After the Wednesday morning reading session, the physics class representative returned from the teachers’ office holding a stack of workbooks.
He placed the workbooks on the podium, flipped through a few pages, and then knocked on the desk twice.
“A few people didn’t hand in yesterday’s homework.”
The chatting in the classroom gradually quieted down.
“Lin Po, Chen Jiashu, Zhao Chen, and…”
He paused, his gaze landing on the seat by the window.
“Shen Zhiyao.”
Several eyes turned in his direction.
Shen Zhiyao was flipping through his English textbook; hearing his name, his movements paused slightly.
Cheng Ye reacted even faster than he did.
“How is that possible?”
The physics class representative looked at him. “What do you mean ‘how is that possible’?”
“Didn’t his workbook sit right on his desk yesterday?”
“Leaving it on the desk doesn’t mean it was submitted.”
Cheng Ye looked down into Shen Zhiyao’s desk drawer.
Inside, textbooks and reference materials were neatly arranged. The blue-covered physics workbook was tucked right at the top, easily visible at a single glance.
“It really is here.”
He reached in and pulled the workbook out.
Shen Zhiyao’s name was written on the top right corner of the cover. Turning to pages 43 through 45—yesterday’s assigned task—everything was completely filled out. Not only were there answers, but auxiliary lines and force analysis diagrams were drawn with meticulous clarity.
Cheng Ye looked over the workbook. “You finished it; why didn’t you turn it in?”
Shen Zhiyao was silent for a moment. “I forgot.”
Cheng Ye looked as if he had just heard something entirely novel. “Even you forget things?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you were the type who lists out tasks at home every night and checks them off one by one.”
Shen Zhiyao looked up at him. “You don’t list anything when you go home, which is why you forget all the time.”
Cheng Ye was cut off mid-thought.
The physics class representative was still waiting by the podium. “Shen Zhiyao, if you want to hand it in late now, you’ll have to talk to Mr. Xu yourself.”
“Okay.”
Shen Zhiyao closed his English book, took his workbook, and stood up.
Cheng Ye watched his receding back and suddenly frowned slightly.
Before school ended yesterday, he clearly remembered reminding Shen Zhiyao about the physics homework. Shen Zhiyao had indeed finished it. Given his personality, leaving a completed workbook on the desk and forgetting to submit it seemed uncharacteristically off.
Shen Zhiyao walked to the podium and placed his workbook on top of the stack. “I’ll head to the office in a bit.”
The physics class representative nodded and resumed logging the names of others who hadn’t handed in their work.
When Shen Zhiyao returned to his seat, Cheng Ye was still staring at him.
“What is it?” Shen Zhiyao asked.
“Nothing.”
Cheng Ye lowered his head and flipped open his own physics workbook. On the first page was a bright red cross mark a problem returned by Mr. Xu yesterday requiring corrections. He stared at that cross for a few seconds before leaning subtly toward Shen Zhiyao.
“What time did you finish writing last night?”
“Slightly past ten.”
“That late?”
“I hadn’t fully synced up with the material covered previously, so it took some time.”
“Haven’t you already learned this part?”
“I learned the key concepts, but the problem types are different.”
Cheng Ye recalled the math teacher mentioning that the two schools emphasized different parts of the curriculum.
He asked again, “When did you realize you hadn’t handed it in?”
“Just now.”
“You didn’t check your drawer this morning?”
“No.”
Cheng Ye found this even stranger.
Every morning upon arriving in the classroom, the first thing Shen Zhiyao did was arrange the books he needed for the day according to the class schedule. Which material was needed for which period he remembered it even more clearly than the duty roster.
Yet today, only his Chinese and English textbooks lay on his desk. He hadn’t even brought out the physics book for the first period in advance.
“Did you not sleep well last night?” Cheng Ye asked.
“It was fine.”
“See, ‘fine’ again.”
“And?”
“And usually, when people say ‘fine’, it means things aren’t very good.”
Shen Zhiyao didn’t respond.
The break after morning reading was only ten minutes long. People were constantly moving in and out of the classroom, and the hallway was filled with students getting water or submitting homework.
