During the week between final exams and the closing ceremony, the school arranged social practice for first and second-year high school students at various institutions. Two days before the exam, after the last morning Chinese class, Teacher Sun Yinglong posted a long list of practice units at the back of the classroom, letting everyone fill in their names during lunch break.
Returning to the classroom after lunch and seeing the crowd around the list, Qiao Qingyu went to the library first. When she returned from the library, it was almost time for class to begin, and no one was on the list, so she walked over.
“Ah Sheng!”
Shortly after she stopped, she heard Chen Shen rise from the side and call toward the back door, “We saved you a spot at the welfare institute, same as last year~”
From her peripheral vision, she saw Ming Sheng stride over. Qiao Qingyu’s hand, which had just picked up the pen, hesitated before putting it back in the whiteboard’s groove.
She moved aside one step, making room in front of the list, her gaze falling to Ming Sheng’s hanging right hand—the stitches at the tiger’s mouth were still there, like tiny thorns, pricking her nerves.
“Qiao Qingyu.”
Hearing her name suddenly from his lips, Qiao Qingyu felt flustered and guilty, slowly raising her eyes to meet his gaze.
“I still can’t write,” Ming Sheng’s gaze was somewhat dim, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he added, “Help me.”
Qiao Qingyu made a small “oh” sound and mechanically picked up the pen, searching the form with wide eyes. After a few seconds, she found the words “Huanzhou City Zhong’en Welfare Institute” at the bottom of the list. As she raised her hand, Ming Sheng said: “Not that one.”
She turned back puzzled to see him blink and turn his head to one side, saying casually: “Library.”
Then he left. Following his instruction, Qiao Qingyu carefully wrote his name in the “Huanzhou City Children’s Library” column, then briefly scanned the list and wrote her name after the only empty spot: “Huanzhou City Ninth People’s Hospital – Huanzhou University Medical School Mental Health Center.”
Although her original intention had also been to choose the library—
Li Fanghao seemed to have strong opinions about Qiao Qingyu choosing the “mental hospital,” but because Qiao Qingyu quickly explained that it was the only group without boys, she reluctantly closed her mouth. Qiao Qingyu thus experienced a slight sense of revenge. The already cold mother-daughter relationship grew even more silent, although Li Fanghao still insisted on picking up and dropping off her daughter by electric scooter every day.
There were only five No. 2 Middle School students practicing at the Ninth Hospital, and besides Qiao Qingyu, the other four girls were first-years. Within two days, Li Fanghao had memorized the appearances of these four first-year students. Her unabashed, scrutinizing gaze made Qiao Qingyu completely lack the courage to talk with her junior schoolmates. The looks they exchanged when they saw Li Fanghao were also strange, disgust mixed with curiosity, and later, a hint of concern. Qiao Qingyu was unwilling but had to admit that in their eyes, Li Fanghao was like a mental patient behaving inappropriately.
At first, Qiao Qingyu, like others, thought the often-joked-about Ninth Hospital was an eerie, horrifying cage holding many twisted faces. But after arriving, she discovered it was clean, warm, and peaceful. Her job was to help children with sensory integration disorder exercise, leading them in calisthenics, sitting on cylinders to practice balance, throwing and catching basketballs, and so on. Among them was a five-year-old girl who often fell while walking, whose parents brought her daily to train her balance. The little girl was called Xiao Cheng, and she loved Qiao Qingyu, always laughing and throwing herself into her arms when she arrived.
“Sister, I’m here!”
The sweet, childish voice, warm and gentle, melted Qiao Qingyu’s heart instantly. She played climbing and hoop-jumping games with Xiao Cheng, carefully protecting her wobbling body while riding balance bikes and pushed her on the swing until she giggled loudly. When practicing hopping on one foot, Xiao Cheng often fell, crying fiercely at first, but after Qiao Qingyu’s gentle consolation and repeated affirmation of her courage, she stopped crying.
