Culture Month was one of Tian High's signature events. Over four weeks, each grade had its own themed activities. For seniors, it was an unshakable tradition of experience-sharing sessions—alumni who had excelled would return to give lectures. Though attendance was voluntary, most students still struggling in the sea of studies hoped to catch some luck from their accomplished seniors. This year, sophomores were assigned a general knowledge competition, rumored to cover topics as vast as the Indian Ocean, spanning all sorts of fields—success hinged on how much miscellaneous reading one had done. As for freshmen, Teacher Xu announced their theme during class: "Book Crossing. Everyone, go home and pick a book you love, then hand it to the class monitor tomorrow. You can write a note inside—a recommendation, your thoughts, or a message to whoever picks it up. Try not to write your name, though. Let’s keep some mystery for the activity."
A boy raised his hand. "But the monitor will know what books we brought. She’ll just pick her favorite first."
The class erupted in desk-thumping and jeers.
The boy added fuel to the fire, clarifying, "Her favorite... book. What were you thinking?"
From across the room, Liao Xinyan shot back, "I’ll toss yours in the trash first."
The whole class laughed.
"Enough," Teacher Xu cut in. "Then let’s make a rule: wrap your books in newspaper before handing them in. The monitor will keep a record when collecting them."
Liao Xinyan nodded.
Teacher Xu continued, "The books will be placed in the second-floor periodical reading room of the library. You can borrow them, but make sure to return them on time. At the end of the event, retrieve your own book from the reading room. Also, to give everyone enough time to read, self-study sessions on Thursday and Friday afternoons during Culture Month won’t be mandatory."
This last announcement was like a firework— bang —exploding with sheer delight in Class Five.
"No self-study doesn’t mean you can go wild," Teacher Xu shouted over the noise, though it was like throwing an egg at a rock. Even she ended up laughing.
Once the class settled, Teacher Xu was about to speak when shouts erupted from next-door Class Four—no doubt they’d just heard the good news a beat later.
Teenagers’ joys were always eerily synchronized.
"Alright, self-study time," Teacher Xu said, shaking her head before leaving with her hands clasped behind her back.
Qi Qi leaned toward Huan'er. "Wanna get beef noodles later?"
"Great minds think alike." Huan'er grinned.
"Let’s invite them too," Qi Qi added.
Even if they weren’t invited, those two would probably tag along anyway.
Huan'er turned halfway around, glancing at Jing Qichi. "My Qi invites you guys for beef noodles tonight."
She didn’t know why she felt the need to specify it was Qi Qi’s invitation to Jing Qichi. She just knew it’d make him happy—so it felt like the right thing to do.
"A pure invitation," Song Cong teased. "Not treating, huh?"
Qi Qi flushed and turned away.
Huan'er muttered at him, "Bite the hand that feeds you, and something gets shorter."
Now it was Song Cong’s turn to redden, while Jing Qichi froze for a second. But the next moment, the two burst into laughter loud enough to draw the whole class’s attention.
Jing Qichi slapped Song Cong’s shoulder, nearly crying from laughter. " Something gets shorter. Hah!"
"You’re the short one."
"Wasn’t talking about me."
"Easy to dodge a spear in the open, hard to avoid an arrow in the dark."
What idiots. Chen Huan'er scooted her chair forward to distance herself from them. Since when was "bite the hand that feeds you" that funny?
Back home that night, staring at her nearly barren bookshelf, Chen Huan'er finally began to feel the real struggle.Most of the books were still left back in Sishui. Here, they were either various subject-specific study guides, a few extracurricular readings recommended by teachers, or classic works like the Four Great Classical Novels that everyone owned. In short, none of them were suitable to recommend to others.
Out of sheer desperation, she knocked on her mother's door. Though mentally prepared, the sight of an entire shelf filled with gynecology reference books made her wish she could be operated on right then and there.
Chen Ma found the reason hilarious. "What's wrong with my Chinese Gynecology for the book Drift?" This is proper science. It's good for young girls to learn about it early."
"No way," Chen Huan'er refused outright.
