On the sixth day of the new year, senior year’s third term began.

New term, new arrangements – seats were reassigned based on last semester’s final exam results.

Shengxia’s new deskmate was Li Shiyi, Zhou Xuanxuan’s former deskmate. Both their grades were middle-ranked in the class.

Zhou Xuanxuan’s grades hadn’t changed much, so she sat in front of Shengxia.

Among others around Shengxia, only Qi Xiulei on her left was somewhat familiar.

Zhang Shu still sat at the last desk in a separate row.

Even after his Waterloo, he was still first in Class 6.

When changing seats, Xin Xiaohe hugged Shengxia and pretended to cry woefully. She waited until almost everyone had moved before reluctantly relocating.

But that certain someone on her right only asked: “Do you have anything else at my desk?”

Then moved away.

He came back to help her move, first the desk, then the book box.

Then asked again: “Anything else to move?”

Shengxia: “No.”

The process seemed no different.

But Shengxia felt something had changed.

He didn’t even make eye contact with her anymore.

Too different.

What exactly happened to him yesterday?

Did something happen at home that put him in a bad mood?

With seats separated by half a classroom, he didn’t come to find her, and she didn’t know whether to ask.

During breaks, he was either sleeping face-down or doing practice problems.

During the last morning break, Shengxia used getting water as an excuse to pass by the back door. Seeing him browsing his phone, probably free, she was about to go say hello. But before she could even get out the “A” in “Ashu,” she saw him lying down to sleep again.

Then it wouldn’t be convenient to disturb him.

By lunchtime, Shengxia hadn’t finished packing up when she saw Zhang Shu had already left the classroom, not even waiting for Hou Junqi.

Hou Junqi called after him, “Ashu, wait for me?” Then turned to call Shengxia, “Hurry up, little Shengxia!”

Shengxia quickened her pace to catch up with Hou Junqi.

But they were still left far behind by Zhang Shu.

By the time they reached the restaurant, Zhang Shu was already eating.

Shengxia and Hou Junqi sat in their usual spots.

Complete silence throughout.

“Ashu, are you sick?” Hou Junqi asked.

Zhang Shu: “Are you cursing me?”

Hou Junqi: …

Shengxia ate with her head down, not joining the conversation.

She felt his way of talking with Hou Junqi was the same as always.

So it was just with her that things were different.

This intuition was further confirmed each day after that.

He seemed very tired, sleeping during almost every break. In the mornings, he went back to arriving just before the bell. For evening self-study, he only stayed for two periods before leaving – it was quite strange.

Everything else seemed normal – he still explained things when others asked questions, and when hanging out with the boys, he still occasionally made cutting remarks. You couldn’t say he was unhappy either.

So even Hou Junqi hadn’t noticed anything wrong.

The three of them still ate together, Zhang Shu still took care of Shengxia as always – he would carry her backpack when it was heavy, and get her soup when she forgot.

Their communication didn’t seem different either.

Perhaps because normally, Shengxia didn’t talk much, and their conversations often went without response.

Sometimes Shengxia wondered if she was overthinking things.

But the silent QQ chat window told her everything had changed.

After submitting her manuscripts, she no longer needed to write until midnight, going to bed at twelve instead.

After tossing and turning several rounds, she opened her eyes resignedly, staring blankly at the ceiling. As if possessed, the ceiling seemed like a screen, projecting various scenes of him.

Everything was the same, yet everything was different.

His eyes had lost their sparkle, his words had lost their intimacy. And only when it came to her.

She finally confirmed – he was distancing himself from her.

On her phone, the most recent QQ chat was with Tao Zhizhi.

That day of the “date,” Tao Zhizhi had practically “live streamed” the whole thing, to the point where she was even more unable to accept it than Shengxia at the end.

“What? He didn’t come?”

“No way, it was your first date!”

“He was the one who called it a date!”

“Did he not say what happened?”

“Did something happen at home?”

These questions, Shengxia couldn’t answer either. She wanted to know too.

All these days, he showed no intention of explaining, just unwilling to bring it up.

Thinking carefully, they weren’t that familiar with each other. She couldn’t even guess what kind of problems he might encounter.

Among the people they knew in common, besides classmates, there was only Zhang Sujin.

But lately, Zhang Sujin seemed in good spirits, not like there were any family issues.

“Never mind, you went looking so pretty, it’s his loss not seeing you!”

“Xiaoxia, don’t be sad, I’ll curse him with you on the weekend!”

These were Tao Zhizhi’s last two messages.

Was she sad?

Of course.

On the way there that day, she had specially brought two helmets, even wondering if she should hold his waist when he gave her a ride, would that be too forward? Just thinking about it made her cheeks burn.

