Before the final class on Friday afternoon even began, a new line of text had been written on the chalkboard at the back of the classroom:
[Duty Group Today: Cheng Ye, Shen Zhiyao, Xu Zhi, Lin Po.]
The chalk handwriting belonged to Xu Zhi.
After finishing, she deliberately drew two underlined strokes beneath the name “Lin Po,” as if to remind someone who was always looking for a chance to sneak away early.
Lin Po saw it the moment he walked back in and looked up.
“Why is there a line under only my name?”
Xu Zhi placed the chalk back into the box. “Because you’re the only one who needs a strong reminder.”
“When have I ever ditched cleaning duty?”
“Monday.”
“I swept everything on Monday.”
“You swept the trash to the back row and just walked out.”
“Monday was an accident.”
“What about Tuesday?”
Lin Po paused for two seconds to think. “It wasn’t our group’s turn on Tuesday.”
Xu Zhi let out a cold laugh.
Cheng Ye was sitting at his desk, twirling a pen. Hearing their argument, he looked up at the blackboard. “Isn’t today just our group’s regular turn anyway?”
“It was a last-minute swap,” Xu Zhi said. “Two people from Group 2 had to rehearse for the anniversary performance. Ms. Zhou asked us to cover for them today, and we’ll swap back next week.”
Cheng Ye let out a drawn-out “Oh,” then turned to look at Shen Zhiyao. “On duty together again.”
Shen Zhiyao was busy copying the English homework off the board. “We already did it together on Monday.”
“Monday doesn’t count.”
“Why?”
“Monday was your first day after transferring. That was just a trial run.”
Shen Zhiyao stopped his pen. “Cleaning duty has a trial period?”
“It does,” Cheng Ye said with a completely straight face. “Today is when you officially start the job.”
Shen Zhiyao glanced at him, choosing not to debate such a meaningless point.
Outside the window, the sky was significantly brighter than it had been over the past few days.
Now that the rain had stopped, Linchuan seemed to have finally woken up from a long spell of dampness. The puddles on the sports field had dried up in the sun, and the basketball hoops cast long, slender shadows in the afternoon light. As the wind blew past, the leaves of the camphor trees outside fluttered layer by layer, revealing their lighter-colored undersides.
Shen Zhiyao’s gaze lingered outside for a few seconds.
Cheng Ye followed his line of sight. “Want to go out?”
“No.”
“You’ve looked out the window eight times today.”
Shen Zhiyao turned his head. “You counted?”
“More or less.”
“Do you have that much free time in class?”
“The math teacher was going over yesterday’s test paper. I already knew all of it.”
“You got the last problem wrong.”
The pen spinning in Cheng Ye’s hand came to a halt. “How do you know?”
“I saw it when the papers were handed back.”
“You peeked at my paper?”
“It was right on the desk.”
“You still can’t call that just ‘seeing it.'” Cheng Ye fished his test paper out from his drawer. “That’s observation.”
Shen Zhiyao lowered his head and went back to copying the homework. “The sign in the final step was wrong.”
“I know.”
“Did you correct it?”
“Not yet.”
“It’s going to be checked on Monday.”
Cheng Ye let out a laugh. “Look at you, reminding me about homework now.”
The tip of Shen Zhiyao’s pen paused briefly. “Remind each other.”
He said those words very softly.
Yet Cheng Ye heard them clearly.
The smile on his face deepened a little. Just as he was about to speak, the English teacher walked into the classroom carrying a stack of test papers.
“Everyone back to your seats. Get ready for dictation.”
A flurry of page-flipping instantly echoed through the classroom.
Cheng Ye hurriedly pulled the vocabulary list in front of him, skimmed it for a quick second, and whispered, “Which page are we doing for dictation today?”
“Unit 4.”
“The first half of Unit 4 or all of it?”
“All of it.”
“Weren’t we supposed to do the whole unit next week?”
“The teacher changed it yesterday.”
“When was that announced?”
“While you were ducking down to look for your eraser.”
Cheng Ye’s hand froze mid-flip. “How do you remember everything?”
“Some people tend to forget.”
