Yu Bei agreed to let her in.
Chen Qingning immediately raised her right hand high, like a queen returning, and signed "thank you" twice to the "masses."
This earned her scattered laughter from the class, and also a halt from Yu Bei: "Hold on."
Chen Qingning turned around in the aisle.
Yu Bei tilted his head: "The door."
Only then did Chen Qingning notice the wide-open front door, wind rushing into the classroom. But she was already almost at her seat. She plopped down, making a pleading face: "Could the teacher close it, please?"
Yu Bei didn't argue with her, turning to close the door instead.
Ge Lingxi sat in the first row, taking the chance to look back at Chen Qingning and flash a toothy grin.
Chen Qingning made a flower shape with her hands, resting them under her chin, and winked at the little girl.
Receiving Teacher Chen's response, Ge Lingxi turned back around, satisfied.
Yu Bei returned to the podium and clapped the blackboard twice, pulling some of the children's attention away from Chen Qingning: "Last class we talked about how the father told his son and daughter, 'This isn't an umbrella, it's a white poplar…'"
Chen Qingning watched him without blinking.
So "father" was the side of the thumb pressed against the center of the lips, "son" was brushing the side of the head then measuring height, "daughter" was pinching the earlobe then measuring height, "umbrella" was the left index finger against the right palm, followed by spreading all five fingers to mimic opening an umbrella…
Chen Qingning opened her textbook and sign language book to compare, following Yu Bei's simultaneous narration, precisely memorizing the first two.
The first one she could use to show off to Chen Yu'en on video call, blinding his old eyes;
The second was perfect for cursing Yu Bei.
Despite trying her hardest to stay alert, by the second half of the class, when Yu Bei asked everyone to summarize and write down the characteristics of the white poplar, Chen Qingning was still drowsy, yawning nonstop.
He seemed to do this every class—going around to check and correct each person.
When he walked to Chen Qingning's side, she pressed her lips together, propping her forehead on her hand to avoid eye contact, because there was nothing written on the notebook in front of her except the scribbled lines from her sleepwalking over the past few days.
Yu Bei stopped by her desk, speaking in a low voice: "You write too."
She looked up in surprise, mouthing: "Why?" She was a teacher, after all. Why write such boring summaries? White poplar—tall and straight, unyielding through wind, frost, rain, and snow, never weak, never wavering. She just didn't deign to learn it, not because she was incompetent, okay?
Yu Bei didn't explain: "Write."
Chen Qingning spread her hands, helpless and self-righteous: "I don't have a pen."
The next second, her scalp suddenly loosened, and a few strands of hair slipped into her neck, brushing past her ear, ticklish. A pen landed in front of her, rolling one full turn before being stopped by her pink-brown leopard-print nail tips.
Chen Qingning instinctively touched the back of her head.
Her pen hairpin, her little mischievous accessory, had been pulled out, turning her high bun back into the high ponytail she'd worn when she left.
By the time she looked up, Yu Bei had already circled away to the other side to guide students.
…
"You pulled my hair out—don't you know my scalp is made of flesh too?" Chen Qingning deliberately kept the evidence of bodily harm in the pen clip, following him to the office the moment class ended to confront Yu Bei.
It was a soft, long strand of hair, half tea-brown, half light gold, with a small section of jet black newly grown at the root.
Chen Qingning also noticed that short new growth of hair and changed color in shock: "Is there a place to dye hair around here?"
Yu Bei glanced at her: "Let me see your lecture notes."
Chen Qingning flipped open her wine-red leather notebook, held it upright, and turned it toward Yu Bei.
On it was scrawled in messy handwriting:
"Yu Bei, stubborn and rigid, no matter how you coax or push, no fun, no flexibility."
Yu Bei raised his eyes. Behind the paper barrier was the girl's triumphant, smiling gaze. Just as he was about to lose it, she seemed to have foreseen it, quickly flipping to the next page—the back side held the in-class assignment he'd assigned: a summary of the main text of "The White Poplar."
"Ha, ha, ha." Chen Qingning let out three small laughs in a rough voice.
Yu Bei let her off the hook: "Go back to your seat."
The girl rose, smug and satisfied.
"Chen Qingning." Yu Bei called her back.
She turned around with bright eyes: "What?"
"Give me the pen."
Chen Qingning held up the pen: "This one?"
"Yeah."
"Do you want the hair too?" she teased, waving it around.
"Forget it, just take it." Out of sight, out of mind.
