When Wang Mumu’s second letter arrived, the first round of revision had just begun. Unlike last time, Wang Mumu used Renmin University’s envelope and wrote her name after the return address.
“You want to go to Renmin University too?” Guan Lan handed the letter to Qiao Qingyu, her face full of curiosity.
Qiao Qingyu understood her confusion—otherwise, why would Wang Mumu write to her?
“No,” she said nervously, trying to maintain a natural tone, “Sister Mumu and I are friends, we’re quite close.”
“Quite close?” Guan Lan couldn’t hide her surprise, then suddenly realized, “Oh right, you live in the same direction.”
“Yes, same neighborhood, she lives in the building opposite mine.”
“That close? Then Grandpa Sheng’s house is opposite yours too?”
“Yes.”
“Chaoyang New Village is so big…” Guan Lan looked shocked, “You live directly opposite Senior Mumu’s house?”
Qiao Qingyu had intended to brush off this question, but in reality, she shook her head, and before she could speak, Guan Lan excitedly cut in: “Opposite Grandpa Sheng’s house?”
“Um,” Qiao Qingyu pressed her lips together, like someone who had done something wrong, weakly admitting: “Yes.”
Guan Lan’s mouth hung open as she plopped down beside Qiao Qingyu, leaning in mysteriously: “Wow, that’s explosive. Let me ask you quietly, is there something between Sheng and Senior Mumu?”
Qiao Qingyu leaned back slightly, hesitantly asking in return: “What do you mean by something?”
“You know, that something,” Guan Lan grinned, “Don’t you think he became very dejected during the period before last year’s college entrance exam, and after Senior Mumu graduated?”
“Oh.”
“They say after the college entrance exam, Senior Mumu’s father fell ill, and Sheng would go to the hospital every day after school to comfort her,” Guan Lan said, “It shocked us all. Never seen him care so much about any girl.”
“Mm.”
“He liked going back to Chaoyang New Village a lot last year, you live opposite both of them, surely you must have noticed something?”
“No.”
“Nothing at all?”
“Couldn’t notice anything,” Qiao Qingyu paused, then said with all her courage, “Because there was nothing between them.”
“Are you sure?”
“Sure.”
Guan Lan looked at her with disbelief: “No, I feel you’re wrong, you’re too absorbed in your own world… Besides, you can’t watch the opposite building all the time, when they close their curtains, how would you know what happens?”
Qiao Qingyu felt somewhat helpless but was also amused by her: “Then why ask me?”
“Just asking,” Guan Lan raised her eyebrows playfully, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial tone, “Sheng’s ignoring Deng Meixi now, she’s miserable, I want to help her find out why.”
“Mm.”
“I heard Senior Mumu moved too?”
“Yes.”
“Where to?”
“Beijing,” Qiao Qingyu answered, “With her mother. Her father passed away.”
“Passed away?” Guan Lan’s eyes widened again.
“He passed on the day summer vacation started, that’s why you haven’t heard.” Qiao Qingyu explained.
Guan Lan nodded convincingly, looking at Qiao Qingyu up and down with amazed eyes as if seeing her for the first time: “Wow, I’m discovering you’re a hidden expert.”
Qiao Qingyu was amused again, laughing somewhat embarrassedly.
“I just happened to live close to them,” she paused, then added, “Once.”
“Mm, I decided to believe you, better to believe you than other nonsense,” Guan Lan said cheerfully, “There’s nothing between Sheng and Senior Mumu. I’ll tell Deng Meixi right away, tell her to stop overthinking.”
Chatting with Guan Lan gave Qiao Qingyu a different feeling; her relaxed attitude made Qiao Qingyu feel pleasant. After Guan Lan left, she opened Wang Mumu’s letter and read about Wang Mumu’s joy after entering university.
“In high school, I was too concerned about how classmates saw me, afraid to show any imperfect aspects of my life, fearing it would break their ideal image of me,” she wrote, “Now I’ve adjusted my mindset, accepted reality, applied for student loans, 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. The professor said it’s not difficult to resolve and will have her former students help me, without charging legal fees. Qingqing, my heart feels filled with new motivation, full of passionate dedication. Everything in my life is improving.”
