“Even seven years after graduation, I still dream of him. I used to hate geography most of all, but I was the geography class representative for two years — because going to the humanities office meant passing his classroom. I would walk with a stack of papers in my arms, my heart both heavy and weightless, as though I were carrying an enormous secret. Later, weaving through the grey office buildings of a corporate park, I would often think back to those days. I will never again have a feeling so purely, simply mine — not in that year, not at sixteen, not in the summer that young man arrived.”
— Sherry’s Lab, The Ninth Year Through the Dream
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Wednesday was the class meeting, with two items on the agenda: rearranging seats and electing class representatives.
Every semester, the seating plan for Class Seven was drawn up personally by their form teacher Lao Zhuang. It wasn’t based on grades, nor was it the classic one-on-one paired arrangement. Whatever logic governed it, only Lao Zhuang himself probably knew.
One thing was clear, however: like any traditional form teacher of his kind, Lao Zhuang absolutely did not permit boys and girls to sit together.
But with only eleven boys in the class, no matter how you arranged it, at least one boy would inevitably end up paired with a girl.
The boys called this person “the chosen one.”
This semester’s “chosen one” turned out to be Xiao Yulong, who had shared duty with Xia Li just the other day.
Xiao Yulong was somewhere in the middle-to-lower range academically, but his social skills were extraordinary — he had an easy-going, slightly carefree manner that made him perfect for breaking the ice and getting a laugh out of everyone.
While dragging his desk into position, Xiao Yulong performed a little song-and-dance: “Cruising at seventy, feeling free as the wind~”
His good friend, the labour committee representative, gave him an exasperated kick.
Xia Li straightened the few books that had toppled over and repositioned the two Doraemon-shaped bookends at either side.
She turned around and found herself facing Xiao Yulong’s grin.
“Is there enough room between our desks?” he asked, still smiling. “Can we scoot a bit further forward?”
“That’s fine.” Xia Li pushed her chair a little ahead.
A moment later, Lao Zhuang returned to the classroom and everyone instantly fell quiet.
“I’m fine with whatever.” Lao Zhuang nodded. “Then carry on serving your classmates. Organise the class rep elections, and when you’re done everyone goes straight to self-study — keep it quiet.”
He left the classroom.
The class monitor went up to the front and wrote all the positions on the blackboard.
Most of the committee posts carried over from the previous semester, with the exception of the discipline committee member and the geography class representative. The previous discipline committee member was Tao Shiyue, who had transferred to the international class; last semester’s geography class representative said she didn’t want to do it again.
Most of the students in Class Seven, to put it in the language that would later become popular, were pretty “chill.” Everyone’s eyes were set on getting into the top universities, and nobody was very keen on class positions.
Besides, Mingzhong didn’t hand out hollow titles like “three-good student.” There were only scholarship awards each semester, with the sole criterion being grades. Class committee positions earned you no bonus points — they were purely a service role.
The class monitor made several calls for volunteers before one girl finally raised her hand and took on the discipline committee role.
“What about geography class rep? Is anyone willing to take it on?”
Xia Li’s heart gave a sudden, lurching thump. The impulse rose up in her before she could even make sense of it.
In the class, she was the sort of girl who went largely unnoticed. Her grades ranked around eleventh or twelfth, she had no particular talents or skills, and she had a gentle, unassuming nature — not the kind to seek the spotlight or volunteer for service out of some selfless spirit.
It had nothing to do with any of that.
She had only just realised, in that moment, that the route to the humanities office in the admin building passed right by Class Twenty on the first floor.
Xia Li drew a quiet breath and raised her hand. “I’ll give it a try.”
No one else competed.
The class monitor wrote her name next to “Geography Class Representative” on the board.
The next day there was a geography lesson in the afternoon.
After class, Teacher Wu asked Xia Li to come with her to the office.
Teacher Wu had an easy-going personality — of all the teachers, she was the most approachable.
But Xia Li’s combined humanities scores were dragged down most by geography, so geography was the subject she feared most.
She fell in step beside Teacher Wu, anxious.
Teacher Wu asked with a smile as they walked, “What made you decide to become my class representative?”
Xia Li pulled out the response she had carefully rehearsed: “…My geography has been pulling down my humanities total. I want to bring it up.”
Teacher Wu nodded with genuine approval. “That’s the right attitude. But the class representative needs to set an example — you’ll have to work hard.”
Xia Li felt the pressure keenly. “…I’ll do my best, Teacher.”
“Geography analysis is a bit more flexible than history or politics. You need to ask questions about whatever you haven’t absorbed in class — just grinding through practice problems won’t get you there.”
Xia Li nodded along eagerly.
By the time they finished talking, they had already reached the first floor.
Xia Li shot a quick glance into Class Twenty’s classroom.
In that one swift sweep of her gaze, she did not catch sight of Yan Sishi.
She didn’t dare stare openly, and pulled her eyes away at once.
In the office, Teacher Wu selected a set of gaokao past-paper exercises targeting that day’s lesson content and asked Xia Li to hand them out the next day, to be worked through during the geography self-study period.
Xia Li tucked the papers under her arm, walked back through the covered walkway, and passed Class Twenty’s classroom again.
This time, the glance she managed to steal rewarded her with a small, startling joy.