The prep bell rang out in the hallway.
The English teacher looked up toward them.
Cheng Ye had no choice but to swallow the rest of his words.
When the dictation ended, the sheet he turned in had three blank words.
Shen Zhiyao closed his vocabulary notebook. He had just slipped it into his drawer when Cheng Ye pushed a piece of scratch paper over.
Scrawled on it was a line of messy handwriting:
— Remind me to copy the vocabulary words on Monday.
Shen Zhiyao looked at it for two seconds, then picked up his pen:
— Remember it yourself.
Cheng Ye pushed the paper back over again:
— Didn’t you say we should remind each other?
Shen Zhiyao didn’t write anything else; he simply drew a tiny circle next to that sentence.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cheng Ye asked in a lowered voice.
“Understood.”
“Drawing a circle means ‘understood’?”
“Yeah.”
“So from now on, whenever you agree to something I ask, you’ll draw a circle?”
Shen Zhiyao raised his eyes to look at him. “When have I ever agreed to many things for you?”
Cheng Ye gave it some serious thought. “There will be more in the future.”
He said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Shen Zhiyao held his pen, leaving the statement unanswered.
A breeze blew in through the window, lifting a corner of the scratch paper. That small circle swayed gently on the sheet—like an informal promise that had nevertheless left its mark.
The final class was homeroom.
At the podium, Ms. Zhou Lan was arranging the upcoming campus cultural festival for next month. Class 3 needed to prepare a blackboard bulletin, a stage performance, and a class exhibition booth. The classroom quickly became lively.
“Xu Zhi will still be in charge of the blackboard bulletin,” Zhou Lan said, looking down at his list. “We need two more volunteers to help. Anyone?”
Xu Zhi turned around right away. “Shen Zhiyao knows how to take photos; he can handle gathering the visual material.”
Shen Zhiyao had been looking out the window, but upon hearing his name, he turned to face him. “Me?”
“Yes,” Xu Zhi said. “Isn’t our theme ‘Spring Campus’? We can’t just keep grabbing random images off the internet.”
Someone in the front row chimed in: “Cheng Ye knows how to draw, let him help too.”
“When did I ever say I knew how to draw?” Cheng Ye asked.
Lin Po exposed him immediately. “You drew an entire building on the back of your physics textbook.”
“That was just a random doodle.”
“Even your random doodles look better than my serious drawings.”
Zhou Lan looked toward them. “Cheng Ye, are you willing to help out?”
Cheng Ye didn’t decline. “Sure.”
Zhou Lan then turned her eyes to Shen Zhiyao. “What about you?”
The eyes of the classroom fell onto him once more.
Shen Zhiyao disliked this feeling of being waited on by everyone.
He could refuse.
All he had to do was say he had just transferred and wasn’t familiar with the school yet, and Zhou Lan likely wouldn’t press him.
But before he could speak, Cheng Ye tilted his head toward him and whispered, “It’s just taking a few photos. It won’t take up much time.”
Shen Zhiyao looked at him. “How would you know?”
“I can help you find good spots.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be drawing?”
“I can do both at the same time.”
At the front, Zhou Lan was still awaiting an answer.
Shen Zhiyao stayed silent for a brief moment, then nodded slightly. “Okay.”
Xu Zhi immediately wrote his name down on the list. “Then it’s settled. We’ll have a brief discussion next week; no rush on the materials.”
For the rest of homeroom, everyone was discussing the festival.
Some wanted to perform music, some suggested putting on a short skit, and others took advantage of the chaos to squeeze a basketball tournament into the event plan. Voices came from every direction—the entire classroom was like a radio suddenly switched on, with every channel broadcasting at once.
Shen Zhiyao didn’t participate.
He took out his physics workbook and lowered his head to work on today’s newly assigned problems.
Cheng Ye, on the other hand, was being called on from all sides.
“Cheng Ye, join the basketball team!”
“Can you draw the stage background too?”
“Who’s going to write the class intro?”
“Do we need to go to the Student Council to borrow the sound system?”
He responded to almost every question.
“Basketball is fine.”
“We’ll talk about the background next week.”
