Qiao Qingyu stumbled back three or four steps, but once she steadied herself, she could see clearly: this person had extraordinary skill.
It wasn’t just that he could jump down from a two-meter-high branch and precisely step on He Kai’s hand—just his landing posture, with one leg inside and one outside the railing trapped between his knees, wasn’t something an ordinary person could achieve.
He Kai rubbed the back of his scraped right hand, frowning, about to speak, but was cut off by the newcomer: “What’s your name?”
It was a clear, slightly deep adolescent voice, barely containing its anger, utterly domineering.
Qiao Qingyu could only see his lean back. The hood of his black hooded sweatshirt covered his head, his upper body completely wrapped up, light gray athletic shorts reaching just to his knees, his lower legs slim, straight, and white. No socks visible, eye-catching black and white basketball shoes with a black figure holding a basketball printed on the heel—the Air Jordans that Qiao Jinyu had been dreaming about.
“Rich kid,” Qiao Qingyu thought to herself, “no wonder he’s so arrogant.”
“What’s your name?” the black-clothed youth raised his voice as if trying to intimidate everyone around.
He Kai remained silent, stepping forward to cross the railing.
“Won’t say?” the youth coldly blocked He Kai’s path, not looking at him, “Want to bet I’ll burn down Shun Yun First Middle School?”
He Kai was surprised: “You were hiding in the tree eavesdropping on our conversation?”
“Tell me your name,” the youth’s voice was full of impatience, pointing at the notice He Kai had torn, then added: “And compensate.”
He Kai glared at the youth, showing anger that Qiao Qingyu had never seen before. Standing to the side, she felt helpless, lamenting internally—Li Fanghao might come home to an empty house now. Her earlier carefree boldness in going out had completely vanished, and she couldn’t help but worry about her situation.
“You want me to compensate for a piece of paper?” He Kai said through gritted teeth, “I…”
Suddenly he stopped, his eyes showing first realization, then panic: “You… you wouldn’t be Ming Sheng, would you?”
Hearing the name “Ming Sheng” for the second time that day, thinking of the mysterious man at the newspaper stand who had recognized Qiao Baiyu and asked about her parents, Qiao Qingyu’s nerves inexplicably tensed.
“I’m sorry, I…” He Kai’s attitude did a complete 180-degree turn, full of apology while treading on thin ice, “I didn’t know this was your writing, otherwise I definitely wouldn’t have torn it, I’m sorry, I apologize.”
“Name,” Ming Sheng sounded extremely cold, “Third time asking.”
“He, He Kai.”
He Kai’s trembling appearance made Qiao Qingyu even more nervous. She couldn’t see Ming Sheng’s face but thought anyone who could wrap themselves in long-sleeved black clothes on such a hot day must be extraordinary. So, according to Owner Feng, this was the person living across from her balcony, someone she had never heard of but who struck fear into others.
“Two things: First, when school starts, my friend will go to Shun Yun to find you, you better treat him well; Second,” Ming Sheng said as he casually tore off the remaining large piece of paper, crumpling it in his hand, “compensate with identical calligraphy within a week.”
After speaking, he lifted his long leg over the railing, carelessly glanced at the stunned Qiao Qingyu standing to the side, made a scornful “tch” sound, and strode through Chaoyang New Village’s back entrance.
Qiao Qingyu’s thundering heart suddenly went silent when Ming Sheng glanced at her. Those eyes that flashed by were pure black and startlingly bright—
An air-conditioner-less scorching summer was destined to leave a deep mark on one’s life. Qiao Qingyu comforted herself this way while inserting her key into the lock.
The apartment was quiet; Li Fanghao hadn’t returned.
She relaxed, throwing herself onto the creaking old leather sofa. After sitting for a while, she walked to the balcony, routinely bringing in the clothes hanging outside.
The entire Building 38 opposite was bathed in golden evening sunlight. Through the tightly closed blue aluminum alloy windows, she could see the kitchen directly opposite was clean and tidy, but the cabinets were empty, without a trace of life. Between the kitchen and living room, there was no door, but a beige partition curtain hanging to the floor. The window of the room next to the kitchen was filled with dark curtains as if trying to block out all light and heat from outside.
Qiao Qingyu couldn’t help but wonder: Does anyone live here?
