“‘To be near you, I’ve embraced the whole class.’ I am exactly the sort of person who does that kind of foolish thing.”

— Sherry’s Lab, The Ninth Year Through the Dream

While Xia Li was lost in her own thoughts, Wang Chen suddenly stopped walking, turned around, and asked Yan Sishi: “How do you translate this sentence?”

Yan Sishi glanced down at the page and began reading the original English passage in a low voice, apparently to aid understanding: “The Maori invaders were dense farmers who engaged in fierce wars of long standing, equipped with more advanced technology and weapons, and operating under powerful leadership…”

Then he translated it: “The sentence means that the Maori invaders were populous farmers who had long waged fierce and brutal wars, were equipped with more advanced technology and weapons, and operated under powerful leadership.”

Wang Chen nodded, pushed up his glasses. “You’ve really read this whole book?”

“How does it come so easily to you.” Wang Chen muttered.

“Your grammatical instincts are definitely solid — you might just be a little short on vocabulary.”

Xia Li felt her understanding of Yan Sishi shift a little further.

He seemed so cool and distant, yet with someone he was familiar with he was, it turned out, quite warm and patient.

For someone so capable, there wasn’t a trace of arrogance about him.

There were several restaurants outside the school gates, all catering to students, reasonably priced.

They went to one Xia Li had been to before — Jufurestaurant. The space was small but clean.

It was a four-person table. Nie Chuhang dragged over a stool from a nearby table and set it at the side, right next to Yan Sishi.

He asked Lin Qingxiao to handle ordering, then wasted no time pulling out his test paper, drawing Yan Sishi in and resuming his interrogation of the final problem.

While the two of them were occupied, Xia Li took the chance to sneak a look at the cover of Wang Chen’s book: Guns, Germs, and Steel.

Nie Chuhang and Wang Chen argued their positions back and forth. Eventually Yan Sishi took the pencil from Nie Chuhang’s hand, sketched out a quick force analysis diagram, set down the equation, and dissolved the argument in a few strokes.

Nie Chuhang was very pleased. “I’m so glad I got it right.”

Wang Chen scratched his head. “I haven’t sat a monthly exam in so long, I’ve gone rusty.”

Nie Chuhang said, “Top student — can I come to you with questions again next time?”

Nie Chuhang blinked, hadn’t said a word yet, when Yan Sishi added: “Just don’t call me ‘top student.’ Call me by my name.”

Before the arts-sciences split, Xia Li hadn’t been bad at biology, chemistry, or maths, though she’d found physics a bit of a struggle. She had considered going into the sciences, but in the end chose the arts as the safer option.

For ordinary people, there wasn’t much room for trial and error in life.

Before long, the dishes they’d ordered arrived.

They ate and chatted.

Nie Chuhang asked about the curriculum in the international class — whether it was very different.

Wang Chen answered: “We mostly follow the AP curriculum — natural sciences, maths and computer science, and humanities and social sciences. Unlike Yan Sishi, who started preparing in Year One, most of us only began in Year Two, which is honestly a little behind schedule. Our English isn’t up to the level of local students abroad. So most people are going with natural sciences or maths and computing.”

Lin Qingxiao asked: “You still have to sit other exams on top of that, right? Like TOEFL?”

“TOEFL is compulsory. And some universities also want SAT scores. There’s no SAT testing centre on the mainland — when the time comes, we’ll have to travel to Hong Kong or Singapore. It’s quite a hassle.” He pushed up his glasses. “If I’d known it was this complicated, I’d have stayed in the sciences experimental class.”

Lin Qingxiao said: “Everyone had the wrong idea. People thought the international class was quite relaxed.”

“Not at all!” Wang Chen seemed genuinely indignant. “We just don’t have morning self-study, and evening self-study ends a bit earlier — everything else is the same.”

“What do you do during evening self-study?”

“Mainly English conversation and writing.”

While the others talked, Xia Li was quietly, unobtrusively watching Yan Sishi across the table.

Chucheng people had a taste for heavy flavours — not quite at the level of Yunnan, Guizhou, Sichuan, Hunan, or Jiangxi, but still quite spicy.

Xia Li noticed that after a couple of bites, Yan Sishi became hesitant about lifting his chopsticks again. Tiny beads of sweat were beginning to form faintly at the tip of his nose and across his forehead.

His skin was pale. The moment his ears went red, it showed immediately.

Xia Li lightly bit down on the tips of her chopsticks, considered for a moment, then set them down and stood up.

Near the cash register was a refrigerated display case. She walked over, pulled open the door, and took out three bottles of cold water. On her way back to the table, she handed the first one to Lin Qingxiao. “I think the food might be a little spicy. Do you all want some cold water?”

“Is it spicy? I hadn’t noticed.” Lin Qingxiao said. “Actually, could I have a Sprite?”

Xia Li nodded, and handed the water to Yan Sishi.

