One Saturday morning, while hanging clothes on the balcony, Qiao Qingyu looked up to see a V-formation of wild geese. Carried by the wind, they seemed to ride the waves, flowing and bobbing in the air. The sky was vast, so blue it was almost transparent, clean enough to break one’s heart.
Suddenly, tears streamed down her face.
She wanted to go out again—
Her excuse to Li Fanghao was simple: she’d say she was going to the school library to research for her English essay. The internet at home had been left by the previous tenant and had expired the week before. Her parents hadn’t renewed it, so naturally, she couldn’t get online at home.
Before reaching Huanzhou No. 2 Middle School, Qiao Qingyu switched to a different bus—unlike two months ago, this time when she lied, she felt no guilt toward her parents who were working diligently in the shop.
She boarded the second bus at random, not knowing it would cross the river. The bus wound through the crowded streets of Huanzhou city, and after half an hour, suddenly broke free from the congestion, roaring as it climbed onto the expansive Minjiang Fourth Bridge. The view opened up instantly, and Qiao Qingyu sat up straight, pushing the window on her right completely open.
The howling wind and the engine’s roar competed in her ears. The salty smell of river water filled her nostrils, and the strong wind hit her face solidly, pressing against her until it was almost difficult to breathe.
She felt a sudden, unprecedented lightness as if all the heavy trivialities within her had been blown away by the great wind.
So this was the Minjiang River. Qiao Qingyu marveled, her lips curving into a smile. How vast it was.
She greedily absorbed everything in her view. The grey-green water, the dancing reflections on its surface, and the glass skyscrapers gradually come into focus on the opposite shore. In the other direction, at the edge of her vision, the calm banks of the Minjiang River blurred into an impenetrable mist.
The world-famous Minjiang tides must be spectacular, she thought. Perhaps next year, she could come to see them.
After crossing the bridge, the bus quickly reached its terminal station in the Riverside New District. Only a few young girls remained on the bus. Qiao Qingyu got off behind them, catching the words “Huanzhou Tourism College” in their conversation.
A warning bell rang in her head.
After getting off, Qiao Qingyu discovered that the Huanzhou Tourism Vocational School was right across from the bus station.
As if led by an invisible hand, Qiao Qingyu unconsciously walked across the zebra crossing before her. She stopped in front of the crimson gate.
She had noticed while crossing the street that a security guard had been watching her. As she approached, his gaze grew increasingly puzzled.
Qiao Qingyu turned to leave, but the guard came forward.
“Hey, student, are you Baiyu’s sister?”
Before Qiao Qingyu could respond, the guard continued: “When I saw you standing there just now, I was startled, thinking Qiao Baiyu had returned… You two look so alike from afar, the height, the figure, hair as black as ink… Up close you’re different though. Baiyu is your sister, right? Your nose is exactly like hers!”
Qiao Qingyu turned her face to the side, remaining silent. The guard continued: “Oh, I remember Baiyu so clearly. It was my first year here too, and one time she came back very late after the dormitory doors were locked. She tried to climb in through the corridor window, and I caught her. The way she begged me then, looking so pitiful—those eyes, I’ll never forget them as long as I live…”
Qiao Qingyu fled in panic.
On the return bus, her thoughts were once again occupied by Qiao Baiyu. The guard’s words echoed in her mind, completely dispelling her earlier feeling of lightness. She felt angry and resentful, yet helpless.
“Those eyes, I’ll never forget them as long as I live”—Qiao Qingyu pondered the guard’s words, her emotions complex and indefinable.
In reality, the security guard surely wasn’t the only one who had met Qiao Baiyu and couldn’t forget her. Qiao Qingyu recalled the thoughtful look in Mingsheng’s father’s eyes when he saw her at the newsstand. Her long-suppressed curiosity sprang up and seized her: Why had the director of Provincial First Hospital ever met Qiao Baiyu, who had been treated and died at Weiai Hospital?
She didn’t think Director Wen had seen Qiao Baiyu online—no. Judging from the reactions to that recent post on Floor 88, people hadn’t known about Qiao Baiyu’s existence before. Mingsheng’s father had met Qiao Baiyu in person, without a doubt.
