Qiao Qingyu nodded in agreement again: “Mm.”
“Are you angry?” Wang Mumu lowered her eyes, “It’s like I stole your…”
“No,” Qiao Qingyu interrupted, “I’m not angry.”
“Really?” Wang Mumu looked up.
Her cautious expression and forcefully held back-reddened eyes made Qiao Qingyu’s heartache. “Really,” Qiao Qingyu leaned forward, hugging her tightly again, “I’m not angry at all, what you did was very wise.”
Wang Mumu’s tears fell.
“He loves you,” she sobbed, stroking Qiao Qingyu’s head like a big sister, “truly and deeply.”
Qiao Qingyu moved closer, hugging Wang Mumu tighter: “Let’s both forget about him, okay?”
“I feel terrible,” Wang Mumu cried, tears flowing, “I feel like whatever I do is wrong… I urged you to reject him and hurt him so deeply, but if I help him, I’ll hurt you…”
“Everything you did before was right,” Qiao Qingyu carefully patted her back, “from now on, let’s not worry about him, okay?”
Wang Mumu choked out a difficult “okay.”
After calming down slightly, Qiao Qingyu led Wang Mumu to sit at the computer, pressed the power button, and reinserted “Winged Migration.” She did all this without hesitation, without a word, stubbornly believing that what had given her strength would surely give Wang Mumu strength too. But as soon as the image appeared, Wang Mumu pressed pause.
“I’ve seen it before,” she smiled apologetically at Qiao Qingyu, “and I don’t have time to watch it now.”
Qiao Qingyu said nothing, obediently removed the disc, then immediately opened a document stored in a folder, quietly asking Wang Mumu to read it.
“I wrote it for you,” she said brazenly to Wang Mumu.
“Like the one anonymously published in the school newspaper?” Wang Mumu asked, a smile spreading across her face.
“You knew I wrote that?”
“Of course, even A Sheng could tell,” the words barely out, Wang Mumu immediately stuck out her tongue, “You were writing about me, how could I not recognize it?”
“Today’s isn’t about you, but,” Qiao Qingyu hurriedly and uncomfortably added, “it’s written for you.”
They sat side by side, and while reading, Wang Mumu linked arms with Qiao Qingyu, resting her head on her shoulder.
“You should submit this for publication,” she said softly after finishing, “Don’t let your talent be buried in this sunless cage.”
“It’s enough that you’ve read it.”
“I’ve read it,” Wang Mumu suddenly smiled and tweaked Qiao Qingyu’s nose, “Thank you.”
—
As an exam venue, Second High needed to clear out before the college entrance exam. The last self-study period on Friday afternoon was left for everyone to clean their desks and classrooms. The school opened two large lecture halls, temporarily used for first and second-year students to store their books. Qiao Qingyu merged into the flowing crowd, making two trips between the lecture hall and the teaching building. After she sat down motionless following her second return, Sun Yinglong called out to her.
“Help the day duty students take down the wall postings.”
Guan Lan was already tearing things down, half a head shorter than Qiao Qingyu, standing on tiptoe to remove the course schedules from the top row of the bulletin board. Qiao Qingyu went over to help her.
“Thanks,” Guan Lan smiled politely at her, then pointed to the class motto at the very top, saying, “Why don’t you take that down too, I’m too lazy to get a chair… Be careful not to tear it, if you don’t break the four corners it should come off in one piece.”
Qiao Qingyu nodded. The class motto was a light blue strip of paper with “Unite and Strive, Forge Glory” in Ming Sheng’s handwriting. Perhaps because this paper didn’t need to be changed periodically like other notices, it was attached with double-sided tape instead of clear tape. Qiao Qingyu stood on tiptoe, testing each corner of the paper one by one, finally finding a breakthrough point. In a moment of relaxation, with a ripping sound, the paper tore.
“Oh no, I forgot, they added double-sided tape in the middle too,” Guan Lan struck her head in dismay, “You didn’t notice the tape in the middle?”
Qiao Qingyu shook her head, remembering how Ming Sheng had troubled He Kai by tearing paper, suddenly feeling uneasy.
“Oh well, never mind,” Guan Lan said again, “Keep tearing, just try to keep it as whole as possible.”
But it was difficult. The small section of double-sided tape in the middle seemed determined to keep the character “Forge” stuck to the bulletin board, even with Guan Lan standing on a chair to help.
Ming Sheng flashed in through the back door, quickly glancing at them, then pulled out a chair less than two meters away and sat down with his back to them.
Guan Lan, holding the tattered class motto, muttered a barely audible “Oh lord,” but Qiao Qingyu still heard it.
“I’m sorry,” she said involuntarily.
“Hey, what are you saying sorry to me for,” Guan Lan laughed, “I don’t care.”
“I’ll go explain,” Qiao Qingyu helplessly pointed at Ming Sheng’s back, “I tore it, it’s not your fault.”
Guan Lan’s eyes widened: “Why explain?”
“Won’t he be very angry?”
Guan Lan’s eyes grew even wider, looking at Qiao Qingyu as if she were some strange creature, then burst out laughing, saying softly: “Deng Meixi wanted it. Why are you being so funny?”
“Oh.”
Then Guan Lan looked at her sympathetically, leaning in close to mouth kindly: “Actually, he’s not that scary, relax.”
I know he’s not scary, Qiao Qingyu answered in her heart. To others, it seemed Ming Sheng disdained her, and reason told her to disdain Ming Sheng. That was fine.
