Before school started, Wen Zhiting and Xiang Qin drove with the two children to a department store to buy school supplies.
First, they bought each of them a new backpack, added new stationery, and then bought each child two sets of clothes.
Zhou Jingchen stood in front of the mirror outside the fitting room. The boy in the mirror was tall and upright, wearing a light gray-blue checkered cotton shirt, dark pants, and brand-new canvas shoes. His face was handsome and refined.
Wen Zhiting patted his shoulder, sighing: “Good boy, taller than me already.”
Xiang Qin helped him straighten his shirt sleeves, smiling gently: “I think Jingchen is still going to grow taller. He’ll definitely be at least 185 cm someday.”
Zhou Jingchen scratched the back of his head, shyly smiling.
Wen Xi pouted. Whenever he got praise, her tail would wag with excitement. She said, “Mom, why don’t I grow taller?”
“Why not?” Xiang Qin pinched her cheek. “Little Magpie, you’ll still grow in high school.”
The store clerk, looking at Zhou Jingchen trying on clothes, complimented: “Your son is really handsome.”
Xiang Qin raised an eyebrow, smiling: “Right? I also think my son is handsome. He’ll attract a lot of girls in the future.”
At checkout, Zhou Jingchen said one set of clothes was enough. Xiang Qin told the clerk to wrap both sets he tried on.
He hurriedly insisted: “Auntie, I’ll pay. Grandpa gave me money before we came out.”
Xiang Qin scolded him lightly: “Why would you pay? Your uncle and I bought these for you. Don’t make it awkward. Aren’t you still treating me like family?”
Wen Zhiting patted his back: “Jingchen, let your auntie pay. Soon you’ll be at your new school—wear new clothes and greet the new school with a fresh look. We treat you as our own son; we’re one family.”
Zhou Jingchen’s eyes teared up slightly. He nodded: “Thank you, Uncle, Auntie.”
After leaving the store, Xiang Qin and Wen Zhiting took the two children to have a big meal.
In recent years, Pingjiang City had opened several Western-style restaurants. On special occasions, Xiang Qin sometimes took the children there to celebrate.
The restaurant was elegant, with soft jazz music playing, occasionally interrupted by the clinking of cutlery.
Just as Zhou Jingchen was about to cut his steak, Wen Xi swapped her plate with his.
Xiang Qin couldn’t help but tap her on the head with a spoon, scolding: “How can you be so rude?”
Wen Xi rubbed her head in pain: “What’s wrong? I’m too lazy to cut it.” She forked a piece of steak into her mouth.
“You, you’re just like someone I know,” Wen Zhiting said.
Xiang Qin rolled her eyes: “Definitely like you. I’m not like that—look at her, always mischievous…”
“I’m not like that either. I’ve heard a lot about your childhood from your parents. I think her mischievous nature is quite like yours when you were little.”
“Shut up,” Xiang Qin rolled her eyes, stuffing a chicken wing into his mouth to silence him.
Zhou Jingchen chuckled quietly. It seemed Wen Xi’s personality really was more like Aunt Xiang’s.
After eating, they left the department store, laughing and chatting on the way to the parking lot.
Wen Zhiting glanced at Zhou Jingchen’s crutch: “We should have a new one made. You’re growing fast; this crutch might not be suitable soon.”
“No, Uncle. It’s fine for me. I’ll deal with it after high school when I grow taller.”
“Alright,” Wen Zhiting nodded.
Except for Zhou Jingchen, everyone carried shopping bags in their hands.
“Director Wen?” Several female colleagues from the factory passed by, all dressed elegantly.
The leader greeted first: “Director Wen, Accountant Xiang, out shopping?”
Xiang Qin smiled politely: “Yes, the children are about to start school. We’re buying school supplies. Are you out shopping too?”
They smiled back: “Yes, just browsing.”
After Wen Zhiting’s family walked away, the female colleague who had spoken earlier frowned, speaking sarcastically:
“See? They’re the director’s family. Shopping with big bags, not caring about us at all. The factory’s profits have halved in recent years, wages have been cut, everyone complains. Yet their family enjoys luxury.”
Another woman with a white bag sneered: “Even a skinny camel is bigger than a horse. Even if he stops being director, he makes enough for life. Who cares about ordinary people?”
Someone else tried to be reasonable: “Director Wen isn’t easy. All state-owned enterprises are facing transformation. He works hard every day…”
Another quickly retorted: “That’s none of our business. He could easily take a handful from his pocket and feed a family like yours for years.”
“Don’t know who will be laid off next…”
Their figures faded into the crowd.
Pingjiang No. 2 High School, located at 106 Zhongshan South Road, required a bus ride from Kangshixiang and about ten minutes by bike.
Zhou Jingchen couldn’t ride a bicycle, and Wen Xi was reckless. With traffic chaos at that time, the adults didn’t let her ride either, so they had to take the bus.
No. 2 High School wasn’t as prestigious as Zhenhua or No. 1 High, but it had a long history and decent teachers. Most of the students were of average academic ability.
Across two streets was Qinli High School, known as a school for lower-performing students. Fang Haoyu went there.
Wen Xi barely scored above No. 2 High’s admission line—if she had scored slightly lower, she wouldn’t have gotten in.
On the first day of school, Wen Zhiting drove the two to the school gate. All students wore blue-and-white uniforms.
The class was full. Seats were assigned randomly. The homeroom teacher didn’t know the students well, so he temporarily seated them by height: shorter students in front, taller students in back. Wen Xi and Zhou Jingchen were separated.
The classroom had seven rows. Wen Xi sat in the third row, sharing a desk with Jiang Xiaoya. Zhou Jingchen sat diagonally behind them in the last row, with a boy named Qiao Yan as his deskmate.
Many new faces gathered together, excited and curious. Jiang Xiaoya used to live in the same alley as Wen Xi. Her parents worked at Hongxing Machinery Factory and later moved to a new house.
It was a delight for the two girls to be in the same school and assigned to the same desk. They held hands, whispering and sharing their summer experiences.
On the first day, all the teachers set classroom rules.
“My class does not allow passing notes or eating…” said the Chinese teacher. With a “snap~,” a piece of chalk fell precisely on Wen Xi’s desk:
“Whispering and passing notes—if I catch you once, you’ll stand at the back.”
Wen Xi looked up at the teacher’s stern face and immediately sat upright, making a gesture of zipping her lips.