She had been away for a week, and her desk was buried under a mountain of test papers.

Yan Lie had sorted through them for her — answers and notes included — and organized all the subject assignments together.

Some of the papers Fang Zhuo had already worked through in spare moments. The rest sat in a thick stack, stubbornly uninviting.

Zhao Jiayou and the others still bore the marks of the fight on their faces. When they saw her come in, they looked up with a smile and went right back to drilling problems.

The second mock examination was nearly upon them. Every subject teacher had started assigning work in volumes that seemed designed to push the limits of what was humanly possible.

Grade 12 was so relentlessly busy that any upheaval or absurdity was nothing more than a small splash on the surface of the water — causing a brief ripple, then absorbed without a trace.

Fang Zhuo arranged the woven straw figures she had brought back on the windowsill, then checked on the other potted plants. Just as Yan Lie had said — the soil was damp. She could only imagine how many rounds of well-meaning watering they had received in the past week. Whether they had survived in any condition to show for it remained to be seen.

She unzipped her backpack and lifted out a large bag of apples and a bag of milk cartons, distributing them according to the list the police officer had given her.

She didn’t have anything else to offer as thanks — Ye Yuncheng was out of the hospital but still recuperating, and she was short on funds. All she could manage was a bit of fruit. Besides, anything too lavish and this crowd probably wouldn’t accept it.

Zhao Jiayou and the others received the gifts with touched surprise.

When it was Shen Musi’s turn, Fang Zhuo handed him a strawberry cake.

Shen Musi instantly lit up. He leapt to his feet and announced, “I’m the most special one! Did everyone see that?”

“She’s just saying you’re not weaned yet,” Zhao Jiayou said with a cold snort. “And what did you actually do, anyway? It took two people just to help you over a wall!”

“None of your business!” Shen Musi retorted.

When she reached her own seat, Yan Lie held out his hands, cupped together. “Deskmate — don’t tell me there’s nothing for me?”

“Don’t pout.” Fang Zhuo picked out the reddest one for him. “Eat it slowly.”

Yan Lie broke into a grin. “Thank you, deskmate!”

Fang Zhuo picked up the remaining fruit and went next door to deliver gifts of thanks.

She hadn’t yet figured out what to say to Bai Lufei and the others. She had barely stepped out of the classroom when she ran into one of Bai Lufei’s friends in the hallway.

The boy started slightly when he saw her, then turned back toward the classroom and shouted carelessly, “Bai Lufei! Your dream girl is here!”

Bai Lufei immediately came charging out. “What the — don’t say that!”

The bruising around Bai Lufei’s eye was the worst of the group’s injuries — the swelling had still not fully gone down, making his already small eyes look even more bleary.

Fang Zhuo regarded his face in silence for two seconds, then held out the apples and milk cartons and asked him to distribute them to the others.

“Thank you.”

She said it simply and straightforwardly. She had been trying to compose a better follow-up for a moment, couldn’t come up with one, and simply turned to leave.

“Sorry,” Bai Lufei said quickly.

Fang Zhuo looked back, the corner of her mouth curving in a relaxed smile. “It’s all right.”

Bai Lufei was momentarily stunned. This was probably the first time he had ever seen Fang Zhuo look at him with anything other than cold indifference. Before he could stop himself, he asked, “Is there still a chance for us?”

“No.” Fang Zhuo, wary of any further self-delusion on his part, answered without flinching. “Not even when I’m a hundred.”

Bai Lufei’s face flushed scarlet. “I know, I know! You didn’t have to add that last part!”

Fang Zhuo said “mm,” then said lightly, “Goodbye. I’m going back to study.”

Evening study had barely started when Fang Zhuo was called away by teacher after teacher, summoned to the office to work through test papers and gauge just how far she had fallen behind that week.

In the sciences, Fang Zhuo had been keeping up with her revision; Yan Lie had also prioritized introducing her to new problem types and new approaches to answering questions during his tutoring visits at the hospital. Combined with her quick mind, she hadn’t fallen too far behind.

As for the humanities subjects — with Fang Zhuo away from school, she had been overtaken by an almost physical sense of urgency, refusing to relax for even a moment. She had tucked quick-reference flashcards into her pocket whenever she took Ye Yuncheng out for a walk, pulling them out to look at every now and then. She probably hadn’t missed too much there either.