And on the way back, looking at the unused helmet, her eyes suddenly grew hot.

Blushing on the way there, teary-eyed leaving.

Confusion, heartache, regret.

Of course, she was sad.

So sad she never wanted to date again.

Shengxia unconsciously opened QQ Space again, refreshing the homepage until it repeated, then listlessly scrolled back up. Suddenly remembering how he said he’d analyzed her birthday from her message board that night he confessed, she clicked on his message board.

The earliest posts were from a year ago, with content insignificant, just things like “stepping by.”

When exiting, she clicked on previous notification messages.

Casually scrolling down, almost all were his likes and comments on her posts.

Someone who would go through her entire space, liking and commenting on every post, now didn’t say a word.

Her nose tingled with a hint of sourness as she stared blankly at those comments.

Suddenly, Shengxia sat up sharply.

She scrolled to the bottom and read up one by one, backward.

[I’m dizzy.]

[Like spring? Nanli has no spring, thanks.]

[Go to school happily, come home joyfully.]

[You probably don’t take the Thunder God and Lightning Mother seriously.]

[This is your style?]

[Got it, great writer.]

[Hearsay is truth.]

[Understood.]

[?]

I – like – you – you – know – right – understood – already – ?

Shengxia couldn’t believe it as she confirmed one more time.

It was true, even the order was correct, how could this be a coincidence?

At the time she had felt that besides the first few sentences somewhat relating to her posts, the later ones were just nonsense.

She hadn’t paid much attention.

But when was that?

It was the night they returned from Binjiang Park.

Had he liked her that early?

Shengxia lay back down, tossing her phone aside dejectedly, staring blankly at the ceiling.

If that was the case, then why?

He liked her, she knew now. So what?

His feelings, she couldn’t understand.

Perhaps, did she have the right to ask?

Shengxia wasn’t sure, but a voice in her heart was crying out, urging her on.

She picked up her phone again and posted a status, visible only to “Song Jiang.”

…

[In times when warmth still carries chill, it’s hardest to find peace.]

At two in the morning, Zhang Shu saw Shengxia’s status.

The desk lamp was still on, he had just finished studying for the day.

In weather neither hot nor cold, she couldn’t sleep.

If he remembered correctly, this poem had a line before: “Seeking and searching, cold and quiet, sorrowful and grieving.”

That line seemed more fitting for him.

Twisting his tired neck and shoulders, Zhang Shu stood up, looked at the time, hesitated for a few seconds, but still knocked on Zhang Sujin’s door.

“Sis, wake up.”

“Sis?”

“Sis!”

Zhang Sujin opened the door, looking unhappy. Who would be in a good mood being woken up in the middle of the night?

However, the next second, she was wide awake.

Zhang Shu stood tall at the door, saying heavily: “Sis, I’m in love.”

Zhang Sujin quietly looked at her brother, blinked, stepped out of her room, and walked to the living room, sitting down on the sofa.

“Get me some water.”

Zhang Shu gave an “oh,” went to get it, and grabbed himself a cola, opening it one-handed and tilting the can to pour it down his throat.

Zhang Sujin quietly watched the tall youth a few meters away, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and inexplicably felt her eyes grow hot.

The little boy who used to cling to her legs refusing to let go had grown up, grown up so well.

“Here.” Zhang Shu put the water on the coffee table in front of her, casually leaning against the TV cabinet himself. “You said to tell you whenever I fell in love.”

Zhang Sujin thought to herself: … Though it didn’t have to be in the middle of the night.

“With Shengxia?” Zhang Sujin got straight to the point.

After two seconds of silence, then Zhang Shu answered: “Not ‘with’, but ‘towards’.”

Zhang Sujin: “What do you mean, one-sided?”

Zhang Shu lowered his head: “It can’t be mutual, she’s going abroad.”

He explained everything from the confession onwards, briefly mentioning his conversation with Lu Youze and the aborted date.

Zhang Sujin asked: “What are you thinking?”

“I don’t know,” Zhang Shu took another drink, letting the carbonation stimulate his senses. “If it were at any other stage – first year, second year, or even just starting third year – I might have had solutions, but now, I have no solutions at all.”

Powerless, lost.

Zhang Sujin: “Have you asked her?”

“Hm?”

“Asked her what she thinks.”

Zhang Shu shook his head.

“The biggest difference between boys and girls facing problems is that boys only think about solving the problem, while girls care more about emotions and attitudes,” Zhang Sujin said. “Don’t make decisions for her, give her choices. You need to talk to understand what’s good for her. What you think is unselfish might not be what she wants.”

Zhang Shu: “Focusing on emotions without solving problems, doesn’t that mean possibly being irrational? If we continue, what if it affects her studies and future?”

