Qiao Qingyu returned to the classroom through the back door, breaking her usual routine. It was the first day of the school’s sports meet and club exhibition, so most students were either at the field or in the square after lunch. Only a few people remained in the classroom, including Ming Sheng.
He sat with one knee against the edge of his desk, holding a thin English novel, appearing relaxed yet deeply engrossed in reading.
Qiao Qingyu paused behind him for two seconds, then stopped again as she passed Ye Zilin’s seat in the last row of the third group.
“It’s right here,” she thought, looking towards her seat. “This is the angle.”
Ye Zilin, who had been chatting on his phone, suddenly turned around. “What the hell? Are you spying?”
As he spoke, he flipped his silver phone face-down. Qiao Qingyu noticed the phone had a beautiful camera on its back, resembling a digital camera.
“Are you sick or something, creeping around like a ghost?” Ye Zilin cursed. “You’re so gloomy, go get some sunshine!”
Ming Sheng glanced over at them. Qiao Qingyu didn’t linger and walked back to her seat.
It must have been Ye Zilin who took those photos and sent them to his lowlife friends. If so, Ming Sheng probably knew about it too.
Her mind was in chaos, and her heart felt like it had plunged into an icy hole. But why should she be disappointed? She mocked herself—hadn’t she seen clearly at the beginning of the semester that Ming Sheng was just an arrogant, vicious jerk not to be messed with?
She took out He Kai’s letter again. The three large characters spelling “Qiao Qingyu” on the envelope seemed a bit sad now. The content was fine, printed in standard Song typeface with clear paragraphs, like an exemplary composition published in a newspaper.
“Dear Qiao Qingyu,” it began.
Qiao Qingyu read the letter again. The pressure and adjustments of senior year, the distant but precious dreams, and gratitude for everything and everyone around—this letter seemed more like He Kai’s monologue than a message to her. Only the series of questions at the end reminded Qiao Qingyu that He Kai was expecting a reply.
She picked up her pen.
After writing “Your letter surprised and pleased me,” she got stuck. She didn’t want to answer any of those questions like “How are you getting along with your new classmates?” or “You must have dreams too, can you tell me about them?” Yet she had so many emotions she urgently needed to express—perhaps too many, clogging up at the tip of her pen.
After a long contemplation, she managed to squeeze out two polite responses. He Kai’s letter depicted a perfect, flawless adolescent world, with no mention of his pain from Ming Sheng’s bullying or the label of Qiao Baiyu that stuck to Qiao Qingyu. As she wrote, Qiao Qingyu suddenly realized she didn’t recognize the carefree, light-hearted sentences flowing from her pen, as if another person was writing the letter.
On second thought, it made sense. How could she dare to reveal her true self, torn by countless worries, to He Kai?
Having completed the task of replying, Qiao Qingyu heaved a big sigh of relief. Next, she needed to buy an envelope and stamps from the stationery store across from the school gate, then walk to the corner and drop the letter into the dark green mailbox.
Then she could go home. Leaving three hours early, she would certainly avoid the thug who claimed he’d be waiting for her at the school gate.
She had also thought of an excuse for leaving early—stomach pain due to her period. The sports meet had nothing to do with her, so Sun Yinglong had no reason not to let her go.
With everything planned, Qiao Qingyu stood up to pack her bag. The classroom had emptied without her noticing, the back door was wide open, and Ming Sheng’s desk and chair by the door were vacant.
Something on Ye Zilin’s messy desk glinted faintly.
Peering closer, Qiao Qingyu saw it was the phone he had been grinning at earlier.
She had overheard from the boys’ chatter that Ye Zilin had more than one phone. Supposedly, it was because he had multiple girlfriends outside school, and to avoid mixing up messages, he used a different number for each girl. When he was too busy, he’d distribute his phones to his friends, dictating while they typed for him. Once, Chen Shen had been holding one of the phones and started howling, attracting nearly all the boys in class—an older girlfriend, unwittingly provoked by Chen Shen, had sent a very revealing photo.
Qiao Qingyu, who had never paid attention to their antics before, was surprised to realize she had unconsciously remembered so much.
Passing by Ye Zilin’s desk, Qiao Qingyu stopped again. The large pencil case was open, with the carelessly placed phone face-down, coincidentally pressing down on one side of the pencil case’s zipper. On the back of the phone, the small square lens cover was open, revealing the round camera lens that resembled a peephole.
The green circle at the other end should be the phone brand’s logo. Leaning closer, Qiao Qingyu made out the letters: Sony Ericsson.
“What are you looking at?”
Her heart skipped a beat. Turning around in panic, Qiao Qingyu saw Ming Sheng leaning against the door frame, his face full of suspicion.
How had he appeared so silently?
“Nothing.”
