The interview took just over half an hour in total. Once the Educational News Network finished its post-production editing and released the video, the final runtime came to only around ten minutes.

The moment the interview video went live, netizens across the internet dug up everything there was to know about Jiang Yan and Guan Che’s school lives.

One of the two academic stars was the famously good-looking campus king of No. 10 High School; the other topped the campus heartthrob rankings at No. 9 High School. Their striking appearances combined with their enviable academic achievements made Jiang Yan and Guan Che minor celebrities in Xicheng for a spell.

During that period, the bulletin board forums of every middle and high school in Xicheng were buzzing with discussions about them. Even Qing’an University’s official Weibo account reposted the interview video.

The surge in attention brought Jiang Yan and Guan Che popularity — but also no small amount of trouble.

The internet café they co-owned, the relationship between Jiang Yan and Lin Tao, the educational background and occupations of Guan Che’s parents — anything even remotely connected to the two of them was dug up and spread around by netizens and so-called insiders.

Even the carefully concealed details of Jiang Yan’s family background were partially unraveled by meddlesome parties.

For a time, speculation ran rampant, and rumor fed on rumor.

But no matter how much chatter swirled online, Jiang Yan and Guan Che never once came forward to confirm or deny anything. They simply entrusted their respective schools’ official Weibo accounts to release statements on their behalf.

Once those statements went out, the Educational News Network’s official Weibo account — which had been responsible for the original interview — promptly reposted the statements from both schools, then separately published its own post:

Xicheng Educational News Network Official Account V: Certain information recently circulated online by some netizens regarding students Jiang Yan and Guan Che is unverified and without basis. Please keep your eyes open and don’t be swept along by baseless narratives. Both of these young people are wonderful kids who are still students. We ask that everyone focus on their studies going forward and keep a respectful distance from their personal lives.

With the statements and the educational network’s post out, information about Jiang Yan and Guan Che online gradually diminished day by day. They weren’t celebrity influencers to begin with, so the wave of attention was always going to be short-lived. The internet churns on, new stories emerging endlessly, and the topics surrounding the two academically gifted and handsome students were soon buried under fresh news cycles.

After a while, life for Jiang Yan and Guan Che slowly returned to its former rhythm — mostly unchanged, though not entirely without change.

Take the internet café they co-owned, for example. The address had been exposed and posted online during the uproar. Though the situation had settled for the time being, the café’s daily foot traffic had roughly doubled compared to before, with most of the newcomers being girls from other schools around Xicheng.

Their motives had little to do with gaming.

However, since receiving their guaranteed university placements, both Jiang Yan and Guan Che had become busy.

The day after the competition results were announced, Jiang Yan received a call from Coach Guo Wen and flew to Jing’an City that same afternoon.

Guan Che, for his part, had entered the laboratory with his academic supervisor ahead of schedule.

Once they were both occupied, the two of them rarely made it back to the café.

Their repeated absences dampened the enthusiasm of the girls who had come out of curiosity to see the handsome boys. By the time the final exams approached, the café had gradually returned to its peaceful, quiet state.

After entering Senior Year Three, all third-year students at No. 10 High School faced weekly quizzes and monthly major exams. While the school had canceled the midterm examination, the final exams remained. Two weeks before finals, Jiang Yan passed Coach Guo Wen’s evaluation and was accepted into the National Physics Team A, affiliated with Qing’an University, becoming an official team member. After the new year he would join the team for training, with the prospect of one day representing the country in the International Physics Championship.

Of course, all of that lay in the future.

After the evaluation concluded, Jiang Yan returned directly to Xicheng. To better keep an eye on Lin Tao’s studying, he maintained his previous routine — attending class in person as usual whenever he had lessons.

As finals drew near, teachers in every subject stopped leading review sessions. Instead, it was essentially two periods per exam paper, submitted at the end of class, with results released the same day — a pace that felt almost dizzying.

This period was chemistry. Same as always: a mock exam paper.

When the period ended and the ten-minute break began, Lin Tao had just finished a question. She set down her pen and shook out her wrist, then glanced sideways at Jiang Yan’s paper spread out on his desk.

Not only had he finished the entire paper, he had even solved the bonus questions at the end.

“……” Lin Tao couldn’t help clicking her tongue. “Did you come here specifically to discourage me?”

Jiang Yan had finished ten minutes earlier and was bent over his phone playing a jigsaw puzzle game he had downloaded. Without looking up, he smiled and said, “I was just doing it for fun.”

“Oh, please.” Lin Tao suppressed the urge to roll her eyes.

The ten-minute break was neither long nor short. Some students in the classroom were slumped over their desks napping; others had clustered together to chat.

Lin Tao rested her head on her desk too, tapping her fingers against Jiang Yan’s arm a few times. “I’m going to close my eyes for a bit.”

“Mm.” Jiang Yan tilted his head to look at her and, sure enough, spotted a faint ring of bluish shadow under her eyes. He asked softly, “Were you staying up late again while I was away?”

