When the first monthly exam was held, school had been back for over a month. Spring was changeable, the wind wild, the temperature unstable — but the forsythia had bloomed. Small pale-yellow flowers, one by one, clinging to the bright, clear green branches. Jiang Du loved spring best of all the seasons, but it was her misfortune that this spring was destined to be a season of parting.
The class group chat hadn’t dissolved, but no one was as keen on writing yearbook entries as they had been in junior high. This was only first year — one way or another, they were all still at the same school, and there would always be chances to see each other.
Because the honors classes were at stake, everyone took this monthly exam seriously. Teacher Xiao Xu held a final class meeting, writing “As much as you put in, that’s how much you’ll shine” on the blackboard, rallying everyone’s spirits.
After working through several subjects, Jiang Du felt she had done reasonably well — but whether she could actually get into the arts honors class was hard to say. Mei High had too many students. Of the six arts-track classes, there was only one honors class — the competition was fierce.
Right after the exam, the school flooded with students everywhere.
The newsstand was packed with girls buying magazines. Jiang Du paused nearby and spotted Wang Jingjing. The two of them hadn’t returned to their previous closeness — they maintained just the normal range of classmate interaction. Wang Jingjing had come to buy a magazine without calling out to Jiang Du, going instead with another girl who had also chosen sciences.
With the exam over and everyone briefly relaxing, Jiang Du had nothing in particular to do, so she went to look at the forsythia. She adored forsythia so much — that delicate, pristine yellow, like stars scattered across the branches. When no one was looking, she pinched off one little flower and tucked it into her jacket buttonhole.
“What class are you from? What do you think you’re doing?” A low, commanding voice came from behind her, and Jiang Du jumped — but turning around, she found it was Lin Haiyang. Her heart dropped back into place, though she still felt a little embarrassed.
Lin Haiyang grinned. He said: “Was it convincing? I sounded just like the director of discipline, didn’t I? Last time, he caught us smoking and made us do horse-stance squats as punishment. I could barely walk the next day.”
Jiang Du finally laughed along: “You shouldn’t have been smoking in the first place.” As she said it, someone naturally came to mind, and her smile faltered — from now on, she wouldn’t be seated next to his classroom anymore.
“Hey,” Lin Haiyang nudged her elbow quite unabashedly, “what’s going on between you and Wang Jingjing? It’s not because of Wei Qingyue, is it?”
Jiang Du felt her heart seized. Her expression shifted: “Why would you say that?”
“I ran into Wei Qingyue yesterday. He asked me to pass something along — he said, that thing he asked you to do, have you done it yet? He’s been waiting. He didn’t want to say anything today until after the exam, so that it wouldn’t distract you. Is it something to do with Wei Qingyue that’s caused the falling-out between you and Wang Jingjing? You girls just love to get upset about things — I know how you all are.” Once Lin Haiyang started talking, he couldn’t stop.
Jiang Du wasn’t without her own temper. She thought to herself: what do you mean “girls just love to get upset” — I rarely get upset. But she would never show it. Her expression remained placid: “Nothing like that. Wei Qingyue and I aren’t close.”
“Then what did he ask you to do?” Lin Haiyang was still digging for gossip. Jiang Du was growing exasperated, and held back the urge to snap, saying simply: “It’s not convenient for me to say.” She knew Lin Haiyang meant no harm — he was just too loud. Normally she found it sort of amusing; today, she couldn’t say why, she just felt irritable and on edge, over the class division and countless small things.
The results were posted a week later. The notice board that day was a spectacle. Everyone crowded around anxiously searching for their own name. From time to time a cheer rang out from somewhere in the crowd — and for every cheer, someone else would sigh. That’s how these things always were: joy for some, disappointment for others.
Jiang Du made it into the arts honors class.
The moment she learned the result, she felt a joy like having survived some great ordeal — she had a chance now, a real chance at getting into a top university.
As expected, Wang Jingjing was placed in a regular sciences class, while Wei Qingyue’s name sat at the top of the sciences honors rankings in first place. Not far below, Zhang Xiaoqiang’s ranking appeared.
Her own name felt separated from theirs by a thousand mountains and rivers.
Jiang Du was jostled from side to side in the crowd, yet her eyes were fixed on the three characters of Wei Qingyue’s name the whole time. This was an increasingly rare opportunity — she had to hold onto it. Every one of Wei Qingyue’s subject scores burned itself deeply into her memory. What use was remembering any of this? Not everything had to have a use. Wei Qingyue was simply the meaning of her adolescence.
