Ten minutes after the dismissal bell, most of the classroom had already emptied.
The rain still hadn’t stopped.
From early morning until now, the sky had remained a dreary gray, as though veiled in a thin layer of mist. Outside in the hallway, accumulated rainwater trickled down the stairs step by step. A few students without umbrellas gathered at the entrance of the academic building, gazing through the curtain of rain toward the dormitories and the school gate.
The window in Class 2-3 was cracked open just a sliver.
A humid breeze slipped through the gap, stirring the pale blue curtains hanging beside the window. The hem of the curtain brushed against the back of Shen Zhiyao’s hand before being quickly swept away by the wind.
He sat in his seat, head lowered as he neatly arranged the newly distributed study materials.
The school had handed out a massive pile of worksheets, physics, and English stacked high. Shen Zhiyao sorted them by subject and wrote his name and the date in the upper right corners, moving at an unhurried pace.
From the back of the classroom came the sound of dragging desks and chairs.
“Lin Po, sweep up the trash over there.”
“Isn’t that your job?”
“I’m mopping.”
“You said you were mopping last time, too, and I still ended up carrying the water bucket.”
“That was an accident.”
“You have an accident every single time.”
Cheng Ye stood in the middle of the aisle holding a mop, his school uniform sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the tips of his shoes already soaked through from the wet floor. Hearing Lin Po’s complaints, he nudged the dustpan beside him with his toe.
“Cut the talk and get sweeping.”
Though Lin Po grumbled, he still bent down and picked up the broom.
Xu Zhi was wiping the blackboard. She wasn’t particularly tall, so she had to stand on tiptoe to reach a few leftover chalk marks in the top right corner.
“Cheng Ye.”
“What?”
“Help me wipe the top part.”
“Hold on.”
Cheng Ye had just lowered the mop into the bucket when something suddenly occurred to him. He turned his head to look at the window seat.
“Shen Zhiyao.”
Shen Zhiyao looked up.
“Your duty assignment hasn’t been handed out yet.”
“What should I do?”
Cheng Ye glanced around the classroom.
Sweeping was covered, mopping was taken, and someone was already on blackboard duty. There was quite a bit of dust accumulated on the window sill, but since it was still raining outside, wiping it down wouldn’t keep it clean for long anyway.
“You can wipe the windows.”
Shen Zhiyao followed his gaze.
The glass was covered in rain streaks, and a thin layer of condensation clung to the edges near the frame. A half-used rag sat in the corner of the sill alongside a few wet leaves blown in by the wind.
“Okay.”
He put his study materials into his desk drawer, picked up the rag, and walked toward the sink.
Cheng Ye had assumed he would find it dirty and hesitate, so seeing him agree so cleanly made him take a second look.
“The sink is at the end of the hallway.”
“I know.”
“You’ve been there already?”
“I saw it earlier.”
Shen Zhiyao walked out of the classroom holding the rag.
Lin Po sidled over and tapped Cheng Ye’s shoe with the handle of his broom.
“Your new deskmate is pretty cold, huh?”
Cheng Ye lowered his head to wring out the mop.
“He’s fine.”
“That counts as fine?”
“At least he speaks.”
“Nonsense, it’s not like the guy’s mute.”
Cheng Ye wrung the mop dry and kicked the water bucket slightly to the side.
“He just doesn’t talk much.”
Lin Po glanced out the door.
“You’ve only known him for a day how come you sound like you understand him so well?”
Cheng Ye didn’t answer.
In truth, he couldn’t explain it either.
Shen Zhiyao was indeed difficult to get close to. If someone asked a question, he would usually only give half an answer; if a problem could be resolved with a single word, he would never use a second. Yet he wasn’t intentionally acting cold, and most of the time he was even quite polite.
It was just that his politeness was too rigid.
Like a sign hanging at an entrance reading “Keep Clear.”
“Don’t keep crowding around him,” Lin Po said. “If he doesn’t want to bother with you and you keep trying to force a conversation, aren’t you being annoying?”
Cheng Ye looked up at him.
“You think I’m annoying?”
“A little bit.”
“Then stay away from me.”
“No way.”
“Why?”
“I’m used to it.”
Cheng Ye let out a short laugh and pushed his mop forward.
“Then that solves it.”