At the end of the letter, she left her new mobile number, dormitory phone number, and return address.
Closing the letter, Qiao Qingyu looked out the window, the ever-flourishing camphor tree filling her heart. The first-morning class was about to begin, the tennis court in front of the camphor tree was empty, and on the equally empty basketball court behind it, a boy jumped high, the basketball in his hands drawing a smooth arc through the morning sunlight, crossing half the court to land steadily in the hoop.
It was Ming Sheng.
English class was about to start, but he seemed to have no intention of returning, continuing to dribble and shoot on the basketball court. The classroom air conditioning was still on, and windows tightly closed, but Qiao Qingyu could feel the sound of the basketball hitting the ground, thump, thump-thump, thump. She knew he was preparing for this year’s city basketball tournament, wanting to lift the championship trophy. The last chance, yes.
English teacher Xiao Wu stood at the podium. Qiao Qingyu came back to her senses, suppressing her desire to look out the window again.
Everyone is sweating profusely, she told herself. I must work hard too—
September was the lingering spark after summer’s sweep, and in October, the earth cleansed itself, offering all its colors and fragrance, responding with sincerity to the sky’s generous expanse of blue. The air conditioning was long unused, the autumn wind gusted through the open windows, and everyone had switched to long sleeves. Qiao Qingyu was the same. She was buried in a sea of exam papers, books piled higher than the windowsill on her desk, occasionally rustling in the wind—one of the few moving sounds in the stagnant time.
She still habitually turned her head toward the window when lost in thought or spacing out, growing accustomed to Ming Sheng’s occasional appearance on the basketball court. During time away from school, she had also grown accustomed to life without Li Fanghao beside her. Wang Mumu later sent another letter, which Qiao Qingyu kept carefully in her desk drawer at home along with the previous two. The letters didn’t mention any boys, and she even secretly hoped Li Fanghao would suddenly return home one day and read the letters without permission, so she wouldn’t have to bring up the sleeping pills herself.
Sister’s matter can remain unspoken forever, but I can’t pretend not to know about the sleeping pills, Qiao Qingyu thought. I must make Mom understand that taking care of yourself isn’t wrong, you should trust that your daughter has grown up and can bear her guilt.
She anxiously imagined waiting for the moment of confrontation with Li Fanghao. Would Mom be furious or heartbroken, would she curse her or hold her and cry?
Qiao Qingyu hoped her performance would satisfy Li Fanghao. Looking back at the past three months, she believed she had truly maintained a singular focus. In the preliminary test, return-to-school test, and two monthly tests, she had improved by several ranks each time. In the most recent monthly test, she ranked forty-eighth in the grade—excluding those already admitted through recommendations, this score could get her into Peking or Tsinghua University.
The daily pressure had left her somewhat exhausted. She no longer went to the library, and in her reply to Wang Mumu, she said her soul was rapidly withering.
“I’m like a clock, my mom wound me up long ago,” Qiao Qingyu wrote, “Remember the eagle I told you about? Eagles also circle, repeating the same path in the sky, but eagles are free, they can leave at any time.”
Writing these words, Qiao Qingyu admitted she had seen and thought of Ming Sheng. He had invested all available time into basketball, his practicing figure inspiring Qiao Qingyu like the motivational quotes behind the camphor tree. Of course, she believed her admiration for Ming Sheng was normal, just like many other classmates thought—look, Ming Sheng was already guaranteed a starting position yet still worked so hard, what excuse do we have not to give it our all? Look, exams are like basketball games, one success doesn’t guarantee continued success, and only through diligent practice can we ensure ultimate victory. That’s the principle. Her praise for Ming Sheng hadn’t crossed any boundaries, it was reasonable.
What wasn’t reasonable was her melancholy, sitting behind the glass window, envying Ming Sheng’s vast world where he could sweat freely.
