In Class 2-1 at St. Raphael’s International Primary School, there were two equally dazzling girls with completely different personalities.
It was a notoriously difficult school to get into. With expensive tuition and rigorous screening, most of the children who passed the exams came from privileged backgrounds and had received elite education from a young age, though, of course, a small minority clawed their way in through sheer grit and competitive entrance exams. Every year, millions of children nationwide competed for just a handful of spots, and those who made it through were the absolute cream of the crop academically. Ye Xin was one of them. In the first grade, she entered with a score of 100 percent, sustaining her tuition through a scholarship, making her the only student in Class 2-1 from an ordinary background who firmly held her place in the front row. No one spoke of it out loud, but everyone knew.
Ye Xin was the kind of child who felt exceptionally reliable at first glance. Down-to-earth and serious, she paid attention to detail and possessed a composure and sense of responsibility far beyond her years. Her ordinary family background had taught her independence and maturity early on; she was well aware of her own capabilities, yet never boasted or showed off. Usually quiet, the moment she spoke, her words were logical, to the point, crisp, and decisive.
Lu Jinyu was the exact opposite. Everyone affectionately called her Lu’er. She appeared quiet and introverted on the outside, a touch of softness always lingering around her features, but inside she hid a delicate and rich inner world. Naturally sensitive and highly empathetic, she easily picked up on the subtle emotional shifts of others, while deeply yearning for sincere and grounded companionship.
As the privileged young lady of a wealthy family, Lu’er possessed not an ounce of arrogance. She was always gentle and polite to her classmates, maintaining a well-balanced kindness and distance. Yet, because her mother was traditionally strict and held exceptionally high expectations, Lu’er was frequently burdened with worries. A faint, light sorrow, unfitting for her age, would occasionally flicker across her clear eyes, as if she were quietly hoping for a simple yet warm light.
Scene 1: The Test Papers and the First Formal Conversation
At dismissal time, a few children were still left in the classroom packing their backpacks. Oscar Shields walked over to Ye Xin’s desk, his backpack strap sliding down to his elbow, and asked: Oscar: “Hey Ye! How much did you get?”
Ye Xin had just folded her test paper and slid it into the side pocket of her backpack. She turned, glanced at him without a word, and pulled it right back out to show him. Oscar leaned over, caught sight of the big 100, and immediately let out an exaggerated sigh: Oscar: “Oh man, my mum is gonna kill me.”
Then, he pulled out his own test paper, which had forty-something points, crumpled, with a piece of eraser crumb stuck to the edge. Oscar: “See? I am already dead.”
Ye Xin glanced at it. She neither smiled nor offered comfort, but simply stated: Ye Xin: “You did not read the question for the third problem.”
Oscar lowered his head, flipped through the paper, opened his mouth, and ultimately folded the test paper up and shoved it into his pocket, sheepishly muttering: Oscar: “Yeah.”
Just then, Alexander Shields appeared at the classroom door and called inside: Alex: “Oscar, ready to go home?”
Turning his head and spotting his brother, Oscar acknowledged the call, then turned back and waved at Ye Xin: Oscar: “My brother is here to pick me up. See ya, Ye!”
Ye Xin: “See you tomorrow, Oscar.”
Oscar ran toward the door and left together with Alex. Ye Xin withdrew her gaze, pressed the buckle of her backpack’s side pocket back into place, and prepared to leave.
Lu’er was still sitting at her desk. Clutching the math pop-quiz paper that had just been handed back, she gazed at the 98 points on it, let out a soft sigh, and carefully tucked the paper into her folder before zipping up her backpack. Finished packing, she stood up just in time to see Ye Xin also finishing up and getting ready to head out. That calm, steady figure looked exceptionally resolute in the evening light.
Lu’er hesitated for a moment, then gently walked forward, her voice soft and light: “Classmate Ye Xin?”
Ye Xin paused, raised her eyes to look at her, her gaze calm and carrying a hint of a quiet query as she gave a slight nod: “Yes, is something the matter?”
Lu’er’s fingertips gently clenched the edge of her folder, looking a bit nervous: “Um, that last critical-thinking question on the math test today, I thought about it for a long time and could not figure it out. How did you solve it? Could I ask for your help?”
Ye Xin was slightly surprised for a moment before returning to her calm demeanor. Seeing the sincerity in Lu’er’s eyes, not a hint of rivalry or provocation, she nodded straightforwardly: “Sure.”
She took the test paper directly out of her side pocket, unfolded it, and pointed her finger at the problem: “Right here, the key is to draw an auxiliary line. Connect these two points, and the train of thought becomes clear.”
Ye Xin’s explanation was well-organized, concise, and direct, without a single superfluous word. Lu’er listened attentively, nodding frequently as her eyes gradually lit up. “Ah, so that is how it is! Thank you, Ye Xin, you are really amazing.”
Ye Xin put the test paper away, her tone flat: “My method was just right. Practice it a few times and you will get it.”
Lu’er smiled with curved eyes: “Yeah! Then next time, if there is anything else I do not understand, can I still ask you?”
Gazing at Lu’er’s sincere and gentle smile, Ye Xin paused for half a second before softly responding: “Yes. Whenever I have time.”