Lin Po found this baffling and was about to press further when Shen Zhiyao returned from the hallway.
The rag had been washed thoroughly clean, folded into a neat square, and held in his hand. As he passed the door, his steps paused briefly to step around the floor Cheng Ye had just mopped, navigating along the wall back to his seat.
“Careful, the floor is slippery,” Cheng Ye warned.
Shen Zhiyao gave a quiet “mm.”
setup with two broad panes, the window was wide.
Shen Zhiyao began with the inner glass. As he raised his hand, his uniform sleeve slid down slightly, exposing a fair, lean wrist.
The rain outside was kept at bay by the glass, reduced to a muted, heavy murmur.
As the condensation was wiped away bit by bit, the sports field outside grew clear. The red track was soaked in rain, its color noticeably deeper than usual. A large pool of water had gathered beneath the distant basketball hoop, where the white net swayed back and forth in the wind.
When Shen Zhiyao reached the pane near Cheng Ye’s seat, he suddenly paused.
There was a faint mark on the glass.
It looked as though someone had drawn something with a finger and then casually wiped it away, leaving only a few indecipherable smudges.
“That won’t come off,” Cheng Ye’s voice came from behind.
Shen Zhiyao turned his head.
Cheng Ye was standing in the aisle, still holding his mop. He followed Shen Zhiyao’s gaze to the glass.
“Last semester, someone drew on it with a permanent marker. It was wiped down multiple times, but it still left a mark.”
“What was drawn?”
“A turtle.”
“…”
“Really,” Cheng Ye added. “It actually looked pretty accurate.”
Shen Zhiyao looked back at the glass.
Try as he might, those blurred lines looked nothing like a turtle.
“Who drew it?”
“Lin Po.”
A voice immediately rang out from the other side of the room.
“It wasn’t me!”
Cheng Ye didn’t bat an eye: “He says it wasn’t him.”
Shen Zhiyao glanced at him.
“Then who was it?”
“Me.”
He said it with complete composure.
Shen Zhiyao fell silent for two seconds, then lowered his head to continue wiping the window.
Cheng Ye stood nearby for a moment.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?”
“Say what?”
“Like scolding me for damaging public property.”
“The teacher already scolded you.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because the mark is still here, but there aren’t any new ones.”
Cheng Ye froze for a second, then broke into a laugh.
“You’re pretty observant.”
Shen Zhiyao ignored him.
Having finished wiping the blackboard, Xu Zhi hopped down from the podium just in time to hear the tail end of their conversation.
“Cheng Ye, stop disturbing people while they’re working.”
“How am I disturbing him?”
“Just standing there is a disturbance.”
“Prejudice.”
Xu Zhi tossed the eraser back onto the podium.
“If you have nothing to do, fix that curtain. The left hook came loose two days ago.”
Cheng Ye looked up.
Sure enough, the top hook of the curtain had detached, leaving the entire fabric drooping diagonally. Whenever the wind blew in the afternoon, its edge would sweep across Shen Zhiyao’s desk.
“Why do I have to do everything?”
“Because you’re tall.”
The reason was incontrovertible.
Leaning his mop against the wall, Cheng Ye dragged a chair over.
Just as he was about to step up, Shen Zhiyao suddenly reached out and held the back of the chair.
Cheng Ye looked down at him.
“Afraid I’ll fall?”
“The chair is unstable.”
“Don’t worry, my balance is great.”
“The floor was just mopped.”
“…”
Cheng Ye glanced down.
The floor beneath the chair was indeed still wet.
He nudged the chair slightly toward a dry spot before stepping up again.
The curtain hook was stuck tight; despite holding his hands up for quite a while, Cheng Ye couldn’t manage to click it back into place. Standing with one foot near the edge of the seat, he leaned forward slightly.
“A bit to the left,” Shen Zhiyao said.
“Where?”
“The second hole near your hand.”
Cheng Ye fumbled around.
“This one?”
“Further left.”
“Here?”
“Mm.”
With a soft click, the hook finally snapped into place.
Satisfied, Cheng Ye clapped his hands together. But just as he was about to hop down, his shoe slipped along the edge of the seat.
The chair let out a harsh screech against the floor.
Shen Zhiyao instinctively reached out, grabbing his arm.