Chen Qingning became someone who would laugh in her sleep that night. Qu Xiao was startled several times by her erratic giggles and couldn't help asking: "What's wrong with you?"
The girl crossed her long legs, leaning against the headboard facing the front camera to inspect her pores: "Do you know what it means to win big?"
Qu Xiao leaned over the back of the chair, extremely curious: "Did you do a trial lecture today? And the feedback was good?"
"No," Chen Qingning said, self-aware, sticking a salicylic acid patch on her nose: "Today I forced Yu Bei to drop his gear."
Drop his gear?
Wasn't that some gaming term?
Qu Xiao was confused: "What does that mean?"
Chen Qingning said: "I swiped one of his pens, and he let me. He's getting weaker and weaker against me."
Qu Xiao: "…" Girl, can you have some self-respect?
She said that out loud.
Chen Qingning chewed air and slowly retracted her fist. "What is dignity? Can you eat it? Anything related to 'spirit' is useless—dignity, courage, ambition, righteousness. What matters is what you hold in your hands. That's real victory."
She raised her phone and snapped a photo of the top of her head, letting out a horrified "Ugh~"
Qu Xiao was still digesting her personal philosophy when she got startled again and yelped, "What now?"
"I need to get my roots touched up!" Chen Qingning's tone and expression were urgent.
Qu Xiao straightened up and peered at the top of her head. "I don't see any color difference."
"There is—I can see it," Chen Qingning said, opening Dianping's beauty salon section, her fingers flying. "Are there any hair salons nearby?"
Qu Xiao said, "There are some in the county town." She often went there to get her hair trimmed and had seen plenty of women getting their hair dyed, across all age groups.
"Really?" Chen Qingning tugged at the baby hairs at her temples. "How's their technique?"
Qu Xiao was helpless. "I've never dyed mine."
"Did Teacher Yuan get hers done there?" Chen Qingning quickly scoured her memory for the only person at the school with non-natural hair color.
Qu Xiao said, "I don't know."
"Then what do you know?" Chen Qingning slid back down in disgust, her thumb still tapping away. "Baihe is way too underdeveloped. I can barely find any hair salons."
Qu Xiao said, "I'll go into town tomorrow. I can help you look."
Chen Qingning rolled over to face her. "You don't have class tomorrow?"
Qu Xiao said, "Tomorrow's the weekend."
Chen Qingning shot up like she was doing a sit-up. "Tomorrow's the weekend?!"
Qu Xiao shrank back. "Huh?"
"Oh my god… I didn't even know tomorrow was the weekend," Chen Qingning pressed her palm to her head. "I'm way too dedicated."
Qu Xiao turned around and put on her noise-canceling headphones.
Waking up earlier on the weekend than on workdays—Qu Xiao had only ever seen that in her first-grade nephew. Now there was a second person: Chen Qingning, who was at the vanity before seven, wielding brushes and powders.
Qu Xiao's face scrunched up entirely as she gargled mouthwash, looking like death.
The irritation from sleep deprivation ended when Chen Qingning applied makeup on her. Her fingers were like magic—a few quick moves and Qu Xiao was glowing.
"You have a subtle face. Korean makeup suits you."
Chen Qingning directed her to take photos downstairs, and Qu Xiao had never seen herself look so photogenic.
Then, while editing photos with her head down, she followed along using her peripheral vision.
They stopped outside the bike shed.
Rows of two-wheelers stood before them, sparse and mismatched in age. Chen Qingning asked, "Aren't we taking a cab?"
Qu Xiao said, "What cab?"
"A taxi, or a ride-share."
"You can't get one." Qu Xiao walked inside. "I always ride my e-bike over."
Chen Qingning was speechless for a few seconds before following. "You're going to give me a ride on an e-bike?"
Qu Xiao turned back. "Yeah."
"But you're smaller than me." Chen Qingning shoved her phone into her pocket and quick-stepped to Qu Xiao's side, squinting suspiciously at the top of her head.
Qu Xiao shot her a sharp look. "What's with that look?"
"Let me ride instead." Chen Qingning volunteered to take charge.
Qu Xiao stopped and scanned her up and down. "Do you know how?"
Chen Qingning huffed. "Who are you looking down on?"
Qu Xiao retrieved the bike, half-convinced.
The girl half a head shorter than her slammed a massive all-black beast upright, kicked out the kickstand, then effortlessly reversed it out, swung the front around, and faced her without a flush or a heavy breath.
Chen Qingning's eyes went wide, her sharply winged eyeliner barely keeping up. "This is an e-bike?"
