That day came to such an abrupt end. From beginning to end, Wei Qingyue had barely glanced at her, hadn’t said a single word to her, and then slipped away through the crowd.

How could there be no gossip after this?

The food and rice were scattered all over the floor, a scene of complete disarray. Jiang Du asked the cafeteria worker for a broom and dustpan. Wang Jingjing was about to help clean up, but Lin Haiyang appeared from seemingly nowhere and grabbed them first to sweep.

“You two are as scrawny as little chicks. Let me do this.” Lin Haiyang held the mop, grinning — still the same person who loved to joke around.

It was only now that Jiang Du realized for the first time that Lin Haiyang always seemed to appear out of nowhere. It was quite peculiar.

The university entrance exam lasted two days. So consequential, and yet it unfolded like any ordinary day. The school gate was crowded with parents seeing students off; traffic police were there to maintain order; along the roadside, a long line of volunteer exam-day taxis were parked — a national event, but no matter how great the occasion, the sun that day was still the same sun, the sky still the same sky, indifferent to human affairs.

On the evening of the 8th, the first and second years resumed their evening self-study sessions. Throughout the teaching building, the lights blazed. The graduating third-year students stood on the upper floors and tore apart their books, pages fluttering down like snowflakes. Someone confessed their feelings loudly, shouting “So-and-so, I like you!” Someone else bellowed, “Farewell forever, see you again at Mei Middle School!” The air of freedom seemed to rush all at once before the eyes of the graduating students.

The entire teaching building was in complete chaos — no one supervising. The corridor railings were packed with first and second-year students watching the upperclassmen make a commotion. The lights reflected in their eyes; deep within their pupils were fragments of textbooks, unrestricted smiling faces, and an unspeakable envy.

There were very few people in the classroom — everyone had come out. Jiang Du and her seatmate Zhu Yulong both stayed in their seats without moving. Zhu Yulong held a small media player and watched a movie. Outside was too loud to study. She had a notebook she liked to use to transcribe film quotes.

Under the pressure of the university entrance exam, with internet access restricted and appearances restricted to only school uniforms, the young people’s hunger for outside information and spiritual nourishment was acute. Yet to be immersed in it at all times was a guilty pleasure. Only at moments like these could one watch a film with a clear conscience.

Jiang Du had no desire even for a film. She was organizing her humanities notes.

When she went to smooth down a strand of hair, she sensed Zhu Yulong seemed to be looking at her. Jiang Du raised her eyes, and Zhu Yulong met her gaze — still that same mild expression. She rarely spoke and looked difficult to get along with. Now Jiang Du knew that wasn’t so.

She smiled. Zhu Yulong did not smile back; her earphones were still on. She looked away and returned to her movie.

Jiang Du gave this small interlude no further thought — though she didn’t understand why Zhu Yulong had been staring at her.

“Do you have any?” Jiang Du suddenly noticed something was off. Her cycle had been a little irregular. She gently poked Zhu Yulong.

The girl took off her earphones: “What is it?”

“Do you have any? I think mine has come.” Jiang Du said in embarrassment. “I forgot to buy some. I’ll go get some tomorrow.”

“I don’t have any here, but I have some in the dormitory. Do you need it now?” Zhu Yulong pressed pause on her movie.

Jiang Du quickly shook her head: “It’s all right — can I borrow a couple after evening self-study? I’ll return them tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Zhu Yulong put her earphones back on. She didn’t offer the polite reassurance of no need to return them.

Jiang Du wanted to discuss something more, but the words reached her lips and she hesitated, swallowing them back.

Since returning to school, she had always been afraid of doing anything alone — going to the cafeteria, going to get hot water, going to the bathroom. As for the school gate, she didn’t dare take a single step outside. It felt as though countless eyes lurked in every corner, and the moment she appeared, those eyes would stick to her body like a layer of summer sweat — uncomfortable.

There were a lot of people outside. She needed to use the bathroom. She tore a long strip of tissue paper from her drawer, folded it into a thick square, and Jiang Du clutched it in her hand, steeling herself and heading out.