She returned to her seat, took out her homework, and worked while waiting for Li Fanghao to pick her up after class. Many people went straight home after moving their things, and in the latter half, the classroom gradually grew quiet. Near the end of class, Qiao Qingyu looked up from her physics problems, gazed at the empty walls of the classroom, and suddenly felt an inexplicable dejection.
She hated keeping herself constantly sealed off. Before coming to Second High, she had harbored hopes of integrating into the collective, but now, with the second year almost over, her world had become increasingly vacuum-like. Especially during this time, she could hardly feel any connection to the outside world. Wang Mumu was busy preparing for exams and hadn’t shown up, the school had suspended all activities for the college entrance exam, and Ming Sheng… Qiao Qingyu realized Ming Sheng had been quiet for a long time.
It was as if his solo performance at the arts festival had prematurely exhausted all his energy; afterward, he became silent and cold, spending almost all his time in the classroom except for basketball, rarely making a sound amid the laughter of the boys in the back row.
At first, he told others it was because his grades had slipped and he felt urgent about improving, but after he jumped back to second in the class and tenth in the grade in the monthly exam, he still showed no signs of relaxing. Chen Shen joked that he was acting like he had to take the college entrance exam too, while Sun Yinglong was very pleased with this, encouraging everyone to learn from Ming Sheng and enter third-year preparation mode early.
Even though he wouldn’t be taking the college entrance exam.
Thinking about how in just one year, Ming Sheng would fly across the ocean, Qiao Qingyu felt a hollowing pain, as if her heart was being physically torn away. The song he sang on stage echoed in her mind, “It was just a game, just a dream.” Strange, she clearly hadn’t wanted to remember that scene, but now recalling it, Ming Sheng’s slightly stiff movements on stage, his awkward gestures, every detail was as clear as a slow-motion movie. His voice, considered steady among his peers, when singing had the unique pure depth of youth, captivating the soul. Qiao Qingyu remembered every word he sang.
Don’t ask willing or unwilling, I won’t care because of this, it was just last night’s game.
Even though I don’t have you now, I’m still myself.
Even though I still don’t have you, I’m still myself.
He has let go, Qiao Qingyu told herself. He wasn’t singing for me to hear, but bidding farewell to his feelings.
She felt an inexplicable resentment, and dissatisfaction with herself—how slow! Only now understand this?
But soon, she calmed down again. It’s fine, able to pick up and put down, from now on strangers on different paths, each at peace.
When the dismissal bell rang, there were barely any people left in the classroom. Qiao Qingyu stuffed all her remaining books into her backpack, feeling an unprecedented weight on her shoulders. She lifted her powerless feet and walked mechanically toward the school gate, her thoughts scattered, her whole being feeling light and floating as if suspended in a vacuum, only the struggling sound of her heart in her chest, suffocating and uncomfortable. Walking out the gate, to the flower bed where Li Fanghao usually waited, she didn’t see Li Fanghao, but instead saw another unexpected person, Qiao Dayong.
Her heart suddenly came alive, and Qiao Qingyu’s first reaction was to wonder if something had happened to Li Fanghao.
“Qing-qing!” Qiao Dayong recognized her, shouting in Shungyun dialect, charging toward her like a bull, “With your hair cut, I almost didn’t recognize you!”
Qiao Qingyu nodded helplessly in response. Qiao Dayong was a genuine farmer, the most unrefined person in South Qiao Village, with a sturdy build and earth-dark skin, dressed as if he’d just come from working in the fields, looking particularly out of place at Second High’s gate, drawing sideways glances from many students leaving school.
“Qing-qing!” His voice was loud and coarse, attracting even more attention with just one shout, “You little snake! Did I use your money to buy my wife? Taking advantage of my illiteracy! Talk about your own family’s disgusting matters if you want, why talk about my wife? I only found out later, that everyone online was cursing me, cursing me for buying a wife! I didn’t steal or rob, I spent my own money!”
He was cursing in dialect, pointing at Qiao Qingyu’s nose, spittle flying everywhere.
“I’m telling you I came here just to curse you,” Qiao Dayong stepped forward, Qiao Qingyu stepped back, until her backpack pressed against the electric gate for vehicles, “I’m telling you, don’t reach too far, a little girl like you has no business meddling in Qiao Dayong’s affairs! You messed with your brother’s wedding wine, and deliberately wrote insults about me in the paper, so I came to curse you! Let you lose some face too! If I lived nearby I would’ve come to curse you earlier, come curse you at your school gate every day…”
People had already stopped to watch, all standing at a distance, curiosity and excitement spreading among the students. They made Qiao Qingyu believe she was a monster. She remembered Aunt Qin’s eyes wrapped in flames, transparent yet mad, gleaming brightly. She wanted to turn into a fireball and perish together with Qiao Dayong. But she just stood there, bewildered, desperate, helpless, not daring to make a sound, allowing more and more students to gather around.
The security guard and Li Fanghao appeared simultaneously. The guard dispersed the crowd, while Li Fanghao immediately started cursing back at Qiao Dayong.
“Make way!” the guard shouted, “Don’t block the school gate! Student, move aside, there’s a car coming!”
Qiao Qingyu came to her senses, straightened her body that had been pressed against the electric gate, and let Li Fanghao pull her to the side. As they walked, Li Fanghao continued cursing at Qiao Dayong, their volumes escalating layer by layer. Though the crowd had dispersed, the gazes cast their way only increased.
Qiao Qingyu turned her head to the side, toward the area the guard had cleared.
She saw the electric gate open, and a black Mercedes slowly drove out. As the long body of the car passed her, the open rear window slowly rose, hiding Ming Sheng’s motionless profile.
He was noble and cold, his eyes fixed straight ahead.