It was May. The warm breeze brushed their faces, the trees and grass were lush, and even the air was filled with the lively chirping of orioles and swallows.
Chen Xu first came to find Wen Xi proactively on a Friday afternoon.
It was during the break before the second-to-last class. He leaned casually at the door of Wen Xi’s classroom, drawing curious glances from everyone like a buzzing bee.
“Hey, look! The school heartthrob is here to see Wen Xi,” her deskmate Qiao Yan nudged Zhou Jingchen’s arm, signaling him to look toward the door.
Zhou Jingchen glanced over and saw Chen Xu handing Wen Xi a beautifully folded letter, whispering something in her ear.
“No way! A love letter? The school heartthrob likes her?” Qiao Yan exclaimed in shock.
Zhou Jingchen lowered his head and continued writing, though his mind was distracted. His mechanical pencil kept breaking its lead again and again.
If this incident alone wasn’t enough to prove something, there was another that made him certain something was going on between Wen Xi and Chen Xu.
For a while, the school store sold very thin colored plastic threads with tiny bells or crystal beads. Students would braid them into bracelets—very pretty. The girls would either wear them or give them to someone they liked.
One evening, Wen Xi started braiding a bracelet herself. She had Zhou Jingchen hold the thread while she carefully braided down.
She used green thread, a pattern clearly meant for a boy.
It happened to be almost Zhou Jingchen’s birthday, and he assumed the bracelet was for him—a birthday gift from Wen Xi.
For days, the boy couldn’t help but feel quietly elated.
The bracelet was finished quickly.
A few days later, Zhou Jingchen saw Chen Xu on the playground, wearing a green bracelet identical to the one Wen Xi had braided, with the same pattern.
Zhou Jingchen’s heart sank completely.
Though he had never dared to hope, knowing the truth felt like a heavy blow.
During that period, he became even more withdrawn. He rarely stayed over at Wen Xi’s house. Every morning before school, he left early alone with his crutch, and after school, he didn’t walk home with her.
Wen Xi sensed something was wrong. One day, during PE class when students were given free activity time, she cornered him against a wall, tilting her small face up and glaring at him:
“Why haven’t you come to my house recently? Why don’t you wait for me after school anymore?”
Zhou Jingchen averted his gaze, replying softly,“My grandfather hasn’t been well. I have to stay with him.”
“You’re lying!” Wen Xi tiptoed and stared into his eyes.“Zhou Jingchen, I’ve noticed since the third year of middle school that something’s been off with you.”
The boy’s heart skipped a few beats, his breath caught for a moment, and his Adam’s apple rolled slightly.“You’re imagining things.”
“Imagining things?” Wen Xi scoffed, thinking of his indifferent attitude toward her these past days, a strange sourness rising in her chest.
She rubbed her chest and mocked,“I know, you’ve grown up, become wild, and don’t want to be oppressed by me anymore. You want to sing your own song like a freed serf.”
He remained silent. Stray hairs blown by the wind fell across his face, his eyes lowered, long lashes casting shadows over his expression.
“Zhou Jingchen, I’m done playing with you. You’re boring. Don’t ever come to my house again. We’re done—completely!”
Though Wen Xi had said “completely done” many times before, this time it cut sharply, like a knife slicing through Zhou Jingchen’s skin.
He froze for a long moment, then slowly muttered,“Okay.”
Wen Xi furrowed her brows, stamped hard on his foot, and ran off.
On the playground, a few girls from their class were chatting about who was the most handsome boy in school.
Wen Xi absentmindedly held a small stick and scribbled on the ground, carelessly writing: “traitor, bastard…”
In her heart, she silently vowed that she would never reconcile with Zhou Jingchen and would never speak to him again.
One of the girls touched her arm.“Wen Xi, what do you think?”
“Huh?” She snapped out of her thoughts. “What?”
