On Qiao Qingyu’s first day of school, Qiao Huan returned to work at the shop. Li Fanghao resumed her tireless routine of shuttling Qiao Qingyu to and from school on her electric scooter. She had long since confiscated Qiao Qingyu’s ID and bus card, and on this day, she accompanied her daughter into school, queuing among the students to pay for the first month’s lunch fees.
“Don’t carry money with you anymore. You won’t need it anyway,” Li Fanghao said solemnly after making the payment, linking arms with Qiao Qingyu amidst the suppressed excited whispers around them. “I’ll come every month to top up your meal card. Just focus on your studies and don’t worry about anything else.”
Leaving the cafeteria, she led Qiao Qingyu to the principal’s office. The presence of the dean, grade leader, and homeroom teacher surprised and unsettled Qiao Qingyu.
Fortunately, given the busy first day, the meeting was brief.
Li Fanghao did most of the talking. She glossed over the winter’s events, painting everyone in the family in a positive light while casting disapproving glances at Qiao Qingyu, lamenting her efforts for her daughter.
The principal reassured Li Fanghao, promising the school’s continued care for every student and ensuring Qiao Qingyu’s learning environment. The dean praised Qiao Qingyu’s personality, while the grade leader simply observed her with a knowing look. The homeroom teacher, Mr. Sun Yinglong, promised to communicate more with Qiao Qingyu, nurture her mental health, and help her integrate into the class.
Li Fanghao was so pleased with the meeting that she repeatedly summarized its contents to Qiao Qingyu on their way to the school gate.
“The teachers are right. Parents are your strongest support. Don’t keep your troubles to yourself; always tell Mom.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Who in this world truly cares for you besides your mother?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I don’t ask for much, nor does the family. Just study hard and live a good life when you grow up. That’s all.”
Some unfamiliar boys whistled at them, causing Li Fanghao to fall silent and quicken her pace. At the electric scooter, she scrutinized Qiao Qingyu from head to toe, front and back, with a worried, tearful expression.
“We’ll get your hair cut tonight,” she suddenly declared. “Long hair is distracting.”
As Li Fanghao rode away on her scooter, a gentle breeze lifted a strand of Qiao Qingyu’s hair, tickling her chin. She clutched it reluctantly. Anticipating the excited, judgmental, and scornful looks she’d face crossing the assembly square to her classroom, Qiao Qingyu let down her ponytail, combed her chest-length hair with her fingers, and then ran, cutting through the complex gazes like the wind.
Qiao Qingyu knew her hair was glossy black and smooth as water. Forcing everyone to remember her with flowing hair gave her a sense of defiant joy. Since everything else had been taken from her, she might as well live a little recklessly.
The next day, when Qiao Qingyu arrived for the return-to-school exam with hair shorter than many boys’, the once-noisy classroom fell instantly silent. Her seat remained in the center of the room, and the few seconds it took to reach it felt like an eternity. In her peripheral vision, Ming Sheng was the only one in the back row with his head down. I must look terrible, Qiao Qingyu thought despairingly. Was he deliberately avoiding her or simply indifferent?
After sitting down with her back to Ming Sheng, her rationality rebounded, harshly criticizing herself. She reminded herself that not caring about anyone meant exactly that—anyone. Just like at home, immersing herself in books and exercises to forget everything wasn’t difficult.
But this was school, with so many eyes and mouths.
The seven days of confinement had yielded one significant result for Qiao Qingyu: unexpectedly good scores on the return-to-school exam. She ranked thirteenth in the class, even ahead of Ming Sheng. Since she was thirteenth and Ming Sheng fourteenth, Ye Zilin began teasing them about these numbers.
“Thirteen-fourteen, ‘one life, one world,’ huh? Did you do this on purpose?” he shouted towards Qiao Qingyu’s ear from afar. “You jinx! Can’t you leave our Sheng alone?!”
Fortunately, few responded to him. Apart from a handful of girls giggling behind their hands, the boys in the back seemed collectively deaf. Ye Zilin, seemingly realizing his mistake, quickly moved behind Ming Sheng, his tone suddenly fawning: “Sheng, just kidding, just a joke…”
Ming Sheng removed Ye Zilin’s hand from his shoulder. “If you’re interested, pursue her yourself.”
“Me? Pursue her?” Ye Zilin laughed loudly, slapping the desk. “Sheng, are you messing with me? Ha! I’d rather chase a frog than her!”