She moved quickly through the noisy crowd, head down like a thieving little criminal, Jiang Du wanting only to get to the bathroom as fast as possible.

The corridor was full of figures, so long — it seemed to have no end. But it always comes to an end eventually, doesn’t it? Jiang Du looked back and breathed out a deep breath. She tilted her face up and looked at the brightly lit teaching building, a scrap of paper brushing past her cheek.

I’ll have this day too. Keep going. She told herself silently.

The next day, the third-year students left the school, and the campus returned to order. During the large break for outdoor exercise, Jiang Du as usual did not participate and stayed in the classroom, agonizing over how to go to the school gate to buy sanitary products by herself.

She had barely summoned enough courage when Zhu Yulong came running breathlessly into the classroom. She looked at Jiang Du and said: “You’re going to the gate shop to buy those, aren’t you?”

Jiang Du was a little surprised and nodded.

“Give me the money — I’ll buy them for you.” Zhu Yulong’s face was flushed from running. “Don’t go to the school gate if there’s nothing urgent.”

“It’s all right, I can’t keep troubling you.” Jiang Du gently declined, giving Zhu Yulong a warm smile. “But thank you all the same.”

“Don’t go, Jiang Du.” Zhu Yulong’s expression became unsettled. “Let me go buy them for you.”

Jiang Du looked at her for a moment, then asked quietly after a while: “Is that person at the school gate?”

Zhu Yulong clearly hesitated, but still told her: “Yes. I heard the teachers say he was detained, but somehow he’s turned up at the school gate again raving. Don’t go out if there’s nothing urgent, and don’t respond to him.”

She knew everything — she understood exactly what this was about.

Jiang Du’s shoulders trembled faintly. She said nothing more, only took out the money and handed it to Zhu Yulong.

She suddenly felt a wave of nausea, covered her mouth, and after Zhu Yulong left, quickly went down the stairs alone.

At the bathroom, she shut the door quickly. But Jiang Du found that she couldn’t bring anything up at all. She crouched beside the toilet, where a splash of yellow urine had spilled onto the floor. She accidentally stepped in it and felt only that it was filthy.

Outside, it sounded as if a few girls had come in. At this time, music was blaring all across the campus. There were always people who used going to the bathroom as an excuse to slack off during outdoor exercise.

“Why is that man back again? It’s terrifying.”

“Right? Such a predator. This is making everyone uneasy. Why hasn’t that girl from the advanced humanities class transferred yet? As long as she stays, our school really can’t have any peace.”

“How could she bear to transfer — she worked so hard to get into Mei Middle School and into an experimental class. She won’t be willing to give it up. But what on earth is her mother’s story? According to what that predator says, it was her mother wearing a skirt deliberately seducing him, and then she turned around and accused him of rape. Could that really be how it was?”

“It’s possible. Otherwise, who would give birth to a predator’s child? I don’t understand. Whatever, it’s so annoying. My mum has also been very worried about me lately, coming to pick me up from school every Friday.”

“Same here. My mum has also been insisting on picking me up recently. I hope that girl transfers away soon — then we’d be safe. Lucky she’s not a boy; otherwise, if she inherited the predator traits, that’s really frightening.”

“Right, exactly. Oh, by the way — those two days the exam was on, I was on vacation at home and got caught by my mum playing on the computer. She scolded me terribly. Once the exam is over, I’m going to stay up all night every single night.”

“Ha, that’s my plan too.”

Voices chatting, voices laughing, faucets turned on then turned off. Every sound, Jiang Du heard with perfect clarity. The bathroom grew quiet again. It was as if something went plunk and sank to the very bottom — gray, cold, dim. And then tears fell from her eyes without warning.

In all her years of life, she had imagined her father and mother ten thousand times. Not once had it been like this.

Ugly. Repulsive. Just like the puddle of urine beneath her feet.

She felt she had become like that too.

She wondered if the way others looked at her was the same sensation as what she’d just felt stepping in that puddle — genuine revulsion, a genuine sense of filth.

All the self-encouragement of these recent days could collapse in a single instant.

When Jiang Du walked out, the blazing white sun stabbed at her eyes. She squinted.

How did it come to this?

