When Wang Mumu’s second letter arrived, the first round of revision had just begun. Unlike last time, Mumu used a Renmin University envelope and wrote her name after the return address.
“Do you want to go to Renmin University too?” Guan Lan asked curiously as she handed the letter to Qiao Qingyu.
Qingyu understood her confusion. Why else would Mumu write to her?
“No,” she replied, trying to sound casual despite her nervousness. “Mumu and I are friends. We’re quite close.”
“Close?” Guan Lan’s surprise was evident. Then realization dawned on her. “Oh right, you live in the same direction.”
“Yes, in the same neighborhood. Her family lives in the building opposite mine.”
“That close? So Grandpa Sheng’s place is across from yours too?”
“Yes.”
“Chaoyang New Village is so big…” Guan Lan was shocked. “You live directly across from Mumu?”
Qingyu intended to brush off the question, but before she could speak, Guan Lan excitedly interjected: “Directly across from Grandpa Sheng’s?”
“Um,” Qingyu hesitated, then admitted softly, as if confessing a mistake: “Yes.”
Guan Lan’s jaw dropped. She plopped down next to Qingyu and leaned in conspiratorially. “Wow, that’s juicy! So tell me quietly, is there something going on between Sheng and Mumu?”
Qingyu leaned back slightly, uncertainly asking, “What do you mean by ‘something’?”
“You know, that thing,” Guan Lan grinned. “Didn’t you notice how depressed Sheng became during the lead-up to the college entrance exam last year, and after Mumu graduated?”
“Oh.”
“They say Mumu’s dad got sick after the exam, and Sheng would go to the hospital every day after school to comfort her,” Guan Lan continued. “It surprised us all. We’d never seen him care so much about any girl before.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“He loved going back to Chaoyang New Village last year. Living across from them, you must have noticed something, right?”
“No.”
“Nothing at all?”
“I couldn’t,” Qingyu paused, then said with newfound courage, “Because there’s nothing between them.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
Guan Lan looked at her incredulously. “No, I feel like you’re wrong. You’re too wrapped up in your world… Besides, you can’t be watching them constantly. If they close their curtains, how would you know what’s happening?”
Qingyu smiled, both amused and slightly exasperated. “Then why ask me?”
“Just curious,” Guan Lan said playfully, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Sheng’s ignoring Deng Meixi now, and she’s miserable. I wanted to help her find out why.”
“I see.”
“I heard Mumu moved away too?”
“Yes.”
“Where to?”
“Beijing,” Qingyu answered. “With her mother. Her father passed away.”
“Passed away?” Guan Lan’s eyes widened again.
“It happened the day summer vacation started, so you didn’t hear about it,” Qingyu explained.
Guan Lan nodded, convinced. She looked at Qingyu with newfound admiration. “Wow, I’m realizing you’re the real insider here.”
Qingyu smiled shyly, somewhat embarrassed.
“I just happened to live close to them,” she added after a pause. “Once upon a time.”
“Well, I’ve decided to believe you,” Guan Lan said cheerfully. “Better to trust you than some gossip. I’ll tell Deng Meixi there’s nothing between Sheng and Mumu, so she can stop worrying.”
Chatting with Guan Lan gave Qingyu a fresh perspective. Her easygoing attitude was refreshing. After Guan Lan left, Qingyu opened Mumu’s letter, reading about her joy as she entered university life.
“In high school, I was too concerned about how my classmates saw me. I was afraid to show any imperfections in my life, worried it would shatter their idealized image of me,” Mumu wrote. “Now, I’ve adjusted my mindset and accepted reality. I’ve applied for a student loan and quickly found a tutoring job. I’m in the law department, and the other day I asked a professor about my father’s debts. She said it wouldn’t be difficult to resolve and that her former students would help me without charging legal fees. Qingqing, my heart feels reinvigorated, full of passion to strive forward. Everything in my life is improving.”
