Their English class wasn’t small, with around seventy or eighty students, held in a large lecture hall. The professor couldn’t even remember the faces of the students attending.
Rong Ting easily slipped Ran Jiu into the class. Since the back rows were already taken by those who arrived earlier, the two of them sat closer to the middle.
Ran Jiu kept her hat on at first, but later, feeling a bit warm, she had no choice but to take it off.
For a moment, the surrounding gazes were drawn to the striking dark green of her hat, then shifted to her bright and beautiful face. However, as if realizing they likely had nothing to do with someone like her, everyone turned to their own computers and busied themselves with their tasks.
For the first time, Rong Ting thought that being immersed in the relentless grind of studying, oblivious to the outside world, might not be such a bad thing.
After all, focusing on academics was far better than getting caught up in other people’s business.
This class was College Oral English, and the students’ speaking levels varied widely, randomly grouped together. Some who had scored a 7 on the IELTS speaking test could apply to the school for exemption, only needing to take the final exam. So, most of the students here were those with average oral English skills.
Rong Ting’s spoken English was neither particularly good nor bad, but she tended to mix up “n” and “l” sounds. After the placement test at the beginning of the semester, she was assigned to this class.
During this class, everyone else had brought their laptops, typing away furiously, mostly slacking off and doing homework instead of paying attention. The professor tried several times to interact with the students, but the laptops acted like a natural barrier, separating the students’ attention from the teacher’s gaze.
As luck would have it, Rong Ting hadn’t gone home, so she hadn’t brought her laptop.
At that moment, she was diligently writing in her notebook when she happened to look up and lock eyes with the professor.
It was like a cleaver hitting a live wire—sparks flew, and something snapped in Rong Ting’s mind.
Only two words came to her: “I’m done.”
The professor’s face lit up with delight, his hand trembling slightly as he pointed at Rong Ting. “This student, then! Please read this passage for everyone!”
The passage the professor had selected was taken from an American science magazine, filled with obscure vocabulary and long numbers.
Rong Ting dreaded reading numbers in English the most—it always took her a long time to process them.
Unfortunately, this passage was part of last week’s preview assignment. She had been thinking she could get away with cramming for an hour before class, but unexpectedly, the class had been moved up, squeezing her time. She hadn’t had a chance to look at it at all.
Now, being forced into the spotlight, she knew she had no choice but to grit her teeth and stand up to read.
The surrounding classmates only knew the professor was pointing in their direction but didn’t yet know who it was. They looked up gleefully, eager to see which unlucky person was about to suffer.
But before Rong Ting could even stand up, the chair beside her scraped against the floor with a jarring sound.
Ran Jiu calmly took the book from her hands and began reading the passage the professor had indicated.
The professor looked momentarily stunned, his mouth slightly agape as if he intended to correct something, but Ran Jiu had already started reading.
“Ah, never mind,” the professor pursed his lips and fell silent.
Ran Jiu read with a standard British accent, her usually cool voice surprisingly gentle and pleasant when speaking English. The passage was quite long, and she paused a few times in the middle, as if recognizing certain words, but otherwise didn’t stumble at all.
After she finished reading, the professor’s expression instantly brightened. He praised her several times and, noticing she didn’t have a book, kindly reminded her to bring one next time.
The rest of the class went smoothly. The professor didn’t call on anyone again and instead focused on highlighting the key parts from that earlier passage, completely avoiding the question of who she had intended to call on earlier and never asking Rong Ting to read it again.
Afterward, Rong Ting felt a surreal sense of having narrowly escaped disaster. Listening to Ran Jiu read English had been awe-inspiring, stirring an inexplicable sense of emotion within her.
Her heart raced with anxiety—the fear of being exposed—but gradually, that tension melted into a bittersweet and peculiar feeling, like dropping a lemon effervescent tablet into a glass of warm water, bubbling and fizzing endlessly.
During the second half of the class, the teacher played an English film. The lights at the front and back of the classroom were turned off, plunging the room into darkness, illuminated only by the faint blue glow from the screen.
The atmosphere was relaxed, but Rong Ting couldn’t focus on the movie at all.
She could hear Ran Jiu’s soft breathing, the occasional yawn, and through the reflected light, she could sense her leaning back or forward. Sometimes, Ran Jiu would suddenly lean close to her ear to discuss the film, only to fall silent again moments later.