“More or less. Guan Che sent me a few sets of exam papers — they were all quite difficult.” Lin Tao fell asleep quickly; her voice was already hazy. “Each one takes me a long time to work through.”

“Understood.” Jiang Yan patted her head. “Sleep.”

The sound of Lin Tao’s steady breathing as she drifted off was his answer.

The ten minutes passed quickly.

Lin Tao slept so soundly she seemed not to hear the bell signaling the start of class. She remained slumped over her desk, utterly still.

The chemistry teacher, Zheng Wei, walked in from the corridor carrying a cup of water. His gaze swept the classroom and he said firmly, “Class has started. Everyone still sleeping, wake up.”

Some students stirred when he called out; others were nudged awake by their deskmates. They rubbed their eyes drowsily, picked up their pens, and returned to their exam papers.

Jiang Yan glanced at Lin Tao — still sleeping soundly — considered it briefly, and decided against waking her.

The moment Zheng Wei had entered the classroom, the first thing he spotted was Lin Tao still asleep. A second glance confirmed she was still face-down on her desk. He shifted his eyes to her deskmate — also completely motionless.

He cleared his throat lightly. “If anyone is still sleeping, please have your deskmate wake them. The final exam is right around the corner. This is hardly the time to be sleeping.”

With that, Zheng Wei shot another look at the pair in the corner. Still no movement from either of them. “……”

The veteran teacher sighed and stepped down from the platform. Feigning casualness, he made a circuit of the classroom before stopping beside the two students. He lowered his voice and asked Jiang Yan, “What’s going on with your deskmate? Did she finish the paper?”

“She did.” Jiang Yan pulled out his own paper and handed it over without batting an eye, saying smoothly, “Teacher, this is Lin Tao’s paper. I was just helping her check it.”

Zheng Wei took the paper and looked it over. The handwriting was bold and vigorous, the brushstrokes restrained and orderly — quite different from Lin Tao’s characteristically sharp, sprawling style.

Anyone with eyes could see it wasn’t written by the same person.

Zheng Wei looked at Jiang Yan. He wanted to ask whether Jiang Yan thought he was foolish, but on reflection, asking that question out loud might make himself look even more foolish. He let it go, had Jiang Yan write Lin Tao’s name in the name field, took the paper, and returned to the platform.

With no one to disturb her, Lin Tao slept through the entire period. It wasn’t until the main break bell rang that she jolted awake from her sleep. “……”

She rubbed her shoulder and looked around the noisy classroom, then turned to Jiang Yan. “Did I sleep through an entire period?”

“Yes.” Jiang Yan nodded.

Lin Tao looked down and noticed her unfinished paper. “Huh?” she said in surprise. “Didn’t Teacher Zheng ask me to hand in the paper?”

“He did.” Jiang Yan said. “I submitted my paper with your name written on it.”

“……Do you think Teacher Zheng doesn’t have a fully functioning brain?” Lin Tao casually picked up one of his papers and placed it beside her own. “Our handwriting is pretty obviously different. Do you really think he couldn’t tell?”

Jiang Yan recalled Zheng Wei’s expression earlier — clearly wanting to say something but stopping himself — and guessed the teacher had probably wanted to ask exactly that question. He curved the corner of his mouth slightly. “Maybe. He didn’t say anything about it either way.”

“Fair enough.” Lin Tao put down the paper and stretched lazily. “Is it time to go down for the running drill?”

At No. 10 High School, every Monday morning’s break was reserved for the flag-raising ceremony, so there was no running. But from Tuesday through Friday, during the main break, every student in the school was required to go to the sports field for a run.

Third-year graduation classes were no exception.

“About time.” Jiang Yan stood up, pulled the winter uniform of No. 10 High School out of his desk drawer, threw it on carelessly, and said, “Let’s go.”

At this point, Jiang Yan was still the class president of Class 18. Following the usual practice, the class president was to walk at the front of the column holding the class placard.

A cold wind swept across the empty sports field in winter. Class 18’s position had been moved from near the flag-raising platform all the way to the far end near the western gate of the field.

While waiting for the class to assemble, Hu Hanghang overheard a few homeroom teachers chatting behind the lineup. They seemed to be talking about whose birthday was coming up and which restaurant to go to for the occasion. Before he could catch who the birthday was for, the column had already assembled and begun to move.

Shuffling footsteps fell across the rubberized track, producing a whole range of sounds.

Hu Hanghang kept turning the matter over in his mind. True to his nature of never dropping something once he’d caught wind of it, the moment the running drill ended, he went to dig for information in other classes.

When Lin Tao returned to the classroom, she saw only Xu Yichuan and Song Yuan. She asked casually, “Where’s Pangpang?”

“Him?” Xu Yichuan was sitting in Hu Hanghang’s seat. “Right before the run, he overheard something Teacher Yu and Teacher Yang and a few other homeroom teachers were saying — something about whose birthday was coming up. He absolutely had to go find out whose birthday it was.”