Zhang Sujin nodded: “Maybe it will, but even if it ends, there should be a proper goodbye.”

Zhang Shu fell silent, thoughts unclear, his gaze unfocused.

Zhang Sujin said: “The reason I asked you to tell me when you fell in love was to warn you to protect girls, both physically and mentally. Not that girls are especially fragile, but girls take much longer than boys to heal from hurt, some even carry it their whole lives. The more innocent they are, the more this is true. You already did wrong by not showing up for the date – she might never want to date you again.”

A sigh escaped from Zhang Shu’s lips.

“I understand.” He finished the remaining soda in one gulp, twisting the empty can until it was unrecognizable.

With a long throw, the can followed a parabolic arc and landed in the trash bin with a clang.

“Go to sleep, sis.”

Zhang Sujin didn’t say more – for Zhang Shu, one or two sentences were enough.

She stood up to return to her room. From behind came the youth’s powerless, defeated voice—

“Sis, I like her, like her so much it hurts to think about her.”

…

The next day when Shengxia woke up, she reflexively checked QQ. Besides Tencent News, there were no messages.

No likes or comments on her space either.

Not even a visitor record.

Had he not seen it?

Perhaps he’d gone to sleep early? He’d been going home early lately.

Thinking about doing practice problems together over voice chat, though only half a month ago, it felt like a lifetime away.

Zhang Shu still slept from morning to afternoon, though only during breaks.

During lunch, Shengxia noticed he didn’t check his phone either.

Thinking about the status she posted, she felt a bit embarrassed. If he hadn’t seen it, she’d better delete it tonight.

Lost in thought, she heard someone call her: “Shengxia, come out for a moment!”

It was Fu Jie calling. Wang Wei was there too.

Before she could stand up, she saw Zhang Shu suddenly wake up, as if hearing some signal, sharply raising his head to look at Shengxia, then following the voice to look outside the window.

His eyes carried the confusion between waking and sleeping.

Like an unconscious reaction.

Fu Jie laughed: “Zhang Shu, awake? Go back to sleep? Nobody called you, why are you getting up?”

The class erupted in laughter.

“Sleep sleep sleep, all you do is sleep. Even the bell can’t wake you, have you seen how many days are left on the countdown? Can you sleep your way back to first place?” Old Wang nagged endlessly.

Shengxia didn’t know whether she should go out at this point.

Wang Wei worried too much about Zhang Shu.

Someone suddenly called out: “He wakes up when Shengxia’s called! Shengxia’s name is his alarm!”

Another round of laughter erupted.

Shengxia’s face turned bright red.

It was one thing for them to tease in private, but how could they do this in front of teachers…

Zhang Shu gulped down half a bottle of water, as if trying to wake himself up, then said heavily: “What nonsense are you spouting?”

His tone carried real reproach.

That classmate froze, and Shengxia’s body stiffened.

This seemed to be his first time responding to classmates’ teasing.

It seemed like he was trying to avoid implications.

Wang Wei scolded the shouting student: “Focus on your studies!”

Then said gently: “Shengxia, come.”

…

“Shengxia, I must tell you this news immediately,” Fu Jie’s expression was grave. “Your manuscript didn’t pass the first selection. The editor said while individual pieces were fine, as a collection, it lacked a theme, too scattered. This is because we didn’t plan well before.”

It was actually because Shengxia had taken shortcuts. She had considered that a collection needed more unity, but her earlier writings were mostly spontaneous inspirations, naturally lacking a theme. Later she was reluctant to give up the tens of thousands of words already written.

Shengxia’s heart sank. “For theme, you mean unified by era or style?”

Fu Jie nodded: “Generally yes.”

“What about trying other publishers?”

“Probably similar results.”

Shengxia didn’t want to give up: “What if I rewrite?”

“Very difficult,” Fu Jie analyzed. “I’ve looked carefully. Among pieces from the same era, you have at most 8. But their styles vary too much. If counting by style, you have 6 bold pieces, and gentle pieces are the most at around 10. Many others are hard to classify and very niche.”

Even with 10 pieces of the same style, that was only 20-30 thousand words. There wasn’t enough time to rewrite.

Last semester during finals, she stayed up until dawn every night, sleeping only 4 hours, writing tirelessly – all for nothing.

A bolt from the blue.

When this phrase happens, people are stunned.

What hurts most isn’t having no hope, but watching hope shatter.

Seeing the young girl’s lips turn instantly pale, Wang Wei didn’t know whether to continue.

“Shengxia…” he still spoke up, “Director Li called asking about your transcript. Your grades from No.2 Middle School haven’t been uploaded. When you have time, send them to me.”

There was a buzzing in Shengxia’s ears, she barely heard clearly.