The teachers had selected a handful of representative problems to test her. Fang Zhuo worked through them one by one, and the process went reasonably smoothly — her anxiety eased by degrees.

Only in chemistry and biology were there a few knowledge points she hadn’t fully retained, leaving two blanks. Everything else was fine. She even felt more comfortable in English than before.

“Laboratory questions are always where you make the most mistakes,” her chemistry teacher said, scanning her paper. “Come look at the full experiment presentation on my computer tomorrow — the one with videos.”

Fang Zhuo said she would.

Two other teachers nearby were drafting examination questions, and paused to browse online resources. One of them clicked on something and clicked her tongue: “Whenever I see the term ‘exam-factory parenting’ now, my heart clenches. It’s such a spot-on coinage.”

“Which one? The exam-factory parenting section?”

Fang Zhuo had put down her pen and was waiting while the teachers marked her work. She heard this and asked, “What’s exam-factory parenting?”

“Students like you are exactly what it means,” the teacher laughed. “Half the teachers in the Grade 12 office are constantly trying to fire you up.”

The math teacher was putting checkmarks on her answers and, looking at the perfectly correct solutions, said with a smile, “No, no — a student like her is what we call a top student. Her math is genuinely excellent.”

The homeroom teacher sighed with feeling, “There’s a saying: ‘Rather than pushing your child, push yourself.’ I spent half an hour trying to motivate Huang Yao in the next class — she didn’t absorb a single word of it.”

Fang Zhuo’s head was spinning.

“It’s the latest internet slang,” the homeroom teacher said with a laugh. “Not on any exam — don’t worry about it.”

By the time the subject teachers had all finished marking her papers, evening study was nearly over.

The homeroom teacher went through the incorrect answers with her, then said, “Go on back. Keep it up. Your teacher believes in you.”

Fang Zhuo asked, “Is University A really within reach?”

“If you’re not factoring in specific programs, and you maintain this momentum — I think you can do it,” the homeroom teacher said seriously. “But it all depends on how you perform in the humanities. Promise me — don’t let your English or your Chinese drop off! And work on your handwriting! Your handwriting is terrible!”

Fang Zhuo chose to ignore the last remark and walked back to the classroom with a renewed sense of purpose.

Yan Lie was leaning against the wall, lounging to one side, a casual pose, looking over a summary from a textbook. When he saw his deskmate walk in, he looked up, and the flat expression on his face instantly came alive. He smiled broadly. “How did it go, deskmate?”

“All right.” Fang Zhuo pulled out her chair. “Thanks to my deskmate’s tutoring.”

Yan Lie closed the book, watching her as he said, “Everyone else was worried about you. But honestly, I wasn’t. Not even a little.”

Fang Zhuo glanced at him sideways, thinking: Who are you trying to fool?

Yan Lie sat up straight. He rested his left arm on the desk and said seriously, “Because I know — eighteen-year-old Fang Zhuo is undefeatable. I’m not worried you’ll fail. I’m just worried you’ll be sad.”

It was deep in the night now. The only light came from the fluorescent lamps overhead. The shadow of Yan Lie’s thick lashes fell across the lower half of his eyes; looking straight at him, his irises were very dark and very deep.

Fang Zhuo’s heartbeat quickened, her blood moved faster. She looked away, thought for a moment in the quiet of the late hour, and then — wanting to talk with Yan Lie about the future — asked, “What university do you want to go to?”

“University A, probably,” Yan Lie answered without hesitation.

“Why?” Fang Zhuo said. “You could get into better schools, couldn’t you?”

“I want to stay in this province.” He said it with easy confidence. “Every province has its own strengths. The leading companies in the country’s internet sector are mostly headquartered here, and the local government offers a lot of support and resource allocation for emerging businesses. I want to study computer science, then stay here after graduation and start up a game studio. Do you know how much money a successful game company can make?”

Fang Zhuo envied him for having such a clear picture of his future — a precise sense of where he stood, what he wanted, and what this world could offer him.

She didn’t have any of that. She didn’t even know which universities were good outside of University A, which programs had strong career prospects, or which ones would suit her.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Then I’ll aim for University A too. I’ll take whatever program I can get in on. If it doesn’t translate well to employment, I’ll pursue academics — keep reading for a master’s degree. Apparently university life is pretty free — I can work part-time while I study.”