The girl pointed to Zhou Jingchen sitting alone with a book, and whispered,“We’re discussing whether Zhou Jingchen or the school heartthrob Chen Xu is more handsome. What do you think?”
The lonely boy sat on the steps, slender and pale, with long legs. His school uniform was neat and tidy.
His black hair was sleek, his fingers bony and holding a book, long lashes lowered. His dark eyes carried a faint distance.
High nose, thin lips, sculpted features—he looked cold and quiet, with an aura of youthful elegance.
Wen Xi glanced at him and said flatly,“I don’t know.”
It was true—she genuinely didn’t know if Zhou Jingchen was handsome. She saw him every day. They were close like conjoined siblings. To her, he had always looked like that.
The girls murmured,“We think Zhou Jingchen is a bit more handsome, but it’s a pity… he has a leg disability.”
Wen Xi muttered,“So what if he’s disabled? It doesn’t affect his studies or daily life.”
The other girls clicked their tongues and said no more.
Everyone knew Wen Xi and Zhou Jingchen were close. He had grown up in her house. Her mother even attended parent meetings for him. They were like real siblings.
But now, they were older. Both had their own thoughts, and their relationship wasn’t easy to mend.
This cold war lasted nearly a week, longer than ever before.
Wen Xi stopped passing him notes, walking separately to and from school. She ignored him completely in class.
Zhou Jingchen sat at the back of the classroom every day like a dejected little dog, silently staring at her back from the corner.
At that time, girls liked to wear halter-style vests under their uniforms, tied behind the neck.
Wen Xi had a beautiful, slender neck. The strap tied in a bow at the back of her neck looked perfect. No one else could compare.
During a break, Zhou Jingchen sat by the window and saw Wen Xi talking with Chen Xu on the playground.
He noticed that Wen Xi often watched Chen Xu play sports. She must really like athletic boys.
They were close, and when the wind blew Wen Xi’s hair into Chen Xu’s face, he smiled and tucked it behind her ear.
“Hey, what are you looking at?” Qiao Yan lazily asked him.
“Nothing,” Zhou Jingchen said, his eyes suddenly stinging. He blinked a few times and withdrew his gaze.
Qiao Yan looked out the window and clicked her tongue.“They’re perfect together! Wen Xi is so beautiful; only someone like Chen Xu could match her.”
The boy bent over his homework. His pen pierced the paper, leaving a blotchy black mark.
It wasn’t just his eyes stinging—his heart felt like it was being tossed into a vat of vinegar, churned and seeping acid.
Wen Xi was so beautiful, like a princess. Her father was a factory director; her mother an accountant. Chen Xu’s parents were senior staff. He was tall and strong, handsome on the court, dripping sweat.
Yes, they were a perfect match—like a princess and her prince in a fairy tale.
And he? An abandoned orphan, disabled.
He could only crawl at the princess’s feet, help her put on shoes or socks, hoping for a glimpse of her smile or to brush against her soft skin to satisfy his dark thoughts.
But now even that chance was gone.
Wen Xi had ignored him for five days.
Those five days felt like a century. Zhou Jingchen felt almost dead inside.
On Friday after school, a light rain fell. The sky was gray, and raindrops drizzled down.
Classmates left with umbrellas or were picked up by parents. The school gate was crowded with people and cars. The rain showed no sign of stopping.
Wen Xi had no umbrella, standing at the school gate, watching the endless rain, feeling restless.
Suddenly, a black umbrella opened above her.“Wen Xi, let’s go home together,” Zhou Jingchen said softly, almost pleading.
Wen Xi turned and saw him. His long, fair hand held the umbrella handle; the blue veins on the back of his hand were visible. His face was partially hidden under the black umbrella, his dark eyes fixed on her.
Wanting to reconcile?
He hadn’t come to see her for five days, hadn’t tried to make up. Why should she forgive him?
Absolutely not!
“No!” Wen Xi said fiercely, pushing his hand away and running into the rain.