In the end, Jin Chao didn’t get an answer from Jiang Mu. She fell silent, seemingly asleep.
The next morning, worried that Jiang Mu wouldn’t be able to get out for school, Jin Chao specifically opened the rolling door before dawn – probably the earliest opening time in Feichi Auto Shop’s history.
From outside the shop, he could hear Jiang Mu’s phone alarm ring three times, yet there was still no movement inside. When it rang for the fourth time, he finally couldn’t stand it anymore. He dropped what he was holding and knocked on the rest area door. The alarm inside still rang. He opened the door, lifted the curtain, and asked, “Not going to school?”
What he saw was a girl with her entire head stuffed under the pillow, her phone ringing lonely on the bedside table.
Jin Chao walked over in a few steps and turned off the alarm. Looking down at Jiang Mu wrapped tightly in her blankets, he finally understood that her WeChat name “Heavy Sleeper” was truly the best interpretation of her self-awareness.
Due to his experiences in his first two years in Tong Gang with Jin Qiang, Jin Chao had become a light sleeper, waking at the slightest sound and rarely oversleeping. So he couldn’t understand how someone could be this difficult to wake up.
He pulled away the pillow and said to her, “Get up.”
No response. It was exactly like when she was in kindergarten – every day Jiang Ying Han would pull her up, and she would lean against Jiang Ying Han’s embrace with her eyes closed until Jiang Ying Han had stuffed her little arms and legs into her clothes, carried her to the bathroom, and even after washing her face and brushing her teeth, her eyes would still be closed.
But she was small then – at worst, they could just put her clothes on for her. Now that she was grown, he couldn’t very well dress her, could he?
He could only bend down and pat her, but as soon as his hand touched her, she threw a tantrum, waving her arm and mumbling, “Don’t bother me.”
“…”
Jin Chao withdrew his hand and straightened up, his voice cool as he dropped the words: “If you’re not out in five minutes, better think of an excuse for being late.”
As soon as he left, Jiang Mu’s consciousness suddenly returned. She bounced up from the bed, frantically searching for her phone.
Jin Chao had just left the rest area when he heard a “thump” from inside – who knew what she had bumped into? Then came crashing sounds like someone was demolishing the place.
Although Jiang Mu had tried her best to hurry, it still took her a full ten minutes to emerge. Her school uniform zipper was open, one shoelace tied and one loose, her schoolbag dangling from her hand as she rushed to Jin Chao, who was crouching down working, and asked, “I don’t know the way, how do I get to Fu Zhong?”
Jin Chao unscrewed a cap, draining oil from a car, and without looking up told her: “Bus 6 across the street, get off at Yang Bei Station.”
Jiang Mu rushed toward the street with her school bag. Jin Chao slowly turned his gaze to watch her. She made a show of running a few steps before turning back, squinting: “I’m going to be late.”
Jin Chao stayed crouched without moving: “And?”
Jiang Mu’s eyes wandered to Iron Rooster’s motorcycle that he hadn’t taken home last night, and she shuffled two steps closer, lingering by the back seat.
Jin Chao screwed the car’s cap back on. The sky wasn’t fully bright yet, and the street had that unique dawn haziness and chill of early autumn. His profile was sharp and cold in the half-light as he said quietly: “Would rather go hungry than give up ten minutes of sleep?”
“I can’t be sleep-deprived.”
Jin Chao looked at her sideways, and Jiang Mu continued: “The bed is dependent on me.”
“…”
Jin Chao straightened up and picked up a bag from the stool behind him, handing it to her. Jiang Mu paused before taking the breakfast. She saw Jin Chao start the motorcycle and say to her: “Zip up.”
Jiang Mu stood there with her schoolbag in one hand and breakfast in the other, looking around for somewhere to put things down. Jin Chao glanced back at her, then turned and pulled her open uniform, drawing her in front of him.