He paused slightly as he took it. “Thank you.”

She gave the three bottles of water to the three boys, then went back to the refrigerated case for two cans of Sprite — one each for her and Lin Qingxiao.

“Can I add one more dish?” she said.

No one objected.

Xia Li caught the server’s attention. “Could we please add a water-boiled baby cabbage, no chilli?”

Lin Qingxiao leaned over with a puzzled murmur: “You can usually take the spice though.”

“…” Xia Li pretended not to hear.

After dinner, Nie Chuhang paid for the whole table. Everyone worked out their share and settled up with him.

At the restaurant door, Lin Qingxiao said she was going to the supermarket next door for yoghurt.

Nie Chuhang said at once, “I’ll come with you.”

Xia Li had no interest in being a third wheel, so she said she’d head back to the classroom.

Wang Chen, Yan Sishi, and Xia Li walked back together.

Xia Li had never been much of a conversationalist, and now, faced with just these two, she had absolutely no idea what to say.

Wang Chen helped by picking up his book again and reading as he walked.

Before she knew it, she and Yan Sishi were once more walking side by side.

Chances like this wouldn’t come often — she knew that.

From the corner of her eye she glimpsed the hem of his jacket lifting in the breeze, and felt her own mood lifting with it, just as restless.

“…Have you read Mushishi yet?” Xia Li spoke.

Yan Sishi seemed not to have heard clearly.

He leaned his head very slightly in her direction. “Sorry?”

In that instant, Xia Li’s heart nearly leapt straight out of her chest. “…I said, have you read Mushishi?”

“I’ve read three volumes. Just started the fourth.”

“Is it good?”

“Yes. The setting is really original.”

Xia Li let herself smile a little.

The one who had recommended it to him wasn’t her, and yet she felt, for no good reason, reassured.

She couldn’t think of how to continue the conversation. But even just walking alongside him in silence was enough to make her feel unsteady and not quite real.

The short stretch of covered walkway suddenly seemed far shorter than it was. In no time at all they arrived at the door of Class Twenty.

Wang Chen marched straight in, book still open in his hands.

Yan Sishi paused. “I’ll head in then.”

Xia Li kept her tone easy and offhand: “Bye.”

After the monthly exams, evening self-study was generally free time.

She had barely sat down when the class monitor came to collect several subject representatives to go to the office and help mark papers and record scores.

It was nearly time for self-study to end before Xia Li made it back to the classroom.

When the bell rang, Lin Qingxiao and Xu Ning had already packed up and came straight over to her.

Xu Ning: “I heard from Qingxiao that you know…”

“Shh!” Xia Li didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention. “…Let’s walk and talk.”

The three of them headed for the school gate. Lin Qingxiao had been holding it in far too long. “Confess. Now.”

“Don’t you both want to know how the monthly exam went? I was just in the office helping to…” Xia Li made an attempt to change the subject.

“Tell us about Yan Sishi first.” Lin Qingxiao wasn’t about to let her escape.

Xia Li kept it brief: her parents worked at the gypsum factory; the head of the conglomerate that owned the factory happened to be Yan Sishi’s grandfather; so she had met Yan Sishi once before term started, and then run into him again at a bookshop.

Xu Ning recalled. “The day of Xiao Yulong’s birthday.”

“Yes.”

“Very well-kept secret.”

“…Not really. We’re not even that close.”

“Closer than us, though.”

Lin Qingxiao agreed. “Seriously. Yan Sishi is genuinely hard to get close to. Ouyang Jing has a crush on him — she sent love letters several times and never got a response. She even tried to invite him to KTV, and every time he said, ‘Sorry, I’m busy.'”

“…Ouyang Jing likes him?” Ouyang Jing was Lin Qingxiao’s friend from the arts class — the one she’d grown up in the same building with. She studied classical dance and was strikingly pretty.

“That’s not surprising. There are plenty of girls who like him. Tao Shiyue too, obviously.”

Xia Li didn’t say anything for a moment.

Lin Qingxiao glanced sideways at her, smiling. “Don’t tell me you have a secret crush on him?”

“I don’t.” Xia Li’s denial was completely calm.

She understood that when it came to matters of the heart, friends naturally wanted to help each other plan and strategize.

But somehow, she couldn’t do it. Especially now, having heard that so many girls liked him and were already doing something about it.

She preferred not to let a second person know.

Yan Sishi was her own private upheaval — hers alone.

In those days, everyone in the class was fond of Chen Yixun.

Xia Li had also been listening to “Below Fuji” which had just come out that summer. She kept a lyric notebook, and any line she loved had to be copied out by hand, character by character.

That song went on to be popular for years. Most of all, that one lyric:

Who could claim Fuji Mountain as their own, simply through the force of love?

After that, Xia Li would find herself thinking again and again:

Yan Sishi — so many people love you. Who could claim Fuji Mountain as their own, simply through the force of love?