Looking away, Ming Sheng’s profile under the black hood flashed before her eyes, and the phrase “fleeting glimpse” involuntarily came to mind. That half-face had flowing lines, a high straight nose, and noticeably white skin. When he glanced at her, his chin slightly raised, that world-dominating attitude seemed innate, his pride completely natural. Though it was just a glance, the overwhelming pressure she felt then still made her heart flutter when she recalled it now. “Too handsome!” Owner Feng’s vulgar voice came uninvited, echoing again and again in Qiao Qingyu’s ears.
She recalled another thing Owner Feng had mentioned: “Maybe you’ll be in the same class.”
This possibility inexplicably excited her—who wouldn’t want to have a legendary figure in their class? Just watching him, observing his stories, would make life less boring.
Moreover, by coincidence, she had somehow formed a connection with this legendary figure.
The two things Ming Sheng had said before leaving made Qiao Qingyu very worried for He Kai. Though it seemed unrelated to her, since she had intentionally led He Kai to the ancient camphor tree, she couldn’t stay uninvolved.
Of the two tasks, regarding the “calligraphy compensation,” Qiao Qingyu couldn’t think of anyone else who could help besides herself.
The characters “Entry strictly forbidden, consequences will be horrifying” were like they were carved in her mind, every detail crystal clear. That evening, Qiao Qingyu gave up on her plan to finish “Les Misérables” before school started, and bent over her desk, tirelessly trying to transfer the characters from her mind onto white paper.
For over an hour, sweat drops constantly slid from her cheeks to her chin. It was too stuffy.
At first, Qiao Qingyu was passionate, her strokes bold, but gradually her right hand holding the brush became hesitant. The more she hesitated, the less her characters carried Ming Sheng’s force, though they somewhat resembled his. Eventually, the characters on paper merged with those in her mind, until even that initial clear memory became blurred.
Having worked so hard with such poor results, Qiao Qingyu felt deeply frustrated. “No rush, no rush,” she consoled herself, “I can write again after seeing Ming Sheng the day after tomorrow.”
Seeing Ming Sheng in person, knowing his temperament and style, might help her break through and grasp the essence of Ming Sheng’s calligraphy.
After all, one’s writing reflects one’s character.
Thinking this way, Qiao Qingyu became even more excited about starting school the day after tomorrow—
On the last day of August 2008, Sunday, Qiao Jinyu returned to their “new” home in Huan Zhou. After dinner, while Qiao Lusheng and Li Fanghao hadn’t yet returned, Qiao Qingyu finally got her hands on the computer.
She successively typed “Huan Zhou Ming Sheng,” “Huan Second Ming Sheng,” “Huan Zhou A-Sheng” and other keywords into the search bar, quickly browsing everything about Ming Sheng. Soon, from blog posts, forum threads, school forums, and education news, she captured quite a bit of information about Ming Sheng.
Ming Sheng had started school at age five, attending Yunhe School adjacent to Chaoyang New Village. After elementary school, he entered Huan Zhou Foreign Language School in the west of the city, and last year graduated from middle school, entering Huan Second Middle School ranked third in the city. From a young age, he excelled in calligraphy, painting, piano, and sports. His calligraphy and paintings won awards every year. At thirteen, he stood out among many competitors to tour Australia with the city’s youth symphony orchestra. Last year, as soon as he entered Huan Second, he was recruited into the school basketball team. His English was excellent—evident from a video of a ninth-grade speech competition posted by the Foreign Language School. Ming Sheng won first place in that competition, speaking English that was both advanced and natural.
Yet all this glory seemed to appear before Ming Sheng entered high school, except for basketball.
Not long after starting high school, Ming Sheng received a warning from Huan Second for fighting in the basketball gym. After the November sports meet, he received another demerit—for leading a group fight. Initially in Class 3, due to severe conflicts with the homeroom teacher, he was moved to Class 9 after half a semester. In Class 9, he clashed with the class president, forcing that top student to request a transfer. In the second semester, he moved to Class 7, where his conflicts with the academic director escalated. During midterm exams, he incited the whole class to boycott the last exam, sending the academic director to the hospital. Under the banner of “protecting Huan Second students,” he had endless disputes with various outsiders. Due to his outrageous behavior and striking appearance, he quickly became famous on the forums of various schools in Huan Zhou. Almost overnight, students across Huan Zhou knew there was a Ming Sheng at Huan Second—someone to be observed but not provoked.