Everything was perfectly fine — how did it come to this?

There’s no going back, is there.

She didn’t even have the right to write to Wei Qingyue anymore. She was dirty.

As though even the bright moonlight outside the window would be tainted by her gaze.

She was like a black reef, battered over and over by waves of emotion.

She didn’t know how she walked back to the teaching building. The music had stopped; the students streaming back from outdoor exercise began to flow in from all directions. Jiang Du looked at the crowd — so many people, so many gazes, so many mouths. She was suddenly seized by immeasurable terror. The people before her eyes grew infinite, towering before her like giants.

A giant only needed to lift a foot to crush her.

The giant was coming closer step by step. Jiang Du wanted to run, but her feet had taken root and she couldn’t move — until a familiar figure appeared before her, and Zhu Yulong pressed a black plastic bag into her hands:

“Got them. Aren’t you going back to the classroom?”

Jiang Du looked at her in a daze. Zhu Yulong lowered her voice: “That person — the security guard drove him away.”

Jiang Du’s pupils contracted sharply. She came back to herself, tried to smile at Zhu Yulong in warm gratitude, but couldn’t manage it.

Outside the school gate, Wang Yong came again the next day. With every other word a crude insult, he would loudly proclaim to any student in earshot how promiscuous Jiang Du’s mother had supposedly been in her day — the rest of what he said was too vile to repeat. Students who saw him had to take a detour around him.

The school could only call the police again.

Wei Qingyue saw Wang Yong at the gate. At the time, the man was showing a mouthful of yellow teeth, greasy hair matted with large flakes of dandruff.

The young man’s gaze was very deep. No one could tell what he was looking at.

Zhang Xiaoqiang was buying something at the small shop near the gate and grabbed Wei Qingyue’s arm, speaking anxiously: “Don’t act impulsively. Absolutely do not get physical with someone like this again. I think the school will definitely call the police. Harassing us like this constantly — the police won’t ignore it.”

Wei Qingyue smiled faintly at her: “I know.”

Zhang Xiaoqiang looked at him anxiously and said: “Wei Qingyue, don’t do anything foolish. You’re about to go abroad — why get tangled up with trash like this?”

Wei Qingyue seemed to find her reasoning sound, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly: “Let’s go inside.”

Things quieted for one day in between. Just when the school gate security guards thought the police had frightened the man off, Wang Yong appeared at the main gate once again.

Students’ discussions grew louder and louder, and parents grew more and more dissatisfied. In some classes, parents had already put pressure on the school, suggesting Jiang Du transfer. Some people even left messages on the education bureau’s website.

Wang Yong had only one demand: to take Jiang Du away. He kept insisting that he was Jiang Du’s biological father and had the right to take his daughter with him.

In the blink of an eye, Friday arrived. More parents were waiting at the gate to receive students — mostly coming to pick up girls. This incident at Mei Middle School had caused a stir throughout the entire city.

Her grandfather had naturally heard about the developments at school. The old man, entrusting matters to old friends, was still running about to get things sorted. He would therefore be a little late coming to pick Jiang Du up today. Over the phone, the old man kept entreating the homeroom teacher to make sure Jiang Du stayed properly in the classroom and didn’t come out yet.

In the classroom, under the homeroom teacher’s arrangement, the class monitor and Zhu Yulong stayed with Jiang Du to wait for her grandfather.

Since they were there anyway, they might as well let the students on cleaning duty go, and the three of them would clean the classroom themselves.

Very soon, the teaching building emptied out.

It was Zhu Yulong who first noticed someone outside the window. She said to Jiang Du: “Probably someone here to see you. The class monitor and I will go sit near the flower bed on the first floor and read for a bit. When you’re ready to come down, call for us.” Then she exchanged a look with the class monitor, and the two of them went out.

Jiang Du couldn’t help looking out the window. Through the glass, Wei Qingyue smiled at her.

In that instant, all she felt in her heart was a desire to retreat.

She stiffened slightly and hung her cleaning cloth back on its hook.

What exactly had Wei Qingyue seen in her? Shared suffering? No — she didn’t want his sympathy. Or was this a contest over who had it worse? Jiang Du lowered her head and walked back to her own seat and sat down.

