Zhang Zaixin let his gaze drift, as though by accident, toward the back of the room.
Meng Tujin was still in her usual seat — the very last row. She saw him, didn’t move, but gave a small smile.
He answered questions and deflected conversations, drifting gradually through the room until he had made his way, without drawing attention, to the desk beside hers.
“Did you get in trouble when you went home?” he asked, not quite meeting her eyes.
Meng Tujin gave a small smile: “It’s fine. It was my own mistake to make.”
She had always been pale and slight, but today she looked practically paper-thin.
Zhang Zaixin pressed his lips together: “My mother says she’s recently received some very good medicine, and she’d like you to come by.”
A wave of noise rippled around them — every person nearby seemed to feel they’d just heard something scandalous, their eyes going wide.
Zhang Zaixin immediately felt uncomfortable, and added: “It’s her who’s worried about you, not me. I’ve always found things like this troublesome.”
Meng Tujin pulled back slightly, lowering her eyes: “There’s no need to put you to any more trouble. I’m fine. School’s out now, so I should be heading home.”
“Right.” Zhang Zaixin said. “I’ll walk with you.”
“There’s no need.” She declined quickly.
Six years. The two of them had walked together every single day, until it was simply the shape of things. And this was the first time he had ever heard her refuse.
“Why?” He frowned.
Meng Tujin hesitated: “We’re both old enough now. If we keep walking together, people will talk.”
“So you two really are just ordinary friends?” Their classmates were astonished. “We all thought you were practically engaged.”
“Right — didn’t she go and stay at the Manor?”
“There’s nothing between us,” Meng Tujin hugged her books close, her knuckles going tight. “It was only the Marquess’s kindness that saw me looked after.”
Zhang Zaixin’s mouth opened, then closed. His brow furrowed deep, and slowly, his hands clenched into fists.
The teacher dispersed the students and called the class back to order.
Zhang Zaixin went to lean against the courtyard wall outside and waited.
He kept turning over the two words Meng Tujin had said — “no need.” Did she mean she was capable of protecting herself now, and no longer required him? Or had she simply grown tired of things, and didn’t want to be around him anymore?
The bell rang, students scattered in all directions, and he waited at the gate for a good long while — but there was no sign of that small, quail-like figure.
“First-place scholar.” One of the girls who sat near Tujin smiled at him as she passed. “Tujin left through the west gate. Who exactly are you still waiting for here?”
She’d already left?
She was avoiding him?
Zhang Zaixin’s expression darkened. He said, keeping his voice even: “It’s nothing. I was simply waiting for my teacher.”
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