Qu Xiao nodded. "Yeah."
Chen Qingning frowned hard. "This is a motorcycle, isn't it?"
Qu Xiao insisted, "It's an e-bike."
Chen Qingning said, "Then why does it look exactly like a motorcycle?"
Qu Xiao didn't argue. "Are you riding or not?"
Chen Qingning instantly softened, shuffling over half-bent in small steps to grab her arm. "Xiao'er, you carry me. I'm not familiar with the roads around here—what if I crash and hurt you? That'd be terrible."
She knew it.
Qu Xiao twisted the throttle and glided out of the school's side gate with Chen Qingning on the back. The old gatekeeper grandpa smiled and greeted them good morning; Chen Qingning blew him a kiss, wrapping herself in an F-patterned scarf like the Big Bad Wolf's grandmother.
The road to the county center was easier than Chen Qingning had imagined—a paved concrete road with the occasional pothole, but nothing that would torture her rear end for too long.
Farmland on both sides hadn't sprouted yet, bare tall branches topped with bird nests. But the surroundings weren't entirely desolate—looking out, pine and cypress still stood defiant against the frost.
Small buildings dotted the fields, and distant mountains rolled in soft gray, like ink bleeding into water.
"You guys are so poor here." Chen Qingning sighed sincerely, wrapping both arms around Qu Xiao's waist and pressing against her back, fully savoring the freedom while letting the driver block the wind.
Qu Xiao's whole body stiffened, shouting into the wind, "What are you doing?!"
The girl smelled impossibly good, like a bundle of flowers wrapped around her, and she whined, "Xiao'er, you're so cool. A badass bike chick—I'm in love."
Qu Xiao squirmed awkwardly, the bike swaying left and right, nearly veering into the field. "Let go! I can't even ride like this."
"No."
"…"
After all this joking and bantering, they arrived at the county town. The road suddenly narrowed, and shops multiplied, packed tightly together like teeth on a comb. Elderly men and women set up vegetable stalls, chatting about everyday matters. The sun rose, painting the white walls and gray tiles with color, and the scene before them instantly became rich and vibrant, full of life. Chen Qingning took off her scarf and draped it around the back of her neck, fully unleashing her one-of-a-kind chicness and beauty.
Qu Xiao slowed the motorcycle, dodging pedestrians and oncoming vehicles, and reminded her, "I need to watch the road—you look out for the barbershop."
"Huh?" Chen Qingning was still fiddling with her hair. She snapped back to attention. "Oh, I'm looking."
She asked again, "Where's the one you usually go to?"
Qu Xiao tilted his head, gesturing. "Left turn up ahead, it's right there."
"Oh." The passersby were all busy with their own affairs, and the amount of attention they paid to Chen Qingning was far less than she'd expected. Her enthusiasm waned, and she couldn't be bothered to be picky. "Let's just go there then."
Qu Xiao asked, "What time is it?"
Chen Qingning pulled out her phone and glanced at it. "Nine twenty."
Qu Xiao turned the handlebars. "We'll have to wait, then. He doesn't open until nine thirty."
Chen Qingning touched her black hair tucked into the scarf. "Why don't you dye yours?"
Qu Xiao said, "If I dye it, I'd have to keep touching it up. Too much trouble."
Chen Qingning nodded thoughtfully. "True."
Chen Qingning didn't let Qu Xiao wait with her.
The student she was tutoring wasn't close by, and Chen Qingning didn't want to delay her. Besides, with a teacher present, she felt like a prisoner under guard, afraid to let loose and have fun.
After repeatedly reminding her to meet at "Brother Xuan's Hair Salon" at twelve thirty, Qu Xiao rode off.
Chen Qingning pulled off her scarf and draped it over her shoulders like a shawl, tidying her wind-tangled hair as she looked around.
She stood there gracefully, and passersby turned their heads frequently.
And she was like a mascot at a scenic spot, smiling sweetly.
It was all Qu Xiao's fault for riding too fast.
Only a still work of art gives people time to linger and admire.
Chen Qingning looked back at the shop sign, waiting for "Brother Xuan" to arrive, and meanwhile daydreamed—if Brother Xuan asked her to pose for a photo and print it as a promotional picture to stick on the glass door, she could charge a friendly portrait fee of just two yuan, and from then on become the beautiful legend of Baihe County.
Chen Qingning stood there for a full twenty minutes.
All her patience ran out. She swung her underarm bag and charged into the braised meat shop next door, asking the woman chopping pig trotters behind the display case, "Where's Brother Xuan next door?"
