They didn’t return to the counseling office. In the small garden behind the administration building, Qiao Qingyu sat with Wang Mumu, though Wang Mumu hadn’t spoken since saying she “couldn’t stand the sunlight.” She pulled down her sleeves, tidied herself, carefully wiped away traces of tears, then linked arms with Qiao Qingyu and rested her head on her shoulder. Just like two close girlfriends would.
Qiao Qingyu wanted to offer comfort but didn’t know where to begin. Time passed quietly until the rotund Dean of Students suddenly appeared before them.
“Why aren’t you two in class?” he questioned, but seemed moved by the troubled expressions on the girls’ faces. His next words came out much gentler, “It’s normal to feel down—who doesn’t have those moments? But skipping class isn’t right. Get back to your classroom.”
As they walked toward the teaching building, Wang Mumu still held onto Qiao Qingyu’s left arm with her unscarred right arm. Just before parting, Qiao Qingyu awkwardly mumbled something about how everything would pass, then felt her left arm empty as Wang Mumu stopped in her tracks.
Turning around, Wang Mumu smiled brightly.
“I’m fine now, please don’t take what happened earlier seriously,” she said lightheartedly as if she were the one comforting Qiao Qingyu instead. “I’m not usually this gloomy!”
“Then,” Qiao Qingyu looked at her skeptically, hesitating, “why did you hurt your—”
Before she could say “self,” Wang Mumu cut her off: “I didn’t do well on the return exam, and mock exams are coming up soon. The pressure got to me a bit. It’s nothing, I’ve already adjusted.”
She transformed back into the Wang Mumu that Qiao Qingyu knew—warm as a spring breeze, without a trace of melancholy.
“Teacher Le Fan is very trustworthy,” Wang Mumu said as if remembering her mission. “There’s nothing shameful about talking to the counselor. Anyone can go—just treat her like a diary. You can tell her anything. I can’t spare the time now, but after my college entrance exam, I’ll chat with her too.”
“Then I’ll wait until after your exam, and we’ll go together.”
Surprise and touched emotion flashed through Wang Mumu’s eyes.
“Okay.”
They smiled at each other as if sealing a secret pact.
Every noon, Qiao Qingyu would spend the long stretch before the first-afternoon class in the reading room. The classroom was filled with everything about Ming Sheng—if people weren’t mentioning him or looking for him, he was loudly joking with the boys in the back row. She could barely handle it. Had he always been this active? Was it because she hadn’t paid enough attention to him last year that she hadn’t noticed? Qiao Qingyu couldn’t tell, and in her distress, she simply cut herself off completely.
The library became her sanctuary, and the window seat in the reading room became her paradise. Winter jasmine bloomed on the low wall behind the library. Looking down from the second-floor reading room, the overlapping, bustling golden flowers were like countless soft little suns. Whenever she saw no one around, Qiao Qingyu would dash down from the reading room, clutching borrowed books, pacing back and forth before the flower wall, fully immersing herself in the brightness and intensity of this small world. Several times, she had embraced these delicate yet resilient branches, burying her face among the blooming flowers, greedily and carefully breathing in the scent of spring.
Whether it was the book in her hands or the brilliance below the window, both could temporarily make her forget Ming Sheng’s voice and eyes. The reading room’s tranquility made it a sacred place. Day after day, Qiao Qingyu came here devoutly, choosing a magazine to sit by the window, letting her soul be washed by printed words and spring sentiment. As time passed, she gradually became calm and stable. Everything about Ming Sheng became like a stone smoothed by ocean waves—still lodged in her heart, but having lost its weight and edges, no longer causing her such pain that she couldn’t sit still.
By late March, the winter jasmine was hardly visible, yet Qiao Qingyu still diligently frequented the library. It had become her habit, as if not spending time reading in the library after lunch would be wasting time—though according to Sun Yinglong, missing out on the school’s vibrant club culture festival, reading festival, choir competition, and other collective activities was the real tragic loss.