Yan Lie let out a small laugh. “Could you not say things that break my heart in such an utterly matter-of-fact way?”

Fang Zhuo was being completely sincere.

Compared to finding a job, she had always been better at studying.

The relentless sense of urgency that had surrounded her since childhood had left a deep imprint — the moment she stopped learning, she was easily overtaken by panic.

She didn’t love the tedium of studying, but she loved absorbing knowledge. The pursuit of learning gave her an immense sense of security.

She spent very little money and could earn her own tuition.

“I want to keep studying,” she said — searching through herself for better words, and coming back with the same ones — “As long as I can keep reading, that’s enough.”

“Mm.” Yan Lie listened to her with patient attention, his face bathed in a soft, diffused light. “But graduation comes for everyone, eventually. Would you want to stay on as a lecturer?”

“Probably not,” Fang Zhuo said.

She was so poor at socializing, and so reluctant to speak — she probably couldn’t manage a classroom full of different personalities, and wouldn’t be able to give her whole heart the way the homeroom teacher did. The thought of that made her feel ashamed.

“Maybe I’ll sit the civil service exam,” Fang Zhuo said, a little self-consciously. “Or become a scientist. Is scientist too far-fetched?”

Scientist was one of the most familiar and yet most mysterious professions in any textbook. She had always thought it sounded immensely capable.

Yan Lie smiled warmly. “Of course it’s not too far-fetched. You have such tenacity, and such a pure sense of purpose — I think you absolutely could. A civil servant is wonderful too. Like Uncle Liu someday.”

Encouraged by his words, she nodded and went on imagining: “When I was in the hospital, I asked around. Apparently at university you can write papers for other students, run for people, substitute for attendance calls, put together group project presentations… Universities are full of students with money, and running and doing assignments are both things I’m good at — I should be able to build a side income from them.”

Yan Lie hadn’t expected her to have already planned out her part-time work before she had even started university. He rolled up a test paper and tapped her on the head with it. “You don’t even have a computer — and you’re already thinking about making slideshows for money?”

Fang Zhuo, reminded of this, added carefully, “Right, I’ll need to work first to save up for a computer. By the way — can students buy computers on installment payment plans at university? What’s the down payment? Does delaying payments add to the price?”

Yan Lie burst out laughing. “In that case, you might as well help me do my assignments — I’ll pay you double the going rate!”

“I’d help you with your assignments even without the money,” Fang Zhuo said generously. “Though I still hope you’ll put in the effort yourself. You have such a sharp mind — it’d be a waste not to use it.”

Yan Lie felt this was quite possibly the most valuable promise anyone had ever made to him.

“Thank you, my wonderful deskmate.” He leaned in closer, looking into Fang Zhuo’s eyes. “So — you’ll come to university with me?”

Fang Zhuo nodded without hesitation. “Yes. I’m going to University A with you.”

Yan Lie didn’t know whether, in Fang Zhuo’s vision of the future, he appeared as a clear and independent landmark — or merely as a footnote to one of her goals.

As long as she left it unexplained, he would go on finding those words beautiful. As if he existed in another person’s life in a way that couldn’t be cut loose.

Given Fang Zhuo’s tendency to say exactly what she meant without embellishment, he felt that all the urgency of youth, suspended at this one quietly ambiguous declaration, was just enough. The button for what came next would appear only in the height of summer this year.

After May, the heat in City A intensified with each passing day.

In the weeks leading up to the college entrance examination, it hadn’t rained for more than half a month. Temperatures climbed past thirty-five degrees. The early summer that had arrived ahead of schedule made students who were already anxious even more on edge.

Ye Yuncheng’s food stall reopened, but not wanting Fang Zhuo to worry about him, he had adjusted his hours — breakfast service and dinner service only, going out to work only after the sun had gone down. He was also eating properly.

Liu Qiaohong had recommended a short-video platform for him, saying his looks were well-suited for it — handsome young men tended to get a lot of traffic these days — and Ye Yuncheng was, in Liu Qiaohong’s opinion, the most appealing-looking young man in their village. At Liu Qiaohong’s request, he had filmed a few clips that were posted online.

Fang Zhuo had no idea what they were planning, and had no energy to think about it. From the start of May, she hadn’t gone home at all. Then — in what felt like the blink of an eye — the calendar jumped, without warning, to June.