“Free radicals are…” Xu Yichen scratched his head, looking as confused as a monkey.
Jiang Wenyan offered a useless statement, “Free radicals are also called free radicals.”
Xu Yichen: “That’s still free radicals.”
Jiang Wenyan: “Then what do you say they are?”
The chemistry exam didn’t test definitions, so it wasn’t that they didn’t know—they just didn’t know how to explain it… As a result, Lu Xingheng’s question left both of them stumped.
Anyway, it was just some kind of “radical” that could destroy anything.
Xu Yichen pondered for a moment, “I already said it’s a free radical.”
Jiang Wenyan: “…So what exactly is a free radical?”
Xu Yichen raised his voice, “It’s a free radical!”
“…”
Jiang Wan was practically startled awake.
“What radical?” he asked, not quite catching it.
Xu Yichen replied calmly, “Free radical.”
“Huh?” Still not fully awake, Jiang Wan instinctively followed up, “What?”
Xu Yichen remained patient, “Free radical.”
Jiang Wenyan: “…” Hypocrite.
Jiang Wan straightened up, his voice still hazy from sleep, “Why are you suddenly asking about this?”
Xu Yichen and Jiang Wenyan answered simultaneously.
“140 asked.”
“Lu Xingheng asked.”
Xu Yichen sounded puzzled, “Who’s Lu Xingheng?”
Jiang Wenyan replied flatly, “Your dad.”
If Jiang Wan had said it alone, it might have been fine…
Xu Yichen visibly panicked, his eyes widening in shock as he stared at Lu Xingheng, unable to speak for a long moment.
Lu Xingheng didn’t know what to say either. After a while, he stopped looking at the problem and lifted his gaze to Jiang Wan.
Jiang Wan, having just woken up, felt stiff and uncomfortable. He sat for a moment to recover, then casually picked up the historical timeline on the desk and began reading it.
Xu Yichen hesitated, now suspecting he might be “sleepwalking.” His eyes remained fixed on Lu Xingheng, trying to piece together the logic of this dream.
Jiang Wan skimmed through the timeline briefly. As he looked up, Lu Xingheng called out to him softly, like the morning mist in the mountains during the transition from spring to summer—low and pleasant to the ear. “Jiang Wan.”
Perhaps unfamiliar with the name, Lu Xingheng paused after saying it, then slowly added the next sentence, “Control your people.”
Jiang Wenyan, absorbed in his workbook, continued checking his calculations, the tip of his pen making soft scratching sounds on the draft paper.
The dormitory had fallen silent again at some point.
Lu Xingheng didn’t speak again, nor did he look at Jiang Wan. He opened the newly issued history textbook and jotted down a few potential exam questions. Otherwise, the upcoming history quiz would be another disaster.
“Xu Dog, I know why you can’t solve it.”
Xu Yichen, still lost in his “dream,” was pulled back by Jiang Wenyan to look at the chemistry problem. His scattered wits returned, and he instantly perked up, “Brother! Please enlighten me!”
“You marked the oxidation state of potassium permanganate wrong earlier.”
Xu Yichen slapped his forehead, “I knew it! The method couldn’t be wrong. How did you solve it again?”
Jiang Wenyan: “I set up an equation. Look here…”
Lu Xingheng put on his headphones and started working on the exercises at the end of the book. Just as he was about to turn the page, someone lightly pressed down on his history textbook. The person’s knuckles were pale, almost sickly, but his voice carried a hint of barely noticeable amusement.
“Is my name that hard to say? Did you have to think for so long?”
Lu Xingheng’s Adam’s apple bobbed, standing out awkwardly between the desk and the workbook.
A smile touched Jiang Wan’s lips, “Did you forget it again?”
“No,” Lu Xingheng denied.
Jiang Wan: “Then why did you wait so long to speak up?”
Having been class monitor for many years, Jiang Wan was highly sensitive to gazes. In fact, he had noticed it when he first opened the chronology.
He was just curious—what would such a cold new classmate ask him?
Lu Xingheng replied softly, “I was afraid of interrupting your studies.”
Jiang Wan: “Then what’s my name?”
Lu Xingheng: “Jiang Wan.”