Qiao Qingyu appreciated Sun Yinglong’s many attempts to help her integrate into the collective, but her appreciation stopped there. She had no interest in group activities, and others had no interest in her. With neither side benefiting, after several attempts, Sun Yinglong stopped making futile efforts and instead offered sincere advice about Qiao Qingyu’s love for spending time alone in the library.
“Besides reading, you could try writing. Honestly, your essay ‘The Pain That Shouldn’t Be Forgotten’ that turned your home upside down really impressed me,” his smile was full of encouragement. “Write whatever you want, write freely, like for the New Concept Writing Competition—you have that potential.”
This stirred something significant in Qiao Qingyu as if a hidden spark in her heart had suddenly been ignited, blazing instantly. Because Li Fanghao would check everything she wrote, she had never thought about writing “freely.” But she had always loved writing, which was why she was passionate about practicing calligraphy and loved copying her favorite sentences from books into her notebook. She suddenly understood why she did these things—it was to store energy and determination for the freedom to write now. Now she had a computer in her room, though it couldn’t connect to the internet and Li Fanghao had covered it with a tablecloth, but—Qiao Qingyu got excited just thinking about it—the abandoned computer could perfectly serve as her secret base.
But she didn’t act immediately, an inexplicable melancholy suppressing her enthusiasm. Once back in that cramped, closed space at home, besides mechanically studying, studying, and studying more, she couldn’t muster the energy to do anything else. Impulse and vision belonged only to the library, that sacred place of unrestricted browsing without oppression. Soon, Qiao Qingyu grew to despise herself for her lack of initiative.
Even though her monthly exam scores improved again, ranking tenth in the class, it still didn’t free her from disappointment in herself.
Her hair had grown somewhat longer, the ends pricking her neck’s skin uncomfortably; she couldn’t understand why Sun Yinglong, who had praised her talent, gave the city writing competition spots to Gao Chi, Jiang Nian, and Deng Meixi without even glancing at her; she didn’t like that everyone except her seemed happy. The winter jasmine had all withered, the sanctuary lost its color, and dark clouds hung over her head.
In contrast, was Ming Sheng’s flourishing confidence. Since breaking free from the noisy Ye Zilin at the start of the semester, he seemed to have become his spokesperson, making sure to create some commotion in class no matter what he did, as if afraid others wouldn’t notice him. With detachment, Qiao Qingyu knew he participated in every school activity possible and didn’t miss out on external events either, blooming both inside and out, stealing all the spotlight.
She knew that during the reading festival’s recitation event, Ming Sheng chose to partner with Deng Meixi; during the aerobics competition, he arrived late and left early but didn’t miss Su Tian’s perfect performance. She also knew that during basketball team practice, Ming Sheng no longer fiercely stopped those girls who raised their phones or cameras to photograph him, so his pictures suddenly multiplied online; she certainly also knew that on Lei Feng Day, dissatisfied with the chubby dean, Ming Sheng led many male students to make mocking sounds during his assembly speech. In short, he lived freely and easily, in stark contrast to herself.
And he was relaxed and at ease. Unlike Qiao Qingyu, who struggled with all her might yet remain stifled.
On the first day of April, the dark clouds in her heart drifted to the sky, and a sudden downpour trapped Qiao Qingyu in the stairwell as she was heading down. She ran back to change her shoes, then rushed into the rain with an umbrella, running toward the community gate when she heard someone calling her name.
“Studies must be tough lately!”
Mrs. Feng’s face appeared from under a large red checkered umbrella, and Qiao Qingyu felt a physiological disgust.
“Why don’t you come to the shop after school anymore?” Whether intentionally or not, Mrs. Feng pressed her red checkered umbrella against Qiao Qingyu’s, her probing desire written all over her face. “Oh my, why is your face so pale? You’ve lost weight again! Why do young girls think so much? Being full of worry at sixteen or seventeen, even a pretty face won’t look good!”
In the past, Qiao Qingyu would have endured this. But now, she directly replied, “It’s none of your business.”
“What?”
“Let me tell you,” Qiao Qingyu watched with some satisfaction as her face twisted in surprise, “the person you saw that day wasn’t me. I’ve never been to Ming Sheng’s house, you must have been seeing things.”