Shen Zhiyao glanced at the clock on the wall, picked up his workbook, and walked toward the office.
Cheng Ye hesitated for a moment before getting up from his seat as well.
Lin Po happened to enter through the front door, holding a freshly bought roasted sausage in his hand.
“Where are you going?”
“The office.”
“Did you get in trouble again?”
“Can’t I go to the office for something else in your mind?”
Lin Po thought about it seriously. “No.”
Cheng Ye didn’t bother engaging with him and quickly jogged out to catch up.
Shen Zhiyao had already reached the stairwell. Hearing footsteps behind him, he looked back.
“Did you miss turning in your homework too?”
“I turned mine in.”
“Then why are you going to the office?”
“To ask Mr. Xu a question.”
“What question?”
Cheng Ye was quiet for a second. “Haven’t thought of one yet.”
Shen Zhiyao looked at him. “You don’t need to accompany me.”
“Who’s accompanying you?”
“Then you walk ahead.”
Cheng Ye didn’t move.
A few seconds later, he simply admitted: “Fine, I just wanted to see if Mr. Xu would scold you.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve never seen you get scolded by a teacher.”
“Are you looking forward to it?”
“A little bit.”
Shen Zhiyao turned around and kept walking forward. “Then you might be disappointed.”
The physics office was at the very end of the third floor.
When the two reached the door, only Mr. Xu was inside. Wearing glasses, he was sitting before his computer organizing courseware, with a cup of cold tea resting beside his desk.
Shen Zhiyao knocked on the door twice.
“Reporting in.”
Mr. Xu looked up. “Come in.”
Shen Zhiyao walked over to the desk and placed his workbook down. “Mr. Xu, I finished yesterday’s homework, but I forgot to hand it in.”
Mr. Xu flipped through it. “Not used to the routine since you just transferred?”
“No, I simply forgot.”
Mr. Xu looked up at him. “Pay attention next time. Finishing homework without handing it in yields the same result as not doing it at all. If the teacher doesn’t know your learning situation, there’s no way to judge where you might be struggling when going over the problems.”
“Understood.”
“This won’t count as a missing assignment this time. Take it back.”
Shen Zhiyao nodded.
Just as Mr. Xu was about to turn back to his computer, he noticed someone standing at the doorway.
“Cheng Ye, what are you here for?”
Cheng Ye had anticipated being asked, so he immediately flipped his workbook open and pointed at the problem marked with a red cross. “To ask about this.”
Mr. Xu pushed his glasses up. “We went over this problem yesterday.”
“I didn’t understand it.”
“Didn’t you say you understood it yesterday?”
“I did at the time, but forgot after going home.”
Mr. Xu looked at him for a few seconds, then gestured toward the side with his chin. “Shen Zhiyao, explain it to him.”
Cheng Ye froze. “Huh?”
Mr. Xu said, “Didn’t you come to ask a question? Your deskmate happens to know it; let him explain it to you once. After he explains, rewrite it yourself.”
Shen Zhiyao did not refuse. “Okay.”
The two walked out of the office holding their workbooks.
The preparatory bell at the end of the corridor had already rung.
As Cheng Ye ran back to the classroom, he murmured under his breath, “I really just wanted an excuse.”
“Now your excuse has come true.”
“I actually know how to do that problem.”
“Your correction yesterday was wrong.”
“That was a calculation error.”
“Your methodology was wrong too.”
Cheng Ye turned to look at him. “When did you look at it?”
“Just now.”
“Just from one glance?”
“Mm.”
Cheng Ye suddenly felt that following him to the office might not have been a wise decision.
During the first period of physics, Mr. Xu indeed emphasized the homework issue in front of the entire class.
“Some students finish their work but don’t turn it in, thinking it’s fine as long as they know how to do it themselves. Learning isn’t about closing yourself off to work alone; if you can’t even fulfill the most basic requirements, high grades are meaningless.”
The classroom was very quiet.
Although Mr. Xu named no names, many people knew who he was referring to.
Lin Po turned his head from the front row and mouthed silently to Cheng Ye: Your deskmate.