Feeling as if she’d been caught doing something wrong, Qiao Qingyu’s face instantly turned burning red. She lowered her head and hurried past Ming Sheng’s scrutinizing gaze, quickly disappearing from his sight.
After successfully mailing the letter, Qiao Qingyu boarded the bus home but got off one stop early, turning into an inconspicuous internet cafe in a small alley.
Entering an internet cafe for the first time filled her with a sense of guilt, but she couldn’t afford to dwell on that now. Finding a secluded spot, she quickly typed her QQ number and password on the greasy keyboard.
Friend requests were still pouring in. This time, Qiao Qingyu was more cautious—she rejected any request that didn’t seem to be from He Feihai. Once the penguin icon finally stopped flashing, she opened the chat window of “I Only Care About You” and, after some hesitation, sent a message:
“Ye Zilin didn’t just send my photos to you, did he?”
The avatar showed a “Busy” status with an automatic reply. It was still early, so Qiao Qingyu waited. She searched for images of Sony Ericsson phones and quickly found the exact model Ye Zilin had—it was this year’s new release with an 8-megapixel camera. Suddenly, the chat window turned yellow.
“He said you’re pretty and lonely, needing care, little beauty~”
The truth came out so easily. Qiao Qingyu chuckled softly, her fingers hovering over the keyboard as she quickly thought.
“Don’t be scared, little sister. Big brother will take good care of you. Why else would your sister have been willing to drink with me before~” The other side began rambling. “Huanzhou is so big with so many bad people. You’re new here and don’t know anyone, just like your sister before. How pitiful~ Big brother can’t stand seeing little girls so sad. Come on, call me big brother, and I’ll take care of you…”
“Where did you drink with my sister before?” Qiao Qingyu replied. “How did you know her?”
“Your sister ran into trouble as soon as she got to school, and I heroically saved her! Little sister, isn’t your big brother kind?”
So he met Qiao Baiyu right when she started school, Qiao Qingyu thought. This man calling himself kind reminded her of a wolf in sheep’s clothing—a poorly disguised one at that.
So how long did their “friendship” last? Did this man on the other side of the screen know much about Qiao Baiyu’s life in Huanzhou?
“No friends, being mocked, feeling bitter inside, right?” the other side kept chattering. “Don’t worry, now you have a big brother. Although I mostly hang around Jiangbin, I have plenty of friends on this side of the river too. If you have any trouble, just call out, and I’ll help! I’ll bring a few people to the No. 2 High School gate later to back you up. From now on, you can strut around school as you please!”
Qiao Qingyu’s fingers trembled slightly. She took a deep breath, steadying herself before typing:
“Big brother, I don’t need that kind of help. I just want to know more about my sister.”
“Oh? What do you want to know about your sister? Big brother knows everything!”
“Really? Then tell me, what was my sister’s favorite food in Huanzhou?”
There was a brief pause before the reply came: “Your sister loved spicy food! She always ordered the spiciest dishes when we went out to eat.”
Qiao Qingyu couldn’t help but smile. Her sister had always disliked spicy food.
“Big brother, you’re lying,” she typed. “My sister hated spicy food. She never ate anything spicy.”
The chat window remained silent for a while.
“Little girl, you’re pretty smart,” the reply finally came. “But so what? Your sister’s gone, and you’re all alone now. Don’t you want Big Brother to take care of you?”
Qiao Qingyu’s hands clenched into fists. She took another deep breath before responding:
“I don’t need your care. And I’m not alone. I have my parents, my brother, and friends who truly care about me. Don’t ever contact me again.”
Without waiting for a response, she closed the chat window and logged out of QQ. She sat there for a moment, her heart racing, before finally standing up and leaving the internet cafe.
As she walked home, Qiao Qingyu felt a mix of emotions—anger at the man’s lies, relief at having confronted him, and a renewed determination to uncover the truth about her sister’s life in Huanzhou. She realized that the path to understanding Qiao Baiyu’s past would be challenging, filled with deceit and potential dangers. But she was ready to face it, armed with caution and the support of those who genuinely cared for her.
The setting sun cast long shadows as Qiao Qingyu made her way home, her mind already formulating plans for her next steps in unraveling the mystery surrounding her sister.
Qiao Qingyu started to type “No need,” but reconsidered and deleted those words. Instead, she wrote:
“The school’s sports meet and club exhibition are happening these days. There are many teachers in the square and parents coming in and out of the school gates. It’s too crowded and inconvenient,” Qiao Qingyu typed hurriedly. “Can we meet on Friday after school?”
After sending the message, there was no immediate reply. Hesitating for a moment, Qiao Qingyu added, “I won’t be in a rush to go home that day.”
Quickly, smiling emojis appeared in the chat: “Little sister is so thoughtful! Alright, we won’t come today then.”