But why had he met Qiao Baiyu? When had he seen her?
Multiple possibilities sprouted simultaneously in Qiao Qingyu’s mind, combined with her previous doubts about whether her sister had been infected when she died. She felt her mind might explode.
Except for the undeniable fact of her death, she knew nothing about what had happened to her sister after coming to Huanzhou.
If not for accidentally salvaging those few torn diary pages, she would have known absolutely nothing about her sister.
Qiao Qingyu’s heart ached intensely.
She couldn’t keep drowning in her own emotions anymore, she thought. She couldn’t let her sister’s mysterious and heavy past weigh down her own life like a cocoon.
To break free from the cocoon and become a butterfly, she had to move forward actively—
Qiao Qingyu decided to first resolve something she had long suspected: whether Qiao Baiyu had contracted AIDS during her appendectomy.
She often thought about the white safe in her parents’ wardrobe. Once, while helping Li Fanghao put pillowcases and duvet covers in the wardrobe, she opened the side with the safe and discovered it had both a keyhole and a number dial. Looking it up online, she learned this type of safe required both a password and key. Moreover, the bedroom door was always locked. These three layers of security made Qiao Qingyu lose heart—trying to open the safe undetected was simply impossible.
Changing her approach, Qiao Qingyu thought she could start from the outside, such as with Weiai Hospital.
That same weekend she passed Huanzhou Tourism College, Qiao Qingyu again left home under the pretext of researching at school, heading straight for Weiai Hospital across the river from the college. This was Huanzhou’s largest private hospital, heavily advertised, its light blue building as soft and welcoming as shown in the photos. A billboard stood in front of the hospital entrance, the glaring words “Painless Abortion” making Qiao Qingyu too ashamed to look up.
She registered at the gastroenterology department and did homework while waiting in the consultation room, drawing many glances. After about two hours, she heard her name called. A middle-aged female doctor with a serious expression asked her several questions, had her lie down to feel her stomach, then sat at her desk and dismissed Qiao Qingyu with a wave of her hand.
“There’s nothing wrong with you, don’t scare yourself,” the doctor said. “Young girls shouldn’t diet recklessly, eat properly.”
Qiao Qingyu quickly opened her phone, showed the doctor the photo of Qiao Baiyu from Floor 88, and asked about her sister. The doctor leaned in for a look, interrupting before Qiao Qingyu could finish: “Died from appendicitis surgery? I’ve worked at Weiai for five or six years and never heard of such a thing.”
The heavy stone that had been hanging over her head instantly fell, crashing into her heart. Qiao Qingyu froze: “Doctor, have you ever seen my sister?”
“Even if I had, I wouldn’t remember. Do you know how many people I see every day?”
“People online say my sister got AIDS and had complications, I want to know if my sister had AIDS, is it true that…”
“Child, you should ask your parents about these things! I already said I don’t know your sister, and besides, this is gastroenterology—for AIDS questions, you need to ask the STD department. If someone had AIDS, there would be records in the hospital.”
Having said this, the middle-aged doctor’s patience was exhausted. She rang the bell for the next patient, shooing Qiao Qingyu out.
It was nearly noon, and there were few people at the first-floor registration windows. Passing by, Qiao Qingyu slowed her steps, hesitated for a long while, but ultimately couldn’t muster the courage to register at the STD department.
The mere words “sexually transmitted disease” were frightening enough, let alone the truth-bearing its fangs behind them—
Qiao Qingyu found herself increasingly drawn to the rooftop, whether it was sunny or raining. In the crisp autumn days, with volleyball and soccer tournaments starting simultaneously, the sports meet about to begin, the photography club’s exhibition works making countless students linger in the square, and the newly established aerobics cheerleading team recruiting members with great fanfare, the campus was lively every day, though none of it concerned Qiao Qingyu.
However, because the school basketball team was racing against time to prepare for the city basketball tournament, Mingsheng was in the gymnasium every day, and the group of boys who usually surrounded him greatly reduced their visits to the rooftop, leaving Qiao Qingyu with more tranquility.