“Sister,” one afternoon near the end of the practice period, Xiao Cheng hugged Qiao Qingyu’s neck and playfully whispered in her ear, “You’re so pretty!”
At home later, recalling Xiao Cheng’s warm words in her ear, tears welled up in Qiao Qingyu’s eyes. A scene emerged in her mind: many years ago during Spring Festival, by the heating stove in the old house in Nanqiao Village, she also liked to whisper in Qiao Baiyu’s ear like this. Was she four? Five? She couldn’t remember clearly. The content of those conversations had also blurred, leaving only the impression of Qiao Baiyu’s gentle profile with smiling eyes. The red glow of charcoal faintly illuminated Qiao Baiyu’s porcelain-like face, her large eyes looking at Qiao Qingyu sparkled with vivid light. The young Qiao Qingyu thus truly felt her sister’s heart-stirring beauty for the first time.
In those distant childhood days, she had been deeply proud of her sister.
On the last day of practice, Xiao Cheng appeared in the rehabilitation hall on time. After a series of routine exercises, the head doctor led everyone in the room to the outdoor garden. The New Year’s snow had completely disappeared under many days of bright sunshine, and ignoring the few desolate ginkgo trees, the courtyard felt as warm as if spring had already arrived. Following the doctor’s instructions, Xiao Cheng climbed onto the flower bed while Qiao Qingyu followed beside her, carefully protecting her. The cement facing of the flower bed was twenty centimeters wide—ordinary five-year-olds could run freely on it, but for Xiao Cheng, it was still quite challenging. Like walking on a balance beam, she held her arms out to both sides, staring intently at her feet without making a sound, her little face tense, the determined look of trying to overcome her inner fear moving Qiao Qingyu deeply.
One lap, fifty meters, three minutes, without falling.
The joy in Xiao Cheng’s father’s eyes was as if she had won a running championship, while her mother happily hugged her, continuously kissing her cheeks. This ordinary scene of parental love almost brought Qiao Qingyu to tears—to avoid embarrassment, she quickly stepped away, looking toward the other side of the courtyard—in that corner were many people wearing finely striped blue and white hospital gowns, all sunbathing, looking very relaxed.
“Sister!”
Turning back, Xiao Cheng was waving at her with pure, bright eyes: “Sister, I want to tell you a secret~”
Qiao Qingyu smiled and crouched down.
“Sister, I can go to primary school next year~”
“Yes!” Qiao Qingyu nodded seriously, stroking Xiao Cheng’s ponytail, and whispered in her ear: “I’ll be going to university the year after next!”
Xiao Cheng pretended to stroke Qiao Qingyu’s ponytail too, then leaned in close again: “Sister, I like you so much!”
Qiao Qingyu couldn’t help hugging Xiao Cheng, then looked straight into her bright eyes, her lips unconsciously curving upward: “I like you even more!”
Then, she pulled out a bright yellow, round lollipop in clear packaging from her pocket, waving it in front of Xiao Cheng, “This is for you.”
Xiao Cheng’s eyes lit up, pointing at the green bow under the wrapper: “Wow, it has left!”
“Take it!”
“But,” Xiao Cheng looked troubled, “my parents don’t let me eat candy, they say it makes bugs grow in your teeth.”
Suddenly Qiao Qingyu felt at a loss. Today was the last day of practice, volunteers coming and going was normal at the Ninth Hospital, but she felt she should say goodbye to Xiao Cheng, in some way that wouldn’t make her cry. She hadn’t expected the unknowing child to purely reject her.
“Look,” seeming to notice the disappointment on Qiao Qingyu’s face, Xiao Cheng quickly opened her mouth wide, “I already have a cavity in here.”
“Then you really can’t eat candy,” Qiao Qingyu tenderly stroked Xiao Cheng’s face, continuing to smile, “But what I’m giving you isn’t candy.”