At the end of the letter, she left her new phone number, dormitory phone, and return address.
Closing the letter, Qingyu gazed out the window. The ever-lush camphor trees filled her heart with contentment. The first-morning class was about to begin. The tennis court in front of the camphor trees was empty, as was the basketball court behind them. There, a boy leaped high, the ball in his hand tracing a smooth arc through the dawn light, sailing across half the court and smoothly into the hoop.
It was Ming Sheng.
English class was about to start, but he didn’t seem to be coming back, continuing to dribble and shoot on the court. Despite the classroom’s closed windows and running air conditioning, Qingyu could sense the rhythm of the ball hitting the ground: thump, thump-thump, thump. She knew he was preparing for this year’s city basketball league, aiming for the championship cup. It was his last chance, yes.
The English teacher, Ms. Wu, took her place at the podium. Qingyu snapped back to attention, resisting the urge to look out the window again.
Everyone’s working hard, she told herself. I need to focus too-
September was the dying ember of a sweltering summer. In October, the earth cleansed itself, offering up all its colors and fragrances, earnestly responding to the sky’s outpouring of blue. The air conditioning was long off, autumn breezes wafting through open windows as everyone donned long sleeves, Qingyu included. She immersed herself in a sea of practice problems, her desk piled high with books that rose above the windowsill. Occasionally, the wind would rustle their pages, one of the few sounds of movement in the otherwise still atmosphere.
She still habitually turned her head towards the window when lost in thought or daydreaming, accustomed to Ming Sheng’s occasional appearances on the basketball court. Outside of school, she had grown used to life without Li Fanghao by her side. Wang Mumu had sent another letter, which Qingyu carefully stored in her desk drawer at home along with the previous two. The letters never mentioned any boys, and Qingyu secretly hoped that one day Li Fanghao might suddenly return home and read them without permission. That way, she wouldn’t have to bring up the sleeping pill incident herself.
We can never mention my sister again, but I can’t pretend I don’t know about the sleeping pills, Qingyu thought. I must make Mom understand that it’s not wrong for her to take care of herself. She needs to trust that her daughter has grown up and can take responsibility for her actions.
Qiao Qingyu anxiously imagined the moment she would confront Li Fanghao. Would her mother be furious or heartbroken? Would she curse her or embrace her in tears?
Qingyu hoped her performance would satisfy Li Fanghao. Reflecting on the past three months, she believed she had truly focused without distractions. In the practice exams and monthly tests, she improved her ranking each time. In the most recent monthly exam, she ranked 48th in her grade—a score that could secure admission to Peking or Tsinghua University, excluding those already admitted.
The daily pressure was exhausting. She no longer went to the library. In her reply to Wang Mumu, she wrote that her soul was rapidly withering.
“I’m like a clock that my mom has wound up,” Qingyu wrote. “Remember the eagle I told you about? Eagles circle too, repeating the same path in the sky, but they’re free to leave anytime.”
As she wrote this, Qingyu admitted to herself that she thought of Ming Sheng. He poured all his available time into basketball, his dedicated figure inspiring Qingyu like a motivational quote etched behind the camphor trees. Of course, she believed her admiration for Ming Sheng was normal, just like many other classmates thought—look, Ming Sheng is already guaranteed a starting position, yet he works so hard; what excuse do we have not to give our all? See, exams are like ball games; one good performance doesn’t guarantee consistent success. Only through diligent practice can we ensure a higher chance of victory in the end. That’s the principle. Her praise for Ming Sheng was reasonable and within bounds.
What wasn’t reasonable was her melancholy. Sitting behind the glass window, she envied Ming Sheng’s vast world of sweat and effort.
“I’m not an eagle; I don’t have the right to choose,” Qingyu continued. “I’ve grown in a confined space, not the vast sky. The firmament I’ve long gazed upon is a transparent dome. I can never truly attain freedom. Realizing this, understanding that I can never truly escape the world I grew up in, good grades can’t bring me real happiness.”