“Have Xu Zhi write the intro; her language skills are better.”
“I’ll go ask about the sound system.”
By the end, even Zhou Lan couldn’t help tapping her knuckles on the podium. “Don’t come to Cheng Ye for everything. He’s only one person; he can’t do everything for the entire class.”
The classroom went quiet for a moment.
Cheng Ye smiled and waved his hand. “It’s fine. If it’s something I can do, I’ll do it.”
Zhou Lan glanced at him. “You need to learn to say no to things you can’t do.”
“Got it.”
He answered very quickly.
It was as if those words were meant only to be accepted in the moment, without any actual intent to follow through.
Shen Zhiyao raised his head to glance at Cheng Ye.
Cheng Ye was hunched over his notebook writing things down, the page already filled to the brim.
Go to the sports department to sign up, find the Student Council to borrow speakers, help Xu Zhi haul bulletin materials, and hand in an event budget before next Monday.
His handwriting grew increasingly scrawled, until the last two lines were squeezed tightly into the bottom margin of the page.
Shen Zhiyao watched him for a moment before lowering his head once again.
The moment the dismissal bell rang, the students flooded toward the exit like animals untied from their leashes.
Xu Zhi stood guard at the back door, reaching out to block Lin Po, who was trying to blend into the crowd to sneak out.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Lin Po halted. “Restroom.”
“Why do you have your backpack on?”
“I was going to leave straight after using the restroom.”
“Put the backpack down.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“No.”
Lin Po had no choice but to throw his bag back onto his seat.
Cheng Ye brought a water bucket over from the utility closet, distributing the mop and brooms among the group.
“Same old rules: Lin Po sweeps, Xu Zhi cleans the board, I mop.” He turned to Shen Zhiyao. “Can you wipe down the windowsills?”
Shen Zhiyao glanced toward the window side.
It hadn’t rained over the past few days, so the glass was clean, but a thin layer of dust had gathered on the sills.
“Sure.”
“Let’s get started then.”
Soon, the sound of desks and chairs scraping echoed through the room.
Lin Po was still half-hearted about sweeping. He pushed his broom from front to back, kicking up clouds of dust everywhere.
Xu Zhi stood on the teacher’s platform and coughed twice. “Could you be a little lighter with that?”
“Isn’t this how you sweep?”
“You’re creating a sandstorm.”
“It’s not that exaggerated.”
Cheng Ye, who had just finished mopping the first row, raised his head and said, “Lin Po, sprinkle some water first.”
“Why is it me again?”
“Because the broom is in your hands.”
“What does sprinkling water have to do with holding a broom?”
“Nothing.”
“Then sprinkle it yourself.”
Cheng Ye placed the mop into the bucket, making a move to walk over.
Lin Po changed his tune instantly. “I’ll do it, I’ll do it!”
Shen Zhiyao stood by the window, using a damp rag to wipe away the dust on the sill bit by bit.
The wind outside was gentle.
The setting sun spilled between the school buildings, painting the window frames a warm yellow hue. A few students were still jogging on the track, and intermittent laughter echoed from the basketball courts.
After wiping down one window, Shen Zhiyao was about to go rinse his rag when a dull thud sounded behind him.
He turned around.
Cheng Ye’s water bucket had tipped over.
Half a bucket of water splashed across the floor, running all the way down to the second row of desks.
Lin Po stood nearby with his broom, looking innocent. “It wasn’t me.”
Xu Zhi stepped down from the platform. “That’s always the first thing out of your mouth.”
“It really wasn’t me this time.” Lin Po pointed at Cheng Ye. “He kicked it himself.”
Cheng Ye stared at the water spanning the floor, staying silent for two seconds. “It was me.”
Xu Zhi let out a sigh. “The two of you are responsible for cleaning it up.”
“Why me?” Lin Po asked.
“Because you were standing closest.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Then you can discuss fairness with Ms. Zhou.”
Lin Po shut his mouth immediately.
It took them another ten-plus minutes of frantic work before the floor was finally cleared of water.
Xu Zhi checked the time. “I have to head to the campus radio station to submit a draft. Can you guys finish up the rest?”
