One Saturday morning, while hanging clothes on the balcony, Qingyu looked up to see a V-formation of wild geese. Carried by the wind, they seemed to ride the waves, flowing and undulating. The sky was vast, almost transparently blue, and heartbreakingly clean.
Suddenly, tears fell from her eyes.
She felt the urge to go out again-
Her excuse to Li Fanghao was simple: she said she was going to the school library to research for an English essay. The home internet, left by the previous tenant, had expired the week before, and her parents hadn’t renewed it, so she couldn’t work online at home.
Before reaching Huan Zhou No. 2 Middle School, Qingyu boarded a different bus. Unlike two months ago, she no longer felt guilty about lying to her hardworking parents in the shop.
She randomly chose the second bus, unaware it would cross the river. After winding through the crowded city for half an hour, the bus suddenly broke free, roaring as it climbed onto the spacious Minjiang Fourth Bridge. The view opened up, and Qingyu sat up straight, fully opening the window on her right.
The howling wind and the engine’s roar competed in her ears. The salty smell of the river filled her nostrils, and the strong wind slapped her face, pressing against her, making it slightly difficult to breathe.
She felt a sudden, unprecedented lightness as if all the heaviness and trivialities within her were blown away by the gust.
So this is the Minjiang River, Qingyu marveled, her lips curving into a smile. How vast.
She greedily absorbed the magnificent view before her. The gray-green water, the dancing reflections on its surface, and the glass skyscrapers gradually come into focus on the opposite shore. In the other direction, the calm Minjiang shoreline blurred into an impenetrable mist at the horizon.
The world-famous Minjiang Tide must be spectacular, she thought. Maybe next year, she could come to see it.
After crossing the bridge, the bus quickly reached its final stop in the Jiangbin New District. Only a few young girls remained on the bus. Qingyu got off behind them, overhearing the words “Huan Zhou Tourism Vocational School” in their chatter.
A mental alarm bell rang in her head.
After disembarking, Qingyu discovered that the Huan Zhou Tourism Vocational School was right across from the bus stop.
As if led by an invisible hand, Qingyu involuntarily crossed the zebra crossing in front of her. She stopped at the crimson gates.
She had noticed while crossing the road that a security guard had been observing her. As she approached, his gaze grew increasingly puzzled.
Qingyu turned to leave, but the guard came towards her.
“Excuse me, student, are you Baiyu’s sister?” he asked.
Before Qingyu could respond, he continued, “When I saw you standing there, I was startled. I thought Qiao Baiyu had returned… From afar, you two look so alike—your height, your figure, your hair as black as ink… Up close, you’re different, of course. Baiyu is your sister, right? Your nose is exactly like hers!”
Qingyu turned her face away, remaining silent. The guard went on, “Oh, I remember Baiyu so clearly. It was my first year here too when she came back very late one night. The dormitory was locked, and I caught her trying to climb in through a corridor window. The way she pleaded with me then, oh, those eyes—I’ll never forget them as long as I live…”
Qingyu fled in panic.
On the bus back, her thoughts were once again consumed by Baiyu. The guard’s words echoed in her mind, completely dispelling her earlier lighthearted mood. She felt angry and resentful, yet helpless.
“Those eyes—I’ll never forget them as long as I live,” Qingyu mulled over the guard’s words, her emotions complex and indescribable.
Surely, the security guard wasn’t the only one who had met Baiyu in real life and couldn’t forget her. Qingyu recalled the thoughtful look in Ming Sheng’s father’s eyes when he saw her at the newsstand. Her long-dormant curiosity seized her: Why had the director of Provincial First Hospital encountered Baiyu, who had been treated and died at Weiai Hospital?
She didn’t think Director Wen had seen Baiyu online. No. Judging from the reactions to that recent 88 Building forum post, people hadn’t known about Baiyu’s existence before. Ming Sheng’s father had undoubtedly met Baiyu in person.
But why? When?
Multiple possibilities sprouted simultaneously in Qingyu’s mind. Combining these with her previous doubts about whether her sister had been ill when she died, Qingyu felt her mind was about to explode.
Apart from the undeniable fact of her death, Qingyu realized she knew nothing about what had happened to her sister after coming to Huan Zhou.
If not for accidentally saving those few pages of tattered diary, she would have known absolutely nothing about her sister.