Jiang Wan laughed again, “You really remembered?”
Lu Xingheng: “I remembered.”
Xu Yichen looked up from his calculations and suddenly heard this seemingly out-of-context exchange. 140… no, now he should be called Lu Xingheng—he spoke quite a bit. Why was it only with him that he had nothing to say?
——oo——
As it turned out, whether he studied or not made no difference—the history exam was still the same history exam. Lu Xingheng simply couldn’t do it.
Fortunately, one of the essay questions was something he had memorized, but that was the only one.
After haphazardly filling in the multiple-choice questions, he heard Jiang Wenyan in front of him mutter softly, “Why is he leaning on the podium the whole time?”
Lu Xingheng glanced up. Jiang Wan seemed to pause and lean on the podium for a moment every two questions.
“Class monitor,” even Li Yun, who had been patrolling the exam hall, noticed the frequency. “What’s wrong? The air conditioning isn’t even on in the classroom.”
The history teacher had noticed earlier. Two minutes ago, she had poured hot water into a paper cup and handed it to Jiang Wan. “I think he might have low blood sugar—it seems like he can’t see the questions clearly.”
“Here, drink some of this first.”
Jiang Wan took a small sip, his voice hoarse. “Why is it sweet?”
History teacher: “It’s fine, it’s sugar water.”
Li Yun was flustered and anxious, firing off questions one after another. “Can you see clearly now?”
“Do you need more to drink? I’ll go pour you some…”
“I should still have some sugar in my office.”
As Li Yun was about to leave, Jiang Wan gently grabbed her wrist. “Sister Yun, I’m fine.”
“If I were really uncomfortable, I wouldn’t be able to keep working on the exam.”
Li Yun wasn’t convinced and tried to leave, but Jiang Wan didn’t let go. At eighteen or nineteen, he was at the peak of youthful vigor, and Li Yun couldn’t break free for a moment.
Jiang Wan’s voice was gentle. “Really, I’m fine. Don’t panic.”
Li Yun was frantic with worry. “You scared me to death. It’s been two semesters since this last happened—why did it suddenly come back…”
“I overslept this afternoon and didn’t eat much,” Jiang Wan explained, reaching out to pat Li Yun’s back lightly. “Maybe I’m just overthinking things. Next time, make the math problems a little easier.”
Li Yun couldn’t even force a smile. “Stop joking.”
In the end, Jiang Wan couldn’t win against Li Yun and ended up with both pockets stuffed full of candy.
During the exam, the history teacher walked around twice and stopped beside Lu Xingheng with her hands behind her back, scolding him quietly. “Why are you so distracted? Would you act like this during a real exam?”
The gel pen paused lightly on the essay question, leaving a careless mark.
Lu Xingheng was indeed distracted.
He suddenly remembered—it seemed he had once met a little girl who was similarly afraid of the cold, a long time ago.
He could no longer recall her appearance clearly, but her smile gradually overlapped with Jiang Wan’s, lingering in his memory for a long time.
The memory was hazy, yet amidst the jumble of thoughts, it slowly crystallized scene by scene.
Fragmented and fleeting, as if it were only yesterday.
“Can… can you help me open this candy jar?” The little girl’s eyes were vacant, her voice so soft it was almost inaudible.
Lu Xingheng didn’t want to bother.
But the little girl kneeling in the bathroom kept clutching his pant leg, her grip weak, gradually slipping away as he tried to move out.
“Help me twist it open…”
The girl’s eyes were too pleading, and in the end, he couldn’t refuse. The lid wasn’t stuck tightly, and with a light twist, it opened.
Back then, Lu Xingheng was still very young, and he even suspected that the jar didn’t contain candy at all. The little girl directly tilted the jar into her mouth. What kind of candy could be eaten like that?
But it really wasn’t candy, and the little girl that day didn’t have dimples.
…
“Ahem.” Jiang Wenyan signaled it was time to hand in the paper.
Jiang Wan failed to receive the signal.
Jiang Wenyan leaned against the window, lost in thought (or pretending to be cool), and waited another ten minutes for Jiang Wan.
“Ahem…”
Jiang Wan was offline.