“You should write. Words are boundless,” Mumu encouraged in her reply. “That’s your sky.”
Qingyu seriously considered Mumu’s suggestion. Two days later, while waiting for the bus after school, she entered the stationery store behind the bus stop and bought a thin notebook with a light green cover. She planned to keep this notebook at school, jotting down her occasional thoughts or worries.
After buying the notebook, she did something else—she used the store’s phone to call Mumu’s dormitory.
“Qingqing!”
“Sister Mumu.”
They didn’t talk long, as Mumu was about to leave to take the subway across half of Beijing for her tutoring job. In their brief conversation, she asked Qingyu if she had returned the book to Ming Sheng, her tone sounding very casual.
“Yes,” Qingyu decided to lie for some reason, “I returned it.”
“When is your mom coming back?” Mumu asked, seemingly forgetting about the photo in the book.
“My grandfather can stand now,” Qingyu said, “but he’s not as strong as before, so my mom is still in Nanqiao Village taking care of him.”
“Then your home must be even quieter now,” Mumu laughed, “the environment I dreamed of in high school.”
It was more than quiet; it was lonely, solitary. When closing the curtains at night, Qingyu couldn’t help but glance across the street. The once pristine home of Ming Sheng’s grandfather now bustled with life, while the cluttered kitchen of Mumu’s home had become empty and tidy, silent. This stirred a strange, faint melancholy in her heart.
The day after calling Mumu, during lunch when Ming Sheng wasn’t at his seat and most of the class had gone to the cafeteria, Qingyu took out “Totto-chan: The Little Girl at the Window,” which had been in her bag for three or four months, and placed it neatly in the center of Ming Sheng’s desk.
She tucked the half photo into the book, on the same page where Mumu had originally placed it.
“Tsk!”
Qingyu looked up to see Ye Zilin leaning against the wall, eyeing her with contempt.
“Putting more junk on Sheng’s desk?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Slut, just like your sister.”
“Say that again?”
“Slut, slut,” Ye Zilin sat up straight. “Your sister could be bought with money, right? Do you think you’re any better? A family of loose women.”
Qingyu wished she could ignore this and walk away, but she couldn’t.
“Always acting so high and mighty, even writing articles to defend your sister… You should feel guilty. With your sister’s slutty behavior, she must have seduced your brother first…”
The commotion caught the attention of the few classmates still studying in the room. They turned their heads, then expressionlessly turned back.
“Shut up,” Qingyu trembled all over.
“Hit a nerve, didn’t I?” Ye Zilin turned away dismissively. “Those who are pitiful must have done something detestable.”
Qingyu felt she should walk away; if she didn’t, she might turn into a madwoman and lunge at Ye Zilin to tear apart her greasy face. But she still didn’t move. Tears crowded her eyes as she struggled to hold them back.
“Qiao Qingyu?” Guan Lan’s voice came from behind. “Why are you standing here?”
The tears fell as she hurriedly turned around. Through her blurred vision, she saw four faces at the back door: Guan Lan, Deng Meixi, Chen Shen, and Ming Sheng.
She felt utterly ridiculous, yet her nose stung even more, and her eyes seemed to burst like a dam.
“Qiao Qingyu?” Guan Lan approached, grasping her sleeve and looking up with concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I’m fine,” Qingyu quickly wiped away her tears, forcing a smile. “I’m okay.”
“Why are you crying behind Sheng’s seat?”
In her peripheral vision, Qingyu knew Ming Sheng hadn’t moved since seeing her, facing her direction while standing at the door. She lacked the courage to turn and meet his gaze.
“I was returning a book for Sister Mumu,” she explained to Guan Lan. “I put it on the desk. Please tell Ming Sheng.”
Then she ran, passing between the shocked Chen Shen and Deng Meixi, brushing past Ming Sheng’s tense shoulder, fleeing the scene.