Cheng Ye glared at him, signaling him to turn back around.
Shen Zhiyao never raised his head throughout. He was writing notes along the margins of his textbook, his expression serene as usual, showing no visible emotion.
Yet Cheng Ye noticed that his writing speed today was faster than usual. He had even repeated a formula twice in one spot.
After class ended, right as Mr. Xu left the classroom, someone in the back row remarked half-jokingly, “Even the top student forgets to hand in homework, huh?”
Another chimed in, “Maybe at his old school they didn’t need to turn things in.”
“Are key high schools really that flexible?”
The tone wasn’t malicious, but carried a hint of spectator amusement.
Shen Zhiyao closed his textbook without looking back.
Cheng Ye tapped his pen heavily onto the desk and turned to face the speaker. “Who hasn’t forgotten their homework?”
The other boy smiled. “I was just making casual talk.”
“Then last week when you didn’t turn in your math paper, why didn’t I hear you talk about yourself?”
“I didn’t write mine.”
“Then that’s even more worth talking about.”
Laughter erupted in the classroom.
The boy’s face turned somewhat awkward, and he turned away.
Cheng Ye adjusted his posture.
Shen Zhiyao glanced at him. “You don’t need to speak up for me.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Then what were you doing?”
“He was noisy.”
“It’s always noisy in the classroom.”
“It was particularly noisy today.”
Shen Zhiyao didn’t press further.
Cheng Ye pulled out his physics workbook and pushed it between the two of them. “Explain the problem.”
“Didn’t you say you knew it?”
“I knew it earlier, but I don’t now.”
Shen Zhiyao looked down at it. The problem required analyzing the trajectory of a charged particle moving through a uniform electric field. Cheng Ye had originally used mechanical force decomposition, but made a misstep in judging the velocity vector’s direction.
Shen Zhiyao took a pencil and drew an auxiliary line beside the diagram. “Look at the initial velocity direction first.”
“Mm.”
“The electric field force and the velocity are not along the same straight line, so the motion can be split into two components.”
“Mm.”
“The parallel direction undergoes uniform linear motion, while the perpendicular direction—”
“Uniform acceleration.”
“So you do know?”
Cheng Ye rested his chin on the desk. “Keep explaining.”
Shen Zhiyao gave him a look, then lowered his head again. “Calculate the displacements in both directions separately, then eliminate the time parameter.”
His voice was soft.
Cheng Ye had originally just wanted to divert his attention, but as he listened, he gradually became focused.
Shen Zhiyao’s way of explaining was different from the teacher’s. Mr. Xu was accustomed to pushing forward step-by-step according to standard procedures, whereas Shen Zhiyao would first clarify why each step needed to be taken that way. When encountering prone-to-error areas, he would pause to redraw the diagram, breaking down complex concepts with clarity.
“Therefore, the trajectory is a parabola.” Shen Zhiyao wrote down the final line. “Understand?”
“Understood.”
“Write it down yourself.”
“Right now?”
“Didn’t you come to ask?”
Cheng Ye had no choice but to resignedly pick up his pen.
Shen Zhiyao pushed the workbook back in front of him and opened his English book for the next class.
When Cheng Ye reached the second step of his rewrite, he suddenly stopped.
“Shen Zhiyao.”
“Mm?”
“Is something bothering you today?”
Shen Zhiyao’s hand flipping the page did not pause. “No.”
“Then why did you forget your homework?”
“Forgot means forgot.”
“What did you do after going home yesterday?”
Shen Zhiyao looked up. “That’s a personal question.”
Cheng Ye was held back by his cold tone. Looking at Shen Zhiyao’s profile, he suddenly realized he had indeed pried too much.
They had only met three days ago. Even as deskmates, he had no right to probe into every detail of the other’s life.
“Fine.” Cheng Ye lowered his head. “Pretend I didn’t ask.”
Shen Zhiyao hadn’t expected him to give up so quickly; his eyes rested on him for a brief moment.
The class bell rang, and neither of them spoke again.
The second period was English.