Cheng Ye waved a hand. “Go ahead, there’s not much left.”
Lin Po spoke up right away. “Then I have something to do too.”
“What do you have to do?”
“Basketball practice.”
Cheng Ye glanced out the window. “Practice doesn’t start until 5:30.”
“I need to warm up early.”
“It’s 4:50 right now.”
“A thorough warmup prevents injuries.”
Before Cheng Ye could say anything, Xu Zhi shoved two trash bags into Lin Po’s hands. “You can leave—take these down on your way out.”
Lin Po stared at the two overflowing trash bags. “This is way too heavy.”
“A heavy-load workout improves warmup efficiency.”
Cheng Ye couldn’t help bursting out laughing.
Lin Po cursed under his breath, but still ended up carrying a trash bag in each hand as he trudged out.
Soon, only Shen Zhiyao and Cheng Ye were left in the classroom.
The space that had been full of chatter just moments ago suddenly fell dead quiet.
The setting sun hit the chalkboard, highlighting the residual water streaks left behind from wiping it down. The desks and chairs were mostly rearranged, leaving only the last two rows near the window unmopped.
Cheng Ye refilled the bucket halfway with fresh water. “Are you done wiping the windowsills?”
“Yeah.”
“You can head out first if you want.”
Shen Zhiyao rinsed his rag clean. “Aren’t two people on duty?”
“I can handle what’s left.”
“Why?”
“It’ll be fast.” Cheng Ye bent over to wring out the mop. “Besides, don’t you take the bus? If you leave late, you might miss it.”
“The last Route 17 bus runs very late.”
“Still, no need to stick around here.”
Shen Zhiyao stood by the sink, watching his back. “When Xu Zhi and Lin Po left, you didn’t ask them to stay.”
“They actually had places to be.”
“You have things to do too.”
Cheng Ye’s movements paused slightly. “What do I have to do?”
“Basketball sign-ups, the sound system, the event budget.”
Cheng Ye turned his head back. “You heard all of that?”
“You wrote it in your notebook.”
“That’s not urgent enough to do today.”
“So duty isn’t urgent enough to do alone either.”
Shen Zhiyao picked up another mop from against the wall. “You mop the front, I’ll mop the back.”
Cheng Ye looked at him.
After a few seconds, he let out a chuckle. “Alright.”
“Don’t smile.”
“Why?”
“It’s weird.”
“Someone volunteered to keep me company on duty, I’m not allowed to be happy?”
“This is my assignment.”
“It’s still keeping me company.”
Shen Zhiyao didn’t feel like arguing with him and lowered his head to start mopping.
The two worked their way from opposite ends of the classroom toward the center.
Without Lin Po generating dust and without Xu Zhi offering constant reminders, the remaining work actually went by very quickly.
Cheng Ye wasn’t particularly quiet while mopping.
One moment he was humming a song with muffled lyrics, the next he was using the mop handle to nudge a crooked desk leg into place. Finding a test paper lying on the ground, he would pick it up to check the name first before stuffing it back into the owner’s drawer.
“This one belongs to Zhao Chen.”
“Mm.”
“He failed math again.”
“Don’t peek at other people’s scores.”
“The paper was facing up.”
“You still didn’t have to look.”
“Didn’t you also see that I got the last problem wrong?”
Shen Zhiyao paused. “You remember that very clearly.”
“When it comes to things about you, my memory is pretty good.”
The moment those words left his mouth, both of them went silent.
Cheng Ye seemed to feel that something about the phrasing sounded off, so he quickly added, “I mean… deskmates getting to know each other.”
“Oh.”
Shen Zhiyao kept his head down as he mopped the last patch of floor.
Cheng Ye looked down at his lowered eyelashes, somehow feeling that the word “Oh” didn’t sound like he believed it at all.
“I really meant it that way.”
“I didn’t say you didn’t.”
“Then why aren’t you looking at me?”
“I’m mopping.”
“The floor’s already finished.”
Shen Zhiyao lifted his head. “Looking at you now.”