Qingyu’s heart ached intensely.
She couldn’t keep wallowing in her own emotions, she thought. She couldn’t let her sister’s mysterious and heavy past weigh down her own life anymore.
To break free from this cocoon, she had to take the initiative-
Qingyu decided to first address the long-standing question: Had Baiyu 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. After researching online, she learned that this type of safe required both a password and a key. Moreover, the bedroom door was always locked. These three obstacles made Qingyu lose heart—opening the safe unnoticed seemed an impossible task.
Changing her approach, Qingyu thought she could start externally, for instance, with Weiai Hospital.
The weekend she passed by Huan Zhou Tourism Vocational School, Qingyu once again left home under the pretext of researching at school, heading straight for Weiai Hospital, which lay across the river from the vocational school. It was Huan Zhou’s largest private hospital, widely advertised, with a light blue building as soft and welcoming as shown in the pictures. A billboard stood in front of the hospital entrance, its prominent words “Painless Abortion” making Qingyu too uncomfortable to look up.
She registered for the gastroenterology department and waited in the consultation room, doing homework while attracting curious glances. After about two hours, she heard her name called. A middle-aged female doctor with a serious expression asked her a few questions, had her lie down to feel her stomach, then sat at her desk and waved Qingyu away.
“There’s nothing wrong with you, don’t scare yourself,” the doctor said. “Young girls shouldn’t diet recklessly. Eat properly.”
Qingyu quickly opened her phone and showed the doctor the photo of Baiyu from the 88 Building forum, asking about her sister. The doctor leaned in for a closer look but interrupted Qingyu before she could finish: “Died from appendicitis surgery? I’ve been working at Weiai for five or six years and never heard of such a thing.”
The heavy stone that had been hanging over Qingyu’s head instantly fell, crashing into her heart. She hesitated, “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 had AIDS and that’s why there were complications. I want to know if my sister had AIDS, is it true that…”
“Child, you should ask your parents about these things! I’ve already said I don’t know your sister, and besides, this is gastroenterology. For AIDS, you need to ask the sexually transmitted diseases department. If she had AIDS, there would be records in the hospital.”
Having said this, the middle-aged doctor’s patience ran out. She rang the bell for the next patient, shooing Qingyu out.
It was nearly noon, and there were few people at the registration windows on the first floor. As she passed by, Qingyu slowed her steps, hesitating for a long time, but ultimately couldn’t muster the courage to register for the STD department.
The mere words “sexually transmitted disease” were frightening enough, let alone the truth-bearing its fangs behind them.-
Qingyu found herself increasingly drawn to the rooftop, rain or shine. As autumn’s crisp air settled in, volleyball and football leagues kicked off simultaneously, the sports meet opening ceremony was imminent, the photography club’s exhibition drew countless students to linger in the square, and the newly formed aerobics cheerleading team recruited members with great fanfare. The campus bustled daily, but none of it involved Qingyu.
However, because the school basketball team was frantically preparing for the city basketball league, Ming Sheng spent every day in the gym. The group of boys who usually surrounded him greatly reduced their visits to the rooftop, leaving more tranquility for Qingyu.
The rooftop was quiet, and so was the area outside the classroom. Perhaps because she had shifted all her non-academic focus to the mystery of Baiyu’s passing, she no longer cared as much about her classmates’ gazes as she had at the start of the school year. Or perhaps everyone had grown accustomed to her peculiar existence. Whatever the reason, the boys who often gathered in the hallway because of Ming Sheng and occasionally teased her as she passed by suddenly lost interest in her.
It was also possible—a guess Qingyu quickly suppressed—that Ming Sheng had stopped them. She had heard him utter two words, “ignorant,” when Chen Yuqian tried to block her way and question whether the outdated T-shirt she wore was Baiyu’s old clothing. She knew he was targeting Chen Yuqian. Honestly, hearing those words both surprised and moved Qingyu.
She was surprised by his seemingly casual yet accurate prediction of Chen Yuqian’s next attack—”Did you disinfect your sister’s clothes? Don’t bring that dirty disease into school!”—those two words made Chen Yuqian swallow the words that had rushed to his lips, his bulging eyes making him look as if he had just swallowed a live fly.
