On Friday, the tall phoenix trees on campus spread their green leaves, cradling the scorching sunlight as the thick, heavy air swept through every corner. Fortunately, compared to Nanjiang’s summers, the heat was bearable now.
After morning reading session ended, Lin Weixia and Fang Mo went together to the corridor corner to fetch water. Fang Mo hooked her arm through Lin Weixia’s affectionately and said, “I’m so glad you’re here. Being an F-student doesn’t feel so bad anymore.”
The two arrived at the water dispenser. Fang Mo shook her water cup at Lin Weixia, her tone light and cheerful: “Look at my new cup — my dad had someone go to quite a bit of trouble to get it. It’s a limited-edition collaboration model.”
The cup in Fang Mo’s hand was a cat-paw capsule thermos from a certain upscale brand — a pink cat-paw sleeve thermos, the tag still on, glinting in the reflected sunlight.
“It’s pretty,” Lin Weixia offered in response.
Fang Mo smiled. Lin Weixia stood to the side, pressed the blue button, and filled a cup of warm water. Feeling a little thirsty, she stood by the dispenser and slowly sipped.
“Weixia, your cup is quite nice — what brand is it?” Fang Mo asked.
Lin Weixia swallowed a mouthful of water. Hearing the question, she lifted the cup and examined it along its ridges, then smiled: “It’s not worth much — just an ordinary glass cup with a ribbed pattern. My family runs a fruit shop; it was a freebie that came with a fruit juice order.”
While the two were talking, someone tapped Lin Weixia’s shoulder. She turned around — it was an A-student, one of two girls who were close friends with Li Shengran.
“Li Shengran’s birthday is this week. Her family is hosting a party — you can come.”
She said she had been sent by Li Shengran to extend the invitation, but A-students were typically arrogant. Even though Lin Weixia was wearing Shengao’s school uniform, with one glance they had already noted her bag and the bit of knitted sock peeking out from her black stitched soft-leather shoes — both practically broadcasting the word “cheap.”
So instead of saying “would you like to come?” or “you’re invited,” the girl said condescendingly that she could come.
Lin Weixia wasn’t angry. She replied in a mild but direct tone: “Sorry, I have other plans this weekend.”
The two girls were momentarily surprised by her refusal, but shrugged and said nothing. As they left, one of them glanced at the cup in Lin Weixia’s hand and remarked: “Nice cup.”
The butterfly birthmark on Lin Weixia’s face was beautiful — paired with her face, her whole being radiated a unique artistic beauty, with a cool and solitary quality.
People simply cannot resist beauty.
They even want to draw close on their own initiative.
The A-student had a much more expensive brand-name cup in her hand, yet she was willing to praise an ordinary glass with a ribbed pattern — ultimately because the person was special.
Not following the crowd, instead possessing her own individual charm — without even trying, she earned people’s admiration.
After they left, Fang Mo nearly jumped up and said: “See! I told you your cup was nice.”
Lin Weixia was still wondering why Li Shengran, who clearly didn’t like her, was now inviting her. When she heard Fang Mo’s voice, her thoughts were pulled back. She smiled and replied:
“If you like it, I’ll bring one from home for you tomorrow — there are plenty more.”
“Oh yes! Weixia, you’re the best!” Fang Mo’s tone was delighted. Then, in the same breath, she shifted her tone to one tinged with envy: “But why aren’t you going to their party? They basically never invite F-students to hang out — except on rare occasions when an F-student goes to help at the party. You could go and have a great time.”
“The shop at home is quite busy on weekends,” Lin Weixia explained.
The two walked back toward the classroom together. Fang Mo always had a lot to say whenever she was with Lin Weixia, and in no time she was talking again about how she’d been very worried that things had gotten too tense between Lin Weixia and Li Shengran, and that life might be unpleasant afterward.
“But where did you find that name badge?” Fang Mo asked the same question Liu Sijia had.
Lin Weixia had to explain once more. Fang Mo’s eyes went wide, and then, as if something clicked: “That’s just how Ban Sheng is! You probably don’t know — he’s incredibly good at drawing, genuinely gifted. He designed the Shengao school uniform. The principal saw it at the time and loved it, and wanted to buy the design.”
“But guess what — he wouldn’t sell. He said he’d give it for free, but Ban Sheng set one condition.”
“What?” Lin Weixia asked.
“He said the entire supply chain for the school-provided uniforms had to go through him.” Fang Mo snapped her fingers.
