Today just happened to feature the “water course” (an easy, low-stakes elective) that Qin Zhuyu utterly detested.
It was a political ideology course.
While Wen Zhao hadn’t explicitly used course names like “Mao Zedong Thought,” “Xi Jinping Thought,” or “Marxist Philosophy,” the world within the book had independently developed its own version of political ideology classes.
Wen Zhao found it incredibly fascinating that the book’s world had managed to rationalize a set of developmental rules for itself. As she sat in the tiered lecture hall listening to the professor talk about national development, she felt a sense of profound wonder.
Her arm was poked by a pen for the 9th time.
Helplessly, Wen Zhao turned her head and whispered, “What is it now?”
“How can you actually listen to this class? Ugh, stop listening and play with me for a bit,” Qin Zhuyu whispered back.
“You’re not listening, and you won’t let me listen either? That’s so mean,” Wen Zhao criticized her faintly. Her voice had a hint of a long-suffering AI persona, so Qin Zhuyu wasn’t afraid at all; instead, she became even more emboldened and continued to poke Wen Zhao’s arm.
At this moment, Wen Zhao truly couldn’t figure it out.
Why on earth didn’t Qin’s parents send Qin Zhuyu abroad? Even if she stayed in the country, why did a wealthy young lady who hated class so much insist on attending?
“The professor is about to call on people to answer questions. Are you going to settle down?” Wen Zhao threw out the most powerful trump card of class time.
Qin Zhuyu immediately sat up straight, lowered her head, and began flipping through her book rapidly.
Amused, Wen Zhao laughed softly and pushed her second-hand book over. On it were the answers she had circled.
However, Qin Zhuyu wasn’t that unlucky; the 1-in-90 probability didn’t land on her.
The person called upon was a very slender girl.
When it comes to such “unlucky souls,” the fortunate spectators who escaped the ordeal usually can’t help but steal a glance.
But with just that one glance, Wen Zhao felt that this girl looked somewhat familiar.
But only “somewhat.”
After a brief look, Wen Zhao turned back, took her book, flipped forward two pages to find the answer to the next question, and gave the book back to Qin Zhuyu.
Qin Zhuyu was incredibly moved.
Though she often felt guilty, thinking she had dragged Wen Zhao along as another victim of the lecture, having Wen Zhao sit beside her gave her immense peace of mind—the kind of peace that allowed her to play on her phone even when the professor was standing right next to her.
The slender girl stood up and stalled for a moment.
But once she recovered, her answer was very fluent. Wen Zhao was surprised; the answer sounded like it came from one of the few students who had been listening intently. Why would she have stalled at the beginning?
Perhaps she was shy and prone to nervousness.
Regardless, she successfully completed an excellent response.
After the professor said “Please be seated,” Wen Zhao quietly clapped for her.
Qin Zhuyu sat beside Wen Zhao, and Wen Zhao watched her spend the rest of the class period in a state of restless agitation. The moment the bell rang, the surrounding students immediately crowded toward the door, rushing to snag a back-row seat in their next classroom.
Wen Zhao had packed her books into her bag in advance.
Unfortunately, Qin Zhuyu was a staunch supporter of the “street stall economy.” She insisted on setting up a stall on every classroom desk: though she never used the books, notebooks, or pens, they had to be displayed. Her tablet was used for games like Air Attendant and Burger Shop. There was also a massive thermos, a cup of iced milk tea, a nasal inhaler, a Perler bead photo frame, and a trendy “squeeze” toy that she would “grace” with her attention from time to time.
Once class ended, it took at least two or three minutes to shove all these things into her backpack.
People who like to slack off in class aren’t in a hurry, so Wen Zhao naturally wasn’t in a hurry either.
“Take your time, it’s fine.” Watching Qin Zhuyu frantically stuffing things into her bag, Wen Zhao wanted to sigh again. When the Perler bead photo frame warped from a square into a parallelogram, she finally couldn’t take it anymore and took the bag and the items. “Have a sip of milk tea and relax for a bit.”
If she let Qin Zhuyu do it herself, not only would it be inefficient, but it would also be hard on the items.
“Oh, okay. Actually, I don’t have a class next period.” Qin Zhuyu obediently picked up her milk tea and took a sip.
There were simply too many electives in the junior year, and Qin Zhuyu happened not to have selected one for the next slot.
Wen Zhao nodded. “That’s even better.”
The tiered classroom became much quieter.
The only sounds left were Wen Zhao organizing things and Qin Zhuyu sipping her milk tea.
“Excuse me—”
Just as the packing was nearly finished, a girl appeared before the two of them. Qin Zhuyu looked utterly confused, while Wen Zhao looked up and asked kindly, “What is it? Do you need our help?”
A flash of disappointment crossed the slender girl’s face.
But quickly, she rallied and said with a shy smile, “No, I think you probably don’t remember me, but I… I… sorry, I’m being a bit presumptuous…”
As she stuttered, trying to find the words, a spark of realization lit up Wen Zhao’s mind.
“I think I remember now.” Wen Zhao tilted her head and smiled at her. “Did you work a winter job in H City during the break? You look familiar to me.”
“Yes! It was in H City!”
Hearing Wen Zhao mention the location, Wen Qian nodded excitedly.
She patted the table in her excitement, but after seeing Wen Zhao gently patting Qin Zhuyu’s back, she tried her best to steady her emotions, taking several deep breaths.
Qin Zhuyu was getting a bit impatient. Wen Zhao pulled a milk candy from her pocket, unwrapped it, and handed it to her.
Wen Zhao waited patiently for the girl in front of her to find the words she wanted to say.
“Here, you have a candy too.”