The teacher was conducting a vocabulary dictation at the front, and Shen Zhiyao wrote swiftly. Just as he reached the last word, his phone vibrated faintly inside his backpack.
The sound was subtle. No one nearby noticed.
Yet Shen Zhiyao’s hand holding the pen came to a halt.
He stared at the blank space on his answer sheet for two seconds before filling in the final word.
Sitting right next to him, Cheng Ye caught this hesitation clearly.
When English class ended, Shen Zhiyao pulled out his phone.
There was only a single message on the screen:
Your father is coming to Lincheng this weekend.
The sender was his mother.
Shen Zhiyao looked at it for a moment, then locked the screen.
Cheng Ye was collecting the English papers; catching the movement out of the corner of his eye, he didn’t glimpse the content.
“Is something up?”
“No.”
“You’ve said ‘no’ many times today.”
“Because you’ve asked many times.”
Cheng Ye pulled his paper away. “Fine, I won’t ask.” He walked toward the podium with the gathered papers.
Shen Zhiyao gazed out the window, his fingers slowly tightening.
It wasn’t raining outside. Yet the sky remained overcast, thick grey clouds piling high above the academic building, masking any sunlight.
His mother had returned home very late last night.
Shen Zhiyao was sitting in the living room doing homework, and it was nearly ten o’clock when he heard the key turn in the lock.
He didn’t change his shoes after entering, placing his handbag directly on the table.
“Your dad contacted me.”
Shen Zhiyao held his pen, not looking up. “Mm.”
“He said he wants to see you this weekend.”
“I don’t want to see him.”
“Zhiyao.”
“I don’t want to.”
His mother stood in the living room, silent for a long time. “He is your father, after all.”
Shen Zhiyao stared at the electric field lines in his physics workbook. Those parallel, straight lines looked exceptionally sharp under the light.
“So?”
“You haven’t seen each other in a long time.”
“He was the one who didn’t want to see me.”
“He had his difficulties back then.”
Shen Zhiyao let out a soft laugh. It was faint, devoid of amusement. “Everyone has difficulties.”
His mother’s tone turned tired. “I’m very exhausted today; I don’t want to argue with you.”
“I wasn’t trying to argue either.”
“Clear your schedule for the weekend.”
“I’m not going.”
“Shen Zhiyao.” Her voice raised.
Silence fell over the living room.
Shen Zhiyao spoke no further.
After that, he sat at his desk for a long time. By the time he finished the physics workbook, it was past ten. He put the booklet into his bag but forgot to make a note in his reminder list as he usually did.
Before he left this morning, his mother had already left for work.
On the dining table sat a cup of cold milk and a sticky note.
Four words were written on it: Don’t forget this weekend.
Shen Zhiyao folded the paper up and tossed it into the trash can.
Yet right up until he walked into the classroom, those four words lingered in his mind.
At lunchtime, Cheng Ye didn’t drag him to the cafeteria as he usually did.
When the dismissal bell rang, Cheng Ye simply shoved his meal card into his pocket and walked out with Lin Po.
Shen Zhiyao sat in his seat, looking at the empty chair beside him.
On the desk lay Cheng Ye’s half-finished physics workbook. The problem was only halfway answered, a pen casually clipped between the pages.
Shen Zhiyao watched it for a while, then reached out to close the workbook so the pages wouldn’t be scattered by the wind from the window.
The classroom gradually emptied.
He took out a loaf of bread from his bag bought near the station this morning, now slightly squished out of shape.
Just as he unraveled the packaging, the back door was pushed open.
Cheng Ye walked in carrying a lunchbox.
Shen Zhiyao looked at him. “You didn’t go to the cafeteria?”
“I did.” Cheng Ye placed the lunchbox on his desk. “Got it packed to go.”
Inside was a rice dish along with a small bowl of seaweed soup.
“For me?”
“Who else?”
“Why?”
“I figured you probably wouldn’t go to the cafeteria today either.”
Shen Zhiyao looked down at the bread in his hand. “I have food.”
“How does bread count as lunch?”
“It fills me up.”
“Then why didn’t you say a red bean bun fills you up yesterday?”