Wu Wang, who was sitting nearby, caught the tail end of the conversation and chimed in offhandedly, “Whose birthday is it?”

Xu Yichuan shrugged and spread his hands. “No idea.”

It wasn’t until the preparatory bell for the third period rang that Hu Hanghang came sprinting in through the front classroom door. “Everyone! Major news!”

Class hadn’t formally started yet, so the students hadn’t settled into study mode. A boy in the front row looked up curiously. “What news?”

“I just found out Teacher Yu’s birthday is next Monday!” Hu Hanghang stood at the lectern and held up five fingers. “And apparently it’s his fiftieth birthday — a major milestone!”

“Oh, come on, I thought it was going to be something important.” Someone slapped a book on their desk. “It’s just a birthday. Since when is having a birthday a big deal?”

“No, listen — we’re about to graduate soon.” Hu Hanghang was surprisingly earnest about this. “Last year we didn’t even know when Teacher Yu’s birthday was, so that’s one thing. But at least now we know, and we should do something. At the very least, he’s been teaching us for two years. And there’s an old saying: even one day as your teacher makes them like a father for life.“

“Would you have nothing to say if your own father had a birthday?”

“……”

“I think Pangpang has a point,” Liu Sheng said. “But Pangpang, you should probably sit back down first. Teacher Mu has been waiting outside for you to finish your announcement for a while now.”

Hu Hanghang turned his head to look at the classroom door.

The Chinese teacher Mu Hui was standing in the doorway, textbook tucked under his arm and cup in hand, watching him with a pleasant smile. “Are you done? If not, go ahead and continue.”

“……” Hu Hanghang scratched his head and laughed awkwardly. “I’m pretty much done, Teacher Mu.”

“Pretty much done, are you.” Mu Hui walked into the classroom, set his cup on the lectern, and looked up at him with a smile. “If you’re pretty much done, why aren’t you sitting down? Are you planning to teach this class yourself?”

“……”

Hu Hanghang scrambled off the platform and back to his seat.

The classroom erupted in laughter.

Mu Hui got straight to the point. “Two periods, one paper. The subject representative can collect them at the end of class. If you can’t finish the essay, just write an outline.”

Someone at the back grumbled, “More exam papers again. Day after day after day — what’s the point?”

Mu Hui heard the complaint but didn’t get angry. He just laughed softly and said, “I know writing papers every day isn’t exactly thrilling. But students, these days won’t last much longer. Cherish them while you can. Don’t wait until later to start having regrets.”

Unfortunately, at this age, students paid little heed to their teachers’ repeated reminders to cherish the moment. In their hearts, it was only the future that was best — the future that was most worth looking forward to.

The tedious, ordinary hell of Senior Year Three was the era everyone most wanted to escape in their youth — and yet, strangely, the era everyone most wanted to return to in their old age.

That blazing summer filled with the relentless drone of cicadas: once it passed, it could never be reclaimed.

As for Teacher Yu’s birthday, the vast majority of Class 18 was on board — with only a small handful of students opting out.

The class had a group chat. During breaks, people flooded it with suggestions for how to celebrate Teacher Yu’s birthday and what gift to give him.

Lin Tao scrolled through the messages in the chat and saw someone propose giving Teacher Yu a set of brush, ink, paper, and inkstone. She turned to Jiang Yan and said, “I think that person’s suggestion is pretty good.”

Jiang Yan glanced at the group chat messages and remarked, “Whatever anyone gives him, Teacher Yu definitely won’t accept it.”

Lin Tao clicked her tongue softly. “I think so too. Teacher Yu probably doesn’t want us spending money on him — that’s why he’s kept his birthday secret from us. If Pangpang hadn’t happened to overhear, we probably wouldn’t have known until graduation.”

The chat remained lively with discussion.

By the time the evening self-study session began, He Shu, the class’s math representative, posted a comment in the group:

He Shu: Stop debating about what to buy and give. I can guarantee that even if we buy something for Teacher Yu, he’ll accept it and then hand us back the full price in cash afterward.

He Shu: Teacher Yu is soft-hearted but he has principles.

He Shu: The reason he didn’t want us to know about his birthday is precisely because he doesn’t want us spending money.

He Shu: So instead of thinking about what to buy, we should think about something that doesn’t cost much but still has meaning — something Teacher Yu won’t be able to refuse.

Hu Hanghang: That’s a fair point.

Xu Yichuan: Come on, everyone put your heads together and think of something good.

Lin Tao scrolled through the chat, occasionally exchanging a few words with Jiang Yan. “Do you have any ideas for what to give Teacher Yu?”

“Write a letter.” Jiang Yan had nothing in particular in mind.

Lin Tao looked at him and laughed. “How come whenever you celebrate someone’s birthday, you always write letters?”

Jiang Yan corrected her. “I’ve only ever written a letter for your birthday.”