“I’m not an eagle, I don’t have the right to choose,” Qiao Qingyu wrote again, “I grew up in a confined space rather than the vast sky, the firmament I’ve long gazed up at is actually a transparent dome, I can never obtain true freedom. Understanding this, understanding that I can never truly escape the world I grew up in, grades can’t bring me real happiness.”
“You should write, words are boundless,” in her reply, Wang Mumu encouraged her, “That’s your sky.”
Qiao Qingyu seriously considered Wang Mumu’s suggestion. Two days later, while waiting for the bus home after school, she walked into the stationery store behind the bus stop and bought a thin notebook with the same light green cover. This notebook, she decided, would stay at school, for jotting down her occasional thoughts or worries.
After buying the notebook, she did another thing—used the store’s phone to call Wang Mumu’s dormitory.
“Qingqing!”
“Sister Mumu.”
They didn’t talk long, as Wang Mumu was about to leave to take the subway across half of Beijing for tutoring. In their brief conversation, she asked Qiao Qingyu if she had returned the book to Ming Sheng, her tone sounding very casual and relaxed.
“Mm,” for some reason Qiao Qingyu decided to lie, “I returned it.”
“When is your mom coming back?” Wang Mumu asked, seemingly completely forgetting about the photo in the book.
“My grandfather can stand now,” Qiao Qingyu said, “But he’s not as strong as before, so my mom is still in Nan Qiao Village taking care of him.”
“Then your home is even quieter,” Wang Mumu laughed, “The environment I dreamed of in high school.”
Not just quiet, but lonely, solitary. When pulling the curtains at night, Qiao Qingyu unconsciously looked across, Grandpa Sheng’s house, once the clearest, was now full of domestic life, while Wang Mumu’s cluttered kitchen had become empty and neat, silent and still. This stirred a strange, faint melancholy in her heart.
The day after calling Wang Mumu, during lunch when Ming Sheng wasn’t at his seat and most of the class had gone to the cafeteria, Qiao Qingyu took out “The Little Girl at the Window” that had been lying in her bag for three or four months, and placed it neatly in the center of Ming Sheng’s desk.
That half photo, she tucked into the same page where Wang Mumu had originally placed it.
“Tch~”
At the sound, Qiao Qingyu saw Ye Zilin leaning against the wall, looking at her with contempt.
“Putting more messy stuff on Sheng’s desk?”
“None of your business.”
“Slut, just like your sister.”
“Say that again?”
“Slut, slut,” Ye Zilin sat up straight, “Your sister would sleep with anyone who had money, you think you’re any better? A family of loose women.”
Qiao Qingyu hoped she could ignore it and walk away with dignity, but she couldn’t.
“Always acting so high and mighty, even writing articles to defend your sister… you must feel guilty, with your sister being such a slut, she seduced your brother first…”
The commotion between them startled the few classmates still studying in the classroom, who turned their heads, and then turned back expressionlessly.
“Shut up.” Qiao Qingyu trembled all over.
“Hit a nerve, didn’t I,” Ye Zilin turned away lightly, “Those who deserve pity must have done something to deserve hatred.”
Qiao Qingyu felt she should walk away now, if she didn’t she would become a madwoman, would rush over and tear apart Ye Zilin’s greasy face. But she still didn’t move. Tears crowded in her eyes as she struggled to hold them back.
“Qiao Qingyu?” Guan Lan’s voice came from behind, “What are you doing standing here?”
The tears fell just as she hurriedly turned around, through the blur she saw four faces at the back door: Guan Lan, Deng Meixi, Chen Shen, and Ming Sheng.
She felt herself utterly ridiculous, yet her nose grew more sour, her eyes like broken dams.
“Qiao Qingyu?” Guan Lan came closer, holding her sleeve, looking up at her with concern: “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I’m fine,” Qiao Qingyu quickly raised her hand to wipe away tears, forcing a smile, “I’m fine.”
“Why are you crying behind Sheng’s seat?”
In her peripheral vision, Qiao Qingyu knew Ming Sheng hadn’t moved since seeing her, facing her, still standing in the doorway. She didn’t dare 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.