During free activity time, Ning Chao was playing basketball — jumping, passing, shooting — everything flowing smoothly. Yet he was somewhat distracted, his gaze drifting repeatedly toward the other side of the sports ground.
Everyone else was doing something. Even those with less enthusiasm had gathered in groups of girls playing around together. Only Liu Sijia was by herself, in her sports top and gym trousers, her high ponytail pulled taut, leaning against the goalpost in the shade of the football net.
Some classmates had approached to check on her, only to be driven off by a single look from Liu Sijia.
Ning Chao kept staring toward the sports ground until his teammate waited so long for a pass that didn’t come that he finally called out: “Ning Chao, what are you looking at?”
“Nothing.” Ning Chao came back to himself and threw the ball over to him.
Lin Weixia and Liu Sijia had barely spoken for three days now. Liu Sijia’s face was cold and indifferent. She no longer sought Lin Weixia out, retreating back into her own circle, presiding over it like the queen with all her devoted followers.
Liu Sijia had always gone through periods of pulling away from her before, but they’d still been friends. Now they weren’t — they’d become the kind of classmates who exchanged a word or two in passing.
Lin Weixia felt a quiet ache about it, but she understood: friendships didn’t curdle overnight. The best days between them had been that rainy afternoon.
It was like bread left in the refrigerator too long — temperature, air, humidity all compounding over time until, one day, it finally went bad.
Liu Sijia’s birthday arrived abruptly. It was set for a Friday. Whatever remained of her sense of decorum, she had invited Lin Weixia.
Liu Sijia’s birthday party was on a grand scale — a villa blazing with light, red and white balloons drifting along the ceiling, giving the whole place a dreamlike quality.
Many classmates came to the party. Liu Sijia laughed and hugged her way through the crowd, but deliberately left Lin Weixia — whom she had invited — to stand alone to one side.
When it came time to cut the birthday cake, the young lady pressed her hands together, her striking face flushed with a soft glow: “I hope he comes.”
Both a wish and a declaration. Everyone around her knew exactly who she meant. A chorus of “ooohs” went up, and the teasing began: “He’ll definitely come just for you.”
But Ban Sheng was nowhere to be seen. The party wore on, and then someone looked toward the entrance and let out a startled cry: “Sijia, look who’s here!”
“Oh my god, it’s Ban Sheng.”
Liu Sijia’s downcast eyes lit up. Ban Sheng stepped in carrying a cake, cigarette pinched out, and said politely: “Happy birthday.”
The young lady was overjoyed and made a grand fuss of demanding the candles be relit for another round of wishes. The moment the candles were blown out, the room erupted in the cover of darkness, everyone creating chaos together.
Lin Weixia lowered her eyes and slipped away quietly to the kitchen to help with the fruit. She turned around — and nearly walked straight into someone’s chest, instinctively stepping back.
Outside was deafening. In this enclosed space, there were only two of them.
Ban Sheng stood with one hand in his pocket, closing the distance slowly, his shadow falling over her. He noticed the smear of cream on the tip of her nose, and something shifted in his gaze as he looked at her:
“Why are you nervous?”
He added, unhurried: “I’m not going to kiss you.”
Lin Weixia glanced toward the door and said quietly: “Why did you come?”
“You hadn’t replied to my messages, so I came to find you in person.” Ban Sheng leaned toward her, his shadow pressing down, his finger lightly brushing the cream from the tip of her nose.
Lin Weixia’s mood had been low all evening — a quiet, stifled heaviness she carried on the inside while appearing serene on the surface. Whatever troubled her, she always kept it buried, working through it alone, slowly.
But Ban Sheng, sharp as he was, caught it immediately. His eyes lifted to her face: “You’re not happy?”
“It’s all because of me anyway — I can transfer out of the class if you want.” Ban Sheng made a show of reaching for his phone, every inch the careless troublemaker ready to resolve it right then and there.
Lin Weixia still had a plate of cherry tomatoes in her arms. She didn’t stop him — she knew he was only saying it to cheer her up. Someone as proud as Ban Sheng would never really go that far for her.
But the moment she met his eyes, Lin Weixia knew he meant every word.
His gaze was direct and unfaltering, unmistakably conveying one thing to her: For you, I’d do anything.
Something stirred in her heart. Lin Weixia reached out and pressed the call he’d already dialed, canceling it — as if making a decision: “I’ll handle it myself. The reason is mine to deal with.”
May arrived fast and fierce. Lychees ripened and fell from the trees, occasionally landing on the heads of passersby — a sign that Nanjiang had truly entered the sweltering heat of summer.
