A High School held classes on Sunday afternoons, and seniors were required to arrive early for self-study.

Yan Lie had come to school right after breakfast, hanging his bag on the side of his desk, waiting for Fang Zhuo to show up.

He himself didn’t know where this curiosity had come from—some inexplicable bit of attention he’d developed toward his new desk-mate.

As it turned out, by around one in the afternoon, twenty minutes into self-study, Fang Zhuo finally arrived, tardy.

She carefully pushed open the back door, tiptoeing in. As she drew closer, the cold clung to her—she silently set down her backpack, grabbed another jacket and a small brush from beside her desk, and walked back out again. Her movements were so quick that Yan Lie didn’t even get the chance to ask anything.

Yan Lie watched her the whole time, noticing she was still wearing yesterday’s clothes, her shoes still caked with mud, the fabric half-dry and half-damp. He guessed she likely hadn’t gone home last night.

The urge to use the bathroom suddenly struck him with great intensity.

Yan Lie set down the workbook in his hands, grabbed a pack of tissues on his way, and followed her out.

She wasn’t in the bathroom. Following the sound of water, Yan Lie stepped over to the storage room nearby, where he found Fang Zhuo crouched beside the small basin they normally used to rinse mops, head bowed as she scrubbed her shoes.

The basin wasn’t quite the right height. Fang Zhuo crouched barefoot on the floor, back hunched, in a posture that looked uncomfortable.

The canvas shoes were the same—the color had faded, the quality had been poor to begin with, and the toes were already coming apart at the seams. After this rough scrubbing, who knew how much longer they would hold up.

Yan Lie thought to himself, why does it have to be like this?

How did she end up looking so much like an abandoned little waif, with misery written all over her?

·

After much effort, Fang Zhuo finally got the stains off her shoes and turned them upside down to squeeze out the water. She stood up, stretching her aching back, preparing to scrub the mud off her school jacket as well while she was at it.

Because the puddles had reflected the light, she had accidentally stepped into one on her way back, and the dark water inside had splashed up, some of it landing on her jacket.

She kept feeling that the water carried a foul, rank smell, so she wet a bar of soap and scrubbed it over every muddy spot.

The first class was almost over. Fang Zhuo wanted to hurry and get all this troublesome business sorted out before the bell rang.

A few muffled knocks suddenly came from the doorway, repeating several times without stopping, until she was sure they were meant for her.

She turned to look, and the first thing that caught her eye was a pair of ordinary white sneakers. A pale, bony hand set the shoes on the ground and pushed them forward. Then a figure emerged from behind the wall, crouching down, waving a hand at her.

His chestnut-tinted hair looked even lighter in the bright sunlight pouring down the corridor, and yet his smile was radiant. “If they don’t fit, go exchange them at the supermarket,” he said, before sauntering off without a backward glance.

Him again.

Fang Zhuo lowered her eyes.

Were they really that close?

Fang Zhuo finished washing her clothes, washed her feet as well, and only then put on the shoes.

The size fit well enough—only the sole was a bit too stiff.

She carried her things back to the classroom, placing the shoes on the rack in the back and hanging the jacket over the back of her chair. Since she sat in the last row anyway, it wouldn’t bother anyone.

Shen Musi, sitting in front, turned around and rapped his knuckles against Yan Lie’s desk. “Brother Lie, have you finished the English worksheet? Let me copy yours.”

Without even looking up, focused on the game in his hands, Yan Lie said, “I lent it out already. Go find it yourself.”

Fang Zhuo had just returned with a cup of water and sat down. Yan Lie lifted his eyelids and said, “Ask Fang Zhuo. She’s definitely done it.”

Shen Musi had already been about to turn back around, but hearing this, he had no choice but to change direction, twisting himself to face Fang Zhuo instead.

Fang Zhuo was quiet for a moment, took a sip of water, then asked, oddly, “You want to copy mine?”

“Well…” Shen Musi wasn’t particularly close with her either, but he pushed through the pressure. “Let me copy off you?”

Fang Zhuo said, “Do you know what score I got on my last English exam?”

Her tone carried such an outrageous “do you know who my father is” kind of arrogance that Shen Musi froze for a moment before asking, very seriously, “How much?”

He remembered the top rankings in every subject, and Fang Zhuo’s math and science scores were quite good, but her English seemed to have no presence at all in his memory.

Fang Zhuo said flatly, “72.”

The two of them: “……”

“So you’re the one who barely scraped the passing line last time? I thought it was Shitou—I was too embarrassed to even ask him about it.” Shen Musi muttered under his breath, then quickly glanced at Fang Zhuo’s expression, afraid he might have upset her.

To his surprise, Fang Zhuo only nodded calmly and admitted, “My English isn’t very good.”

Yan Lie burst out laughing and stopped playing his game, setting down his phone. “Wait here.”

He circled the classroom once and quickly found the worksheet he had lent out.

Shen Musi’s face lit up with delight, raising both hands eagerly to receive it, fawning, “Thank you, Lielie!”

To his surprise, Yan Lie lifted his arm higher, dodging out of reach from above, and tossed the worksheet onto Fang Zhuo’s desk instead, saying generously, “There. Don’t ask me.”

Shen Musi’s smile froze. He glanced at Yan Lie, about to protest, but the other ignored him. He looked at Fang Zhuo instead, and seeing her pull out her own worksheet, said vaguely, “Fang… Zhuo-jie, copying really isn’t suited for you. Honestly, your grades come out more naturally when you do it yourself.”