Xiao Cheng tilted her head, staring at the bright yellow ball in Qiao Qingyu’s hand, asking puzzled: “Then what is it?”
“It’s the sun.”
“Wow!” Xiao Cheng immediately smiled brilliantly, “What a cute little sun!”
The child’s smiling face as she accepted the lollipop was like a blooming flower, giving Qiao Qingyu a rare good dream. In the dream, she walked with her backpack on a busy street, the crowds ahead suddenly dispersed, becoming a gentle slope filled with fragrant flowers and birdsong.
She climbed slowly, and the scroll-like beautiful scenery at the other end of the lawn gradually appeared before her eyes. It was the vast clear lake she had seen at North Mountain before, and the distant Huanzhou city containing silver starlight. Her home was in Huanzhou city.
Huanzhou was far away in the dream, but the weather was mild and her backpack was light. Therefore, her dream self kept moving forward without any fatigue. There was no path, but her dream self needed no path.
After waking, Qiao Qingyu spent half a day savoring this dream, absent-mindedly getting through the morning closing ceremony. After the grade-level closing ceremony, when each class returned to their classroom, Qiao Qingyu found the desks had been pushed to both sides, with one side covered in various snacks and drinks.
The blackboard had “New Year’s Afternoon Tea” written in decorative letters, and the projection screen was cycling through photo after photo: club recruitment, English recitation competition, school football and volleyball league, autumn tour, sports meet, English drama competition, welcome party, and so on. Qiao Qingyu sat in the corner watching the passing photos, rarely seeing her own shadow. After a semester here, she had become increasingly like an invisible person in the vibrant No. 2 Middle School.
Teacher Sun Yinglong walked in, and the noisy classroom quieted somewhat. The slideshow stopped on the final photo—a group picture of the basketball team after winning the city league championship. Among a row of exceptionally tall team members, Ming Sheng stood to one side, unremarkable in height, but immediately caught Qiao Qingyu’s attention—with his unrestrained, vibrant handsomeness.
“Ah, it’s such a shame Ah Sheng can’t play,” Deng Meixi nearby muttered to Guan Lan, “At least before we had Ah Sheng who wasn’t a sports student, now everyone will say our school only relies on sports students again…”
Guan Lan laughed heartily: “But they’re OUR school’s sports students! Ours! Let’s see if you can recruit them!”
“I just feel it’s unfair to Ah Sheng,” Deng Meixi said, glancing at Qiao Qingyu, “Last year he was a substitute who barely played, this year he made it to the starting lineup through his hard work, who would have thought…”
Guan Lan nudged Deng Meixi: “Alright, don’t talk like that.”
“Next year is senior year,” Deng Meixi’s voice grew even louder, bitter and sarcastic, “He’s not a sports student, who has time to practice and play basketball then! The second year was his last chance! Wouldn’t any normal person think this is unfair to Ah Sheng!”
The class suddenly fell silent, Teacher Sun stroked his chin, looking puzzled and surprised at Deng Meixi. As if losing face, Deng Meixi shook off Guan Lan, strode to Qiao Qingyu in a few steps, raising her right hand to point at Qiao Qingyu’s nose: “You didn’t just destroy Ah Sheng’s hard work, but everyone in the school’s feelings! Tell me, how can you still sit here, how can you be so thick-skinned?”
Everyone was watching them, including the extremely shocked Ming Sheng himself nearby. Qiao Qingyu felt her whole body burning.
“Have you apologized to Ah Sheng? Surely not!” Deng Meixi fumed, “Someone like you would never apologize!”
Indeed, she hadn’t. Qiao Qingyu pressed her lips together, her neck weak, unable to raise her head.
“Deng Meixi!” Teacher Sun stepped down from the podium.
“Teacher Sun,” Deng Meixi lowered her right hand and stepped back, her voice trembling, “Shouldn’t Qiao Qingyu apologize to Ming Sheng?”