Having dealt with the person called “Brother Hei,” Qiao Qingyu fell into deep thought. This delaying tactic couldn’t solve her predicament, yet deep down, she seemed to be looking forward to meeting these people. For a moment, she didn’t know what to do next, feeling trapped between two immovable boulders.
Just then, the QQ icon in the bottom right corner turned into a flashing horn, indicating another friend request. She clicked the mouse mechanically, and the requester’s avatar popped up – the QQ penguin itself. Scanning the brief username after the avatar, Qiao Qingyu sat up straight.
Cangyi.
In other words, Feihai and Baiyu.
Taking a deep breath, Qiao Qingyu clicked “Accept.”
“Hello, Qingyu,” the other side got straight to the point, “I’m He Feihai.”
After Qiao Qingyu replied with “Hello, Brother He,” there was silence. Remembering his awkward yet reliable demeanor, Qiao Qingyu decided to take the initiative.
“I have something to ask you if that’s alright?”
The reply came quickly: “Sure.”
The prompt response put Qiao Qingyu at ease, even touching her a little. After pondering for a moment, she typed:
“Are you my sister’s close friend?”
She waited with her hands off the keyboard. Soon, a long paragraph appeared:
“I understand your family’s curiosity about my relationship with Baiyu. My weekend visit to Huanzhou to see her might seem like proof of an unusual connection. Your aunt and uncle are shy people, and given the painful past, they deliberately avoided mentioning Baiyu when they invited me for dinner. I wanted to explain, but their smiles made it difficult to bring up… Since you’ve asked, I’ll be honest with you.”
As He Feihai continued typing, Qiao Qingyu held her breath in anticipation.
“In our first two years of junior high, Baiyu and I were schoolmates, though not classmates. She was incredibly radiant, attracting attention with her every move. I, too, was drawn to her. But I was shorter than her then, scruffy-looking, and from a poor family. So, I could only admire her from afar. She embodied all my ideals about girls, but was I her friend? The answer is no.”
Qiao Qingyu gasped in surprise: “But didn’t you go out together with her and Brother Jinrui?”
“It wasn’t just the three of us; there were many people,” He Feihai explained. “My grandmother lives in Nanqiao Village, and my cousins know Jinrui. After the college entrance exam results came out, my older siblings wanted to celebrate and invited a bunch of friends to Shunyun, including Jinrui and Baiyu. I wanted to ask for her contact information but couldn’t muster the courage. To be honest, we were just strangers.”
Reading each word, Qiao Qingyu felt deflated. It seemed He Feihai knew nothing about Baiyu at all.
“I thought you must at least be her friend since you knew she was buried in Anling Cemetery.”
“During the Spring Festival this year, I visited my grandmother in Nanqiao Village and ran into Jinrui. I don’t know how he could tell I still thought about Baiyu, but he volunteered the information that she was actually in Anling Cemetery. He suggested I visit her when I had time and asked me to keep it a secret, especially from the elders in the family.”
“How did he know my sister was in Anling Cemetery? Why doesn’t he visit her himself?” Qiao Qingyu’s anger suddenly flared, accidentally adding an extra question mark. “Why didn’t my parents tell me and Jinyu about something so important?”
“I found it strange too, feeling that leaving Baiyu alone on a mountain in Huanzhou seemed too lonely. But this was your family’s private matter, and as an outsider, I didn’t feel it was my place to inquire further.”
Sighing in frustration, Qiao Qingyu leaned back in her chair. Unable to think of what else to say, she was met with silence from the other end.
Just as she was about to close QQ, “Cangyi” sent a message, seemingly trying to comfort her: “Thinking about it later, your parents are the people who love Baiyu the most in the world. They must have their reasons for doing this.”
Qiao Qingyu shook her head unconsciously.
“Your parents are such good people,” He Feihai continued. “They’ve been through a lot. Not telling you and your brother must be based on their considerations, and it’s certainly for your benefit. You should try to understand them.”
Qingyu exhaled slowly, her eyes losing focus due to disappointment and sudden impatience. Finally, she leaned forward and began typing furiously:
“So apart from her appearance, you know nothing else about my sister, right? I thought you were different from other men! I didn’t expect you to be just as shallow!”
She paused, then continued:
“Keep your fake affection to yourself! You don’t truly care about her! You’ve already called yourself an outsider, so what right do you have to lecture me? Of course, I know my parents want the best for us. Why do I need you to tell me that? You selfish person who doesn’t want to get involved!”
Without waiting for He Feihai’s response, she abruptly turned off the computer. As she stood up, her chest felt tight at first, then as if it had been cut open. All her pent-up anger burst through the narrow wound.
She felt herself burning up – just like that mad woman.
Wounded all over, but fearless.