The rooftop was peaceful, and so was the area outside the classroom. Perhaps because she had devoted all her non-academic thoughts to the mystery of how Qiao Baiyu had passed away, she wasn’t as concerned about her classmates’ gazes as she had been at the start of school, or perhaps because everyone had grown accustomed to her unusual existence. Either way, those boys who often gathered in the corridor because of Mingsheng and occasionally teased her as she passed by suddenly lost interest in her.
It was also possible—this guess was immediately suppressed by Qiao Qingyu as soon as it emerged—that Mingsheng had stopped them. She had heard him utter two words, “ignorant,” when Chen Yuqian had blocked her way and questioned whether the outdated T-shirt she was wearing was Qiao Baiyu’s old clothes. She knew he was targeting Chen Yuqian. Honestly, when she heard those words, Qiao Qingyu felt both amazed and touched.
Amazed that despite his seemingly casual manner, he had accurately anticipated Chen Yuqian’s next attack—”Did you disinfect your sister’s clothes? Don’t bring dirty diseases into school!”—these two words forced Chen Yuqian to swallow the words that had rushed to his lips, his bulging eyes making him look as ugly as if he had swallowed a live fly.
Touched by the tone in which he said the word “ignorant,” so sharp, so ruthless as if Chen Yuqian wasn’t his friend at all.
Also touched by the complex expression on his face when their eyes met after he spoke, with sympathy overshadowing grief, was there even a hint of apology?
She was probably overthinking it. When Mingsheng rebuked Chen Yuqian as “ignorant,” it was more likely that he truly couldn’t stand Chen Yuqian’s stupidity. Recalling what he had said to her at the beginning of school, “I’m very picky,” combined with that cold face when scolding Chen Yuqian, Qiao Qingyu suddenly formed another hypothesis: that Mingsheng didn’t care about these boys, and girls, who constantly surrounded him.
Chen Yuqian was crazy and foolish, Ye Zilin was sleazy, Chen Shen was a follower without his own opinions, and the remaining crowd’s faces changed constantly, coming and going like insignificant ants. What sense of achievement could there be in being crowned king by such people? If she were Mingsheng, she would have long grown tired of this cheap adoration that swarmed around her every day.
That’s probably where his languid weariness came from. To him, the world was just a plate of pre-cut fruit placed before his eyes—he could simply take a piece of whatever he wanted to taste, but he was too accustomed to privilege, his standards too high, and he couldn’t be bothered to reach out for ordinary things.
In that case, his popularity among classmates might indicate that he was quite easy-going in his interactions.
He was naturally very discriminating at his core, Qiao Qingyu thought, and no one had more right to be—he excelled in all aspects, even in his understanding of the world.
What had enabled him to immediately say that Qiao Baiyu’s experience was “too tragic,” when everyone else only focused on her appearance, conduct, and death?
It must be related to his childhood.
Almost everyone at school knew that Mingsheng’s family lived in Qinghu Famous Gardens, and his grandfather’s home in Chaoyang New Village was just where he “happened” to stay for a few years during elementary school. When parents are too busy to care for their children and entrust them to their elders, though normal, it inevitably leaves an irreparable void in the hearts of the “left behind” children.
Qiao Qingyu felt that Mingsheng’s elementary school years must not have been easy. Mastering calligraphy and piano requires not only intuition but also focus perseverance, and most importantly, inner drive. His exceptional calligraphy couldn’t have been the result of pressure from his elders. He was someone with extremely high self-expectations, and when it came to practicing calligraphy, he must have been quite self-disciplined from an early age.
Like Qiao Baiyu, he had an unusually well-behaved childhood.
Using maturity far beyond his years to prove to his absent parents: Dad, Mom, look, I’m very good, very excellent.
Of course, he was much luckier than her sister, Qiao Qingyu reminded herself, rationally suppressing the inexplicable understanding and even sympathy that had welled up in her heart for Mingsheng.
Besides, she shouldn’t forget what Senior He Kai had endured. Now Mingsheng was arrogant and willful, having long cast aside his childhood—why should she be so emotional and think so much about it?