“That was breakfast.”
“So you need real food for lunch.”
Cheng Ye pulled out his chair and sat down, opening his own meal box. “Don’t worry, I’m keeping tabs. This isn’t on the house.”
Shen Zhiyao had originally intended to decline, but hearing this, he refrained from pushing it back.
“How much?”
Cheng Ye quoted an amount.
Shen Zhiyao pulled out his phone and transferred the money over.
This time, Cheng Ye didn’t refund a single cent.
Shen Zhiyao was slightly surprised. “No new student discount?”
Cheng Ye was snapping his chopsticks apart; hearing this, he looked up. “You still remember that?”
“Just asking.”
Cheng Ye smiled. “The discount period was only for one day. It’s already expired.”
“Oh.”
The two ate facing each other.
The afternoon classroom was tranquil, save for the distant sound of the school broadcast from the sports field.
Cheng Ye seemed true to his word, refraining from bringing up the morning’s topic again. He merely rambled about how today’s cafeteria food was too salty, how Lin Po almost got knocked over while queuing, and how afternoon PE class might get taken over by the math teacher.
Shen Zhiyao offered occasional responses.
Halfway through the meal, he suddenly asked, “Why did you come back?”
Cheng Ye’s chopsticks paused. “What?”
“You could have eaten at the cafeteria.”
“Too noisy there.”
“You’re usually not afraid of noise.”
“I am today.”
Shen Zhiyao looked at him.
Cheng Ye stuffed two mouthfuls of rice into his mouth, looking as though he didn’t want to admit his real intention.
After a moment, he said indistinctly, “I was afraid someone might be in a bad mood over missed homework, sitting all alone in the classroom gnawing on bread.”
“I’m not in a bad mood.”
“That’s for the best.”
“And the teacher didn’t scold me.”
“Mm.”
“I don’t care about what the classmates said.”
“Mm.”
Shen Zhiyao paused for a moment. “And you don’t need to care either.”
Cheng Ye looked up. “I don’t.”
“Then why did you argue with him?”
“I was merely correcting facts.”
“What facts?”
“You didn’t skip writing it; you forgot to turn it in.” Cheng Ye spoke seriously. “Those two things are different.”
Shen Zhiyao lowered his eyes.
They were indeed different.
Yet it had been a very long time since he met someone who cared about such minute distinctions.
To most people, outcomes were always more significant than processes. Unsubmitted was unsubmitted, absent was absent, unachieved was unachieved. As for the why, it hardly seemed worth investigating.
Cheng Ye finished his last bite and snapped his lunchbox shut.
“Don’t leave right away after school today.”
“Why?”
“You have to explain physics to me.”
“We can do it during lunch break.”
“I want to sleep during lunch break.”
“You seem very energetic right now.”
“I get sleepy right after eating.”
Shen Zhiyao looked at him. “Didn’t you say you wouldn’t ask anymore?”
“Asking about a problem doesn’t count as asking personal questions.”
“I can explain it right now.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Cheng Ye slumped onto the desk, burying his face in his folded arms. “Because I suddenly feel sleepy.” His voice quickly muffled into his sleeves.
Sitting beside him, Shen Zhiyao watched his messy hair.
A few minutes later, Cheng Ye’s breathing turned steady. He seemed to have actually fallen asleep.
Shen Zhiyao tidied up his lunchbox, then opened Cheng Ye’s physics workbook to the unfinished problem.
He didn’t write down the answer for him. Instead, he drew a simpler force diagram on the blank space beside it, marking out the two direction vectors in pencil.
Once finished, he closed the workbook.
The clouds outside remained heavy, yet a faint ray of light broke through a crevice, landing softly on the corner of the desk by the window.
When the final self-study period in the afternoon ended, students filed out one after another.
While packing his bag, Cheng Ye finally noticed the diagram in his workbook. “You drew this?”
“Mm.”
“Didn’t you say I had to write it myself?”
“It’s just a hint.”
Cheng Ye held the workbook and looked at it for a moment. “You’re so good to me.”
Shen Zhiyao zipped up his backpack. “I just don’t want to accompany you to the office again tomorrow.”