Cheng Ye also reflexively caught himself on the window frame, preventing a tumble.
A sudden silence fell over the classroom.
“I told you the floor was slippery,” Shen Zhiyao said, frowning.
Steadying himself, Cheng Ye looked down at the hand holding his arm.
Shen Zhiyao’s fingers were long, his knuckles turning slightly pale from the force of his grip.
Perhaps realizing his reaction had been a bit abrupt, he quickly released his hold.
“Thanks.”
Cheng Ye jumped down from the chair.
“See? You can take the initiative to help people.”
“I just didn’t want you crashing into my desk.”
“That still counts as helping.”
Shen Zhiyao didn’t argue.
As Cheng Ye carried the chair back to its original spot, a smile lingered at the corner of his lips.
Standing nearby, Xu Zhi looked at the two of them thoughtfully.
“What are you smiling about?” Lin Po asked.
“Nothing.”
“Every time you say ‘nothing,’ your face looks like there’s definitely something.”
Xu Zhi didn’t bother replying and grabbed her backpack instead.
“My duty is done, I’m heading out.”
Lin Po immediately put down his broom.
“I’m done too.”
Cheng Ye glanced at the floor.
“You haven’t swept your area clean yet.”
“I’ll do it tomorrow.”
“Mr. Zhou will check when he gets back.”
“Then sweep it for me.”
“In your dreams.”
The two bickered back and forth at the back of the classroom until Lin Po finally surrendered and picked his broom back up.
After wiping down the last pane of glass, Shen Zhiyao picked up the fallen leaves from the sill and threw them into the trash can.
The window looked significantly cleaner than it had in the morning.
Though it remained dreary outside, looking through the glass no longer meant peering through a haze of condensation.
He stood by the window, gazing out for a moment.
“Do you like this seat?”
Cheng Ye had walked over without him noticing.
Shen Zhiyao withdrew his gaze.
“It’s fine.”
“You’ve been looking out the window all day.”
“Is there a problem with looking outside?”
“No problem,” Cheng Ye said. “I just get the feeling you really like it.”
Shen Zhiyao folded the rag neatly and placed it back in the corner of the window sill.
“By the window is quieter.”
“How is it quieter?”
Cheng Ye pointed outside.
“When it rains, it’s all rain noise. During PE class, it’s all shouting. And during flag-raising ceremonies, the speakers are painfully loud.”
“Quieter than inside the classroom.”
Cheng Ye followed his logic and glanced around the room.
Lin Po was still complaining about the sheer volume of trash, and students occasionally chased each other down the hallway. By comparison, the world outside the window really did seem relatively tranquil.
“So you sat by the window at your old school, too?”
Shen Zhiyao paused briefly.
“Mm.”
“Permanently?”
“Pretty much.”
“Why?”
“No reason.”
Cheng Ye realized that whenever a question touched upon something Shen Zhiyao preferred not to discuss, he would immediately cut off the conversation.
It wasn’t out of anger, nor was it deliberate secretiveness.
It was more like a habit.
Cheng Ye didn’t push any further.
“Then you’re in luck.”
“What?”
“Getting to sit in a spot you like right after transferring.”
Shen Zhiyao turned to look at him.
“This is your seat.”
“I don’t sit by the window anyway.”
Cheng Ye patted the back of his chair near the aisle.
“My seat is here.”
“The whole desk was originally yours.”
“It isn’t now.”
Cheng Ye said it offhandedly.
Shen Zhiyao lowered his eyes, choosing not to reply.
By the time cleaning duty was entirely wrapped up, the sky had darkened significantly.
Lin Po ran downstairs first holding the trash bag, and Xu Zhi parted ways with them at the end of the hallway. Only Cheng Ye and Shen Zhiyao were left in the classroom.
Cheng Ye returned the bucket to the supply closet. When he came back, he saw Shen Zhiyao still standing beside his desk.
“Why aren’t you leaving?”
Shen Zhiyao looked out the window.
“Waiting for the rain to lighten up.”
“You didn’t bring an umbrella?”
“I did.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
Shen Zhiyao didn’t answer.
Cheng Ye followed his gaze downward.
A crowd of students was clustered at the building’s entrance. A few older boys were fooling around near the steps, deliberately shaking water off their umbrellas onto their friends while everyone around them dodged and shouted complaints.
