“The teacher wanted to discuss a competition with me. I don’t want to participate, but the school might want me to.” Wei Qingyue was far more candid than she was. “I thought it over carefully, and actually entering might be fine — if I could represent the country, it might be useful when I’m choosing a school abroad in the future.”
This was all very remote and unfamiliar to Jiang Du. She listened quietly to the end, and a deep, unspeakable sadness settled over her heart, like moonset and starfall.
“Heading up?” Wei Qingyue pointed upward when he saw she hadn’t responded.
Jiang Du smiled faintly, gave a nod, and moved past him. A fleeting meeting, a fleeting parting — all of it left no time to prepare for anything.
As she had feared, Xiao Xu read out the poverty subsidy list in class. Even after the explanation, there were still those who whispered about her quietly.
After all, Jiang Du had worn Nike shoes back in autumn — bought during a sale promotion.
For reasons she couldn’t quite pinpoint, Wang Jingjing’s attitude toward the subsidy matter seemed subtly off. She twirled her pen and spoke as if in passing:
“Does Teacher Xu not know your grandparents both have very good retirement pensions?”
Jiang Du caught the strange note in those words immediately — on certain things, she was as sensitive as a princess and the pea.
“I told him,” she explained slowly, “but couldn’t get him to back down. Teacher Xu gave me the same explanation he gave the class — I didn’t ask for it on my own initiative.”
Wang Jingjing gave a short laugh, an expression that was hard to read. If friendship develops a hairline fracture at some particular moment, it was surely this one. Jiang Du felt it, yet couldn’t make sense of it.
“Can’t blame people for talking behind your back — during winter break you went to celebrate Zhang Xiaoqiang’s birthday. People saw you two out on the street together. What kind of poverty subsidy student does that?” Wang Jingjing finally let it out, though she didn’t mention that Chen Huiming had come to her.
Sometimes, a bond is as strong as gold — and as fragile as paper.
She fixed Jiang Du with a searching look. “That was the sixth day of the new year, wasn’t it? And Wei Qingyue was also at Zhang Xiaoqiang’s birthday gathering — yet you told me you went to the temple with your grandmother.”
Jiang Du’s heart thudded with sudden urgency. She wanted to explain, but didn’t know where to start. She thought it through, then spoke anyway:
“The reason I lied was because I knew Zhang Xiaoqiang hadn’t invited you, and I was afraid—”
“Forget it. You’re underestimating me. Zhang Xiaoqiang didn’t invite me, but she invited you — you think I’d be jealous of you? Besides, you and her aren’t even that close normally. That part is genuinely strange.” As Wang Jingjing spoke, an edge crept into her voice without her quite meaning it to.
The strange tensions between young girls arise for reasons that are baffling yet traceable at the same time. Moods shift in an instant — Wang Jingjing could stand up for Jiang Du without a second thought and take on anyone to do it, yet equally, she could feel hurt by Jiang Du’s concealment. As for exactly why she felt hurt, she couldn’t quite explain it herself.
Jiang Du opened her mouth, then after a long pause said softly: “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to deceive you. I hope you’re not angry with me.”
“Read your book.” Wang Jingjing’s voice was still cool and clipped. She looked down.
Jiang Du sat frozen. Seeing that Wang Jingjing had no intention of continuing, she sat there dully for a while before getting up and walking out of the classroom alone.
With the class division, all the first-year students were in a state of restlessness. Some were still agonizing over their choices even now. The school building blazed with light, divided floor by floor, and on each floor sat classroom after classroom of grid-like boxes, filled with a dense sea of heads and churning emotions. Youth was very much in full swing.
The weather was still very cold. The streetlamps cast a dim, frost-bitten light. When Jiang Du stood in the corridor and looked outside, her gaze drifted involuntarily toward the tree by the library, its outline hazy and shifting.
Passing by Class One, she found the bright light inside the room falling through the window onto her. She looked at it, and in that instant, some emotion suddenly swelled with an intensity that could bear no more.
She missed Wei Qingyue so much.
She wanted to see him smile; she wanted to hear his voice. She wanted him to keep her company — even just walking with her down the hall to the restroom would be enough.
Driven by this feeling, Jiang Du turned her head and, bold and rigid at once, peered into the Class One classroom for a couple of seconds.
Class One was fairly quiet; most people were busy with their own things. No one looked up toward the window. What she had in mind — clearing her head — was just a trip to the restroom, where maybe the cold air would help her feel a little better.
Wei Qingyue sat in the very back, tall as he was. He was wearing earphones and had just closed his English newspaper.
Perhaps because he was thinking of stepping out, he looked outside first before preparing to stand.
Their gazes collided. Jiang Du forgot to look away. For a split second she thought she was hallucinating — that her longing for Wei Qingyue had conjured him in her imagination, lifting his head toward her.
Wei Qingyue stared in puzzlement at Jiang Du gazing at him through the window. He was mildly surprised. Almost immediately, he smiled at her — and then he saw that face, which had been holding no particular expression, suddenly become stricken with panic, before the owner spun around and hurried away.
He was a little baffled. He stood up and headed in the direction of the restroom, and halfway there he spotted Jiang Du’s figure ahead.
“Jiang Du!” Wei Qingyue raised his voice.
The sound came from behind her. The moment she heard it, a sting surged up through her nasal passages, threatening to spill over into her eyes. She fought to control her emotions and turned around.
Wei Qingyue walked over, both hands tucked in his pockets, unhurried. He hadn’t noticed anything unusual about her — he simply asked: “What were you looking at in Class One just now?”
She could hear his voice now — the same as ever. He spoke to her just as he would to any ordinary classmate, with no particular obligation to treat her differently, and she harbored no delusions about that. Jiang Du blinked rapidly — whenever she was about to cry, she blinked hard — and quickly swiped the back of her hand across her nose.
“What’s wrong?” Wei Qingyue leaned slightly forward, arching an eyebrow, his gaze traveling over her face. “Are you unwell? Or did someone bully you?”
With him asking like that, everything inside her collapsed. Jiang Du’s small face crumpled, and she could no longer get out a single word. She cried.
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