His exaggerated laughter at his poor rhyme was met with an even more terrifying silence in the classroom. Ming Sheng’s displeasure with Ye Zilin was evident, causing others to instinctively refrain from their habitual agreement with Ye Zilin.
“Guys, there’s a new place across the street. Lunch is on me today! Everyone’s invited!”
Ming Sheng remained silent, and even those who wanted to go had to hold back. No one wanted to cross Ming Sheng, especially when he was so clearly distancing himself from Ye Zilin.
“Not today… How about Friday night? Everyone’s free then! What do you say, Sheng?” Ye Zilin laughed awkwardly, his tone so submissive that even Qiao Qingyu felt sorry for him.
“Don’t disturb me while I’m reading,” Ming Sheng coldly rebuffed him.
Some said Ming Sheng was in a bad mood because of his poor exam performance, but this theory didn’t hold water. More believed that Ming Sheng was cutting ties with Ye Zilin, the instigator, because of last year’s incident when Qiao Qingyu cut his hand. Wasn’t it obvious? He hated Qiao Qingyu so much, yet Ye Zilin kept provoking this scheming bitch. If you can’t beat them, avoid them, right? Ming Sheng was doing the right thing.
Qiao Qingyu’s intuition told her that Ming Sheng’s sudden aversion to Ye Zilin was true because of her, but not because of the hand-cutting incident that prevented him from playing basketball. It was because Ye Zilin had exacerbated her already difficult life through Black Brother, and because of his sleazy, vulgar interest in her. Ming Sheng had probably disliked Ye Zilin for a while but only now exploded.
This realization made her feel inflated. Her thoughts drifted, and she had to read the classical Chinese passage before her over a dozen times before barely managing to recite it. When the bell rang ending the morning reading, Qiao Qingyu frustratedly closed her textbook and took out a draft paper. She gripped her pen and began practicing characters—first writing “white,” then “mourning,” and next, as if her right hand had a mind of its own, she wrote “Nanqiao Village” without thinking. Only then did she realize she was recreating Ming Sheng’s handwritten note from the candy box.
Qiao Qingyu dropped her pen, exhausted and lost, utterly disappointed in herself.
Guan Lan came in from outside and called her, asking her to go to Mr. Sun Yinglong’s office. Qiao Qingyu seized this like a lifeline, escaping the classroom filled with Ming Sheng’s presence. As she pushed open the half-closed office door, about to announce her arrival, her heart stopped—Ming Sheng was there too.
“Come in,” Mr. Sun nodded to her.
After Qiao Qingyu entered and stood beside Ming Sheng, Mr. Sun asked if she had gone to Ming Sheng’s grandfather’s house when she ran away. Remembering Li Fanghao’s warnings and instructions, Qiao Qingyu mustered all her courage and clearly uttered two words: “I didn’t.”
“She didn’t,” Mr. Sun repeated meaningfully, as if speaking directly to Ming Sheng. “There are many things in this world that seem one way but are another. ‘Hiding’ itself isn’t right or wrong; it depends on the reason. Often, ‘revealing’ causes more harm than ‘concealing.'”
He paused, shifting his gaze from Ming Sheng to Qiao Qingyu, his tone growing even more earnest: “You’re both still young and don’t understand the ways of the world. You’ll understand when you’re older.”
Qiao Qingyu hadn’t absorbed any of it. She had flatly denied Ming Sheng’s help right in front of him, forgetting everything. Use and discard—she truly was as scheming as Ye Zilin had said. To preserve her pitiful reputation, she trampled on his dignity and sincerity with selfishness and cowardice. Now, undoubtedly, he would see through her completely, despise her, hate her—
After school that day, Mr. Sun Yinglong called Qiao Qingyu in for a second time, kindly recommending the school counselor, Le Fan. He gave her a landline and a mobile number, saying she could call Le Fan for any troubles she found difficult to voice but needed to share.
Qiao Qingyu promised she’d talk to Teacher Le to sort out her emotions. But as soon as she left the school gates, she tossed the paper with the phone numbers into a trash can—she hated that Mr. Sun saw her as so fragile. It must be the jarringly short haircut Li Fanghao had forced on her, making her look a bit unhinged. She hated Li Fanghao for not only controlling her but also controlling how others perceived her. I’m fine, Qiao Qingyu kept telling herself, I can work through any problem.
Due to weather, the first week’s flag-raising ceremony was postponed. On a drizzly Monday, Qiao Qingyu approached Wang Mumu, telling her she wanted to quit the flag team. Wang Mumu didn’t focus on her short hair, seeming not to notice the change at all, which Qiao Qingyu found comforting and made her feel closer to Wang Mumu.