But she knew Fu Jie and Wang Wei hadn’t come for just one matter.

Fu Jie bumped Wang Wei’s arm, warning him with her eyes not to say more.

“Shengxia?” Fu Jie called her.

“Yes, teacher.”

Fu Jie consoled her: “If this path doesn’t work, focus all your energy on the college entrance exam. You’ve improved a lot, maintain it, push a bit more, and you can get into a good university.”

Shengxia murmured: “Mm, I understand. Thank you, teacher.”

She didn’t know how she got back to her seat, only realizing that for the first time in days when passing the back door, she hadn’t noticed what he was doing.

She could not care.

Tomorrow first and second years would officially start school too. Now preparing for evening study, the two neighboring teaching buildings were in uproar. The third years just shook their heads, sighed a bit, glanced at the countdown board, and continued buried in their work.

Most people still had to cross that single-plank bridge of the college entrance exam.

What made her think she could build a ladder to the clouds?

This was the limit of her ability, no other choice.

Shengxia took out her phone and opened QQ. In the chat window, the study abroad agency’s teacher had sent her a new class schedule.

SAT classes were being arranged too.

She still didn’t reply, clicked into her space, and deleted her latest status.

“Sheng Sheng Man” ah, it was a… boudoir lament poem.

A sad complaint destined to receive no response.

Shengxia popped a chocolate in her mouth, preparing to focus on studying.

At any time, dwelling in sadness brings no benefit.

Casually stuffing the chocolate wrapper into the garbage bag, she realized it was too full, squishing it against her deskmate Li Shiyi’s garbage bag. Li Shiyi looked at Shengxia with some displeasure.

Shengxia said “Sorry” and picked up the bag to throw it in the cleaning corner.

Before, when she shared a desk with Zhang Shu, her garbage bag always occupied his hook. Had he been annoyed? And her things always flying everywhere…

Sometimes even Xin Xiaohe was quite exasperated.

But he seemed to never say anything.

He looked like a difficult person but was very tolerant.

Shengxia threw the garbage bag into the big trash bin, shaking her heavy head – why was she thinking about him again?

Even throwing away garbage made her think of him.

Shengxia was about to turn around when suddenly the world went dark, accompanied by a chorus of screams and complaints—

A power outage?

Even the wealthy Fuzhong had power outages.

“Damn! First and second years turn on lights everywhere as soon as they arrive, overloaded again?”

“Can the electricians do their job? This happens every year, didn’t they check during the break?”

“Doesn’t seem like it, my family group chat says home power’s out too?”

“This whole area’s out?”

“Fine, everyone take a break!”

“Yeah, let’s see who dares study secretly!”

“Buy candles, let’s buy candles!”

Shengxia didn’t dare move, because she was standing at the cleaning corner, which was the north corridor, with a row of Chinese Parasol trees rustling in the night behind her.

Everything was pitch black.

She knew she should go back to the classroom immediately, but her feet wouldn’t move. She had some night blindness and hadn’t adjusted to the darkness yet, completely unable to discern directions.

A chill ran up her spine.

Some strange, antiquated thoughts crept into her mind…

Eerily.

Suddenly, feeling a gust of wind, something huge approached, and her hand was grabbed – she froze completely, instinctively letting out a scream – Ah!

However, compared to the chattering discussions in the classroom, it was barely audible.

Then she heard the familiar voice say: “Don’t be afraid.”

Before she could react to what was happening, she was led forward, directly out of the teaching building from the small corridor, reaching the connecting corridor.

In the night, she could barely see anything.

But the warmth from the tightly held hand made her blood boil.

From the classroom behind came Hou Junqi’s voice: “Let’s go buy candles, Ashu, eh? Where’s Ashu? Ashu! Where did he go, huh?”

After a while came Wang Wei’s voice, almost shouting: “This whole area’s out, wait for the school’s generator. Half an hour at the shortest, an hour at most, it’ll be fine! Wait! Stop making noise!”

The noise stopped.

They walked further and further, the voices behind could no longer be heard.

Walking to the sports field, when going down the steps, he was in front, holding her hand and guiding her. He turned back to ask: “Can you see?”

Having adjusted to the darkness, she could see silhouettes: “Mm, a little.”

Reaching the track, he said: “Let’s take a walk.”

Her hand was released, and she stayed close beside him. Neither spoke first, so quiet they could seemingly hear each other’s breathing. The white dividing lines on the rubber track were especially clear in the night. She followed the lines, taking small steps.

He seemed to notice, also slowing down.

A walk.

Who was it that said, more romantic than holding hands and kissing, was taking a walk?

The sky was ordinary, with no moonlight, but Shengxia suddenly thought of a phrase – The moonlight is beautiful tonight.