" Acupuncture ?" Chen Ma pulled out another book, beaming like a TV shopping host.
"No!"
"This one then," Chen Ma scanned the shelf. " Compendium of Materia Medica , a classic masterpiece."Drifting this to teach people how to poison?"" The more her mother laughed, the more Huan'er sulked. How could a top medical student not have a single decent book?
Unwilling to give up, Chen Ma tapped each book with her finger, but none seemed appropriate. Suddenly inspired, she turned to the bedside table, opened the drawer, and confidently pulled out a book. "This will definitely work. I suggest you read it too."
The book was titled Neuropsychology .
"It's not a reference book. It has knowledge and case studies—quite interesting." Chen Ma forcefully shoved it into her arms. "I just bought it. There's another in the same series called Abnormal Psychology ."
"Mom!"
Chen Ma chuckled. "Alright, you should trust your mother's taste."
With no other options, Huan'er carried the book back to her room. Feeling responsible for the reader, she decided to skim through its contents. Unexpectedly, she became engrossed, reading with increasing enthusiasm until her eyes burned too much to stay open—it was already 4 a.m.
Brain, cognition, motivation—this time, she wasn't deceived. She felt like she was embracing another universe.
In the morning, she met Song Cong and Jing Qichi at the entrance of the Family Compound and eagerly shared her thoughts. "This book is earth-shattering! Do you know how to hypnotize someone? You focus their attention on a single point in the room, then guide their breathing, then relax every muscle group—"
Jing Qichi flicked her forehead. "What's the point of hypnotizing us now? Save your energy for Lao Xu instead."
Song Cong asked with interest, "What book is it?"
"You don't know what's in her room?" Jing Qichi scoffed. "Hypnosis? Some secret Buddhist scriptures you've been hiding?"
"Get lost." The girl kicked his bicycle wheel hard.
"Stop messing around." Jing Qichi nodded knowingly at Song Cong. "I bet she stole it from Aunt Lina."
Huan'er bit back her words. "Ah, I can't say." She changed the subject. "What did you two bring?"
"You just said you 'can't say,'" Jing Qichi seized the chance to bicker. "Let it be, disciple."
Song Cong smiled and answered honestly, "I brought The Catcher in the Rye ."
"Wow!" Huan'er exclaimed. "I want to read that!"
"Then take it first." Song Cong shifted his cross-body bag to the front and started unzipping it. Amid the busy morning traffic, Huan'er stopped him. "No, what will you hand in later?"
"I'll just submit any random book.""Better not. Oh, watch the road." Huan'er slowed down, reached over to turn his backpack around and carefully zipped it up. "Someone else might want to read it too. You can lend it to me after it's done floating around. It's not like you're in a hurry to get it back, right?"
"Sure." Song Cong chuckled. "Anytime."
That morning's self-study session was spent by Chen Huan'er copying homework—the book was fascinating, but the assignments were endless. Qi Qi teased, "Take it easy. Getting everything right would be problematic."
Huan'er paused her pen, quickly changing a few multiple-choice answers at random—she'd forgotten she was copying the top student's work.
Being academically gifted is a burden too, she mused silently.
Just as she was copying away with great enthusiasm, Liao Xinyan stood at the front of the classroom and announced, "Everyone, hand in your books now and come register with me after."
The classroom stirred into motion. Qi Qi turned to Jing Qichi and asked, "Do you have any newspapers?"
Jing Qichi pulled out a sports weekly from his bag, flipped through a couple of pages, and discreetly slid out the one featuring a full-page photo of Torres to pass over.
Song Cong reached out. "Give me one too."
The supplier lazily pushed the entire stack of newspapers to the side, and Song Cong randomly picked one to wrap his book.
After frantically finishing her homework, Huan'er gingerly placed the book on her desk. Afraid of being seen, she quickly flipped the cover open and pressed it down, then began writing a message for the unknown reader.
With the class monitor urging everyone to hurry, she couldn't think of anything poetic on the spot, so she wrote:
This book helped me understand myself better, and I hope you find the same joy in it as I did.
OpenNovel