Of course, there was no information about Ming Sheng’s father.
“Sis, what are you looking at?” Qiao Jinyu’s voice came from behind. He had just finished showering, and like characters in TV dramas, wrapped the family’s only bath towel around his waist, walking in with great swagger to get his clothes.
“Do you know Ming Sheng?” Qiao Qingyu asked without turning around, clicking again on Huan Second’s forum.
“I’ve heard of him,” Qiao Jinyu leaned over to look at the screen, and after a few seconds exclaimed “Wow!” “Sis, he’s also in Class 5 Year 2, same class as you!”
“Where?” Qiao Qingyu asked urgently. Qiao Jinyu pointed, and Qiao Qingyu saw a new post floating at the top titled “Heard A-Sheng is going to Class 5, lucky Class 5 students!”
Just as Owner Feng had said, in the same class. Qiao Qingyu felt her eyes grow dull, a strange pressure surging into her chest, while a tiny voice in her mind cheered.
“Super handsome, they say girls faint just looking at him,” Qiao Jinyu said while getting dressed behind Qiao Qingyu, “There are photos of him online, haven’t you seen them?”
“No,” Qiao Qingyu replied flatly, “But I saw him in person this afternoon.”
“What?!”
“He lives across from us.”
“Isn’t a working couple living across from us?”
“Not across the door, across the balcony,” Qiao Qingyu explained, while carefully filtering through Owner Feng’s words from yesterday in her mind, “Third floor of Building 38.”
“Really?” Qiao Jinyu rushed out while pulling down his shirt.
Meanwhile, Qiao Qingyu suddenly remembered something and quickly typed “Huan Zhou Director Wen” into the search bar. Related pages quickly appeared, and the first entry showed an ID photo of the middle-aged man from yesterday afternoon.
It was the official website of Provincial First Hospital.
“Wen Qiuxin, Hospital Director, Chief Physician, Doctoral Supervisor, fully responsible for the hospital’s medical care, teaching, research, administration, and logistics,” Qiao Qingyu read the first few lines softly, “Specializes in diagnosis and surgical treatment of various common and difficult neurological diseases, particularly experienced in treating various brain tumors, spinal cord and spine diseases, facial spasms, trigeminal neuralgia…”
“There are two households opposite, which one?” Qiao Jinyu poked his head in the door, “One looks uninhabited, the other is full of messy stuff, obviously not a rich family’s home, sis, are you sure you’re not mistaken?”
“The empty one.” Qiao Qingyu quickly replied, continuing to browse the introduction on the webpage. The resume was long, from various committee memberships to provincial political consultative committee members, including awards received and published papers, spreading across almost a full A4 page. This lineup indicated someone of considerable status.
Moving her gaze up, Qiao Qingyu carefully examined the middle-aged man’s ID photo. Although she hadn’t seen Ming Sheng’s full face, although Ming Sheng and his father had different surnames, there was no doubt these two were father and son—that overwhelming arrogance was identical.
“Sis,” when Qiao Jinyu rushed back again, Qiao Qingyu had just closed the webpage, “I told you, the apartment directly across from us is uninhabited… the curtains are drawn so tight, not a gap in the windows, not a bit of light inside… I heard Ming Sheng’s family is quite wealthy, how could he live in this run-down community like us!”
“It’s their old house.”
“You usually don’t care about anything outside your books, how do you suddenly know so much?”
Qiao Qingyu ignored him. Recalling Owner Feng’s words, a question arose in her mind: Why ask her to check if Ming Sheng was home? Don’t his parents have keys?
“You’ll be in the same class with him, you’ll meet him tomorrow, introduce me to him then!” Qiao Jinyu walked over, “I want to play games now.”
Qiao Qingyu stood up to give him the seat, lost in thought: “Sister was in Wei’ai Hospital before, right?”
“Yeah,” Qiao Jinyu gave her a puzzled and reproachful look, “Why bring that up out of nowhere!”
Qiao Qingyu said nothing more. Her thoughts returned to two and a half years ago, to that most oppressive Spring Festival.
That was when Qiao Baiyu had left this world.