Amid a pile of symbols, those few words stood out especially clearly.
Wen Qing couldn't help but look at Song Qiong, who had just switched seats to sit next to Zhou Shixu.
Connecting it with that sentence—
the string in her mind nearly snapped in an instant.
Why?
Why would he sit at the same desk with a girl, given his personality?
Why would he ask "why hasn't she come yet"?
Even during those first two years when they barely kept in touch, Wen Qing had never heard Zhou Shixu say anything like that.
Could more than a decade of their bond really not compare to a classmate he had just met?
Why would he—
How could—
How could he ask someone else—
How could he want someone else to come find him quickly?
What did he take those ten-plus years of feelings for?
Could it be that the specialness she believed in—
the bond between the two of them she took for granted—
really was all just in her head?
So he really did only see her as an ordinary friend he'd known since childhood.
Just a childhood friend, nothing more.
Wen Qing tried hard to see those words as meaningless symbols, like physics formulas.
But she couldn't do it.
She forced herself to flip to a blank page, her hand gripping the pen so tightly that her writing on the paper wouldn't stay steady.
【Cookies, my mom made them
Seeing Wen Qing finish writing and stand up, Song Qiong got up to give her back the seat.
"Want me to tell him for you?"
Wen Qing suppressed the turmoil in her heart and answered with a smile:
"No need, thanks. I've written him a note."
She even pulled a strip of candy from her pocket and handed it to Song Qiong, thanking her again.
Even though she forced herself not to think about it, Wen Qing still couldn't help it.
Couldn't help blaming Zhou Shixu.
But what could she even blame him for?
Just as she'd said—wasn't it normal for people to drift apart after a while without contact?
But she had never, not once, imagined he would make new friends.
Or more than friends.
She had always believed that no one would ever appear in Zhou Shixu's life who mattered more than she did.
When you place yourself too high, it's easy to fall.
But in the long span of her first ten-plus years, she had never once felt that kind of letdown from Zhou Shixu.
So what was she supposed to do?
Should she ask?
Should she even ask?
Could she ask?
·
Zhou Shixu had just returned from the teachers' office when he saw the glinting cookie tin on his desk.
He didn't need to guess to know Wen Qing had just been there.
After all, Ms. Zhao Yuan's love of baking had stayed constant for ten years—she hadn't even changed the box she used for the cookies.
When they were little, other kids had to be on good terms with Wen Qing just to get a piece or two.
But Zhou Shixu didn't.
Every time, Wen Qing would bring him a whole box, and when she gave it to him she never forgot to say things like "See how good I am to you," to show off how special their relationship was.
And it was good.
So good that even though he could have an entire box, he was unwilling to let her share a single piece with anyone else.
The cookie tin was moved aside, and the note on the scratch paper was finally laid bare before Zhou Shixu's eyes.
Wen Qing's grandfather practiced calligraphy, and her handwriting had always been beautiful.
She always handled the pauses and the weight of her strokes perfectly.
But every stroke on this note had been written with heavy pressure.
Zhou Shixu's heart clenched sharply.
He didn't need to flip back a page.
Didn't need to guess.
He knew Wen Qing had seen it.
After he gathered up the scratch paper and the cookie tin, Xu Jinqi happened to come over to help Zhou Shixu move his desk.
Seeing their movements, Song Qiong stood up and retreated to the corridor.
Almost the moment she stood up, a strip of still-unopened candy slid out of her pocket.
A strawberry-flavored rectangular strip with a silly little figure in the middle.
The candy landed right in the middle of the hallway, blocking Xu Jinqi and Zhou Shixu as they carried the desk.
When Song Qiong picked it up, she said quietly:
"It was from the girl who came by earlier."
She was just explaining, expecting Xu Jinqi to toss back a casual remark or two, but to her surprise, it was Zhou Shixu who spoke:
"She seems to like you quite a bit."
"Hm?"
Zhou Shixu said nothing more, but Xu Jinqi picked up where he left off:
"Oh, you wouldn't know this, but our classmate Wen Qing usually only gives out one piece of candy at a time. She says she only gives a whole strip to someone she's fond of."
The candy was tucked inside her school uniform jacket, and Song Qiong clenched it slightly, making the plastic crinkle.
Was she fond of her?
·
Before the exam fever had even died down, the school threw itself into organizing a sports meet for the senior year students.
And "fever" was meant literally.
It was mid-September, and the sun seemed determined to roast everyone through and through.
Under the banner of "the last sports meet of our school days," the homeroom teacher forced every student to sign up for an event.
The spots for the hundred-meter dash filled up almost instantly.
Wen Qing was still feeling glum about what had happened at lunch, lying face-down on her desk, lost in thought.
By the time Zheng Shiyi ran over to the class monitor to sign up, only one spot was left—for the four hundred meters.
"Here's the important decision: one of us has to run the eight hundred."
"Mm."
"What do you mean 'mm'? I said the eight hundred."
Though Qingcheng No. 1 High School had morning exercises, everyone tacitly agreed that the pace of morning exercises wasn't much different from a slow stroll.
Add to that the students who skipped out, the ones who stopped to tie their shoelaces, the ones who fell behind—
In this weather, actually running the eight hundred at race pace would probably knock you out cold on the track.
"What? There are no other events? Long jump? Shot put? I could do any of those."
Zheng Shiyi pinched Wen Qing's arm, which had hardly any flesh on it and was still soft.
"What you'd be doing is rolling the shot put, not throwing it."
Luck, it seemed, came in streaks.
When things went badly, they kept going badly.