Wei Qingyue was already standing before her, a note of teasing in his voice: “Why did you sit down without wiping the stool?” He remembered from the letters that a certain person loved cleanliness.

Seeing she wasn’t speaking, the young man simply bent forward, both arms resting on her desk, and smiled: “What — pretending not to know me again?”

Jiang Du had been suppressing everything with all her might. Finally, she raised her eyes and looked at him. Wei Qingyue was real and vivid in her line of sight — that face, so clear. Her eyes slowly reddened.

“I thought your grandfather had picked you up. Why are you still here?” He seemed blind to her rabbit-red eyes; his tone was like before.

Jiang Du shook her head, still saying nothing.

“Did your grandfather have something come up? I’ll walk you home.” Wei Qingyue tapped his knuckles twice on her desk, straightened up, and took out his phone. “You can call your grandfather and let him know.”

But you can’t always walk me home. No one can always be there. In the end I have to rely on myself.

Summer had such long days — even dusk was bright. In the light and shadow, tiny motes of dust floated. Jiang Du felt like one of those dust particles, the world shrinking around her. When would she grow up?

“It’s all right — I’ll wait for my grandfather. He told me to wait for him, and I will.” Jiang Du said, her eyes not quite daring to meet his. “Thank you, and for last time too — thank you for standing up for me.” And somehow, the words that followed came out with a hint of reckless self-abandonment: “I suppose I should be grateful you’re still willing to be friends with me, but I’m afraid that’s not good for you. In the future…”

At the word “future,” it seemed as though the story had reached its end. A sharp ache struck suddenly. Jiang Du held back her tears. “I’m better off on my own. I don’t want to bring trouble to other people.”

The air was silent for a moment.

Wei Qingyue had been looking at her steadily, his gaze lowered. Jiang Du didn’t stir.

“If you think I would change how I see you because of these things, then you’ve misjudged me. If you feel you owe me a favor, then do me one thing in return—” He waited for her to raise her face. Sure enough, Jiang Du looked up at him. “There was something I asked you to do before — tell her that I’ve always hoped she might still write to me. She can write down whatever she’s too shy to say out loud. She can write anything at all. I’ll write back. Even when I’m abroad, I’ll write back. If she’s willing, I’ll always keep in touch with her. I won’t reply to anyone else’s letters — only hers. She can set her heart at ease.”

Wei Qingyue’s eyes were so bright, and so deep. He gazed at Jiang Du, then suddenly pulled out a folded slip of paper from his trouser pocket and pushed it toward her:

“This is another account of mine on a messaging platform — I haven’t added anyone on it. And my email address. I’m leaving soon, but I’ll keep using these for now. If the contact information changes, I’ll say so. If she ever doesn’t want to write letters anymore, she can use these instead. Please pass them on to her for me—” The young man paused briefly. “I don’t want to lose contact with her. I hope she’ll know that.”

Without waiting for Jiang Du to respond, Wei Qingyue said: “Since you’re waiting for your grandfather, I’ll head home first.”

He was, as always, a person of decisive action. Having said this, he truly walked out of the classroom.

Leaving Jiang Du alone. She picked up the slip of paper, didn’t open it — just quietly tore it to pieces, then lay face-down on the desk for a long while. In the end, all that remained on the desk was a small pool of moisture, reflecting the evening glow outside.

Wei Qingyue — she would not write to him again.

Jiang Du looked at the beautiful sky outside, hugged the bag containing her books, and locked the classroom.

Back home, Wei Qingyue received a phone call from across the ocean. After he hung up, he sat quietly on the sofa for a very long time. Then he got up and began unpacking the parcels the housekeeper had collected from the post office — several issues of Shucheng magazine from after its relaunch.

Out on the balcony, the wind was hot. Wei Qingyue took out a fountain pen, clamped the cap between his teeth, and sitting in the rattan chair, smoothed out the writing paper. The wind tousled his brows and lashes into a dense sweep of black. On the far horizon, only long trailing streaks of purple-grey clouds remained; the contours of the earth slowly disappeared.