Throughout the competition period, Zhou Ai’s mood seemed off. Although it wasn’t particularly obvious, Jiang Wenyi’s gaze often lingered on him, and he was sensitive enough to pick up on it.
In the Sixth High’s competition team, the seniors in their final year were nervous but determined to succeed, while the underclassmen like them were curious and eager to give it their best shot. Everyone was active, except for Zhou Ai, who remained in a state of detached, indifferent isolation.
Zhou Ai was numb and indifferent toward many things, but that never included his studies. As his desk-mate, Jiang Wenyi naturally knew what Zhou Ai did while sitting at his desk every day.
Yet, during this competition, Zhou Ai was uncharacteristically abnormal.
In the final two intensive training sessions before the exam, the veteran professor lecturing called out Zhou Ai because he was distracted; during the actual exam, Zhou Ai was the first person in the entire hall to hand in his paper early. By the time he stood up to leave, Jiang Wenyi hadn’t even started on the last two major problems. When the preliminary qualifying results were released, all the seniors passed with high scores, and two of their underclassmen barely scraped by, while Zhou Ai missed the qualifying cutoff by a single point.
At that moment, Jiang Wenyi had an intense, indescribable feeling. He felt that Zhou Ai had either controlled his score or deliberately discarded questions. Zhou Ai had absolutely no intention of advancing to the semifinals, but he couldn’t make it too obvious, so he had estimated his score beforehand; that way, his result wouldn’t be too outrageously bad, but it certainly wouldn’t be high enough to qualify.
For them as underclassmen, participating in this kind of competition was meant to be about the experience; passing the cutoff was a pleasant surprise, and not passing was expected. Thus, no teacher would privately hold them accountable for their results.
Jiang Wenyi was the highest scorer in their underclassman group this time. As a freshman, he had successfully advanced to the semifinals. The teachers’ focused attention and his classmates’ admiration and envy all fell upon him this was the taste of being treated as “number one” that he was familiar with, but which he hadn’t enjoyed for a long time because of Zhou Ai.
Based on past experience, although Jiang Wenyi was unwilling, he had been forced to treat Zhou Ai as a formidable opponent. In terms of academics, Zhou Ai was frighteningly stable. In every area where they competed, Zhou Ai’s grades tyrannically occupied the top spots. Yet, this time, Zhou Ai had voluntarily retreated.
On the way back, still on the bus arranged by the school, Jiang Wenyi sat diagonally behind Zhou Ai across the aisle. Teacher Qin had mentioned that Zhou Ai had competition experience from junior high, and Zhou Ai seemed to show a clear resistance to this kind of event. Jiang Wenyi looked at Zhou Ai, who had been staring out the window the entire time, and slowly thought to himself that there must be a reason for this.
When the bus pulled up to the school gate, it was exactly the time school ended for the day. Zhou Ai had just stepped off with his backpack when someone walked toward him, reaching out to take it from him.
“Watch your back.” Chen Siliu’s voice sounded by his ear.
Zhou Ai didn’t let go of the bag strap. He stepped off the final step before looking up at the man in front of him.
Sunlight shone directly onto Zhou Ai’s face. He squinted, which only made the features of his face appear even more rigid and cold.
Chen Siliu looked at his expression and laughed casually: “I helped you feed those cats last time, and I thought they were quite cute. Since the driver came to pick you up today, I tagged along to bring them some food. It turns out someone else is feeding them, too in just a few days, I feel like they’ve gained quite a bit of weight.”
That was back when he was still hospitalized. Zhou Ai had asked Chen Siliu to help feed the cats. Upon returning, Chen Siliu had mentioned that someone else seemed to be feeding them, too something Zhou Ai hadn’t noticed before.
It was easy to understand, though. With thousands of students and teachers across the three grades of the Sixth High’s senior department, he wasn’t the only one who might wander there and discover those cats. With someone “taking over” those animals, Zhou Ai could finally shed his sense of responsibility and walk away. Thus, after being discharged and returning to school, Zhou Ai hadn’t climbed over to the back hill again partly because of his physical condition, and partly because he felt those animals no longer needed him.
Hearing Chen Siliu’s words now, Zhou Ai felt completely at ease about those managed animals. It was inconvenient to carry the bag in his hand, so he raised his arm to sling the bag over his shoulder.
Chen Siliu watched Zhou Ai’s movement and reached out again: “I’ll carry it for this stretch; don’t wear it yourself.”
Zhou Ai glanced at Chen Siliu’s movement and knitted his brows slightly. Chen Siliu seemed unable to understand his refusal; Zhou Ai’s demeanor when he first got off the bus had already expressed his preference, yet within half a minute, Chen Siliu had reached out again, blocking his path.
Chen Siliu even had a faint smile on his face, but Zhou Ai had expressed his stance to him many times before. He didn’t need Chen Siliu’s enthusiasm, nor did he need his special “care.” They were merely a tutor and student with a professional, financial arrangement; he didn’t want to establish any other relationship with him. Even if he were a cripple, he hadn’t yet reached a state where he lacked the ability to care for himself.
Zhou Ai had almost never had normal interpersonal relationships, so he didn’t know how others expressed themselves when facing unwanted help. Whether it was acceptably polite or gratefully reciprocated, this was likely where he was seen as ungrateful. Every time he arrived in a new environment, others would pity him, feel sorry for him, or be curious about him, but Zhou Ai would only block it away with a shell of indifference. Zhou Ai didn’t need the so-called kindness of strangers; he didn’t appreciate it at all, and thus, he became the isolated, antisocial mute in everyone else’s eyes.