This was their first true conversation in the real sense. It began with Lu’er’s proactive request for guidance, and equally with an appreciation devoid of utilitarian motives. Ye Xin provided her answers with an ISTJ-style pragmatism, while Lu’er approached the problem itself with an INFJ-style sincerity, rather than obsessing over the exact score.
A few days later, during physical education class, a 50-meter sprint test was conducted. As steady as ever, Ye Xin had a quick starting reaction, standard arm swings, and a crisp sprint, crossing the finish line first without a single suspense. Lu’er also gave it her all; she was not slow by any means, yet she still lagged a bit behind Ye Xin, finishing second.
After the run, everyone stood around panting and resting. Ye Xin merely adjusted her breathing a few times before diligently starting her stretches and cool-down exercises, every single movement precise and correct.
Lu’er slowly walked over to her, her breathing still somewhat unsteady: “Ye Xin, you ran so fast, just like the wind.”
Ye Xin stopped what she was doing, glanced at her, and in the same flat tone offered a very specific piece of advice: “Your start was a little slow, by about a tenth of a second. You can take slightly bigger strides in the middle.”
Lu’er blinked in surprise, not expecting her to have observed so closely, and immediately flashed a grateful smile: “You pay such close attention, I will make sure to watch out for that next time. It seems like you are amazing at every kind of sport.”
Ye Xin gently shook her head: “I just practice a lot, nothing special.”
Lu’er could sense that this was not false modesty; she genuinely believed that excellence was simply the inevitable result of method combined with effort. This unostentatious strength filled her with a flurry of curiosity and fondness for the classmate who was always in first place.
And so, through this back-and-forth, Lu’er frequently took the initiative to ask questions about schoolwork, quietly watched Ye Xin exercise, and occasionally shared a small snack. Though Ye Xin remained a person of few words, she gradually grew accustomed to Lu’er’s companionship.
In the eyes of the ISTJ Ye Xin, Lu’er followed the rules, possessed good manners, studied diligently, and never engaged in jealousy or rivalry, fitting her criteria of a person worth associating with perfectly. Meanwhile, in the heart of the INFJ Lu’er, Ye Xin was genuine, composed, and never deliberately ingratiating, completely different from those who approached her because of family backgrounds. Being around her brought a profound sense of peace.
About half a semester in, the two could already be considered good friends, though not yet to the point of sharing every single thought.
One day, Lu’er placed second again by a narrow margin, and coupled with her mother’s repeated reminders that she had to secure first place in the class, her spirits were noticeably dampened.
Ye Xin picked up on her unusual demeanor. While packing her backpack after school, she casually brought it up: “You have not seemed quite yourself lately.”
Not expecting Ye Xin to take the initiative to care, Lu’er offered a bitter, gentle smile: “It is nothing, just a bit tired. I still have tutoring classes and calligraphy practice over the weekend.”
Ye Xin nodded and said calmly: “My mom and I are going camping in the mountains this weekend.”
Lu’er’s eyes instantly lit up, filled with yearning: “Camping? You mean pitching tents, making fires, and looking at the stars?”
Watching her suddenly radiant eyes, Ye Xin could not quite fathom why she was so excited, but answered honestly anyway: “Mostly learning how to navigate, identifying plants, and outdoor safety. My mom wants me to learn to be a bit more self-reliant.”
Unable to hide her envy, Lu’er spoke with a touch of dreamy wonder: “That sounds wonderful. I have never been. My mom is so busy, and she says those things are useless, caring only about what rank I get on my exams.”
Her words of disappointment and longing drifted softly onto Ye Xin’s heart. An ISTJ may not excel at expressing emotions, but they are far from lacking perception.
After a brief silence, Ye Xin spoke earnestly: “It is very useful. It teaches you how to take care of yourself.”
Gathering a tiny bit of courage, Lu’er softly asked: “Ye Xin, can I walk a piece of the way with you?” Truthfully, she just wanted to hear a little bit more about camping.
Ye Xin looked at her and readily agreed: “Sure.”
The two walked out of the school gates side by side. Along the way, Lu’er asked numerous details about camping, and Ye Xin answered in specific detail, showing herself to be unusually talkative. Reaching the intersection where Lu’er usually waited for her family car, Lu’er suddenly paused and softly extended an invitation: “We just got some new picture books at home, and some of them seem to cover wilderness survival skills. Would you like to come take a look? I can have Uncle Driver send you home afterward.”
After a brief moment of thought, Ye Xin nodded: “Okay, I will let my mom know and head back a bit later.”
Arriving at Lu’er’s house, they unexpectedly ran into Lu Ling, who had returned home early. Seeing her daughter bring a classmate home, Lu Ling was initially startled. But seeing Ye Xin’s poised manners and calm gaze, and noticing how much happier and more relaxed Lu’er looked compared to usual, she showed no sign of displeasure and instead greeted them warmly.
During their conversation, upon hearing Ye Xin talk about her weekend camping plans, a flash of deep contemplation crossed Lu Ling’s eyes.
This encounter, which began with test papers and ended at a front door, completely intertwined the lives of two little girls who were already drawn to one another. Lu’er reached out proactively with an INFJ-style gentleness and longing, while Ye Xin responded steadily through an ISTJ-style groundedness and acceptance. A clean and extraordinary friendship quietly took root right there.