Based on what Liu Sijia had said, Ban Sheng really did have a sharp mind — the kind of person who knew how to leverage prior conditions. Lin Weixia suddenly thought of something and frowned: “So dividing people into hierarchies using the neckties — that was Ban Sheng’s idea?”
“That I don’t know. I didn’t come up through Shengao — I was transferred in from another school as a quota student, so I’m not clear on the backstory,” Fang Mo said, scratching her head.
Lin Weixia couldn’t help but continue: “Didn’t anyone raise objections? Dividing people into social tiers so openly.”
“There were objections — some F-students spoke up, but they were shot down. Laughable, isn’t it? Shengao claims democracy and openness as its guiding principles. They even set up a senior student support department. But all the department heads are A-students, so of course they disagreed. The official explanation was that it’s Shengao’s tradition.”
Just then the class bell rang, and Lin Weixia held back what she wanted to say and returned to the classroom for lessons.
Outside of class, when Lin Weixia and Liu Sijia went to the school convenience store to buy cold drinks, she brought up the matter of Li Shengran inviting her to the party.
Liu Sijia was browsing the freezer section picking out ice cream. She picked up the thread: “Did you agree?”
Lin Weixia grabbed a litchi-flavored crushed-ice pop, took a bite, and shook her head: “No — I declined.”
Liu Sijia picked up a tub of Häagen-Dazs, grabbed a wooden spoon from the cashier counter, and walked with Lin Weixia toward the classroom. Liu Sijia dug out a spoonful of ice cream and popped it in her mouth, then let out a cold snort:
“Li Shengran invited me too. She’s come to make peace.”
Liu Sijia’s eyes shifted as she speculated: “Or rather — someone put pressure on her.”
“So you turned her down too?” Lin Weixia asked.
Liu Sijia traced her spoon in a circle around the ice cream, her lips still a vivid red: “No — I said yes. He’ll be there too, because Li Shengran’s brother is one of Ban Sheng’s closest friends.”
“Weixia, come with me.”
Lin Weixia was about to decline, but the moment she looked into Liu Sijia’s eyes, she remembered that day when Liu Sijia had stood up for her in front of everyone, calmly stating: she’s my friend.
“All right.”
Following Fang Mo’s questions that day, Lin Weixia remembered she still owed Ban Sheng twelve yuan and hadn’t found an opportunity to repay it. So when Chinese language exercise books were being handed out during the evening self-study period, she tucked twelve yuan in paper bills inside one of them.
After finishing distribution, Lin Weixia pulled out her chair and sat down. Ning Chao had just come back from the basketball court, strutting in wearing his bold pink T-shirt, and promptly fell asleep.
Outside the window, the fiery sunset clouds looked like a burst fruit candy, crushing apart glittering crystalline sugar frosting, while the evening breeze rustled the test papers on the desks with a flapping sound.
The teacher on duty sat at the lectern marking papers. The evening self-study session was tinged with a small amount of noise. Lin Weixia was bent over, diligently working on her English homework.
With a “thwack,” something was thrown and landed on her desk. Lin Weixia set down her pen and opened it — several banknotes fell out. Twelve yuan.
And her note was there too, with her cool yet polite “thank you” written on it in two characters.
Below the thank-you, on a new line, came a string of sharp, clear, and forceful handwriting:
I don’t accept cash.
After that was a string of letters and numbers.
Ban Sheng’s WeChat ID.
Lin Weixia pinched the note and glanced over. Ban Sheng was sitting by the window, one seat away from her, leisurely examining a map in that casual way of his — the vertebrae at the back of his long, pale neck rising and falling with his movements, as if nothing at all had happened.
Shengao’s policy limited students to using their phones only outside of class time, but Lin Weixia held the note and felt her fingers gradually heating up, as if the warmth was about to reach the tips of her ears.
She wanted to repay Ban Sheng as quickly as possible and put the matter to rest.
Lin Weixia took out her phone from inside the desk, followed the instructions on the note, searched the ID, and tapped “Add contact.”
In under two seconds the request was accepted. The screen displayed: The other party has approved your friend request. You may now begin chatting.
Lin Weixia noticed his profile photo was entirely black — but when she tapped to enlarge it, a small patch of starry sky appeared in the upper-left corner. His username was: Ban.
Was it the pinyin of his surname, or the English word “ban” — as in prohibition, to forbid?