As time passed, the space beside her grew quiet.
Three and a half hours later, the sky outside had darkened. When the lights came back on, Rong Ting immediately glanced to the side.
Ran Jiu was sprawled over the desk, facing her, sound asleep with her cap pulled down tightly. Her head was tilted to the side, revealing only the delicate tip of her nose beneath the cap.
Fortunately, class was already over. The professor hadn’t paid any attention to the students and had hurried out with her briefcase.
Students trickled out of the classroom, and only then did Ran Jiu stir awake. Seeing that only the two of them remained, she stretched lazily and asked, “Shall we go?”
On the way, Rong Ting felt a bit guilty. “I told you to go back and sleep, but you wouldn’t listen. How could a desk be more comfortable than a bed?”
Ran Jiu’s voice was hoarse and drowsy. “Haven’t you heard that sleeping at a desk is more restful than sleeping in bed?”
But joking aside, Ran Jiu still comforted her. “It’s fine. My work is usually pretty light, so it’s not tiring.”
Rong Ting couldn’t help but laugh. Not tiring? Then why were you so exhausted you fell asleep? She asked, “How is your language sense so good?”
Ran Jiu slowed her pace, a faint, ironic smile curling at the corner of her lips in the darkness. “Money. Where I’m from, we don’t test speaking, but my mom signed me up for online conversational English courses a long time ago.”
Rong Ting couldn’t see her expression, only hearing her voice, and was a bit surprised. “So it’s because you started practicing early?”
“What else?”
“I thought it was for voice acting.”
Rong Ting recalled how fluent Ran Jiu’s Japanese had been last time and grew even more curious about her.
Ran Jiu found it amusing. “The voice acting industry isn’t that competitive yet.” Then she added, “But who knows? Maybe it will be soon.”
She noticed something and reached her hand toward Rong Ting’s face.
Lost in thought, Rong Ting stiffened slightly at the sight of the hand appearing before her eyes, instinctively flinching away.
Ran Jiu’s slender, pale hand paused for a moment before gently moving forward, brushing aside a stray strand of hair from Rong Ting’s forehead. “You weren’t sleeping on the desk, so why is your hair messier than mine?”
The earlier gesture seemed to have struck a nerve in Rong Ting, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through her limbs before gradually fading into stillness. She wondered if she had been expecting something, her tone tinged with a hint of melancholy. “My braid came loose, so it gets messy easily.”
Hearing the reply, “Oh, right.”
This time, they fell silent in unison. Rong Ting’s gaze lingered on her from the corner of her eye. Ran Jiu seemed to have an innate affinity with the darkness—under the dim glow of the streetlights, her silhouette appeared even more slender and graceful, her fingers pale and slender.
Rong Ting had seen her in a tank top before, the hollow of her shoulders so delicate it could cradle a small fish. She knew that from her forearm to her shoulder, Ran Jiu was equally slender, her wrist bones always prominent, her waistline so narrow it could be held in one hand.
In the taxi, when Ran Jiu rested her head on Rong Ting’s lap to sleep, it felt bony against her.
Despite eating so much, she never seemed to gain weight. Sometimes she was clingy like a cat, other times lively, chiming in with Rong Ting’s words. She had a few friends and often went out for small gatherings.
Yet, for no apparent reason, she always seemed distant and lonely. You could never tell what she was thinking.
Rong Ting felt that Ran Jiu was sometimes very close to her, yet in reality, very far away.
Suddenly, she wanted to ask about her past.
“Did you live in Inner Mongolia all through your childhood?”
Ran Jiu nodded. “The grasslands there are vast, the moon is bright, but the mosquitoes at night are especially terrible.” She smiled. “If there’s a chance…”
Her voice caught for a moment before she resumed a light tone. “If I ever go back, I’ll take you with me. The lamb there is quite delicious.”
Hearing that she would take her along, Rong Ting’s heart leaped with joy, but she could clearly see that Ran Jiu wasn’t entirely happy—it must have touched on a sensitive spot. Clumsily, Rong Ting tried to mend the hole she had poked. “It’s okay if you don’t go back. I heard the winters there are quite cold too.”
Hearing this, Ran Jiu seemed to find it amusing and finally let her guard down.
“Who would go north in the dead of winter?” Ran Jiu pulled Rong Ting’s hat down over her head. “Silly, besides, winters in Beijing are plenty cold too.”