What followed would be furiously busy: moving dormitory rooms, changing classrooms, everyone officially entering the trial period of the track system. That same day, Class Two held a brief farewell gathering. Teacher Xiao Xu was as witty as ever, and the class laughed and cried through it. A new leg of the journey was about to begin.
After everyone dispersed, Jiang Du lingered and did not leave. She sat in the now-empty classroom, still and quiet, like a cicada pupa deep underground. This was the last time she would sit here. The light of dusk fell through the window, casting long shadows across the desk.
Down the corridor, the lockers had already been moved to the new class’s hallway.
Jiang Du ran her hand one last time along the class schedule posted beside the podium. The joy of making it into the honors class had faded so quickly. She would no longer be able to glance effortlessly at the tree by the library. She would no longer be able to pretend to casually peer into the classroom next door and catch a glimpse of that figure. All she would be able to do was write letters that would never be sent.
“The new issue of Book City after the relaunch is already at the municipal library.” Wei Qingyue appeared at the doorway of Class Two at some point, leaning against the frame, beginning a conversation with her without any preamble.
Jiang Du startled and turned her head around.
She was a little flustered and stumbled over her words: “Really? I haven’t been in a long time — there was tutoring over winter break, and then I was preparing for the placement exam the whole time.”
“Congratulations on making it into the arts honors class.” Wei Qingyue reached into the back pocket of his jeans, pulled out something, and tossed it to Jiang Du. She caught it in a flurry, clasping it to her chest.
It was a new Tweety Bird charm.
“In the first monthly exam last semester, I think I might have knocked your charm and damaged it. Just remembered — consider this a replacement.” He said it very lightly.
Jiang Du gripped the Tweety Bird charm. She was happy — the kind of happiness where, the moment she saw him, all her worries were temporarily forgotten. Wei Qingyue knew she had made it into the arts honors class; he knew her charm was a Tweety Bird; he had even told her about the magazine she loved being at the library. Heaven only knew how long she would carry this happiness around.
“Thank you.” Jiang Du smiled softly — when she smiled, her brows and eyes brightened along with it. But Wei Qingyue said: “You see, I remember that you like Book City magazine, I’ve treated you to KFC, and I walked you home. In that case — can we say we’re friends?”
Jiang Du was caught off guard by the question. Friends? He wanted to consider her a friend? Or perhaps — they could only be friends? What else was there to hope for, then? To begin with, they had been strangers.
Her expression became somewhat unnatural, and she tried her best to hide it: “Of course — if you’re willing to be my friend, then we’re friends.”
Wei Qingyue seemed to find that funny. He laughed: “The look on your face — you seem quite reluctant.”
“No, I’m not, I’m not — I’m very, very willing to be your friend.” Jiang Du rushed to deny it, face going red.
Wei Qingyue nodded slowly, studying her with an unreadable expression: “Since we’re friends now, why haven’t you given the slightest bit of thought to what I asked you to do?”
Jiang Du was struck silent.
She knew what he meant.
Inside, it was like a sudden downpour. Jiang Du gathered her courage and asked: “Why do you want to receive letters?”
“Why do you think?” Wei Qingyue countered with an enigmatic question of his own.
Jiang Du’s breathing quickened. She shook her head and said vaguely: “How would I know.”
Her palm was near-stinging from where she had dug her nails in. She felt that Wei Qingyue’s eyes looked deep and bright — bright enough that they seemed to see through everything in a person’s heart. She didn’t dare meet his gaze.
Every breath needed to be careful and deliberate, as if a wrong rhythm would give everything away.
“Because,” Wei Qingyue said, leaning against the doorframe and watching her as he spoke, “I suspect the girl who wrote to me might be quite shy — like you, someone who gets nervous easily. What I want to tell her is: I’m not that frightening, and getting close to me isn’t as difficult as she might think. I believe we’d get along well. If she writes to me, I’d be glad to write back. If she’s afraid to speak to me face to face, we could communicate by letter,” he paused for a moment, “as friends.”
The tension in Jiang Du’s body released all at once in that moment. Friends.
Her nose stung. She twisted her hands together, the Tweety Bird charm pressed between them.
“So it’s like being pen pals?” Jiang Du’s voice sounded as though the cold wind had set it trembling.
Wei Qingyue lowered his gaze and smiled. He said “not exactly,” but didn’t say what it was exactly, letting out a long breath: “Have you actually told her yet?”