She immediately forced herself to change perspective, deciding that Mingsheng’s ease and grace among classmates didn’t indicate friendliness, but rather a lack of genuine care.
Outwardly flourishing, but actually, without any true friends—this thought gave Qiao Qingyu a sense of satisfaction, filled with the vengeful feeling of pulling Mingsheng down from his pedestal—just like me.
Both of us are lonely—
Once when Su Tian, Deng Cheng, and the others appeared at the wooden door again, they spotted Qiao Qingyu from afar and hurriedly ran downstairs like refugees. Others were the same; whoever wanted to come to the rooftop would consciously turn away upon seeing Qiao Qingyu there.
It was unfortunate, but Qiao Qingyu was also grateful.
On lucky days, not even a single cigarette butt could be found on the rooftop in the evening. At such times, Qiao Qingyu would use her schoolbag as a pillow, lying down to observe the blue sky and white clouds divided by the iron mesh.
Occasionally, she would think of He Kai. Once, when the class publicity officer Guan Lan entered the room shouting that there was a letter from Sunyun No. 1 Middle School before Qiao Qingyu could react, the letter was snatched away by Ye Zilin. Ye Zilin’s condition for returning the letter was to make her say “I love you to death” to his face, so Qiao Qingyu gave up on retrieving the letter.
That letter, could it have been from He Kai?
The silhouette of that youth she had tried so hard to remember, beneath the ancient camphor tree by the canal, felt as distant as if it belonged to a previous life.
Qiao Qingyu greatly enjoyed being alone. When lying on the ground completely emptying her mind, she often felt as if she had grown transparent wings. The sky was so high, so far, yet within reach. But she couldn’t fly for long. Tears would often fall unconsciously, dropping vertically, pulling her back to the ground.
In late October, the day before midterm exams, when Qiao Qingyu opened her eyes while lying flat, she suddenly discovered someone sitting beside her.
“Hi.”
Wang Mumu’s slightly downturned smiling face perfectly blocked the sun, with golden halos suspended behind her head like an angel’s halo.
Qiao Qingyu sat up.
“I went to your classroom looking for you, but no one knew where you were,” Wang Mumu’s voice was gentler than the wind. “I guessed you’d be here, and here you are.”
Qiao Qingyu looked at her with both wariness and confusion, making an unclear “mm” sound in her throat.
“I’m Wang Mumu, from Class 1, Grade 12.”
“I know.”
Wang Mumu smiled slightly: “I often see you hanging clothes on the balcony, Qiao Qingyu.”
“Balcony?”
“I live across from you,” Wang Mumu continued smiling, “Building 38, third floor, Chaoyang New Village.”
Qiao Qingyu suddenly understood. So Wang Mumu lived in that household full of miscellaneous items, opposite Mingsheng’s home—no wonder everyone said they were childhood sweethearts.
“I want to ask for your help,” Wang Mumu said, looking sincerely into Qiao Qingyu’s eyes, “Would you like to join the flag-raising team?”
Qiao Qingyu took two seconds to digest Wang Mumu’s invitation: “The flag-raising team?”
“I’m in Grade 12 now, must fight for every minute,” Wang Mumu looked ahead, “I’m the oldest in the flag-raising team, it’s time for me to step down… Will you come?”
Qiao Qingyu opened her mouth slightly, and after a long while managed to say: “But…”
“Raising the flag is simple, you can master the rhythm in half an hour, just that the long-sleeved uniform is a bit hot in summer,” Wang Mumu winked at Qiao Qingyu, “I love watching you when you’re hanging clothes, so focused, raising your head earnestly to smooth out the clothes, just like a swan.”
Qiao Qingyu was too shocked to speak.
“Come find me after the exam the day after tomorrow,” Wang Mumu smiled sweetly, “Otherwise there’ll be no one to raise the flag next Monday.”—
For the students of Huanzhou No. 2 Middle School, Qiao Qingyu’s unexpected appearance beneath the flagpole was undoubtedly shocking. The news of Qiao Qingyu becoming the new flag-raiser spread rapidly among students, and when she formally appeared before everyone in uniform, Qiao Qingyu caught the buzzing murmurs from below the platform.