“When did I ever say you went to Ah Sheng’s house? Which ear of yours heard me say that?”
Qiao Qingyu felt a lump in her throat, almost unable to speak: “I’m saying you saw the wrong person, it wasn’t me in the taxi with Ming Sheng!”
“If it wasn’t you then it wasn’t, your mother already cleared things up with me,” Mrs. Feng wore an expression of ‘Why are you still bringing this up,’ “If it were true, wouldn’t everyone be gossiping about you by now? I was just confused that one time, how could Ah Sheng be the type to casually bring girls home? Girls need to protect their reputation, don’t boys need to as well? Doesn’t Ah Sheng need to? Don’t Ah Sheng’s parents need to? After thinking carefully, I must have been seeing things…”
At the intersection, Qiao Qingyu suddenly quickened her pace, leaving the chattering Mrs. Feng behind. The dense raindrops hammered against her umbrella with a pitter-patter, and she lowered it as much as possible, feeling inexplicably wronged and wanting to cry—in the eyes of these worldly people, was she so unworthy of Ming Sheng?
What made her feel worse was that she felt this was karma. She was the one who said memories could be denied and forgotten as soon as you turned away… Now, heaven granted her wish, making everyone willingly deny she had spent a night at Ming Sheng’s house, just waiting for her to actively forget. Besides forgetting, there was no other choice.
This meant that there was no relationship between her and Ming Sheng anymore. She didn’t want it, others wouldn’t allow her to have it, and heaven affirmed her decision.
Someone called her again, this time it was Wang Mumu. She had barely ever run into Wang Mumu before school, and to meet her just when her mood had suddenly plummeted was quite awkward.
“I wanted to call out to you earlier, but when I saw Auntie Feng with you, I didn’t dare,” Wang Mumu playfully lifted her umbrella. “What’s wrong? Did Auntie Feng say something?”
“No.” Qiao Qingyu shook her head, but tears rolled down uncontrollably.
“What’s wrong?” Wang Mumu suddenly panicked, “Whatever Auntie Feng said, don’t take it to heart. She likes to dig into others’ pain, you really mustn’t take it seriously…”
Qiao Qingyu sniffled, trying to stop sobbing, but her tears rolled even more under Wang Mumu’s gentle words. She crouched down while holding her umbrella, and Wang Mumu accompanied her, also crouching down, reaching out one hand to gently stroke the back of her head.
In the gloomy weather, a familiar pair of shoes appeared before her—Li Fanghao had come looking for her.
“I was wondering why you hadn’t come for breakfast,” Li Fanghao said, helping Qiao Qingyu up along with Wang Mumu. “Why are you crying in the middle of the street? What happened?”
Unable to speak yet, Qiao Qingyu heard Wang Mumu politely call out “Auntie.” Through their question-and-answer exchange, Li Fanghao quickly concluded that Mrs. Feng must have upset Qiao Qingyu with her loose talk. After briefly comforting Qiao Qingyu, Li Fanghao invited Wang Mumu to join them for breakfast at the shop. Despite her attempts to decline, with Qiao Qingyu’s pleading looks, Wang Mumu shyly accepted.
“Last time you helped Qingqing, worried about her suffering, gave her a schoolbag full of things—we never properly thanked you,” Li Fanghao said.
“Those things…” Wang Mumu awkwardly began, “You returned them all to me.”
“Returned or not, thanks should still be given. Qingqing rarely makes friends who are truly sincere to her.”
The word “friend” coming from Li Fanghao’s mouth was a complete affirmation of Wang Mumu. The pain of forever losing Ming Sheng instantly lessened, and Qiao Qingyu felt much better, suddenly feeling that life wasn’t entirely bleak.
“You two girls, both have difficulties at home, both have to rely entirely on yourselves to find your way,” Li Fanghao advised earnestly. “You should help each other, encourage each other, and move in a positive direction.”
Li Fanghao including Wang Mumu in her lecture made Qiao Qingyu feel a bit embarrassed. She didn’t respond, sneaking a glance at Wang Mumu, only to see her smiling easily and brightly.
“Auntie is right, we rely on ourselves, and we must keep working hard.”