No sooner had summer begun than the Nanjiang Meteorological Bureau flooded phones, radios, and televisions with alerts warning that heavy rain was coming in the next couple of days. A red weather warning would soon be in effect; all work units and schools were advised to halt operations and suspend classes based on conditions.
The students buzzed with excitement at the news of a possible typhoon and cancelled school days — but in the end, the storm system curved away from Nanjiang, dropping only a bit of rain, leaving the class sighing in disappointment all day.
That evening Ban Sheng walked Lin Weixia home as usual. When they reached Shuiwei Lane, he handed her backpack over.
Lin Weixia took it, remembered something, and spoke up: “Our agreement — let’s not say anything yet. I’m planning to tell Sijia this weekend.”
Ban Sheng said nothing. His expression was blank, his hand hanging along the seam of his trousers, knuckles visible. Lin Weixia, afraid he might go quiet and sulk again, took a small step closer on her own. The distance between them shrank.
His tall shadow fell and covered her completely — his broad frame gave the illusion of having her wrapped entirely within his arms.
Ban Sheng looked at her. He noticed how bright her eyes were at that moment, catching his reflection in them. His throat moved, just barely.
Lin Weixia reached out on her own initiative. Her pale, slender fingers hooked around his little finger and rested there. The moment they made contact, she gave it a gentle swing — unmistakably the gesture of someone coaxing.
Skin against skin. Beneath that small patch of contact, she could feel the warmth of blood moving in them both, and her pulse quickened with it. Lin Weixia felt the air around them thin somehow. They stood under the shadow of a secluded tree; Ban Sheng was positioned on the outer side, his broad, straight shoulders blocking them from any passing glance.
Then, from not far away, came the sound of a voice. Lin Weixia’s heart leapt, and she immediately moved to pull back. But Ban Sheng turned the tables — his broad hand flipped over, his fingers closing around hers at the knuckle, holding firm. His straight neck dipped, bringing his eyes level with hers.
Ban Sheng’s eyes were very dark, carrying some kind of pull she couldn’t name. Her gaze was held in it, unable to escape. His fingers moved slowly around hers, tracing a deliberate circuit over her fingertips — the pressure light but unmistakable, carrying an unspoken implication.
Their eyes remained tangled together. Lin Weixia felt her heart contract, a restless warmth rising through her. Ban Sheng watched as the tips of her ears gradually turned red, framing a face of striking, clear-cut beauty.
Beautiful as a white camellia, blooming in silence.
“I’ll let you off for now,” Ban Sheng said, watching her, his voice slow and measured.
He let go and glanced at his phone, then said: “Come with me on Saturday to meet a friend? Someone just got back from abroad — we’re getting together this weekend.”
Lin Weixia understood what he meant. This was Ban Sheng’s way of bringing her into his circle.
“Next time. Let me get more comfortable with you first,” Lin Weixia said.
Besides, she had already promised to tutor Fang Mo on Saturday.
A faint, mocking laugh escaped Ban Sheng. He reached up and pinched her face — the feel of it too pleasant to want to let go — and raised an eyebrow:
“More comfortable how?”
His gaze drifted lower, that reckless, shameless gleam back in his eyes: “In bed? That’s not out of the question either.”
“You’re so annoying.” Lin Weixia smacked his hand away directly.
Ban Sheng asked her for her phone: “Do you have my number saved?”
“Yes,” Lin Weixia said.
Ban Sheng raised an eyebrow and operated the phone with his thumb for a moment before handing it back. Lin Weixia looked — Ban Sheng had set his own number as her emergency contact, and pinned his WeChat conversation to the top. Domineering. Overbearing.
Only when he was satisfied with the arrangement did he let her go.
Saturday came quickly. Lin Weixia dressed simply in a white t-shirt and jeans, then put on a dark green cap and headed out. She stood at the agreed meeting spot waiting for Fang Mo.
Fang Mo spotted her and waved eagerly. The two of them headed to a dessert café in the shopping mall together. The moment they pushed open the door, a wave of cool air washed over them — every pore opening in grateful relief.
Fang Mo ordered a cold brewed tea. Lin Weixia ordered a cream coffee. The café was fairly quiet. Lin Weixia pulled out her books and got to work tutoring Fang Mo in mathematics — she planned to go through the key concepts she’d summarized first, then have Fang Mo do practice problems.
After one full explanation, Fang Mo still only half understood. She rested her chin in her hands on top of her books and looked at Lin Weixia, her voice full of distress: “Weixia, why did I try so hard to get into this school?”