But when things went well, they didn't stay good for long either.
"Did you get your four hundred meters registered?"
"Not yet. I asked the class monitor to hold the spot for me. If you can't run the eight hundred, I'll do it."
"Shiyi, how are you so good to me? I'm so touched, boo hoo." As she spoke, Wen Qing hugged Zheng Shiyi's arm and nuzzled against it.
Zheng Shiyi had already noticed she was in a bad mood today, and gently patted her back. "Then I'll tell the class monitor to register you for the four hundred, okay?"
Wen Qing patted her own cheeks. "Forget it, I'll just run the eight hundred myself. Brave Wen Qing fears no difficulty."
Though Chen Zhi was on good terms with the class monitor, everyone had signed up so fast that if he tried to pull strings now, he'd be shot full of holes.
He had just registered for the last remaining event—the fifteen hundred—and was grumbling about it.
His sighs came one after another.
Duan Huaian had just come back from the homeroom teacher's office and said something to Chen Zhi.
The sighing stopped abruptly.
"Duan, you're the best!"
Wen Qing and Zheng Shiyi both turned to look, startled by his volume.
"What's wrong with you two? That's no fun at all."
Hearing Zheng Shiyi speak, Chen Zhi suddenly looked up at them:
"What events did you two sign up for?"
"One four hundred and one eight hundred. We're just trying to figure out who has to run the eight hundred."
Chen Zhi gritted his teeth and spoke as if marching to his death:
"Just now, Duan came back from the office and said the teacher gave him two volunteer spots. Besides himself, he's supposed to find one more volunteer. You two decide which of you goes."
After hearing Chen Zhi's words, Duan Huaian smiled and teased him, "Classmate Chen Zhi is pretty loyal too."
"So it's still me running the four hundred. Qing, you go be a volunteer, and remember to meet me at the finish line."
"Sure, you guys are great." Wen Qing was amused by the three of them, and her mood lifted a little.
Chen Zhi was still slumped over his desk, studying how exactly he was going to get through his fifteen hundred meters.
The track at Qingcheng No. 1 High School was four hundred meters.
Fifteen hundred meters was almost four laps.
The daily morning exercise was only two laps anyway.
Wen Qing's moods came fast and went fast too.
Though her heart still felt a bit heavy, most of her attention had already been drawn to the sports meet: "How about we try after evening study session tonight? Whoever can run, runs. Whoever can't can just be a volunteer."
Chen Zhi propped his head up on one hand and lifted it. "A mere fifteen hundred? I'll crush it, no problem."
Duan Huaian, still keeping the same smile from before, spoke up: "I heard in the homeroom teacher's office that there might be a basketball game too. Let's see if I can trade the fifteen hundred for basketball later."
"No way, seriously?"
Zheng Shiyi put down her pen and said, laughing at Chen Zhi, "Who was it that just said the fifteen hundred would be easy?"
"I was lightly picking it up and heavily putting it down. It's all strategy."
In the end, there really was a basketball event.
The three of them suspected Duan Huaian again of being some relative or connection of the principal's.
He could get volunteer spots, hear insider info, and even when he got caught skipping morning exercise, the homeroom teacher would just brush it off.
In the end, Duan Huaian explained for ages, but not one of the three believed him.
They even egged him on to steal a couple of sick-leave slips.
Jokes aside, the sports meet was still more fun than class.
Most students were both looking forward to and grumbling about the arrival of school activities.
·
Wen Qing had avoided Zhou Shixu for three days.
She didn't know how to face him.
She knew she should ask.
But how? An accusation? An interrogation? Or just a question?
Wen Qing's excuse was that the sports meet volunteers needed help after evening study session.
She also had to get up early in the mornings to help.
Morning reading started a little past six, and now she had to get up even earlier to prepare for the sports meet.
Besides, she was only a volunteer, not the person in charge.
The excuse was far flimsier than she'd imagined.
But Zhou Shixu didn't ask.
Maybe he'd guessed that she'd seen that message.
Or maybe he'd simply accepted her distance once again.
You can dodge the first of the month, but not the fifteenth.
Besides, Wen Qing only didn't know how to face him.
It wasn't that she didn't want to see him.
On the eve of the sports meet.
Students came and went in the corridor during the long break.
The glow of light on the math workbook was blocked by the passing figures.
The glaring sunlight turned to shadow, and the shadow slowly dispersed, the brightness returning.
The ink left by her pen tip on the workbook brightened, dimmed, then brightened again—until it went completely dark.
From the corner of her eye, Wen Qing noticed someone standing by the window.
The person neither moved nor spoke.
Wen Qing didn't look up from her workbook, and the pen in her hand didn't stop.
She asked casually, "Looking for someone?"
After a while with no answer, she frowned and was about to turn to look out the window.
Then came a voice she couldn't have known better:
"You."
Her gaze froze in place, and only after a long moment did it slowly move to the window.
The corridor was wide.
Zhou Shixu stood right beside the window. The window was open, and he was nearly leaning in.
The afternoon sun was especially harsh.
The light fell on his back, almost entirely blocked from reaching her.
Her pen dropped onto the solid wood desk with a soft thud.
Zhou Shixu was so close that the sound of Wen Qing setting down her pen fell completely into his ears.
This voice completely overturned his earlier assumption.
Wen Qing had a small habit.
When she was angry, she would set things down with extra force.
But unlike most people, who like to smash things when arguing, this wasn't her venting her emotions.
It was just her way of telling the other person through this small gesture:
I'm angry.
You need to come comfort me.