After returning to Huan Zhou, Qiao Qingyu grew increasingly withdrawn. Seeing her lost in thought, Li Fanghao came home early one evening specifically to have a heart-to-heart talk with her.
“Tell Mom honestly, what are you thinking about?”
They sat on the old sofa in the living room, the brown artificial leather beneath them blackened with age.
“Tell Mom honestly,” Li Fanghao emphasized, “Stop moping around all day.”
Speaking directly would surely trigger an emotional earthquake in Li Fanghao. Looking at her mother’s tense face, Qiao Qingyu reached out and touched her shoulder: “Mom, don’t worry, I’m not thinking about anything messy.”
“Look at me,” Li Fanghao wanted nothing more than to turn Qiao Qingyu’s head toward her, “Look at me, I told you to be honest, the more you beat around the bush, the more it shows you’re hiding something.”
Qiao Qingyu knew Li Fanghao just didn’t want her daughter to have secrets. She also imagined being able to have an open conversation with her mother about Qiao Baiyu, but whenever she faced Li Fanghao, she would lose her nerve. That baseless worry and fear accumulated since childhood was the reason she couldn’t bring herself to speak up.
Li Fanghao’s tone grew increasingly severe: “Mom isn’t a mindreader, and you’re grown up now. You need to learn to communicate with Mom actively about anything that’s bothering you, understand?”
“I understand.”
After all that preparation, she still couldn’t bring herself to say anything. Qiao Qingyu hated her timidity in front of Li Fanghao. Thinking back on this meaningless conversation later, she felt hypocritical—to maintain her image as the “worry-free” child in her mother’s eyes, she had forcefully suppressed her desire to seek the truth.
At school, where Qiao Qingyu didn’t have to watch others’ expressions or care about their opinions, she could be her true self. Jiang Nian was popular with many friends and actively involved in various activities, and over time, Qiao Qingyu grew accustomed to being alone—just like at Shunyun First High School. She quite enjoyed this tranquility.
The rooftop of the multi-purpose building behind the teaching building had once been a popular spot for couples, but the school had later surrounded it with tall barbed wire, claiming it was for safety to prevent students from falling. The rooftop beneath the iron barbs looked cold and oppressive, scaring away the couples and becoming a smoking spot for the school’s troublemakers.
Qiao Qingyu had been to the rooftop twice—there were only so many troublemakers at school, and avoiding them was much simpler than avoiding other students.
Both times had been on rainy days. One day in mid-October, when autumn was in full swing, rain began to fall as school let out. Qiao Qingyu, who had just reached the school gate, took out her umbrella from her bag, opened it, turned back through the teaching building, entered the multi-purpose building, and climbed the stairs, heading to the rooftop for the third time.
As she expected, there wasn’t a soul on the rooftop. The rain grew heavier, and Qiao Qingyu set down her bulging schoolbag by the wooden door, then stepped into the rain with her umbrella, gazing outward through the circles of barbed wire.
The city was blurred in the rain curtain. The gradually brightening neon lights soaked in the water, their halos spreading, creating a dreamy beauty.
Whenever she was alone on the rooftop, Qiao Qingyu’s thoughts would involuntarily drift to those few charred pieces of paper. Qiao Baiyu’s bright, lively eyes flashed like sparks in her mind, with Qiao Jinrui’s gentle, caring shadow behind her. Then her thoughts would freeze, her mind going blank.
Today was no different; Qiao Qingyu only realized she had been spacing out after who knows how long.
The rain had already soaked half of her canvas shoes, the coldness invading her feet and creeping into her body, making her shiver. Turning around, Qiao Qingyu saw two girls by the wooden door who had appeared at some point—one standing empty-handed, the other holding a broom and dustpan, bent over emptying the dustpan’s contents into Qiao Qingyu’s schoolbag.
“Hey!” Qiao Qingyu shouted, “What are you doing?!”
The standing girl covered her mouth and laughed, while the one dumping trash glanced at Qiao Qingyu and quickened her dumping motion.
Seeing Qiao Qingyu rushing over, the laughing girl nervously stepped backward, waving to the other girl: “Deng Cheng, hurry, she’s coming!”
That expression of avoidance was like seeing a plague god. Qiao Qingyu didn’t care anymore, threw her umbrella aside, ran downstairs with thundering steps, and stretched out both arms to block the two who were trying to escape.
Now she could see clearly that the girl who had been covering her mouth laughing was Su Tian from Class 6 of the first year, doll-like and delicate, who had been getting close to Ming Sheng since the start of school.