Fearing it might be too forward, Wen Zhao handed the candy over directly without unwrapping it.
“Thank you.” Wen Qian was stunned for a moment before quickly taking the candy.
She hadn’t expected to receive one.
Their hands inevitably touched. Wen Zhao looked carefully at her fingers and the back of her hand, saying with relief, “It seems you really did apply the medicine well; you didn’t let the chilblains get worse.”
Untreated chilblains not only leave unsightly marks but also recur year after year, becoming red, swollen, and itchy. Even just remembering those times made Wen Zhao feel uncomfortable.
Being able to save another person from that pain made Wen Zhao very happy.
“Yes. Actually, I just wanted to say that I am very grateful to you. That day… I never thought anyone would take notice of such a minor ailment on me. Thank you so much.”
Wen Qian touched the skin where the chilblains had once been.
She had thought she would never see Wen Zhao again.
This woman, who had appeared amidst the wind and snow but felt warmer than any spring, had, through her kind and thoughtful actions, ensured that Wen Qian spent a winter more heartwarming than any before.
“How could that be?” Wen Zhao’s smile was gentle, her soft gaze resting entirely on the thin girl before her. “There will definitely be people who care about your minor aches and pains.”
“Besides, I can see that you are a resilient and strong girl. Even if you truly rarely encounter such people, I hope you can warm yourself.”
In the freezing snow, anyone seeing the young, small Wen Qian performing heavy labor would feel their heart soften.
Wen Zhao only noticed her chilblains because she was more observant than most.
Wen Zhao hadn’t expected her unintentional act of kindness to be remembered for so long.
Listening to her thanks, Wen Zhao realized that she was indeed the girl who had been called on to answer the question.
Wen Qian wanted to say: Before you, no one cared.
But she didn’t say it. She only asked cautiously, “Sister, can I have your contact information?”
Wen Zhao was a bit surprised.
“I… I don’t mean anything else, I just wanted to…” Wen Zhao only paused for a second, but Wen Qian immediately began explaining more, fearing she had been misunderstood.
Wen Zhao zipped up the backpack, placed it on Qin Zhuyu’s lap, and then picked up her phone from the desk.
“I understand. I didn’t mean anything else either. I was just surprised that someone as shy as you would take the initiative to ask for my contact info.” Wen Zhao smiled, bringing up her QR code to show her.
After the girl scanned it and the friend request was received, Wen Zhao accepted it and learned her name. “Wen Qian? Your name is very lovely.”
As she spoke, Wen Zhao stood up.
Qin Zhuyu’s patience had long since run out; she was only holding back for Wen Zhao’s sake. Wen Zhao wouldn’t take advantage of her tolerance by making her wait indefinitely.
“If there’s nothing else today, we’ll head out first. If you have anything else you want to say to me, you can reach out anytime. Don’t worry about bothering me. Goodbye, I hope you’re happy every day.” Wen Zhao held Qin Zhuyu with one hand and waved her phone toward Wen Qian with the other.
Wen Qian nodded. “Okay, goodbye.” She then stepped aside to clear the path.
Qin Zhuyu carried her own backpack, looking like a middle schooler standing next to Wen Zhao—a very flamboyantly dressed middle schooler.
But Wen Qian didn’t look at her; her gaze followed Wen Zhao’s movements.
The temperature was much warmer today.
Wen Zhao wasn’t wearing an extra coat, only a simple cream-colored long dress. The dress reached her calves, with layers of lace at the hem that covered her slender ankles. Her waterfall-like, waist-length hair swayed with her steps, the tips often brushing against her wide pearl waistband.
She was still so beautiful—even more beautiful than when they first met.
Wen Qian watched, somewhat entranced.
It wasn’t until the two of them left the tiered classroom that Wen Qian snapped out of it. She pulled out her phone and changed her social media bio, deleting the line: “Accepting substitute attendance for Business Management Class of Year XX, Section 2.”
“It was her! She snatched my medicine!” Qin Zhuyu said, circling around Wen Zhao.
Her movements restricted, Wen Zhao wasn’t angry, only saying in a light tone, “It wasn’t in your hands yet, so how was it yours? And I gave it to her; she didn’t snatch it.”
Wen Zhao was even defending the other person, which made Qin Zhuyu even angrier.
“I say she did, so she did! Humph, is it because I’m not ‘pitiful’ enough that you…”
“Zhuyu,” Wen Zhao interrupted her somewhat sternly, correcting her: “Don’t casually call someone ‘pitiful.’ It’s neither respectful nor polite.”
Some people might have difficult material conditions, but they are still living their lives well.
Wen Zhao admired such people.
Therefore, she didn’t want to use a word like “pitiful” to describe others. Even if her sympathy often overflowed, it didn’t mean she considered the object of her sympathy to be pathetic.
Having a compassionate heart is a personal quality; it is not evidence of anyone else’s state of life.
Furthermore, Wen Qian possessed such vitality.
Qin Zhuyu sulked silently. Wen Zhao’s tone softened as she continued, “You know where I met her. You are schoolmates, but during the same break, you took a private jet and willfully made everyone accompany you to H City to see the sea. Wen Qian was also at that hotel with the best ocean view in H City, but she was working there to earn money for a better life. She had no time or mood to appreciate the sea we were looking at. But Wen Qian had her own scenery in her eyes—things that both you and I missed. How can we call her pitiful?”
“Fine, I got it. I was just saying it casually.”
Qin Zhuyu kicked a small pebble on the side of the road discontentedly.
“Well then, as a reward for Miss Qin’s willingness to admit her mistakes, I’ve decided to treat you to a meal.”
Seeing Qin Zhuyu smile, Wen Zhao smiled too.