Being stared at so directly, Cheng Ye didn’t know what to say for a moment.
The setting sun streamed in from the window behind Shen Zhiyao, casting a soft, faint light around the tips of his hair. His usually cold features were softened in the glow.
Cheng Ye shifted his gaze away and put the mop back into the bucket. “Go wash your hands.”
Shen Zhiyao didn’t expose his sudden shift in topic.
The two returned the cleaning tools to the utility room at the end of the hallway.
When they came back, the classroom was completely empty.
Most of the students in the hallways had cleared out as well; the occasional sound of a door shutting in the distance sounded exceptionally crisp.
Returning to his desk, Shen Zhiyao began packing his bag.
He slipped his homework for the day in one by one, before finally picking up his camera bag from the corner of the desk.
Before he could finish pulling up the zipper, his phone vibrated once.
It was a text from his mother:
[Tomorrow at 2:00 PM, at the coffee shop on Yunchuan Road. Don’t be late.]
Shen Zhiyao looked at the screen, his fingers coming to a stop on the edge of the phone.
He didn’t reply.
Cheng Ye was standing by the podium organizing the duty roster sheet. “Shen Zhiyao.”
No response.
He looked up.
Shen Zhiyao was standing by the window. His phone screen had already gone dark, and his expression revealed nothing.
“What’s wrong?” Cheng Ye asked.
“Nothing.”
“Something about tomorrow?”
Shen Zhiyao looked over at him.
Cheng Ye added immediately, “I didn’t read your message. It’s just that you have something planned for the weekend, and you just got a text, so I guessed.”
“Mm.”
“Are you going somewhere far?”
“Not far.”
“That’s good then.”
Cheng Ye lowered his head, signing both of their names on the duty log. “The bookstore opening sale is tomorrow. Lin Po said he wanted to hold a photography artbook for you. If you finish your stuff early, you can come over.”
Shen Zhiyao slipped his phone back into his pocket. “Not necessarily.”
“It’s fine.”
“You guys don’t have to wait for me.”
“I know.”
Having finished speaking, Cheng Ye placed the roster back into the podium drawer.
He didn’t keep asking like he had in previous times, nor did he chase after Shen Zhiyao to confirm whether he would actually show up.
Shen Zhiyao should have felt relieved.
Yet as Cheng Ye turned away and stopped looking at him, a subtle, indescribable sense of emptiness sprouted in his heart instead.
“Aren’t you going to ask for the address?” Shen Zhiyao suddenly opened his mouth to ask.
Cheng Ye turned back. “What address?”
“The bookstore.”
“You want to come?”
“I’m just asking for the address.”
The smile on Cheng Ye’s face instantly lit up.
He rummaged through his bag to pull out a flyer, quickly stepping over to place it on Shen Zhiyao’s desk. “It’s right outside the east gate of the school, at the second intersection. It’s called Mukuan Bookstore. The grand opening is at 1:00 PM, and we’ll probably head over around 2:00.”
The flyer was printed very simply.
Drawn on the light yellow paper was a wooden door, with a list of opening day activities underneath. Photography and art books were 20% off, and there was also a small campus photography exhibition.
Shen Zhiyao looked at it for a moment, then tucked the flyer inside his textbook. “I didn’t say I would definitely go.”
“I know,” Cheng Ye said. “Come if you have time.”
“Mm.”
The two gathered their things, getting ready to leave the classroom.
Reaching the door, Cheng Ye suddenly remembered the windows hadn’t been closed yet. “Wait for me a second.”
He set his backpack down by the door and walked quickly back to the window area.
Shen Zhiyao stood waiting in the hallway for a moment.
Cheng Ye closed the first few windows, but when he reached the final one, he didn’t reach out right away.
He stood inside the empty classroom, gazing outside through the glass.
The setting sun had almost sunk behind the academic building, leaving only a streak of orange-red light spread across the sports field. People were still practicing on the basketball court; the sounds of whistles and balls hitting the floor felt far away, sounding faint and blurred by the time they reached his ears.
Cheng Ye didn’t talk like he usually did.
Nor did he urge Shen Zhiyao to hurry up and leave.