“This matter is in the past, why bring it up now,” Teacher Sun said kindly, seemingly trying to ease the tension in the class, “Besides, Qiao Qingyu’s parents have already apologized privately to Ming Sheng’s parents. Ming Sheng himself doesn’t mind, so you, as an outsider, shouldn’t worry about it…”
“It’s not just me,” Deng Meixi argued, though notably weaker, “Everyone feels it’s unfair to Ming Sheng.”
Teacher Sun laughed: “Our class has always been united, united around Ming Sheng, very cohesive, which is good, but…”
“This is between me and Qiao Qingyu,” Ming Sheng suddenly interrupted Teacher Sun, his tone deep, seemingly suppressing anger, “It’s none of your business, Deng Meixi.”
Deng Meixi’s voice turned tearful: “I just…”
“I thought this matter was over, but unexpectedly…” Ming Sheng interrupted Deng Meixi, glancing at Qiao Qingyu before pausing, then turning to face everyone, “To avoid misunderstanding, I’ll tell everyone clearly now, just as Teacher Sun said, Qiao Qingyu has already apologized, don’t mention it again.”
“Yes, yes,” Teacher Sun contentedly continued, “After all, Qiao Qingyu is our classmate too, we should be tolerant and help each other…”
Suddenly Deng Meixi began sobbing, pushing through the crowd and rushing out of the classroom regardless. Guan Lan called her name and followed closely. The classroom erupted like a beehive. Deng Meixi was much more popular than Qiao Qingyu—countless gazes, like dense arrows, fell on Qiao Qingyu, making her want to flee too.
But she just sat there, quietly waiting for Teacher Sun to restore order, listening to Gao Chi, Ye Zilin, and others lift the mood, then hazily entering the relaxed atmosphere of “New Year’s Afternoon Tea.” Amidst her classmates’ chatting and playing, she took out her phone, pressed the simple number she knew by heart, and carefully typed three words:
I’m sorry.
Ming Sheng saw the message almost immediately—Qiao Qingyu looked up just in time to see him pick up his phone nearby. But he merely glanced at it before stuffing the phone back in his pocket. She waited all afternoon until the winter break officially began, but he never replied—
When the Day of Great Cold truly arrived, the sky brought the second snowfall, mixed with rain, fine and icy cold, unwelcoming. After dinner, Qiao Qingyu discovered the sleet had stopped, so she walked on the wet, cold ground to the canal’s edge. The grey-green water gleamed coldly. Just ten meters away was the ancient camphor tree, but after stopping to think for a moment, Qiao Qingyu ultimately didn’t continue in that direction.
Her phone vibrated continuously as she turned back.
She thought it was Li Fanghao, but after seeing the number clearly, she almost dropped the phone in shock.
It was Ming Sheng.
The buzzing drowned out her heart’s clamor, and after a while, she finally answered.
Carefully saying hello, after two seconds, Ming Sheng’s crystal-clear voice came through, carrying slight displeasure, “Why didn’t you come over?”
“Huh?” Qiao Qingyu asked confused, “Come over where?”
“The tree,” he paused, emphasizing, “Come over.”
Then he hung up. Qiao Qingyu collected herself, walked to the railing of the ancient camphor tree, and looked up to see Ming Sheng sitting on the tree fork. Their eyes met him high above.
“Can you climb trees?”
Qiao Qingyu shook her head: “No.”
Ming Sheng stood up and untied the black scarf from his neck, using it to tie the branch beneath him, letting the end dangle and sway above Qiao Qingyu’s head, within arm’s reach.
“Try,” Ming Sheng said while nimbly climbing to a higher branch, “It’s simple.”
His tone brooked no argument. Qiao Qingyu grabbed the scarf—surprisingly soft to the touch. The lowest branch was just slightly higher than her head, and the rough trunk’s friction made it hard to slip, so she gritted her teeth, first using the scarf to step on the trunk, then hugging the thick branch where the scarf was tied with all her might, succeeding on her first try.