Cheng Ye glanced back at Shen Zhiyao.
“You don’t like crowds?”
“It’s fine.”
‘Fine‘ again.
Cheng Ye had already gathered that in Shen Zhiyao’s vocabulary, those words almost always meant he didn’t want to continue the discussion.
Slinging his backpack over one shoulder, Cheng Ye said, “Then let’s take the back exit.”
“What?”
“There’s a small path behind the science building that leads straight to the bike shed. Hardly anyone uses it.”
Shen Zhiyao checked the wall clock.
“I take the bus.”
“It can lead to the main gate too, just a bit of a detour.”
“You don’t ride a bike?”
“I do.”
“Then it’s not on your way.”
Cheng Ye was already at the door and looked back over his shoulder.
“I never said I was walking you out.”
After a moment of silence, Shen Zhiyao put on his backpack and followed him.
The two left through the side door of the academic building.
The rain had lessened considerably since the afternoon, reduced to a fine drizzle. The path behind the science building was paved with gray stone tiles, flanked by low winterberry bushes. Due to poor drainage, shallow water pooled between the cracks; every step produced a faint splashing sound against their soles.
Cheng Ye unfurled a dark blue long-handled umbrella.
Shen Zhiyao also pulled his own umbrella from the side pocket of his backpack.
It was a black folding umbrella.
He pressed the release button, but the ribs only popped halfway open.
Shen Zhiyao frowned, trying once more.
The canopy stuck midway, refusing to open fully no matter what.
Cheng Ye stood beside him, watching for a few seconds.
“Broken?”
“Probably.”
“Was it fine this morning?”
“I didn’t use it this morning.”
“Then how did you get here?”
“A taxi.”
Cheng Ye tilted his umbrella slightly over toward him.
“Let’s share.”
“No need.”
“You plan to walk all the way to the gate under a broken umbrella?”
“The rain isn’t heavy.”
“Then why’d you bring an umbrella in the first place?”
Shen Zhiyao lowered his head to inspect the jammed ribs, remaining quiet.
Cheng Ye stepped directly up to his side, holding the umbrella over both of their heads.
“Stop messing with it. Fix it when you get home.”
The umbrella wasn’t small, but sharing it between two high school boys was still a tight fit.
Shen Zhiyao instinctively yielded some space, causing his outer shoulder to immediately fall outside the cover.
Cheng Ye reached out and tugged lightly on his backpack strap.
“If you move any further out, you might as well not be under an umbrella at all.”
Pulled back, Shen Zhiyao ended up half a step closer.
The cuffs of their school uniforms brushed together before quickly drifting apart.
“Do you always walk this far away from people?” Cheng Ye asked.
“No.”
“Then what are you dodging?”
“I’m not dodging.”
“You’re practically stepping into the bushes.”
Shen Zhiyao looked down at his feet.
Sure enough, his right side was brushing right against the greenery; a bit further, and his pant leg would have scraped against wet leaves.
He had no choice but to step back under the umbrella.
Seemingly satisfied at last, Cheng Ye kept walking.
At the end of the path stood a massive plane tree.
Rainwater dripped continuously from the tips of its leaves, thudding heavily against the umbrella canopy with a sound distinct from the surrounding drizzle.
“Which bus do you take every day?” Cheng Ye asked.
“Route 17.”
“Which stop?”
“Yunchuan Road.”
Cheng Ye was a bit surprised.
“That’s pretty far from school.”
“Mm.”
“What time do you leave home in the morning?”
“Six forty.”
“That early?”
“It’s fine.”
Cheng Ye chuckled.
“Are you just really fond of saying ‘it’s fine’?”
Shen Zhiyao turned to him.
“Am I?”
“You are.”
“It’s fine.”
Cheng Ye froze for a second before bursting into laughter, shaking the umbrella along with him.
“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”
“No.”
“You definitely did that on purpose just now.”
Shen Zhiyao looked away.
Through the misty rain, his expression remained impassive, but the corner of his lips seemed to twitch ever so slightly.
Cheng Ye stared at him for two seconds.
“Did you just smile?”
“No.”
“I saw it.”
“You saw wrong.”
“Impossible.”
“The rain is too heavy.”
“Just a second ago you said the rain wasn’t heavy.”