She was moved by the tone in which he said “ignorant,” so sharp and unfeeling as if Chen Yuqian wasn’t his friend at all.
She was also moved by the complex expression on his face when their eyes met after he spoke, compassion overriding pity, and was there even a hint of apology?
She was probably overthinking it. Ming Sheng calling Chen Yuqian “ignorant” was more likely because he truly couldn’t stand Chen Yuqian’s stupidity. Recalling what he had said to her at the beginning of the school year, “I’m very picky,” coupled with that cold face as he reprimanded Chen Yuqian, Qingyu suddenly formed another hypothesis: Ming Sheng didn’t care about the boys and girls who constantly surrounded him.
Chen Yuqian was crazy and stupid, Ye Zilin was sleazy, Chen Shen was a follower without his own opinions, and the rest of the group constantly changed faces, coming and going like insignificant ants. What sense of achievement could there be in being elevated to kingship by such people? If she were Ming Sheng, she would have long since grown tired of the cheap adoration that swarmed around her every day.
That languid weariness about him must come from this. The world to him was just a plate of pre-cut fruit laid before his eyes; he could simply reach out and taste whatever he wanted. But he was accustomed to being pampered, had high standards, and didn’t care for ordinary things, so he was too lazy to extend his hand.
In that case, his popularity among classmates might indicate that he was quite easygoing in his interactions.
He was certainly very picky at his core, Qingyu thought. No one had more right to be—he excelled in all aspects, even in his understanding of the world.
What allowed him to blurt out that Baiyu’s experience was “too tragic” when everyone else only focused on Baiyu’s appearance, conduct, and death?
It must be related to his childhood, right?
Almost everyone at school knew that Ming Sheng’s family lived in Qinghu Famous Garden and that his grandfather’s home in Chaoyang New Village was just somewhere he “happened” to stay for a few years during elementary school. It’s normal for busy parents to entrust their children to elders when they can’t take care of them, but for the child being “left behind,” there’s bound to be an irreparable sense of loss.
Qingyu felt that Ming Sheng’s elementary school years must not have been easy. Mastering calligraphy and piano requires talent, but even more so, it demands focus perseverance, and above all, an inner drive. His exceptional calligraphy couldn’t have been the result of pressure from elders. He was someone with extremely high self-expectations, and in the matter of practicing calligraphy, he must have been very self-disciplined from a young age.
Like Baiyu, he had an unusually well-behaved childhood.
Proving to his absent parents with maturity beyond his years: Mom and Dad, look, I’m very good and amazing.
Of course, he was much luckier than her sister, Qingyu reminded herself, rationally suppressing the inexplicable understanding and even sympathy for Ming Sheng that had welled up in her heart.
Qiao Qingyu reminded herself not to forget what Senior He Kai had endured. Now that he had become arrogant and willful, leaving his childhood behind, why should she be so emotionally invested in thinking about it?
She quickly forced herself to change her perspective, concluding that Ming Sheng’s ease and popularity among his classmates didn’t mean he was easygoing, but rather that he wasn’t truly invested in those relationships.
The thought that his outward success masked a lack of true friends brought Qiao Qingyu a sense of vindictive satisfaction as if she were pulling Ming Sheng down from his lofty perch—just like her. They were both lonely.
Once, when Su Tian, Deng Cheng, and the others appeared at the wooden door, they spotted Qiao Qingyu from afar and hurriedly ran down the stairs as if fleeing. Others were the same; those wanting to come to the rooftop would turn back as soon as they saw Qiao Qingyu there.
It was unfortunate, but Qiao Qingyu was also grateful.
On lucky days, not 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 and lie down to observe the blue sky and white clouds fragmented by the barbed wire fence.
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 Shunyun No. 1 High School, Ye Zilin snatched it away before Qiao Qingyu could react. Ye Zilin’s condition for returning the letter was for her to say “I love you to death” to him, so Qiao Qingyu gave up on retrieving it.
Could that letter have been from He Kai?
The memory of the young man’s silhouette by the canal under the ancient camphor tree, which she had tried so hard to remember, now seemed as distant as a past life.
Qiao Qingyu enjoyed being alone. 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 often fell unconsciously, dropping vertically to the ground, pulling her back to earth.
In late October, the day before midterm exams, Qiao Qingyu opened her eyes while lying flat and suddenly found someone sitting beside her.