Jiang Mu leaned forward as his shadow loomed over her. His strong fingers deftly caught the zipper, quickly pulling it up to enclose her completely. The sun cast its weak early light from the east, falling on Jin Chao’s lowered eyelashes, dyeing them a light color. Jiang Mu looked up at him, and at that moment, all the grievances, confusion, and concerns from before yesterday suddenly cleared like clouds parting to reveal the sun. Something in her heart warmed with the rising dawn.
However, on the road, Jiang Mu understood why Jin Chao had insisted she zip up. When the motorcycle shot out onto the street, Jiang Mu nearly choked on her moon-shaped bun. The morning breeze instantly became a gale hitting her face, forcing her to huddle behind Jin Chao to protect her bun, while still muttering, “Usually I can get up after three alarms at most, but mainly you kept me up late chatting last night…”
“…”
He didn’t even know how that counted as him chatting with her. What had he said? He had just been listening to her ramble, and when he finally got two words in, she had fallen asleep.
What should have been a fifteen-minute journey felt to Jiang Mu like Jin Chao was flying, arriving at the school gate in just two minutes and fifteen seconds?
Jiang Mu had only managed two bites of her moon-shaped bun. Seeing the school gates about to close, she hurriedly lowered her head to take a few more bites. Jin Chao got off the motorcycle, stared at her sneakers for a moment, then glanced at her buried in eating, and finally couldn’t stand it anymore. He dropped to one knee, causing Jiang Mu to freeze. Looking down, she saw Jin Chao’s fingers quickly loop around, retying her loose shoelace, before casually mounting the motorcycle again.
Jiang Mu’s heartbeat became erratic, feeling like she might choke again. She stuffed the remaining bun into Jin Chao’s hand, and with puffy cheeks, waved at him before preparing to run into school.
Jin Chao took the bun and called out: “Come back.”
Jiang Mu turned back with a puzzled expression. Jin Chao pushed the rearview mirror toward her. Looking in the mirror, Jiang Mu saw her short hair had been blown into a dramatic pompadour, sticking up messily on top of her head. Only her features could withstand such a look without becoming unbearable to look at, but it was still quite a sight. Her face burning, she instinctively glanced at Jin Chao, who looked away. She tried to act casual as she fixed her hair back to its neat ear-length style, then turned and stepped through the school gates just as the bell rang.
Jin Chao turned his head, watching her silently with a small smile. When the security guard craned his neck to look at him, he quickly snapped on his helmet, all expression vanishing as he made a U-turn and disappeared from the school gates.
Jiang Mu and Teacher Ma entered the classroom almost one after the other, so he naturally noticed her. After walking up to the podium, he specifically looked at Jiang Mu, who unhurriedly took out her test papers and pen.
In Teacher Ma’s eyes, this girl’s personality was vastly different from her brother’s. If the former Jin Chao had been like the blazing sun impossible to ignore on this campus, refusing to admit defeat, then this girl was more like the gentle moonlight, neither competing nor grabbing.
In fact, for Jiang Mu, this year of retaking classes was less about fighting for better college entrance exam scores and more about buying herself some time to figure out her path forward.
Jiang Ying Han hoped she would study economics or law, but she wasn’t interested. The mere thought of statistics, calculus, linear algebra, or those complex legal codes made her head spin.
In her old classmates’ eyes, she could easily get into an art school, given her skill with the guzheng and her appearance would easily earn her a ticket to an arts college.
These might all be promising majors, but none were what she truly liked or wanted to pursue. Even her guzheng skills were drilled into her by Jiang Ying Han from childhood, one grade level and one piece at a time. Her mother had said that girls should have some skill in hand – if they couldn’t find work or got fed up with their boss, they could at least teach guzheng to avoid starving. But as for actually enjoying it, she really couldn’t say she did.