“Move over.” Ming Sheng’s voice came from above.
Qiao Qingyu obediently moved to the outer edge of the branch, giving up the comfortable and safe fork. To prevent falling, she sat sideways on the branch, pressing her hands firmly against the wet, rough bark beneath her.
“Why didn’t you come over just now?” Ming Sheng asked while untying his scarf after jumping down.
Before Qiao Qingyu could think of how to answer, he asked again: “Did you see me in the tree?”
“No,” Qiao Qingyu shook her head, watching him stuff the scarf messily into his shoulder bag, “Did you need something?”
After stuffing the scarf away, Ming Sheng resumed his casual position leaning against the tree, while pulling out a white envelope from his bag, holding it up as if displaying it, asking provocatively: “What’s this?”
It was already quite dark, but by the streetlight below, Qiao Qingyu could make out neat characters spelling “To Qiao Qingyu” on the envelope, and in the bottom right corner, the familiar light blue school emblem of “Shunyun First Middle School.”
“Has that guy’s hand healed?” Ming Sheng chuckled scornfully.
So. The emblem bore the clear character “He Kai,” and all the writing on the envelope was handwritten, though ordinary, but careful.
Now it was Ming Sheng’s hand that was injured. Karmic retribution—she had unconsciously helped He Kai get revenge.
Qiao Qingyu grew nervous. When nervous, she fell silent again.
“Are you deaf,” Ming Sheng asked somewhat exasperatedly, “or are you afraid of me? Why won’t you speak?”
“What do you want?” Qiao Qingyu tried to sound calm, forcing herself to look directly into Ming Sheng’s black but bright eyes.
“This.” Ming Sheng said, pinching the envelope between his left index and middle fingers, applying slight force, making the envelope fly out like a snowflake.
Wide-eyed, Qiao Qingyu watched it float into the cold, sluggish canal.
She withdrew her incredulous gaze: “That was my letter!”
“If it hadn’t reached you, it doesn’t count,” Ming Sheng said dismissively, “Does it hurt to lose it?”
His expression suddenly turned serious, his gaze lingering on Qiao Qingyu’s face for two seconds before shifting away as if guilty. But Qiao Qingyu, supported by anger, fearlessly kept staring at him.
“Does it?” Ming Sheng’s voice wavered, inexplicably letting out a hurried breath. He happened to be sitting in the branch’s shadow, his expression unclear in the darkness.
“You called me up the tree just to torment me? Don’t you think you’re being too arbitrary and excessive? Senior He Kai’s letter to me was my property, what right do you have to throw it away? Whether it hurts me or not is none of your business!” Qiao Qingyu burst out angrily.
After saying this in one breath, she looked down at the water, barely finding a blurry white shadow. The letter must be soaked through by now, soon to be swallowed up. It’s gone, Qiao Qingyu thought. The hurt of being bullied suddenly rose over her anger, and she suddenly felt like crying.
“I don’t like tormenting others,” Ming Sheng spoke up, as if after long contemplation, his voice slightly hoarse but surprisingly gentle, “It’s just that, every time I think of you, I feel uncomfortable.”
Qiao Qingyu glared at him sideways, lips pressed tight, eyes red.
“I don’t like this feeling,” Ming Sheng continued, his gaze dropping unfocused to the branch, “It’s been tormenting me for a while. I want to get rid of it, end it.”
Then he fell silent. Night had fallen completely, and the icy silent air made Qiao Qingyu’s blood run cold. Ming Sheng’s words echoed in her mind: uncomfortable, don’t like, torment. For a moment she thought Ming Sheng wanted to erase her existence, on this cold night unknown to anyone. He had put away the scarf—how was she supposed to get down? “Get rid of,” “end it,” what did he mean exactly?
Finally, she boldly asked: “Can you be clearer?”
“Be my girlfriend.” Ming Sheng suddenly looked at her, his eyes twinkling like summer night stars.