Early Saturday morning, Wang Mumu knocked on the door. Qiao Qingyu leaped from the sofa and excitedly ran to open it. Thanks to Wang Mumu, Li Fanghao no longer locked her in the room. Since the desk inside was too small and the living room lacked privacy, they decided to study at the dining table.
Around 10 AM, Qiao Jinyu emerged from his room. Without disturbing them, he cleaned up and left. After he disappeared, Wang Mumu looked up and asked, “Your brother must be the favorite in your family, right?”
“If neglect counts as favoritism, then yes,” Qiao Qingyu replied, setting down her pen.
“I noticed his clothes are all Nike,” Wang Mumu observed.
Qiao Qingyu shrugged, “He only has a few outfits. We can’t afford to buy him brand names, but he insists on them because he cares about his image.”
“Does that seem unfair to you?”
After careful consideration, Qiao Qingyu slowly shook her head. “I don’t care much about clothes. I find obsessing over them shallow. What I envy is his freedom.”
Wang Mumu smiled wryly, “But what good is freedom? Can it feed you? Can it give you a big house or nice clothes?”
“Are those things really important?” Qiao Qingyu countered.
“Aren’t they?” Wang Mumu challenged. “Why are you studying so hard now? Isn’t it to get into a good university, find a good job, and earn a high income? You’ve been repressed for so long that you crave freedom, but dismissing material pursuits as vulgar is naive. We’re all ordinary people, and eventually, we all return to the basics of daily life. The economic foundation determines the superstructure. True freedom only comes after basic needs are met.”
Sensing the tension, Qiao Qingyu instinctively backed down.
Wang Mumu continued more gently, “I’m not just spouting theories. My family went from wealth to poverty overnight. I know the pain of being without money all too well.”
Qiao Qingyu imagined how painful that fall from grace must have been for Wang Mumu’s once-happy family.
“The psychological gap is the most tormenting,” Wang Mumu said, her tone softening further. “I’ve learned that it’s better never to experience the good life than to have it taken away. That’s the cruelest fate.”
Qiao Qingyu nodded in agreement.
“The same goes for relationships,” Wang Mumu added, suddenly averting her gaze. “It’s too early at this stage. All the beauty of love is just an illusion.”
Following her line of sight, Qiao Qingyu noticed a strange middle-aged woman cleaning the window of the apartment across from them.
“Grandfather’s place has been rented out,” Wang Mumu murmured, almost to herself. “I thought Asheng would never bear to rent it… I wonder if the piano, books, and paintings have been moved.”
Qiao Qingyu returned her focus to the English test paper before her, silently mouthing, “It was not until…”
“Qingqing,” Wang Mumu said softly, “do you resent me for advising you to reject Asheng back then?”
“No.”
“What if he was serious about you?”
“He couldn’t have been,” Qiao Qingyu replied with a forced smile. “Didn’t you just say yesterday that he was vain, shallow, a playboy?”
“But,” Wang Mumu interrupted, “what if I was wrong?”
“You weren’t,” Qiao Qingyu said, looking down with a small smile. “You were right. Yesterday, he went karaoke singing and specifically invited Deng Meixi.”
“Oh.”
They fell silent until noon when Li Fanghao brought home two portions of noodles. Despite Wang Mumu’s insistence on going home to eat, Li Fanghao persuaded her to stay. They ate quietly with Li Fanghao nearby. After she left, Wang Mumu took out her phone, her expression conflicted as she waved it at Qiao Qingyu. “I want to show you a photo.”
Qiao Qingyu leaned in, curious yet apprehensive. At first, she couldn’t identify anything significant in the kaleidoscope of KTV lights. Then, following Wang Mumu’s guidance, she suddenly spotted Ming Sheng sitting behind a cluster of beer bottles, microphone in hand. Once she saw him, she couldn’t look away.
“I found this on an online forum last night,” Wang Mumu explained. “There are many more, including clear close-ups.”
Qiao Qingyu responded with a noncommittal “Mm,” returning to her seat.
“Do you want to hear him sing?” Wang Mumu asked. When Qiao Qingyu hesitated, she pressed on, “They say he only sang one song. Do you want to know which one?”
“No.”
“Someone uploaded it to Youku. I’ve downloaded it, but my phone can’t play it. Your computer surely can.”
“I don’t want to. My mom doesn’t let me use the computer.”
“It’s not for you, it’s for me. Your mom won’t mind if I use it.”
Qiao Qingyu bit her lip and slowly shook her head, though her resolve was crumbling. Just one more push and I’ll agree, she thought desperately.
But Wang Mumu just looked at her thoughtfully.
Qiao Qingyu felt herself wilt. “Let’s get back to our homework,” she said, her voice hoarse.
“‘A Game, A Dream,'” Wang Mumu suddenly said. “You must have heard this song.”
