The street was bustling and lively. Today’s market hadn’t dispersed yet—donkey carts, horse carts, ox carts, bicycles; vendors setting up stalls, hawking their goods; shouts and calls rising one after another. People from all directions surged toward the same place to attend the fair.
Wen Shiqing drifted along with the crowd, dazed and hollow. She hugged her arms tightly, her teeth chattering, tears falling in steady streams.
“Watch out!”
Someone suddenly grabbed her arm, and she stumbled.
Zhou Chen yanked her to the side of the road just as a donkey cart brushed past them, missing by a hair.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed? Walking right down the middle of the road!” The man driving the donkey cart turned back and shouted, his voice loud and rough.
“Shiqing, are you okay?” Zhou Chen frowned. Seeing how lost she looked, concern was written all over his face.
Zhou Chen was Wen Shiqing’s high school classmate. He had been one of the top students in their class and, after graduating, had gotten into the local People’s University. He was good-looking and outstanding in every way.
“Zhou Chen?”
Wen Shiqing looked up, and only then did the boy realize she was crying.
A few strands of hair were plastered damply against her fair face. The tip of her nose was red, her lips gently pressed together, pitiful as if she’d suffered a tremendous grievance.
“I spotted you from far away just now. It’s really dangerous to walk in the middle of the road—especially on market day. What if you got hit by a donkey cart or an ox cart?”
He bent slightly forward, holding her by the shoulders, speaking faster than usual.
Wen Shiqing lifted her face, and in her mind flashed a clear image of the chicken her mother had been holding—and the blood all over the ground.
Her nose twitched, and two crystal-clear streams of tears slid down from the corners of her eyes.
“What happened? Why are you crying so hard?”
Zhou Chen instinctively raised his hand to wipe her tears, but fearing he might overstep, he lowered it again.
Not far away, Xie Yucheng stood with his hands in his pockets, dark eyes sweeping over the scene with a complex expression.
He withdrew his gaze, flicked his cigarette butt to the ground, crushed it underfoot, and turned away.
Crying in front of a classmate was too embarrassing. Wen Shiqing wiped her tears with the back of her hand, took a deep breath, steadied her voice, and said, “It’s nothing. You… why are you here?”
Zhou Chen lived in the south of the city, while this was the north. She was surprised to run into him here.
The boy awkwardly scratched the back of his head, his eyes darting away.
He didn’t say that he’d come here hoping to run into her. Instead, he hastily explained, “I came to visit a relative.”
They sat down at a teahouse by the street. Zhou Chen poured her a cup of cold tea and gently set it in front of her.
Suddenly, he remembered the first time he’d seen her at school three years ago. Back then, for some unknown reason, she’d been crying too. She really did seem to cry easily.
Most people looked miserable when they cried, but Wen Shiqing looked exceptionally beautiful and moving.
Her eyebrows were slender and curved. When she cried, large, glistening tears slid from the corners of her beautiful eyes. Her crow-feather-like long lashes were damp and glossy, and the tip of her nose carried a blush of pink.
She was like Lin Daiyu from an illustrated album—two brows that seemed knitted yet not, a pair of eyes that seemed joyful yet sorrowful, full of feeling.
And when that cherry-red mouth spoke, it was even more different from the local northern girls—her tone soft, with a sweet lilt at the end.
Later, they were assigned to the same class. After getting to know her, Zhou Chen felt that this girl was like a star, radiating light all over.
Her personality wasn’t as fragile as her appearance suggested; instead, she had edges and strength. From then on, he’d fallen hopelessly for her.
The girl lowered her head, her gaze unfocused, resting her cheek on one hand while her fingers idly played with the teacup in front of her.
Zhou Chen took a sip of tea and searched for a topic. “What do you plan to do after graduating high school?”
He knew she hadn’t gotten into college. Out of the thirty-plus students in their class, only three or four had.
Wen Shiqing drooped dejectedly, still grieving for Ali. “I don’t know. My mom wants me to get married as soon as possible.”
The tea Zhou Chen hadn’t yet swallowed went straight down the wrong pipe. He coughed hard a few times, covering his nose, his face flushing red from choking.
“Are you okay?” Wen Shiqing took out the small handkerchief she carried with her and handed it to him.
It was white, with a few clusters of pale-colored flowers embroidered at the corners. It carried a light, clean fragrance and looked very elegant.
Holding the handkerchief, Zhou Chen coughed a few more times, his face finally calming. Sitting up straight, he said seriously, “You’re still so young. There’s no rush, right?”
Wen Shiqing gave a bitter smile. “My mom is in a rush. She wants to sell me for a good price while I’m still young.”
“I think you’ve only just graduated, and you’ve only just come of age. No matter how anxious one is, this is too rushed. You’re not a commodity. Marriage is free now—how can your mom treat you like this?”
He spoke urgently, his expression as colorful as an overturned spice rack.
Wen Shiqing couldn’t help but laugh, a soft pfft, and two tears squeezed out from the corners of her eyes.
“I’m teasing you,” she said leisurely. “In September I’ll take the exam for grassroots positions. If I pass, I might go into a township government, a neighborhood committee, or places like the grain bureau or a clinic, working as a clerk or cashier. That’s the family’s current plan.”
Xie Guoli had told her that for a girl, this was a relatively good path. If she didn’t pass, he would help pull some strings—no matter what, he would make sure she got a good job.
Zhou Chen’s shoulders relaxed. He used her handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his temple. “You scared me to death. I thought you were really going to accept an arranged marriage and get married right away.”
Wen Shiqing’s mood had eased a little. She took a few sips of cold tea and lazily asked, “What about you? College student—when does your term start?”
“September second. Oh, right—we’re planning a class reunion in a few days, going out to the suburbs together. Since I ran into you today, I thought I’d tell you.”
Wen Shiqing didn’t really want to go. Xie Yucheng had come back these days, and she just wanted to stay at home every day, so she could see him whenever he returned.
“I…”
“You’re not going to say you’re not coming, are you? Quite a few from our class who were close are going—Qin Mei, Zhang Xiaolin, Wu Li… We’re all about to go our separate ways. This might be the last time we gather together.”
“All right, I’ll go.”
Zhou Chen’s dark brows and eyes lit up with a bright smile, and the weight on his heart finally lifted.
The handkerchief had been warmed by his palm, crumpled from being clenched. When they parted, he looked awkward. “I’ll wash it and return it to you.”
Shiqing waved her hand, her jet-black braided pigtail swinging over her shoulder. “It’s fine—just throw it away. My mom embroidered lots of handkerchiefs for me.”
She turned and left. Zhou Chen kept watching her back until her slender figure disappeared into the crowd. Only then did he quietly fold the handkerchief and slip it into his pocket.