However, all discussions suddenly ceased when the national anthem began playing.
The enormous silence from the crowd brought a new kind of impact to Qiao Qingyu, and she enjoyed this moment. What was unbearable was the flag-raising speech afterward, when she truly felt countless arrow-like gazes from below the rostrum while standing by the flagpole, especially during the moment when Mingsheng was called to stand beside her.
Mingsheng had received a warning for repeatedly not submitting homework; he didn’t care at all, but Qiao Qingyu felt embarrassed as if she were the one who had done something wrong.
After the assembly, Qiao Qingyu quickly ran back to the logistics room on the first floor. The flag-raising team had eight members, four boys and four girls, with Deng Cheng among them. When changing out of their uniforms, only the four girls were in the logistics room, and Qiao Qingyu, alone on one side, overheard Deng Cheng chatting with the other two girls.
“She registered at the STD clinic,” Deng Cheng said while glancing sideways at Qiao Qingyu, “If you don’t believe me, ask Fang Keran from Class 12, she said it. Yesterday she accompanied her mother to Weiai Hospital and saw her go to the STD department with her own eyes.”
Qiao Qingyu’s heart skipped a beat, her scalp tingling.
Yesterday, Sunday, she had indeed gone to register at the STD clinic at Weiai Hospital. However, unlike before, this time she met a young doctor with high vigilance who, perhaps to protect patient privacy, only said “not sure” no matter how Qiao Qingyu asked. She was very discouraged when being rushed out of the consultation room.
“If you don’t believe me, go ask her yourself.” Deng Cheng threw out these words, turning toward Qiao Qingyu challengingly.
Qiao Qingyu quickly changed into her canvas shoes.
Before leaving, she was stopped by Deng Cheng: “Senior, am I right?”
After a brief pause while looking down, Qiao Qingyu neither responded nor looked back—
When her face was “accidentally” hit by a basketball from a group of first-year girls led by Su Tian on the playground, Qiao Qingyu thought, no one can escape their fate. Being Qiao Baiyu’s sister is my destiny, continuing her old path, being gossiped about and ostracized, I can’t escape it.
Her nosebleed wouldn’t stop, yet no one came to apologize. Su Tian’s shrill scream rang out from afar, presumably because Mingsheng and his group had arrived.
Qiao Qingyu stood up holding onto the nearby basketball hoop, head tilted back, moving awkwardly toward the edge of the playground. Someone behind her shouted for her to clean up the blood by the basketball court, while another girl added that they didn’t want everyone to get infected. Along with the harsh laughter, Qiao Qingyu quickened her pace, running faster and faster.
When Little Wang, the school nurse, saw her, she was greatly startled, asking why her face was covered in blood? Only then did Qiao Qingyu understand why she hadn’t bumped into anyone despite running with her head tilted back the whole way—her horrifying appearance was like a knife, keeping others at bay.
After helping clean her up, Nurse Wang pulled back the partition curtain, pointing to the narrow bed behind it, saying: “Go lie down flat, rest for a while, I’ll help excuse you from the next class.”
“Can I pull the curtain closed?” Qiao Qingyu asked.
Seeing Nurse Wang nod, she let out a sigh of relief.
The infirmary ceiling was pure white without impurities, and the air was filled with the smell of disinfectant, making Qiao Qingyu feel inexplicably at ease. The last class was self-study, missing it wasn’t much of a loss. Nurse Wang was typing away at her computer, occasionally lifting the curtain to check on Qiao Qingyu’s nose. During the fourth check, while she was examining Qiao Qingyu, the wooden door of the infirmary was suddenly flung open with a bang.
“Who is it? Don’t you know how to knock?”
“Nurse Wang, Nurse Wang, Sheng sprained his ankle! Quick!”
A group of boys rushed in noisily. Nurse Wang frowned as she lowered the curtain, turning to shout angrily: “Only the injured stay, everyone else go back to class!”
“But we’re on the school team, Nurse Wang, we…”
“My office is only this big, and there’s already a patient resting inside,” Nurse Wang scolded these tall boys with her hands on her hips, “Go do whatever you’re supposed to do! I hate all this noise!”