“When my mum first found out I’d been placed here, she was over the moon. I was an allocation student from my old school, but it was still enough to make her proud in front of the neighbors. But then I got here and realized — there’s a whole social order in this place. Every time I try hard, I feel like a fly bashing against a wall, and the others are all perfectly polished peaches grown in controlled conditions.”
“Every time my mum comes to this school for parent meetings, she can’t hold her head up. But she put this roof over my head just to send me here — she even traded our house to do it. This place is full of privilege, priority, prejudice, and cruelty. Whoever called school an ivory tower has never been here — it feels more like a miniature version of society. Why did I even come?”
“It makes me so conscious of what they think of me, of where I stand in this school’s hierarchy — as if being an A-student automatically means you’re worth something.”
Fang Mo, rarely this serious, had laid out everything that troubled her. Lin Weixia’s hand, wrapped around her pen, stilled. Her thick lashes dropped:
“For yourself. Transferring somewhere else wouldn’t necessarily be better. The first step is to be satisfied with yourself — only then will others be satisfied with you and see you differently.”
“You’re so right, Weixia. That’s it — starting today, I’m going to say to myself every single day: I am satisfied with myself!” Fang Mo suddenly pushed up from the table, a new energy surging through her.
Lin Weixia reached over and patted her on the head, laughing softly: “Alright, alright. Focus and get back to studying.”
Lin Weixia was endlessly patient. Anything Fang Mo didn’t understand, she would explain again from the beginning as many times as needed. Eventually Fang Mo had a solid enough grasp to start on the practice problems. When she finished, she passed them to Lin Weixia to mark.
After a while, Fang Mo tapped the table with her knuckles, a teasing look on her face: “Weixia, something’s going on with you, isn’t it?”
“Hmm?” Lin Weixia looked up, catching on a beat late.
Fang Mo pointed, her expression all exaggerated winks and nudges: “Your screen’s lit up like three times already. Someone keeps messaging you. Aren’t you going to check?”
Lin Weixia reached for her phone on the table and bent her head to type out a reply. When she turned back around, she came face to face with an extremely nosy expression. She looked helpless, hesitated for a moment, and then told Fang Mo about the agreement she had made with Ban Sheng.
Fang Mo looked genuinely stunned. She even swore: “Holy crap — Ban Sheng?!”
“Jingbei — I remember the snow there is beautiful. And there’s this really famous aerospace university in Jingbei, and the capital university is huge too.” Fang Mo’s eyes were full of longing. “That’s so beautiful — you each have a person to work toward, a shared goal, something to strive toward together.”
“But Weixia, it’s the weekend — how come your class’s most handsome boy isn’t spending it with you?” Fang Mo poked her on the arm.
Lin Weixia was still marking her practice papers and didn’t look up, her voice as unhurried as ever: “He went to a gathering with some friends.”
“Then why didn’t you go with him?! Don’t you want to check up on him?” Fang Mo asked.
“Nothing to check,” Lin Weixia said, her voice light.
Fang Mo balled up her fist at her in a show of admiration: “My dear Weixia — I know Ban Sheng came after you first, but that doesn’t stop other girls from closing in. It’s not like you don’t know how popular he is. You’ve seen what the girls at school are like over him. And my mum always says men are untrustworthy — especially at parties. You know what venue they picked, right? Dim lighting, drinks flowing — Ban Sheng spots some girl with a great figure, next thing you know——”
That afternoon, Fang Mo talked and talked until Lin Weixia found herself genuinely uncertain. After a long pause — she still couldn’t quite explain what came over her — she picked up her phone as if pulled by something she couldn’t name, and dialed.
As the call connected, her heart was uneasy. The other end answered quickly, and a low, pleasant voice came through: “Hello.”
“What are you doing?” Lin Weixia asked.
A light laugh came through the line. Ban Sheng answered without missing a beat, easy and self-assured: “Oh. Checking up on me.”
The accuracy of it sent a wave of embarrassment washing up Lin Weixia’s face before she could even defend herself. She hadn’t had a chance to say a word before the audio on her end suddenly opened up — clearer and louder.
The clink of glasses. The sound of three boys laughing and talking. Cheng Wusuan’s voice, Li Yiran’s cursing cutting through somewhere in the mix, the rattling of dice — all of it came through crisp and perfectly clear.
She could even hear Ban Sheng clicking his lighter to light a cigarette. She could tell when he said something, when he stood up to grab a drink, when he sat back down. Everything he did was fully audible.
Not a single thing hidden.
Open and unhidden. She had wanted perhaps seven parts of reassurance — and he gave her eleven.
Always a few parts more than she asked for.
“A bit of early practice,” Ban Sheng said, slowly, “for phone dates.”