He simply stood there, completely unmoving.
There was no smile on his face.
At that moment, his entire persona seemed to settle into a sudden quietness so quiet that he seemed entirely different from the Cheng Ye that Shen Zhiyao knew.
Shen Zhiyao had originally thought he was just watching the sports field.
Yet as time stretched on, Cheng Ye’s gaze remained fixed in the exact same direction, as though he were thinking about something or perhaps thinking about nothing at all.
The setting sun reflected off the glass, painting his outline faint and hazy.
Shen Zhiyao suddenly recalled that paper filled with tasks during homeroom class.
He recalled Ms. Zhou saying that he had to learn to say no to things he couldn’t do.
And he recalled the quick, offhand “Got it” that Cheng Ye had uttered back then.
“Cheng Ye.”
Shen Zhiyao called out to him.
The person by the window seemed to snap back to reality, turning his head over. “What is it?”
A smile reappeared on his face almost in the very next second.
It was so natural that it seemed as if his quiet stillness a moment ago had never existed.
Shen Zhiyao looked at him. “What were you looking at?”
“The field.”
“What’s on the field?”
“Basketball team practice.”
“You’re not practicing today?”
Cheng Ye paused briefly. “Didn’t feel like going today.”
Shen Zhiyao wanted to press further.
Cheng Ye had already reached out to close the window.
The glass pulled shut, blocking out the wind outside, leaving behind only a faint click of the latch.
“Let’s go.” He picked up his bag by the door. “Any later and you really won’t make your bus.”
Shen Zhiyao didn’t move. “Are you in a bad mood?”
Cheng Ye was taken aback. “No.”
“You were staring off into space just now.”
“Staring off into space means I’m in a bad mood?”
“You don’t usually do that.”
Cheng Ye let out a small laugh. “You’ve only known me for a few days. How do you know what I usually do?”
There was no blame in his tone.
Yet Shen Zhiyao suddenly lost any reason to keep asking.
He was right.
They had only known each other for a few days.
His understanding of Cheng Ye amounted to nothing more than knowing this person talked a lot, liked to smile, remembered to remind others about homework, would walk him to the bus stop on rainy days, and was accustomed to doing everything for everyone around him.
As for what was hidden behind those smiles, it didn’t seem to fall within the bounds of what a deskmate of a few days ought to know.
“Let’s go.”
Shen Zhiyao turned and walked toward the staircase.
Cheng Ye caught up behind him.
The sound of their footsteps echoed one after the other in the vacant hallway.
When they reached the first floor, Cheng Ye suddenly ran up from behind and patted Shen Zhiyao on the shoulder. “Are you mad?”
“No.”
“You’re walking fast.”
“Catching the bus.”
“The bus still has twelve minutes.”
Shen Zhiyao stopped in his tracks. “Why do you always remember the schedule for Route 17?”
“It’s written on the bus stop sign.”
“You memorized it after looking at it once?”
“Pretty much.”
“Don’t you constantly forget your homework?”
Cheng Ye said with complete justification, “I don’t forget the important things.”
Shen Zhiyao looked at him. “A bus is important?”
Cheng Ye paused too.
Outside the first-floor lobby, the setting sun filtered through the branches of the camphor trees, casting swaying patches of light on the ground. A few underclassmen ran past them, their laughter quickly fading toward the school gates.
“Whether you can get home on time is obviously important,” Cheng Ye said.
He said it naturally.
As if stating a fact that required no second thought whatsoever.
Shen Zhiyao averted his gaze. “I won’t be unable to get home just because I missed one bus.”
“You’d still have to wait more than ten minutes.”
“I can wait.”
“No need to.”
Cheng Ye looked down at his watch. “Leaving now is just right.”
Saying so, he headed outside.
His face had restored its usual expression his steps were light, and he even began debating with Shen Zhiyao whether the school cafeteria’s newly released drink actually counted as disgusting or not.
The person who had stood silently lost in thought in the empty classroom just moments ago seemed like nothing more than an illusion left by the setting sun on the glass.
Reaching the bicycle shed, Cheng Ye bent down to unlock his bike.