Qiao Qingyu shook her head, confused.
“‘It was just a game, a dream,'” Wang Mumu hummed softly. “‘Don’t leave your incomplete love here.’ Have you heard it?”
The melody seemed to echo from a distant past. Qiao Qingyu nodded.
“‘Why say goodbye, why talk about being together? Even without you now, I’m still myself,'” Wang Mumu recited. “‘What’s this about undying love, what’s this about being together…’ He’s heartbroken. He must have sung it for you. Why don’t you listen to it?”
Her tone was pleading, full of sorrow and humility. Qiao Qingyu felt a confused sense of honor, stammering, “Mumu, it’s not… you might be mistaken. He went to sing karaoke, they have all kinds of songs there… It’s a classic song that many people sing, it probably has nothing to do with me…”
“Just listen and you’ll understand,” Wang Mumu sighed. “Who knows him better than I do?”
“I won’t listen,” Qiao Qingyu insisted.
Wang Mumu seemed to grow irritated.
“That night you went to Grandfather’s house, did you say something to him? Something must have happened between you two. If you’ve been rejecting him all along, why would he be so heartbroken?”
“I…”
“I’m not blaming you out of sympathy for him – he doesn’t deserve it, as I’ve said before. I’m upset because you haven’t told me the whole truth.”
Instinctively, Qiao Qingyu sensed that Wang Mumu did indeed sympathize with Ming Sheng. A disturbing thought quickly took shape in her mind, based on clear evidence: Wang Mumu liked Ming Sheng too. It was a deeply hidden, desperate kind of affection, wanting to grasp everything related to him, to remove anything unfavorable to him, completely selfless and entirely for his sake.
Feeling as if she had inadvertently glimpsed Wang Mumu’s deepest secret, Qiao Qingyu felt both panicked and guilty. New concerns flooded her mind – How did Wang Mumu view their friendship? Had she advised against accepting Ming Sheng because she felt Qiao Qingyu wasn’t good enough for him? But was Wang Mumu that calculating? Perhaps her feelings for Ming Sheng were simply sisterly affection, a continuation of childhood closeness that now seemed ambiguous.
“Asheng isn’t the type to brood,” Wang Mumu said, trying to remain calm, though her gaze still held a hint of interrogation. “You must have said or done something to give him the wrong idea.”
“I don’t know,” Qiao Qingyu replied. “I didn’t promise him anything.”
Making Wang Mumu unhappy was the last thing Qiao Qingyu wanted. For a moment, she considered telling Wang Mumu about the hairpin she had given Ming Sheng, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She knew she felt guilty. A girl giving a boy her parents’ love token was an unmistakable signal to anyone.
Only now did Qiao Qingyu realize that she had once kindled Ming Sheng’s hope, only to cruelly extinguish it herself.
“Then you must have said something deeply hurtful,” Wang Mumu said, seemingly convinced by Qiao Qingyu’s firmness and changing her approach. “Do you know how cruel you can be when you’re cold? I could never expose my family’s problems like that, making myself feel better at their expense.”
The words stung, making Qiao Qingyu feel terrible.
“Maybe I am too cold,” she admitted, partly agreeing with Wang Mumu and partly criticizing herself. “That’s why I’ve never had friends growing up.”
“We’re kindred spirits,” Wang Mumu smiled warmly, regaining her usual friendliness. “I’m the opposite – I’m equally nice to everyone, which also makes it hard to make friends.”
After Wang Mumu left that night, Qiao Qingyu couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Ming Sheng gripping the microphone, his face tense and restrained, his eyes unfocused. When she turned over, she saw Wang Mumu, her suspicious concern for Ming Sheng, and her barely suppressed dissatisfaction with Qiao Qingyu.
Does she like him? Qiao Qingyu asked herself repeatedly. She did not doubt Ming Sheng’s trust in Wang Mumu – perhaps the deepest trust in the world. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have let Wang Mumu into his home late at night and confided in her about his feelings for Qiao Qingyu without any hesitation.
If Wang Mumu confessed her feelings to Ming Sheng, how would he react? With the college entrance exam approaching, rejecting Wang Mumu would devastate her. Surely he wouldn’t be so cruel? No, Mumu would never confess. She knows better than anyone what she should and shouldn’t do.
For a long time, Qiao Qingyu’s thoughts collided back and forth among these questions, as if trapped in a maze, exhausted but unable to find a way out. As her consciousness began to blur, she concluded: she couldn’t lose Wang Mumu as a friend, no matter what.
A friend approved by Li Fanghao was a gift from heaven, while the name “Ming Sheng” was a curse. Wang Mumu’s harsh words were saving her, while his sincere emotions were destroying her.
The truth was so clear, and Qiao Qingyu knew she mustn’t confuse it.