about it. She had eaten at Wang Jingjing’s house before; in junior high, Wang Jingjing had gone to a male classmate’s birthday and eaten at his home.

Wei Qingyue didn’t answer. Instead, he asked Jiang Du quietly: “From the very beginning of first year in junior high, I’ve always been receiving love letters. I know many girls have had feelings for me. I wonder — what did they actually like about me? Was it because my grades are good? Or because they’ve heard my family has money? Or because girls thought I was handsome? Do you think — if they had ever seen me beaten by my father until I couldn’t get up, crawling on the ground like a dog — would they still think I was handsome? Would they still like me?”

The question left Jiang Du speechless. Some emotion surged like a tide — forceful, unrelenting, pounding against her chest again and again. Her eyes stung.

“It’s your father who treated you wrongly — not your fault. Please don’t say you were like a dog. You—” her chest rose and fell, and she made the effort to look him directly in the eye, “—you are more exceptional than most of us. No matter how we try at our studies, none of us could match you. That is truly so. And it is something your father can never take from you.”

She fumbled for words to comfort him, rushing them out in a few sentences, her voice trembling — because meeting his eyes was at the very least the decent thing to do, a gesture of genuine sincerity.

But Wei Qingyue laughed — an unreadable laugh: “You’re quite something, Jiang Du.”

Jiang Du looked at him awkwardly, completely unable to tell whether Wei Qingyue had actually been in pain just now, because the expression on his face was entirely nonchalant.

The night market street blazed with light in both directions, a murmur of distant noise. The smoky warmth of human life seemed to have condensed in the air above the city, drifting outward and spreading in all directions, all the way up into the layered dark of the clouds.

Wei Qingyue didn’t much care for those smells — the smell of the night market. He said: “You’ve repaid the favor you owed me.”

Jiang Du looked at him, puzzled.

“I walked you home, and you had me stay for dinner. We’re even. I don’t like being indebted to people — that’s too much trouble.”

He said it so lightly. Jiang Du felt a small pang of disappointment. She said quietly: “There’s no need to keep such close accounts — at the very least, we’re both from the same school.”

Without realizing it, they had walked out of the compound. Jiang Du pulled a banknote from her pocket and held it out to him. Wei Qingyue smiled: “What are you doing?”

“You’re having to spend money on a taxi because you walked me home.”

“Didn’t I just say there’s no need to keep such close accounts?” Wei Qingyue always had the upper hand when it came to words. He lightly pushed the money back. “You should probably ask your grandfather about your parents, and talk to him about it. That man might have just gotten your name from somewhere and nothing more — but you still need to be careful on your own.” A faint curve at the corner of his mouth: “And if your grandfather finds it inconvenient to come and get you, I can always walk you home.”

Jiang Du had barely given the strange man a second thought. But a sudden pang hit her at the last of his words.

She lowered her head, watching her own long shadow on the ground below, and said quietly: “But you can’t always be walking me home.”

“How do you know I can’t?” Wei Qingyue adjusted the strap of his bag with a half-smile and glanced down the road at a taxi approaching in the distance. “I need to go — head back.”

Jiang Du gave a soft “mm.” She watched as he climbed in, Wei Qingyue folding his long legs into the passenger seat, fastening his seatbelt, the window half open. He caught sight of Jiang Du still standing there, and he stayed still — made no gesture of farewell, no wave — just looked for a moment.

And Jiang Du stood there after the car had gone, as though she could remain in that spot alone forever, watching in the direction he had gone.