Shen Musi had started school early, so he was a year or two younger than his classmates, not very tall, and still looked rather youthful. But that “jie”—elder sister—had come purely out of an instinct for self-preservation.

Yan Lie grabbed a book and tapped it lightly on his head. “Mind your own business about her?”

In truth, Fang Zhuo had already finished. She quickly checked her answers on the multiple-choice questions, then passed the sheet to Shen Musi.

The young comrade happily took it. “Thanks, Fang Zhuo—” The last syllable had already trailed off when he caught sight of Fang Zhuo’s expressionless face, and automatically tacked on one more word: “—jie.”

Fang Zhuo had no such polite little brother of her own. She had no idea why he acted like a mouse spotting a cat whenever he saw her, but at any rate, he was far more endearing than Fang Xiaodi. She gave a subtle “mm” in response, as a kind of approval.

Shen Musi, full of confusion about himself, silently turned back around.

After evening study hall ended, the crowd dispersed in twos and threes. Fang Zhuo tidied up her desk and headed back to the dormitory alone.

By the time her other roommates returned, she was crouched on the small balcony, washing clothes.

A few of the girls sat on their beds, chatting for a bit, then lined up to go take showers.

The small orange light on the balcony was on, drawing in quite a few insects.

The first girl to finish her shower carried a small stool over to sit across from Fang Zhuo. No sooner had she wet her clothes and lathered them with soap than she launched into a battle against mosquitoes.

She glanced at the clothes Fang Zhuo had soaking in the basin and couldn’t help saying, “Fang Zhuo, you don’t need to wash your clothes so often. Like the school jacket—Xiao Xi only washes hers once a week.”

From inside, the person applying lotion called out loudly upon hearing this, “Why are you using me as your example? Don’t you also only wash yours once a week?!”

The girl laughed, wrung out the clothes in her hands, and hung them up on the rod.

A knock sounded at the door. The visitor stood outside the open wooden door, peeking inside curiously, and asked, “Is Fang Zhuo here?”

Fang Zhuo dried her hands and walked over.

“This is for you.” The short-haired girl smiled. “Octopus balls. Bai Lufei brought it for you. There’s also a box of milk.”

Fang Zhuo lowered her eyes to look at the takeout box in front of her. Before she could say anything, the girl across from her added, “He said if you don’t want it, just throw it away yourself.”

Fang Zhuo’s brow furrowed. These past couple of days she’d already been feeling exhausted, especially having to deal with such trivial nonsense, and his careless, flippant attitude only made her more displeased. She took the food box from her, asking, “How much was it?”

The girl, just about to leave, turned back. “Huh?”

Fang Zhuo simply pulled ten yuan from her pocket, smoothed it out, and pressed it into the girl’s hand. Her tone showed little change, but anyone could hear the displeasure in it. “Tell him not to send anything to our dorm anymore, or I’ll start thinking he’s some shill working the food court. And don’t pass anything along for him either—we’re not close.”

Before the short-haired girl had even recovered, Fang Zhuo had already shut the door.

She set the food down on the table without much thought, leaned back against the headboard, and sat there sulkily for a while before grabbing the notes by her bed and skimming them absentmindedly.

Wei Xi looked at that shadow-cloaked figure and asked, “Fang Zhuo, are you going to eat it?”

Fang Zhuo shook her head.

Wei Xi said, “Then sell it to me—I’m hungry anyway.”

Fang Zhuo said, “No need, just eat it.”

Wei Xi came over with money in hand and smiled. “If you won’t take it, I’ll trade you snacks or fruit for it instead?”

Fang Zhuo hesitated for a good while, but in the end took the money.

Wei Xi had actually already brushed her teeth, but she still ate two of the balls with a skewer, shared a bit with the other roommates, and finished them all off.

Not long after, the dorm’s power cut off as scheduled. The girls washed up once more and climbed into bed.

The air still carried a faint trace of bonito flakes mixed with sauce, and Wei Xi couldn’t resist a complaint:

“Why are those boys from the class next door so full of themselves? It’s senior year already, their grades are that bad, who’d even want to date them? Don’t they have any self-awareness?”

“It’s not a grades problem—they’re just immature. They need someone to keep them in line.”

Fang Zhuo rested her head on her own arm and said nothing.

“At least the boys in our class are mostly normal.”

“Birds of a feather, I guess. Our class has Yan Lie to keep things in check, while their side just loves stirring things up.”

At the mention of that name, Fang Zhuo’s eyelid twitched.

“Brother Lie’s got to be good, or why would they resent him so much? He’s just a bit too much of a straight man, though.”

Wei Xi laughed. “You’re wrong. Being that much of a straight man is exactly what makes the girls like him—that’s why they resent him.”

“Right, Fang Zhuo, next time he bothers you, just tell him you like Yan Lie. Brother Lie’s doomed to die single anyway, he’s used as a shield year-round. He won’t mind.”

Fang Zhuo turned over, asking suspiciously, “Straight man?”

Wei Xi said, “Yeah, Yan Lie’s super straight-man. Not thoughtful, not attentive, doesn’t understand what girls want at all, can’t have a serious conversation with a girl, always dodges the topic with some joke—otherwise he’d have had a girlfriend ages ago.”

Fang Zhuo pondered this.

Was that what counted as a “straight man”?

That seemed like a rather high bar.