“Hi.”
Wang Mumu’s slightly lowered smiling face perfectly blocked the sun, with a golden halo hovering behind her head like an angel’s.
Qiao Qingyu sat up.
“I went to your class to look 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 warily and confused, uttering an indistinct “Mm” from her throat.
“I’m Wang Mumu, from Class 1 of the third year.”
“I know.”
Wang Mumu smiled slightly: “I often see you hanging clothes on the balcony, Qiao Qingyu.”
“Balcony?”
“I live across from your house,” Wang Mumu continued smiling, “Building 38, third floor, Chaoyang New Village.”
Qiao Qingyu suddenly understood. So Wang Mumu lived in that house piled with miscellaneous items, opposite Ming Sheng’s home. No wonder everyone said they had grown up together like 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 process Wang Mumu’s invitation: “The flag-raising team?”
“I’m in my third year now, and I need to make every second count,” Wang Mumu looked ahead. “I’m the oldest in the flag-raising team, and it’s time for me to step down… Will you join?”
Qiao Qingyu opened her mouth slightly, and after a long pause, uttered two words: “But…”
“Raising the flag is simple, you can master the rhythm with just half an hour of practice. The long-sleeved uniform is a bit hot in summer though,” Wang Mumu winked at Qiao Qingyu. “I love watching you hang clothes, so focused, lifting your head to carefully smooth out the clothes, just like a swan.”
Qiao Qingyu was too shocked to speak.
“Come find me after the exams 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 High School, Qiao Qingyu’s unexpected appearance at the flagpole was undoubtedly a shock. The news of Qiao Qingyu becoming the new flag-raiser spread quickly among the students. When she officially appeared before everyone in uniform, Qiao Qingyu caught the buzzing murmur from the crowd below.
However, all discussions suddenly ceased when the national anthem began.
The overwhelming silence of the crowd brought a new impact on Qiao Qingyu, and she enjoyed this moment. What was unbearable was the speech under the flag that followed. Standing by the flagpole, she acutely felt countless arrow-like gazes from below the podium, especially when Ming Sheng was called up to stand beside her.
Ming Sheng had received a warning for repeatedly not submitting homework. He didn’t care at all, but Qiao Qingyu felt embarrassed as if she 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. Qiao Qingyu, standing alone to one side, overheard Deng Cheng chatting with the other two girls.
“She registered at the STD clinic,” Deng Cheng said, 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 clinic with her own eyes.”
Qiao Qingyu’s heart sank, and her scalp tingled.
Yesterday, Sunday, she had indeed gone to Weiai Hospital and registered at the STD clinic. However, unlike before, this time she encountered a young doctor who was very cautious. Perhaps to protect patient privacy, no matter how Qiao Qingyu asked, the doctor only said “I’m not sure.” Qiao Qingyu felt dejected when she was ushered out of the consultation room.
“If you don’t believe me, ask her yourself.” Deng Cheng threw out the challenge, turning provocatively towards Qiao Qingyu.
Qiao Qingyu quickly changed into her canvas shoes.
Before leaving, she was stopped by Deng Cheng: “Senior, am I right?”
Lowering her head for a moment, Qiao Qingyu neither responded nor looked back-
When her face was “accidentally” hit by a basketball thrown by a group of first-year girls led by Su Tian on the playground, Qiao Qingyu thought, no one can escape fate. Being Qiao Baiyu’s sister is my fate. Continuing her path, being gossiped about and ostracized, I can’t escape it.
Her nosebleed wouldn’t stop, but no one came to apologize. From a distance came Su Tian’s shrill scream, presumably because Ming Sheng and his friends had arrived.
Qiao Qingyu stood up, supporting herself on the nearby basketball hoop. With her head tilted back, she moved awkwardly towards the edge of the playground. Someone behind her shouted for her to clean up the blood at the edge of the basketball court, while another girl added that they didn’t want everyone to get infected. Amid the piercing laughter, Qiao Qingyu quickened her pace, running faster and faster.
When Nurse Wang at the school infirmary saw her, she was startled and asked, “Why is your face 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 her clean up, Nurse Wang pulled back the partition curtain, pointing to the narrow bed behind it, and said, “Go lie down flat for a while. I’ll excuse you from the next class.”
“Can I close the curtain?” Qiao Qingyu asked.