Throughout the physics competition, Zhou Ai had actually been somewhat irritable. In this moment, after stepping off the bus and seeing that hand blocking him, his irritability felt ignited, reaching a peak at that very instant.
However, Zhou Ai only breathed out softly, suppressing the emotion he had no intention of showing, then waved that hand away, slung his bag, and walked off first.
The driver’s car was parked in the old spot. Zhou Ai used to sit alone in the back, but today he pulled open the passenger door. Once in the car, he put on his headphones and turned on English listening practice.
The driver was waiting for Chen Siliu to get in the back. Zhou Ai sat in his seat with lowered, indifferent eyelids. The audio in his headphones suddenly cut out for two seconds, indicating his phone had received a new message.
This phone number was a new SIM card; currently, only two people knew it: the driver who picked him up every day, and Chen Xunfeng.
Zhou Ai’s fingers moved. He slowly flipped his face-down phone over, swiped the screen, and opened the message. There were only two simple words: Look up.
Zhou Ai’s finger paused on the phone screen before he slowly raised his head to look out.
The driver was parked at the back gate, where management was slightly lax and many small restaurants had sprung up. Zhou Ai looked up toward the nearest sycamore tree. Amidst the shaded branches, the window of a second-floor restaurant was wide open. Chen Xunfeng had his arms propped on the windowsill, looking down at him.
In the evening, a light breeze blew, and the orange light of the setting sun spilled onto Chen Xunfeng’s profile, carving shadows of varying depths onto his face. His short hair and the sycamore leaves beside him swayed lightly in the wind in sync.
Chen Xunfeng watched him. The expression on his face was quite flat, but his gaze was as focused as always.
Zhou Ai looked up calmly, meeting his gaze. Under that look, his heart slowly grew very quiet.
About half a minute later, the back door was opened and closed. The driver nearby soon started the ignition. Zhou Ai lowered his head, slowly retracting his gaze, and the car sped away from the spot, disappearing entirely from Chen Xunfeng’s sight.
After leaving the street, the listening practice in Zhou Ai’s headphones paused again. His finger slid across the screen to see the message from the unsaved number: Get some rest. See you tomorrow.
…
The dinner table was lively in the evening. Zhou Youbao was boisterous and noisy, while Zhou Ruicheng and Chen Siliu were engaged in an intense discussion about his future professional prospects and career path. Even his mother and the nanny were chatting about their own topics.
Only Zhou Ai left the table early.
After the evening tutoring session ended, Zhou Ruicheng called Zhou Ai into the study. When speaking with Chen Siliu, Zhou Ruicheng was eloquent and poised, like a polite, visionary, and substantial elder. But when facing his own son, his expression noticeably dimmed.
He placed the tablet down, neither too gently nor too harshly, in front of Zhou Ai. On the screen was Zhou Ai’s transcript from this physics competition.
Zhou Ruicheng went straight to the point: “The preliminaries aren’t difficult. How did you manage to do this?”
Zhou Ai stood opposite him, eyes lowered, looking at the screen without moving.
Zhou Ruicheng was accustomed to Zhou Ai’s impervious nature, but what needed to be said had to be said: “Zhou Ai, in other areas, your mother and I have almost no requirements for you; we rarely restrict you. But if you want to stand on your own two feet in society later, you already have a deficiency. Yes, the family can provide you with a comfortable life to support you well until you’re eighty. If I can’t do it, your brother will. But if that happens, you’ll be a good-for-nothing. Where is your own value?”
“For someone in your situation, Zhou Ai, the simplest, easiest path is to study. Only if you study well will you have more choices, choices where you can realize your own meaning! Choices that can ignore your deficiency!”
Zhou Ruicheng tapped the table, as if to reclaim the attention of the drifting, indifferent Zhou Ai: “When you were in junior high, you did competitions. We drove you to other cities for exams and training camps, and you even missed your middle school entrance exam for it. We supported you the whole time. But when you finally reached the finals, your performance was a mess. Some of your classmates back then have already won awards and flown into universities, yet you still needed me to spend money to send you to high school!”
Zhou Ruicheng knitted his brows tightly, drumming on the table with a thudding sound: “You have the ability, the intelligence. If you could walk a simpler path, we would prefer that you did, but what did you do yourself? Huh? Your classmate passed the exam this time, but you didn’t. That student didn’t have better grades than you before. So why this time?”
Zhou Ruicheng exhaled a long breath, his complexion darkening, and his words growing harsher: “Since you really can’t walk this path, don’t touch it again in the future. Otherwise, you’re just failing your teachers and wasting your time and mine!”
Yet, even then, Zhou Ai remained rigid, showing no attitude at all. It was as if he hadn’t heard a single word of Zhou Ruicheng’s overwhelming reprimand.
Zhou Ruicheng frowned tightly and waved his hand at Zhou Ai, saying with a hint of fatigue: “Go back. Talking to you is like talking to a brick wall anyway.”
Zhou Ai finally moved. He didn’t leave immediately; instead, he picked up the tablet, hesitated for a moment, and then opened the memo to quickly type a line.
Zhou Ruicheng composed his breathing and took it. He had expected it to be some attitude or resolve from Zhou Ai, but seeing the line of text, he became even angrier.
What Zhou Ai wrote was: I want to change tutors.