The crowd quickly retreated, and with a bang of the door, only Mingsheng remained inside.
“What a rare guest, the famous student Mingsheng,” Nurse Wang said, “Let me see, which foot? What happened?”
“Just an accident.”
Nurse Wang gave him a look: “An accident… It’s not your first time playing basketball, how come you never had accidents before?”
Mingsheng smiled: “When I came down, there was an extra ball on the ground, I stepped on it.”
“No wonder you sprained it! Who’s throwing balls around the court, was it those girls who like you?” Nurse Wang complained, “Let me see, this will hurt a bit, bear with it.”
Then, from behind the curtain, Qiao Qingyu heard Mingsheng sharply draw in a cold breath, causing her hand to unconsciously grip the bed sheet.
“You’ve sprained it quite badly, you’ll need to go to the hospital for some medicine,” Nurse Wang said while standing up, “I’ll go next door to get an ice pack, put this on first, and quickly call your father, go to Provincial First Hospital.”
After saying this, she opened the door and left, leaving the room in silence. Qiao Qingyu moved her calf slightly, and the bed creaked, frightening her into immediate stillness, not daring to even breathe.
Soon Nurse Wang returned: “Did you make the call? Here, put this on.”
“Yes.”
Qiao Qingyu was secretly surprised at Mingsheng’s smooth lie.
“Nurse Wang, how long will it take for my foot to heal?”
“You’re thinking about the city basketball tournament, right? Let me calculate,” Nurse Wang pondered, “At least three weeks, probably just in time.”
“That’ll do.”
“If only you put as much effort into studying as you do into basketball, your father would be relieved.” Nurse Wang laughed, seeming quite familiar with Mingsheng, “Why aren’t you doing homework again this semester?”
Mingsheng perfunctorily replied with three words: “Too busy.”
“Hahaha,” Nurse Wang couldn’t help laughing out loud, “Can’t you give your father less to worry about? He’s already busy enough with work, saving lives every day… You’re so popular at school, wearing such nice clothes and shoes, using such a good phone, all thanks to your parents…”
“Who’s inside?” Mingsheng interrupted the chattering Nurse Wang.
“Oh right, I almost forgot with all your trouble,” Nurse Wang said while standing up, suddenly pulling back the partition curtain, saying to Qiao Qingyu who had been lying flat, “Student, I was going to tell you earlier that you’re fine now, you can go back to class.”
Qiao Qingyu quickly got off the bed and opened the infirmary door like a gust of wind.
Reaching the corridor corner, she stopped, heavily leaning her body against the wall, a bold idea slowly taking shape in her mind.
Mingsheng, limping, appeared ten minutes later, alone. When called out to by Qiao Qingyu who had been waiting at the corner, surprise crawled across his face.
“I can help you write your homework,” Qiao Qingyu got straight to the point, “But I need two things in exchange.”
Surprise turned to suspicion, those jet-black eyes staring at her made Qiao Qingyu’s ears inexplicably hot.
“It’s not difficult for you,” Qiao Qingyu added.
“Just say it.”
“First, a phone, with a number, that takes clear photos,” Qiao Qingyu said, “Second, my letter, the one you guys took away.”
“The phone is fine,” Mingsheng pondered, “The letter is not.”
“Why?”
“Don’t misunderstand,” Mingsheng looked elsewhere lazily, “I don’t want to snatch your letter, I just took He Kai’s letter.”
“A letter He Kai wrote to me,” Qiao Qingyu said word by word, trying to stay rational, “is my letter.”
“In other words,” Mingsheng smiled contemptuously, “I couldn’t care less about other boys writing to you… but He Kai is different, those scribbles he wrote with his left hand polluted my eyes.”
“That’s because his right hand was hurt by you…”
“Besides,” Mingsheng forcefully interrupted Qiao Qingyu, “I’m helping you pull back from the brink, you should be thanking me.”
“What do you mean?”
“No matter how hard life is, you can’t casually fall in love,” Mingsheng cast a fleeting glance at her, “Aren’t you supposed to be tough, Qiao Qingyu?”