“The letters were written by Wang Jingjing. You have her QQ number — you could ask her directly.” Jiang Du felt as though her chest was so congested she could barely produce any sound. She lowered her head and tucked a strand of hair back.
Wei Qingyue didn’t contradict her, only said “Is that so?” — and Jiang Du looked up, meeting his gaze as it fell on her, deep and searching. She quickly looked away and changed the subject: “That time, the charm wasn’t broken — but thank you all the same.”
“You’re welcome.” Wei Qingyue smiled, straightened up, and pushed off from the doorframe. “I’ll head off now, get something to eat.”
The mention of food made Jiang Du unable to help herself: “What do you do for meals on weekends when you’re home?”
“Sometimes the housekeeper comes to clean and cooks a meal while she’s at it. Sometimes I go out and buy something. Why?”
Jiang Du’s heart was pounding steadily and hard: “My grandmother always says food from outside isn’t clean — homemade meals are better. You should try to have your housekeeper cook for you more.”
Wei Qingyue looked completely unbothered: “Life and death are a matter of fate — however long I’m meant to live, that’s how long I’ll live.” Then a mischievous look crossed his face: “Or else — I could just go eat at your place. Someone’s always home cooking there.”
Jiang Du took him seriously. Face flushed, but somehow she answered: “That’s not out of the question — my grandparents are very welcoming.”
As soon as she said it, she herself felt it might not be entirely appropriate, and went quiet.
A gentle breeze drifted by, sending her long, soft hair swaying. Wei Qingyue suddenly had the urge to reach out and touch it — wondering whether the feel of it would be as soft and cool as he imagined.
Girls’ hair really is this lovely to look at, thought Wei Qingyue — it was the first time he had ever noticed a girl’s hair.
Having noticed the hair, his gaze wandered, and very quickly he became aware of her slender figure, her long legs, the pale expanse of her neck, her brows that looked as though they had been drawn on, and then — the gentle curve of her chest. The moment he realized what he was looking at, Wei Qingyue immediately pulled his eyes away.
Under his gaze, Jiang Du grew increasingly self-conscious. She asked quietly: “Is there something on my clothes?”
Wei Qingyue’s throat moved. He pointed toward her shoulder, feigning casualness: “You’ve got some hair on your shoulder.”
Hair falling out was a constant in the dormitory — it wound itself around the broom when sweeping; it happened at home too. Jiang Du quickly picked the strand off her shoulder, smiling with slight embarrassment: “Long hair does shed.”
“I’ll be going.” Wei Qingyue coughed softly into his fist. Jiang Du nodded, then stood alone in the classroom for a moment before calculating that enough time had passed, and hurried to the window to look outside.
Wei Qingyue had put his denim jacket back on. His hair was slightly tousled, bouncing lightly with each step he took — full of vitality.
After a few more busy days, Jiang Du arrived in her new classroom, with a new seatmate — a girl who didn’t talk much and seemed mild and composed, with a distinctive name: Zhu Yulong. When Jiang Du entered the class, her grades ranked at the very bottom. Every year in the sciences honors class, some students who found themselves unable to keep up quietly transferred down to a regular class, but that was rare in the arts honors class. Looking out at the sea of unfamiliar faces, Jiang Du silently resolved to work far harder.
Zhu Yulong wasn’t one to talk. She seemed cool and aloof, maintaining a calm and undisturbed manner whatever was said to her. If Jiang Du didn’t initiate conversation, she would absolutely never speak to her first. As chance would have it, they turned out to be in the same dormitory. Once she had moved in, Jiang Du realized that the atmosphere truly did feel different from the parallel classes she had been in before. In other words, every student in this year’s arts honors class seemed remarkably singular, each one strikingly distinctive.
Because Jiang Du had a talent for essays, some people in the class had heard of her by reputation from first year — but that didn’t mean they were actually impressed by her. These were people who, since primary school, had been reading the most popular Sprouts literary magazine of the time and trying their hand at writing in its style, composing misty, drifting descriptions of youth. In junior high, they had entered the New Concept Essay Competition and won first prize in Group B. When it came to writing, their standards were very high.
And the academic competition was fiercer still.
Jiang Du went through a period of not adapting well. She told herself repeatedly that everyone faced the same thing — it just took time to settle into a new class. But with the class group chat already set up, she didn’t feel like getting to know anyone. On the contrary, she rather missed Wang Jingjing, Zhang Xiaoqiang, and the others. Yet once you were separated, it seemed everyone had moved into new lives and new circles of their own. Was she the only one still feeling nostalgic?
Every time there was a long break between classes, Jiang Du found herself involuntarily going downstairs to wander, her heart quietly hoping for something. But unfortunately, not once.
It wasn’t until late April, when the arts honors class timetable shifted slightly due to a teacher’s circumstances — P.E. class moved from the afternoon to the third period in the morning — that she discovered, by chance, their schedule now coincided with the sciences honors class from Class One.
In P.E., Jiang Du always ran only one lap. Once the warm-up was done, she had half the time as free activity. When she spotted Zhang Xiaoqiang, she raised her hand and gave a slightly shy wave in her direction. The girls from the sciences honors class were quite formidable too — there was a basketball game going on, and though Zhang Xiaoqiang was on the short side, she was quick enough to be a force to reckon with.
Over on the other side, the boys occupied a separate court.
Jiang Du saw Wei Qingyue — he was dribbling. She, like the girls from the arts honors class, naturally found herself looking over at the sciences honors boys. Everyone said that this year the arts honors boys looked like dinosaurs.
Wei Qingyue kept lifting his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, flashing his lean, taut midsection for an instant.
The girls immediately erupted in whispers.
During the break, Wei Qingyue continued wiping sweat carelessly under his shirt as he walked toward the school gate.
At the gate, the security guard was being pestered by a man.
He had only meant to glance over idly, but quickly, upon hearing a familiar name, he turned to look.
“I’m a parent — I can even say her name. Jiang Du, the one in the arts key class, first year. That’s my daughter. I’m telling you, my daughter is in the honors class at Mei High — what the hell gives you the right to keep me from going in to find her?” The man speaking was someone Wei Qingyue recognized at a glance.
The exhibitionist — the one encountered at the bookstore. Wei Qingyue had always remembered him. Including later, when he had come across him near the school gate — those hollow, shadowy triangular eyes, the long, gaunt face.
In this season, the man was wearing only a white button-down, filthy and wrinkled. The exposed half of his arms were covered with needle marks, the skin mottled and bruised.
He was causing a scene, demanding to be let in to find someone. The security guard refused. The guard had seen this man more than once before — he had been lurking near the school recently, and the school had even reported it to the police.
Wei Qingyue came to a complete stop. His gaze sharpened as he stared at the cursing, raving man — the one who had nearly assaulted Jiang Du — claiming to be her father.
He was saying he was Jiang Du’s father.
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