The woman set down her knife and replied, "He's off. His son's getting married."
Chen Qingning clenched her fist, said thanks, and swept out through the plastic curtain in a huff. Finding no notice on the salon's sliding door, she took out her frustration on the broom leaning against the doorframe, giving it a light kick. It didn't fall over, so she kicked it again, and only when the broom clattered to the ground did she feel satisfied. She turned back to the braised meat shop:
"Give me a whole chicken."
Chen Qingning began wandering around. There was a coffee shop at the street corner—she took two sips and bolted out the door. That café's brew was the hemlock of the coffee world, worse than the instant stuff at the corner store. When she lingered in a women's clothing store with a gloomy face, the owner didn't dare approach to make recommendations, letting her go in and out of the fitting room as she pleased. She didn't even spare the accessories on the mannequins. Finally, she stood in front of the mirror all decked out, fastening a sweater chain around her waist, took several selfies, and then glided over. "How much for this?"
The owner used a calculator and took a long time to tally the total.
"That cheap?" Chen Qingning couldn't believe it.
She scooped up all the new clothes and dumped them on the counter. Wrapping her scarf around herself, she crossed her arms and ordered, "Cut off all the tags and wrap them up."
Carrying bags upon bags out of the store, the frustration of being stood up by the barbershop evaporated. Chen Qingning glanced at the time and opened her navigation to confirm the Mixue Ice Cream & Tea location, planning to buy two drinks for the ride back and meet up with Qu Xiao.
Luckily, it wasn't far from her.
Chen Qingning switched her paper bags from her left hand to her right and ordered one iced and one hot Orange Smash.
A not-insignificant machine noise rumbled from behind the counter, buzzing in her ears. She lowered her eyes to admire her own "goddess descends" mirror selfies, flipping through them one by one, silently praising herself without end.
As she was basking in self-admiration, she suddenly heard someone call out, "Teacher Yu—over here—"
Chen Qingning looked up from her photo album and followed the voice. It really was the Teacher Yu she knew. At the fork in the road, a man got off a mountain bike and pushed it forward with one hand. The wind revealed his brow bone. He passed through light and shadow, voices and smells, walking straight to a woman without glancing aside.
The woman had short hair and wore an indigo knee-length down jacket. She was much shorter than Yu Bei, and her face showed signs of being older, but the smile that came with it added charm.
Yu Bei lowered his head slightly, listening to her speak.
After a brief exchange, the two walked side by side toward the street corner.
Chen Qingning turned around and asked the yellow-haired store clerk about the progress.
He handed her one cup. "The other one's still being made."
Chen Qingning couldn't wait. She asked for a bag, stuffed it in casually, and tossed out a "the other one's on me" before hopping off the curb and chasing after Yu Bei's direction.
A stalking plan was launched on the spot.
She completely forgot the weight she was carrying. She ran fast around the corner, and when she looked ahead again, there was no trace of Yu Bei.
Did he fall into a manhole?
Annoyed, she stepped forward two paces, grinding the heel of her boot into a few small pits in the road, then pulled out her phone and tapped into Yu Bei's WeChat, hesitating over whether to press the voice message button.
The screen suddenly went dark.
Chen Qingning's heart gave a heavy leap—he'd actually called her first. Startled and puzzled, she answered and brought it to her ear. "Hello?"
"Look up."
Chen Qingning looked up at the sky.
"Turn around."
She pivoted one hundred and eighty degrees, the azure sky swirling as it was sliced by eaves and crisscrossing power lines. On the second floor of the restaurant ahead, a man stood behind the narrow open-air balcony, looking down at her from above, brows furrowed tightly as he assessed: "It really is you."
Chen Qingning gazed at him from afar, not moving an inch. He'd always had a tendency to wear a dark expression, and now with the light behind him, his face was even darker. Chen Qingning couldn't help but laugh at the sight: "What are you doing up there?"
"Teaching."
"Oh." What a boring answer. Her gossip attempt had failed, but Chen Qingning wasn't disappointed—her dimples only deepened.
Sunlight stamped a small seal at the corners of her lips: "Teacher Yu, are you that concerned about me? You couldn't even wait to call the moment you recognized me."
The voice in her ear didn't reply, only reminded her: "You're blocking the way."
Chen Qingning suddenly turned pitiful: "Because I'm lost. Can I come find you?"
A tricycle laden with colorful fruits clattered past her with a jingle. Yu Bei crooked his finger: "Come on up."