Seeing Nurse Wang nod, she breathed a sigh of relief.
The ceiling of the infirmary was pure white, and the air was filled with the smell of disinfectant, which made Qiao Qingyu feel strangely at ease. The last class was self-study, so missing it wasn’t much of a loss. Nurse Wang was typing away on her computer, occasionally pulling back the curtain to check on Qiao Qingyu’s nose. On the fourth check, while she was examining Qiao Qingyu, the wooden door of the infirmary was suddenly flung open with a bang.
“Who’s that, not even knocking?”
“Nurse Wang, Nurse Wang, Sheng twisted his ankle! Quick!”
A group of boys rushed in noisily. Nurse Wang frowned, lowered the curtain, and turned around 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 the tall boys with her hands on her hips. “Go do what you’re supposed to do! I hate all this noise!”
The crowd quickly retreated, and with a bang, only Ming Sheng was left in the room.
“What a rare guest, the famous Ming Sheng,” 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-day playing basketball, how come you’ve never had an ‘accident’ before?”
Ming Sheng smiled: “When I jumped down, there was an extra ball on the ground, and I stepped on it.”
“No wonder you twisted your ankle! Who throws balls onto the court? Was it those girls who like you?” Nurse Wang chided. “Let me take a look. It’s going to hurt a bit, bear with it.”
Then, Qiao Qingyu, on the other side of the curtain, clearly heard Ming Sheng sharply inhale, causing her to unconsciously grip the bed sheet tightly.
“You’ve twisted it quite badly. You’ll need to go to the hospital for some medication,” Nurse Wang said as she stood up. “I’ll go next door to get an ice pack. Put this on first, and quickly call your dad. Go to Provincial Hospital No. 1.”
With that, she opened the door and left, leaving the room in silence. Qiao Qingyu moved her calf slightly, and the bed creaked, startling her into immediate stillness, not daring to breathe.
Soon, Nurse Wang returned: “Did you make the call? Here, put this on.”
“I did.”
Qiao Qingyu was secretly surprised at Ming Sheng’s nonchalant lie.
“Nurse Wang, how long will it take for my foot to heal?”
“You’re hoping to make it for the city basketball tournament, right? Let me think,” Nurse Wang pondered. “At least three weeks, I guess. You should just make it in time.”
“That’ll do.”
“If only you put as much effort into your studies as you do into basketball, your dad would be at ease,” Nurse Wang laughed, seeming quite familiar with Ming Sheng. “Why aren’t you doing your homework again this semester?”
Ming Sheng perfunctorily replied with three words: “Too busy.”
“Haha,” Nurse Wang couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Can’t you give your dad a break? 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?” Ming Sheng interrupted the chattering Nurse Wang.
“Oh right, with all this fuss, I almost forgot,” Nurse Wang said as she stood up, suddenly pulling back the partition curtain and addressing Qiao Qingyu, who had been lying flat the whole time. “Student, I was about to tell you earlier that you’re fine now. You can go back to class.”
Qiao Qingyu quickly got off the bed and flew out of the infirmary door like the wind.
Reaching the corner of the corridor, she stopped, leaning her body heavily against the wall. A bold idea slowly took shape in her mind.
Ming Sheng, limping, appeared ten minutes later, alone. When Qiao Qingyu, waiting around the corner, called out to him, surprise crept across his face.
“I can help you with your homework,” Qiao Qingyu said straightforwardly, “but I need two things in exchange.”
Surprise turned to suspicion, and those pitch-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.”
“The phone is fine,” Ming Sheng said thoughtfully. “The letter is not.”
“Why?”
“Don’t misunderstand,” Ming Sheng lazily looked elsewhere. “I don’t want to take your letter. I just took He Kai’s letter.”
“A letter He Kai wrote to me,” Qiao Qingyu said slowly, trying to remain rational, “is my letter.”
“In other words,” Ming Sheng smirked, “I couldn’t care less about letters other guys write to you… But He Kai is different. Those scribbles he writes with his left hand pollute my eyes.”
“That’s because his right hand was hurt by you…”
“Besides,” Ming Sheng 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 tough life gets, you can’t just casually fall in love,” Ming Sheng glanced at her lightly. “Aren’t you supposed to be tough, Qiao Qingyu?”