“Trash should go in the trash can,” Qiao Qingyu said seriously, “You’ve gone too far.”
Su Tian looked at her contemptuously, pulling Deng Cheng back two steps, her condescending attitude stinging Qiao Qingyu.
“Clean my schoolbag.”
“Hmph,” Deng Cheng pointed at the wooden door with her broom, “This is our class’s cleaning area, there was a trash can by the door, but it’s gone, what am I supposed to do?”
“It’s outside,” Qiao Qingyu said calmly, “On the rooftop, in the corner.”
“I didn’t see it,” Deng Cheng was aggressive, her eyes flashing threateningly, “There was a schoolbag where the trash can be, so I dumped it in the schoolbag, simple as that.”
Su Tian nodded approvingly beside her, adding earnestly: “It’s raining so hard outside, how could we go out to get the trash can?”
“Is it my fault you couldn’t get to the trash can?” Qiao Qingyu couldn’t help raising her voice, “That trash can is full of cigarette butts, why don’t you dump the trash in Ming Sheng’s bag? Isn’t he the one always bringing people to smoke on the rooftop?”
As if hitting a switch, Su Tian’s face changed instantly, her big eyes bulging horrifyingly, like a beautiful demon revealing its hideous true form: “Who are you to even mention Ah Sheng’s name? How dare that filthy mouth of yours speak Ah Sheng’s name? Let me tell you, if it weren’t for…”
“Clean my schoolbag,” Qiao Qingyu coldly interrupted Su Tian, “I don’t need you to tell me anything. Let me tell you, even if Ming Sheng did something like this, I would make him clean my schoolbag too.”
“Shut your dirty mouth!” Su Tian roared, “Dare to say Ah Sheng’s name again?”
“Ming-Sheng,” Qiao Qingyu stared into Su Tian’s furious eyes, enunciating each syllable, “Ming-Sheng, Ming-Sheng, Ming-Sheng…”
She felt Su Tian was about to explode—and strangely, she found herself looking forward to it. She hoped Su Tian would be more violent, directly punch her or push her down, giving her a reason to retaliate without restraint.
“Shut! Up!” Su Tian covered her ears and screamed, stamping her feet.
Suddenly she turned and rushed upstairs to Qiao Qingyu’s schoolbag, grabbed the open bag, and dumped everything inside onto the rain-washed rooftop.
“You…” Qiao Qingyu lost her voice.
Su Tian walked downstairs refreshed, with the air of a victor.
“I cleaned your bag,” as she passed by Qiao Qingyu, she said haughtily, “It was just dust I dumped in there, the heavy rain will wash it clean.”
That day, Qiao Qingyu returned to Chaoyang New Village very late. She sent a message to Li Fanghao saying she had lost her umbrella and needed to wait out the rain, then stayed in the classroom, spending a long time carefully wiping her rain-soaked textbooks and exercise papers. Fortunately, first and second-year students didn’t have evening self-study, so the classroom was empty at night, allowing her to spread her books and papers across multiple desks, turning on the whirring ceiling fan to blow them dry.
Everything else didn’t matter much, but the light green hardcover book of literature excerpts made her heartache.
Qiao Qingyu had a habit of copying down excerpts when reading. Those few charred pages left by Qiao Baiyu had been pasted in the middle section of her excerpt book. Keeping them at home would risk Li Fanghao finding them, so they could only be kept in a notebook she carried with her but never had to show anyone. When Su Tian dumped the schoolbag, the excerpt book in the middle automatically opened to the center, falling straight into the rooftop’s rainwater. By the time Qiao Qingyu picked up the book, those few remaining pages were completely soaked through.
Fortunately, the writing remained clear. But the wet pages stuck together and were fragile; when Qiao Qingyu tried to separate them, she accidentally tore one.
The tear went through a boy’s name: He Feihai.
Presumably a former classmate of Qiao Baiyu’s, someone from He Family Village next to Nan Qiao Village. Perhaps because the name was so common, Qiao Qingyu found it unusually familiar. However, after thinking for a long while, she was certain she had never heard this name from Qiao Baiyu’s mouth.
It was also possible that Qiao Baiyu had mentioned it but she hadn’t paid attention. She had always been indifferent to her sister’s world.
The third-year students had three evening self-study periods, and by the time the bell rang for the third period, Qiao Qingyu had finished all her homework. She stood up, gathered her books onto her desk, and put the half-wet excerpt book into her school bag.