If she hadn’t had that big fight with Jiang Ying Han, if she hadn’t become passive about the college entrance exam, she might have just muddle-headedly chosen any major. Then inevitably, she would have drifted along for the next few years, studying her major courses, taking various certificates linked to employment, and then applying for internships and jobs.
Before, with her mother by her side, she was used to following the path laid out for her. But because of this unexpected turn of events, Jiang Mu gained a completely new perspective on her future path – one where she could follow her heart entirely and hold her future in her own hands.
So compared to other driven and ambitious third-year students, she was more laid-back. After all, she had already fed three years of her youth to homework until she couldn’t bear it anymore. For this year of retaking classes, as long as her grades didn’t slip, she didn’t want to exhaust herself.
Teacher Ma mentioned again in class about tomorrow’s first grade-wide assessment test, telling everyone to stay relaxed and not be afraid. It would be a good opportunity to understand their standing among their peers and set a direction for the sprint in the coming months.
The class immediately burst into chatter – some eager to try, others complaining about not being ready. Jiang Mu did not react at all. After all, she had just gone through five major exams, three provincial mock tests, one city mock test, and the college entrance exam in the first half of the year, so she was very calm about this school mock test.
As soon as class ended, Pan Kai came over and called out: “Jiang Jiang, Jiang Jiang, tomorrow the whole grade will be mixed up for seating, right? We don’t know if we’ll be in the same class. What was your score on the last college entrance exam?”
Without looking up, Jiang Mu replied: “332.”
Pan Kai was slightly shocked. He had observed that apart from arriving just before being late, Jiang Mu seemed to have a proper attitude toward studying. He had always thought she was a good student – why else would she be so self-disciplined and choose to repeat a year? He never expected her to be so far below the undergraduate admission line. Even Yan Xiaoyi beside Jiang Mu was left speechless, especially since she was copying Jiang Mu’s paper – now she didn’t know whether to continue copying or just write her own.
Pan Kai immediately consoled her: “It’s okay, it’s okay, we still have half a year. If you have any questions in the future, just ask me. Let’s aim to get into a second-tier university together.”
Jiang Mu silently glanced up at him, not bothering to explain that the admission score for liberal arts in Jiangsu’s second-tier universities was 284 – that had never been her goal.
She lowered her head again and opened her comprehensive arts test paper. Seeing her silence, Pan Kai continued rambling: “Don’t be nervous. If we end up in the same class tomorrow for the exam, I’ll find a way to help you.”
“…” Thanks a lot.
Suddenly remembering something, he changed the subject and leaned in closer, whispering to Jiang Mu: “Oh right, didn’t you mention someone called Tou Qi before? I found out who that person is.”
Jiang Mu’s hand holding the pen froze, and she looked up at him. Seeing her finally react, Pan Kai dragged his stool closer and said: “Yesterday I was playing basketball near the neighborhood with some people who graduated from Fu Zhong a few years ago. Someone mentioned this name, and I specially asked about it. They said it was a senior student from several years ago who was into motorcycles. They had a motorcycle team that often did off-road racing. The reason he was called Tou Qi was because he was so fast that anyone who encountered him would surely die – wouldn’t even make it to the seventh-day memorial service.”
Jiang Mu’s expression froze slightly. The feeling of flying on the back of Jin Chao’s motorcycle this morning suddenly rushed back, connecting with Pan Kai’s words – that skilled corner leans and overtaking predictions indeed seemed like those of a seasoned expert.
Pan Kai continued: “They say this person was famous back then. Not just at Fu Zhong, but everyone who rode motorcycles in Tong Gang knew him. At his peak, girls from several surrounding high schools would come to Fu Zhong to wait for him.”
“But later their motorcycles were confiscated, and things quieted down. Then something happened, and about a month or two before the college entrance exam, this person suddenly disappeared. No one at school ever saw him again. They say he didn’t even show up for the college entrance exam. The shame was that this Tou Qi had pretty good grades – even if he couldn’t get into Tsinghua, Peking, Fudan, Jiaotong, Zhejiang, or USTC, he could have easily gotten into top finance or economics universities. Quite legendary, right? Who would have thought our school had such a character? By the way, why are you asking about this person?”