She didn’t have time to think further. She quickly transferred the money to Ban Sheng. The screen showed the other person was typing. Lin Weixia stared at the screen for quite a while, yet never saw him collect the payment.
Throughout one full evening self-study period, Lin Weixia checked her phone three times. Nothing further appeared — he hadn’t sent a single message, and the money remained uncollected.
He had clearly seen her transfer.
Back home after school, Lin Weixia finished her bath and sat in front of the window in her nightgown, pushing the window open. A refreshing night breeze washed over her face. Her family’s courtyard had two trees — one was a litchi tree, the other a lemon tree.
Green fruit clustered on the lush branches, and a fresh, slightly tart fragrance drifted over. Lin Weixia stared at the lemon tree in a daze. It was almost October — she could make salted lemon seven-up soon.
Her phone vibrated with a message. Liu Sijia sent over a dozen messages in a row, asking Lin Weixia to help her pick an outfit for Li Shengran’s birthday party that weekend.
Lin Weixia helped her choose a black waist-cinched skirt.
The two were chatting idly when a new message notification appeared on her phone. She tapped to open it.
Ban Sheng had sent a location pin, and then —
Ban: Don’t take the wrong road.
In the end, Lin Weixia didn’t reply to anything, and had no particular interest in figuring out how Ban Sheng knew she would also be attending that party.
Sunday. Clear skies. Lin Weixia took a few coins downstairs to the breakfast stall and had a bowl of rice noodles. Afterward she hurried over to her aunt’s fruit shop to help. Weekend business was good — mostly adults bringing children into the shop — so the copy of Agatha Christie’s The Murder of Roger Ackroyd tucked in the side drawer beneath the cash register still hadn’t been opened.
As dusk descended, Lin Weixia cradled a potted cactus and rushed onto a bus heading toward the Qianjiao district to attend Li Shengran’s birthday banquet.
Sitting on the bus, Lin Weixia took out her phone and messaged Liu Sijia:
【I’m on my way now.】
After sending the message, she waited a while without a reply, so Lin Weixia switched off her phone screen. The bus swayed along for nearly an hour before reaching the Qianjiao stop.
The Qianjiao district was one of Nanjiang’s most famously wealthy residential areas. The bus couldn’t go further up the hill and stopped at the foot of the mountain. Two forking paths stretched out ahead. Lin Weixia discovered the roads were not only winding but rather long, and when she tried walking one she somehow ended up going in circles and coming back.
Lin Weixia sighed and opened her phone to message Liu Sijia:
【I’ve reached the foot of the mountain.】
【Forgot to mention — I have no sense of direction whatsoever. φ(￣0￣)】
After hesitating for half a minute, she typed and sent:
【Sijia, could you come pick me up?】
The messages went out like stones sinking into the sea. Watching the dusk dissolve like ink gradually washed away by water, with cars passing one after another, Lin Weixia felt a mild frustration rising in her chest. In the end she chose to call Liu Sijia.
The phone rang for a good while before it was picked up. Liu Sijia’s end was noisy with background sounds — balloons popping intermittently, girls shrieking with fright, boys bursting into laughter. Liu Sijia’s voice was joyful, filled with liveliness:
“Weixia, have you arrived yet?”
Lin Weixia breathed out in relief and opened her mouth: “Sijia, I—” But before she could finish, over the crackling static of the line came Li Shengran’s drawn-out voice: “Sijia, come quick!”
“Weixia, I can’t talk anymore — it’s a bit crazy over here.”
Then with a click the call was ended, and the line went to a busy tone. Lin Weixia pocketed her phone and let out a soft sigh.
Lin Weixia stood in place holding her potted cactus for five minutes. Just as she was debating whether to turn back, a black car braked sharply to a halt.
The tires ground against the gravel and spun, producing a sharp, piercing screech. The sound rose sharply above the threshold of sensation, shooting upward in a straight line. A ringing hit her right ear — wave after wave. Lin Weixia instinctively covered her ears, her chest lurching suddenly in palpitation. She worked to breathe, steadying herself.
Then she looked over.
The car window rolled down. One arm rested on the edge — a clear, defined wristbone strapped with a black mechanical watch, resting against pale, bluish veins. Ban Sheng leaned lazily in the back seat, wearing a black hoodie with the hood pulled up over his head. His pitch-black eyes looked at her and he spoke:
“Getting in or not?”