Shen Zhiyao stood beside him and suddenly asked, “Will you go to the bookstore tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t you still have the event budget to do?”
“I’ll write it tonight.”
“What about the sound system?”
“I’ll borrow it on Monday.”
“Basketball sign-ups?”
“Deadline is next week.”
“Then when are you going to correct your math paper?”
Cheng Ye lifted his head. “How do you know my schedule better than my mom?”
“You wrote it all in your notebook.”
“You remembered everything after taking just one glance?”
Shen Zhiyao didn’t answer.
Cheng Ye held his bicycle, a smile slowly creeping onto his face. “Are you really concerned about me?”
“Reminding each other.”
“That line sure is convenient.”
“Math paper.”
“Correcting it tonight.”
“Vocabulary.”
“Copying it Monday.”
“Event budget.”
“Writing it Sunday.”
“Say no to things you can’t do.”
The smile on Cheng Ye’s face faltered slightly.
Shen Zhiyao watched him. “Ms. Zhou said that.”
“I know.”
“You agreed to it.”
“I didn’t agree to all of it,” Cheng Ye said. “If I can do it, I’ll do it. If I really can’t, then I’ll say no.”
“How do you judge whether you can do it or not?”
“Try doing it first, then see.”
“That’s not judging.”
Cheng Ye was left thoroughly out-argued by him. “Fine, I’ll pay attention next time.”
“You say that every time.”
“Then what do I have to say for you to believe me?”
Shen Zhiyao stayed silent for a brief moment. “Don’t promise things you can’t do.”
A breeze blew through the bike shed, sending a few dry leaves tumbling across the ground.
Cheng Ye looked at him, his expression turning rare and serious. “Okay.”
This time, he didn’t laugh right away. “I’ll try my best.”
Shen Zhiyao nodded.
Cheng Ye mounted his bike, rode forward two paces, then stopped to look back. “Then you promise me one thing too.”
“What?”
“If things don’t go smoothly tomorrow, don’t keep it bottled up by yourself.”
Shen Zhiyao’s fingers tightened around his backpack strap. “I’m not—”
“I didn’t ask what it was,” Cheng Ye interrupted him. “You don’t have to tell me either.”
He gripped the handlebars, the setting sun landing in his eyes, gleaming as if holding a small piece of lingering clear sky. “Just… if you’re unhappy, you can send a message.”
Shen Zhiyao didn’t say okay, nor did he refuse.
Cheng Ye waited a few seconds. “Drawing a circle works too.”
“What?”
“Don’t you draw a circle to show you understood?”
Shen Zhiyao looked at him, finally feeling a bit helpless. “I don’t have paper on me.”
Cheng Ye laughed. “Then owe it to me for now.”
He rode his bike out through the school gates.
Shen Zhiyao stood in place, watching that figure gradually fade into the distance.
Only after Cheng Ye turned the street corner did he begin walking toward the bus stop.
His phone vibrated in his pocket.
Cheng Ye had sent a photo over.
It was the piece of paper from this afternoon that listed all his to-do items.
At the very bottom of the page, a new line of text had been added:
[Friday night: Correct math test paper.]
Followed by a circle that wasn’t quite round.
Shen Zhiyao stared at it for a long time.
Afterward, he tapped on the input box and sent back the exact same symbol:
After the message went through, Cheng Ye quickly replied with a smiley face.
Shen Zhiyao put his phone away and raised his eyes to look ahead.
The sun had mostly set, leaving a single streak of pale gold light at the end of the street.
He didn’t know why Cheng Ye had stood alone in the empty classroom staring off into space earlier.
Just as Cheng Ye didn’t know that tomorrow, he would have to face someone who had been absent for a long time.
There were still many unsaid things between them.
Yet at least on this evening, both of them began to notice that the other’s smiles and silences didn’t necessarily mean what they appeared to on the surface.
And after their first duty day together ended, what Shen Zhiyao remembered wasn’t just the clean window frames or the classroom illuminated by the setting sun.
It was also that fleeting moment by the window when Cheng Ye failed to hide his exhaustion.