The class bell rang, and Pan Kai had to drag his stool back to his seat, but Jiang Mu’s heart couldn’t calm down. She never imagined that Jin Chao hadn’t even taken the college entrance exam back then.
She suddenly remembered what he had told her that day. Jin Xin fell ill at age three, which would have been around Jin Chao’s third year of high school. She had asked if Jin Xin was difficult after getting sick, and he had told her there was a period when he wasn’t there, and when he came back, Jin Xin wasn’t difficult anymore.
So what exactly had happened? Where had he gone? Why did he suddenly disappear?
These questions surrounded Jiang Mu like a fog, but neither Jin Qiang, Jin Chao, nor even San Lai would speak about that past period. It seemed everyone was deliberately avoiding a truth she couldn’t investigate. But the more this happened, the more intense her curiosity grew.
As a result, she spent almost the entire day thinking about Jin Chao. She couldn’t pretend not to know or care. Thinking of how Jin Chao had sent her to school that morning, helping her with her zipper and shoelaces, Jiang Mu felt a dull ache in her heart. She didn’t know what Jin Chao had gone through to make him so quiet now, but he hadn’t abandoned her. No matter how cold he appeared on the surface, no matter how often he acted like he didn’t care, Jiang Mu wasn’t stupid – she could feel his suppressed warmth.
But if he did care about her, why hadn’t he contacted her all these years? It seemed everything about him was impossible for Jiang Mu to figure out.
In the afternoon, she couldn’t help taking out her phone and sending Jin Chao a message: “Which bus did you say to take this morning?”
After a few minutes, Jin Chao replied: “Bus 6.”
Heavy Sleeper: “How many stops?”
Chao: “Three stops, get off at Tongren Li South.”
No extra words. During breaks, Jiang Mu read these few messages several times. During evening self-study, she sent him another message: “What are you doing?”
This time Jin Chao replied quickly, but with just two words: “Busy now.”
Jiang Mu took a photo of the mountain of practice books and test papers piled in front of her and sent it to him, along with a “crying” emoji to show she was working hard too.
Just after sending it, a voice appeared beside her: “Jiang Jiang, who are you messaging?”
Jiang Mu looked up to see Pan Kai leaning over, hurriedly put away her phone, and replied: “Family.”
Xiao Yang and the others had already finished work. A car owner was in a hurry to get their car, and Jin Chao was at the shop entrance giving this old customer a free bottle of windshield washer fluid. When his phone rang, he closed the hood, lit a cigarette, and leaned against the shop entrance to open the photo Jiang Mu had sent him. The messy desk was so piled up there was barely room to put anything down. He frowned, about to swipe away, when San Lai’s face suddenly appeared, casually commenting: “Well well, getting quite intimate, aren’t we?”
If he hadn’t said anything, Jin Chao wouldn’t have noticed – among the pile of test papers and books was a water bottle, and zooming in, reflected in it was Jiang Mu taking the photo, with a male student leaning in almost touching her. Jin Chao locked his phone and went to deliver the customer’s car.
On Jiang Mu’s side, after waiting a long time without getting a reply from Jin Chao, she assumed he was still busy and didn’t disturb him further.
After the evening self-study ended, Jiang Mu packed up her things and turned to Pan Kai: “I’m not going home today, don’t follow me.”
Pan Kai asked: “If you’re not going home, where are you going?”
Jiang Mu pressed her lips together without speaking, shouldered her backpack, and walked out of the classroom. Just outside the school gates, her phone vibrated. She took it out to see Jin Chao had replied with two words: “Across the street.”
Jiang Mu looked up in surprise toward the opposite side of the street. Under the black streetlight, Jin Chao stood tall, his shadow falling at his feet, proud and cool.