“That excuse is a bit weak.”
“You can choose not to accept it.”
“I accept it.” Cheng Ye swiftly shoved the book into his bag. “With a diagram this clear, why wouldn’t I?”
The two walked out of the classroom together.
It hadn’t rained today, and the path behind the laboratory building was mostly dry. Tiny drops of water lingered on the leaves of the winterberry bushes along the road, gleaming under the twilight glow.
Approaching the bicycle shed, Cheng Ye suddenly stopped.
“By the way.”
“What?”
“From now on, I’ll remind you about handing in homework.”
Shen Zhiyao turned to him. “Focus on managing yourself first.”
“I haven’t forgotten lately.”
“You didn’t bring your Chinese book yesterday.”
“That wasn’t homework.”
“You didn’t turn in your math paper last week.”
“Did Lin Po tell you that?”
“You said it yourself in the classroom.”
Cheng Ye thought about it. “Then we’ll remind each other.”
“Unnecessary.”
“It’s normal for deskmates to remind each other about homework.”
“I only forget once in a blue moon.”
“Everyone has their ‘once in a blue moon’.” Cheng Ye held his bicycle and looked back at him. “That’s precisely why someone is needed to remind you.”
Shen Zhiyao didn’t answer.
He stood outside the shed as the sunset revealed a pale sliver behind the clouds, casting Cheng Ye’s elongated shadow across the damp ground.
“Remember to turn in your physics workbook tomorrow,” Cheng Ye said.
“It hasn’t been assigned yet.”
“An advance reminder.”
“You’re very boring.”
“Thank you.” Cheng Ye intentionally mimicked his earlier tone in response.
Shen Zhiyao gave him a look, then turned to walk toward the school gates.
After a few steps, a voice called out behind him again.
“Shen Zhiyao.”
He stopped.
“Are you free this weekend?”
Shen Zhiyao’s hand gripping his backpack strap tightened slightly. “What is it?”
“Lin Po said a new bookstore opened near the school and wanted to check it out. Don’t you like photography? I heard they have a lot of art books inside.”
“I have something to do this weekend.”
“Oh.”
Cheng Ye didn’t press on what it was. He simply nodded. “Next time, then.”
Shen Zhiyao looked at him. “You’re not going to ask what it is?”
Cheng Ye raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you say not to ask personal questions?”
Shen Zhiyao was briefly at a loss for words.
“Though,” Cheng Ye added, “if it’s something you don’t want to do, you don’t have to go.”
A breeze blew from outside the shed.
Shen Zhiyao stood in place, his expression freezing for a brief instant. “How do you know I don’t want to go?”
“A guess.”
“You guessed wrong.”
“Then pretend I didn’t say anything.” Cheng Ye straddled his bike and put his foot on the pedal. “See you tomorrow.”
Shen Zhiyao nodded.
After riding ahead a short distance, Cheng Ye turned back and shouted, “Physics homework!”
“Got it.”
“Don’t forget again!”
“Watch the road first.”
Cheng Ye turned back with a smile, quickly disappearing into the crowd outside the school gates.
Shen Zhiyao walked alone toward the bus stop.
His phone vibrated in his pocket.
His mother had sent another message: Your father arrives Saturday afternoon.
Shen Zhiyao stared at the screen.
Only after a long while did he slowly type out a few words: I understand.
After sending it successfully, he didn’t lock his phone right away.
Below his chat list, Cheng Ye’s avatar rested quietly.
Shen Zhiyao tapped into it.
The last message sent was still from yesterday: Then tomorrow.
He looked at it for a few seconds, his finger landing on the input box: What is tomorrow’s physics homework?
Less than ten seconds after the message went out, Cheng Ye replied: Hasn’t been assigned yet.
Followed immediately by another: But I can remind you tomorrow.
Shen Zhiyao stared at the line of text, the corners of his lips curling up very slightly.
He didn’t reply, simply slipping his phone back into his pocket.
Missing something once didn’t seem to mean missing it forever.
At the very least, on the following day, someone would still remember to remind him.