Shen Zhiyao lapsed into silence.
In high spirits, Cheng Ye continued holding the umbrella overhead.
Rounding the science building, the bicycle shed came into view in the distance.
Cheng Ye’s bike was parked on the outermost edge—a black mountain bike with a damp plastic bag hanging from its handlebars.
“Wait here a second.”
Cheng Ye handed the umbrella to Shen Zhiyao and bent down to unlock his bike.
Taking the umbrella, Shen Zhiyao watched him crouch at the edge of the shed, half of his shoulder exposed to the rain.
“The umbrella.”
“You hold it.”
“You’re going to get wet.”
“Just for a second.”
The lock cylinder seemed to have gotten water inside; Cheng Ye turned the key several times without success. As he fussed with it, his hair was quickly dampened by the fine drizzle.
Shen Zhiyao stood still for a few seconds, then walked over to shift the umbrella over him.
The canopy covered them both.
Cheng Ye looked up.
“I thought you didn’t like squeezing under an umbrella with someone?”
“I never said I didn’t like it.”
“Then why were you standing so far away earlier?”
“Habit.”
“What kind of habit?”
Shen Zhiyao’s grip on the umbrella handle tightened slightly.
“Leaving space for the other person.”
Cheng Ye stunned for a moment.
Water trickled in steady lines from the edge of the shed roof, splashing into tiny water flowers on the ground.
“But the space under an umbrella is meant to be shared.”
Shen Zhiyao offered no response.
Finally unlocking the bike, Cheng Ye stood up and took back the umbrella.
“Let’s go.”
“You’re not riding?”
“The ground is too slippery. I’ll push it to the gate first.”
They walked side by side on either side of the bicycle.
The wheels rolled over the wet ground, making a soft, rhythmic hum against the pavement.
By the time they reached the school gate, the Route 17 bus was just pulling up from the distance. A sizable crowd was already waiting at the stop.
Shen Zhiyao stopped in his tracks.
“I’m here.”
“Mm.”
Cheng Ye tilted the umbrella toward him once more.
“Remember to bring a different umbrella tomorrow.”
“Got it.”
“Also, we’re going over the second page of the English Weekly tomorrow.”
“Mm.”
“Physics homework is page forty-three in the workbook.”
“Understood.”
“Math”
“Cheng Ye.”
“Yeah?”
Shen Zhiyao looked at him.
“You really like asking questions.”
Cheng Ye laughed.
“These aren’t questions, they’re notifications.”
The bus slowly pulled up to the curb.
The doors swung open, and the crowd surged forward.
Shen Zhiyao stowed his broken folding umbrella and turned back to look once more before stepping onto the bus stairs.
Cheng Ye stood in the rain, holding his bike with one hand and his umbrella with the other, waving at him.
“See you tomorrow, new deskmate.”
Shen Zhiyao paused slightly.
Passengers behind him urged him forward into the bus.
He didn’t wave back, offering only a gentle nod.
“See you tomorrow.”
The bus doors slid shut.
Shen Zhiyao walked over to sit by the window.
The glass was covered in fog, so he used his hand to wipe a small, clear patch. As the bus pulled away, Cheng Ye was still standing in the same spot.
It wasn’t until the bus rounded the street corner that his figure finally faded from sight.
Shen Zhiyao lowered his hand.
His fingertips retained the cool moisture from the glass.
In truth, he didn’t actually have a special preference for the window seat.
It was just that a long time ago, he had grown accustomed to sitting by the window.
It was far from the podium, far from the crowd, and convenient for turning to look outside whenever he didn’t feel like talking.
As long as he gazed out the window, others would assume he was daydreaming and wouldn’t press him further.
It was a place suitable for keeping his distance.
Yet today, a second person had joined that space beside him.
Someone who talked a lot, who meddled in other people’s business, who bought extra bread, and who kept the umbrella tilted over him in the rain.
Shen Zhiyao lowered his head and unlocked his phone.
At the top of his chat list, a new message from Cheng Ye had just arrived:
Let me know when you get home.
Shen Zhiyao stared at it for a long time.
It wasn’t until the bus passed the next intersection that he turned off the screen and slipped the phone back into his pocket.
Outside the window, it was still raining.
And that message, in the end, was never deleted.