“That’s fine,” Wang Mumu nodded readily after hearing Qiao Qingyu out. “Although I’m not in charge of the flag team anymore… I chose all of them, so I can select someone new.”
The new flag-bearer turned out to be Su Tian. Reportedly, she was reluctant to take Qiao Qingyu’s former position, but the other girls on the team insisted on her. It was said that after agreeing to join, Su Tian immediately replaced all the outdated uniforms, gloves, and shoes with her own money. She found one set of long-sleeved uniforms insufficient and added summer short-sleeved uniforms and skirts. Even the flag itself was replaced.
How nice, Qiao Qingyu thought. For some reason, she quite liked Su Tian’s actions, appreciating her undisguised efforts to erase all traces of Qiao Qingyu.
Wang Mumu, however, seemed embarrassed. Privately, she found Qiao Qingyu to explain that the flag team’s equipment was indeed old and needed replacing, but since she wasn’t officially part of the team anymore, she couldn’t stop Su Tian’s extravagance. It was just after school, and Qiao Qingyu, worried Li Fanghao might be anxiously waiting at the gate, didn’t say much to Wang Mumu. The next day, Wang Mumu sought her out again.
“I need to go somewhere, but I’m scared to go alone. Will you come with me?”
This time, she came just before the last self-study period bell. Fearing she might not make it back in time but unable to refuse Wang Mumu’s earnest request, Qiao Qingyu followed her out of the teaching building. The class bell rang as they entered the administration building, and Qiao Qingyu hesitated, exchanging glances with Wang Mumu.
“It’s okay, Mr. Sun won’t mind if you’re a few minutes late to self-study,” she said with an apologetic smile.
So Qiao Qingyu continued alongside her, climbing to the third floor where Wang Mumu stopped before a reddish-brown wooden door at the end of the corridor.
The door bore five prominent characters: Psychological Counseling Room.
Qiao Qingyu’s first thought was that she’d been betrayed—likely Mr. Sun had asked Wang Mumu to bring her to the counselor. Shock and anger showed on her face, which Wang Mumu deliberately avoided noticing.
Qiao Qingyu wanted to turn and leave, but her feet felt heavy. Just then, Wang Mumu knocked on the door.
Teacher Le Fan opened it, and Wang Mumu gestured for Qiao Qingyu to come in together. As if possessed, Qiao Qingyu followed.
Sitting beside Wang Mumu on the soft fabric sofa, Qiao Qingyu sensed that her companion’s body was even more rigid than her own. Le Fan, a kind-faced, round-cheeked middle-aged woman, poured them each a glass of water before sitting in a single armchair to the side.
“I often see female students come in pairs,” she began with a smile, her compassionate gaze moving between the two girls. “I know both of you, Wang Mumu and Qiao Qingyu. I’m a bit surprised that you’re such close friends.”
“It’s spacious, clean, and bright here, isn’t it?” Le Fan smiled. “It can accommodate any size of trouble. When you speak about your worries here, letting them bask in the sunlight, they become lighter.”
Suddenly, Wang Mumu stood up abruptly. “I’m sorry, teacher. I… I’m not ready yet.”
Le Fan started to say “Oh, that’s alright,” but before she could finish, Wang Mumu had run out, covering her face. Quickly recovering from her shock, Qiao Qingyu apologized to Le Fan and rushed after Wang Mumu.
Wang Mumu had run into the small garden behind the administration building, disappearing behind a mushroom-shaped pavilion. When Qiao Qingyu found her, her eyes were red, with tear drops still clinging to her hastily wiped corners.
“You must think I tricked you into coming to the counseling room, right?” Wang Mumu said in a low voice. “I don’t know why Mr. Sun approached me, but he did ask if I could persuade you to talk to Teacher Le. But,” she sniffled, glancing up at Qiao Qingyu, “I promise, I didn’t trick you today! I wanted to see Teacher Le myself, but I was scared and hoped you’d accompany me.”
“Mm,” Qiao Qingyu sat down beside her.
Wang Mumu rolled up her sleeves—cotton jacket, school uniform, sweater—until she pushed back the last layer of her thermal undershirt, revealing a stretch of fair skin on her arm.
At first, Qiao Qingyu looked on without understanding. But as Wang Mumu turned her arm, Qiao Qingyu gasped—on the other side of her arm, the fair skin was covered with bright red blood marks, a shocking sight.
“I have too many worries,” Wang Mumu said, biting her lip. “All of them are things that can’t see the light of day.”