Chen Huan'er had set a summer vacation schedule for herself: start studying promptly at 8 a.m., take a two-hour break for meals and a nap, and go to bed by 10 p.m. However, on the very first day, she woke up well past noon. Fuming, she confronted her mother, "Why didn't you wake me up?"
"I did call you, but you didn't hear me," Chen Ma replied with an airtight excuse.
"Couldn't you have whipped out your little whip and given me a few lashes?"
"That won't do. The state doesn't advocate corporal punishment," Chen Ma chuckled reassuringly. "Come on, vacations are for resting. What's the point of a break if it's just like school?"
Sometimes, Huan'er genuinely wondered if her mother had been cursed—some kind of anti-study curse.
Chen Ma added, "How about going to the farm for fruit-picking tomorrow?"
"No," Huan'er grumbled. "Young people these days just haven't suffered enough. Why pay to go to some remote mountain valley..."
"Qi Chi and Song Cong are both going. Oh dear, I'd better let them know right away."
"Well, a bit of farm work wouldn't hurt, right, Mom?" Hearing that her friends weren't studying either, Huan'er grinned cheekily. "Not going would make me seem so antisocial."
And so, her summer study plan ended before it even began.
The next day, the group set off in high spirits from the Family Compound. Seeing all her friends with both parents, Huan'er missed her father terribly. The more she thought about it, the more she regretted their last meeting—she had been too preoccupied with unfinished homework, friends ignoring her, and being scolded by Director Fu for not wearing her uniform. She had wallowed in such trivial sorrows that she barely spoke properly to her father. When he left after his rare visit, she hadn't even hugged him. Now, she wanted to knock herself on the head—what an idiot, why hadn't she done it sooner?
Regret always comes with a sigh. As if, apart from a heavy, silent exhale, there was no other way to express such feelings.
The fruit-picking farm was in the suburbs, part of the city's largest resort. It covered a vast area with diverse crops and was fully equipped with adjacent restaurants, lodging, and barbecue areas. Song Ma, in her wheelchair, joked that she alone enjoyed VIP treatment. Huan'er admired her deeply—not everyone could calmly accept misfortune. Merely coping was remarkable enough, but maintaining passion and hope for life afterward was nothing short of a superpower.
A superpower different from her mother's, yet equally awe-inspiring.
The Song couple went fishing at the pond, leaving Song Cong to join the fruit-picking group. Huan'er snipped off a bunch of grapes with shears while Song Cong held a basket beneath to catch them. They worked in perfect sync, chatting and laughing. Song Cong told her how much more interesting lab work was compared to high school, how their English teacher played original films in class, how someone had drawn a giant caricature of the dean and posted it on the bulletin board, and how, knowing he was a top student, cheat sheets would fly onto his desk from all directions during exams.
Huan'er gasped, "You helped them cheat?"
"How would I know who threw which one?" Song Cong laughed. "They were all anonymous."
"Do the teachers just let you off the hook?"
"Yeah, pretty much."
The top student transferring to their school was like a deity descending—worthy of incense and worship. Huan'er sighed, "If I hadn't paid the school selection fee, I'd be your schoolmate now."
Life was unpredictable, its jokes always elusive.
"Doesn't matter," Song Cong murmured, too softly for her to hear.Jing Qichi came over holding a bunch of grapes. "Chen Huan'er, try these. This variety is super juicy and sweet." Without waiting for a response, he plucked two grapes and stuffed them into Huan'er's mouth, covering it with his hand. "Well? Aren't they sweet?"
An intense sourness flooded her mouth, making her teeth tremble. "Sweet my ass," Huan'er mumbled, trying to pry his hand away. But the little brat only pressed harder, clearly enjoying her torment. The sourness was unbearable—she had no choice but to swallow.
Tears welled up in Huan'er's eyes from the acidity. Furious, she twisted his arm behind his back in a swift counterattack. Chen Ma shouted from a distance, "Don't bully people!"
Bully people? I'm about to beat someone up.
Huan'er was indignant. "He poisoned me!"
Jing Qichi whimpered in surrender, "The one I ate was really sweet, I swear! With our friendship, would I lie to you?"
Chen Ma started heading their way. "Be careful with Qi Chi's arm. Don't go overboard."
But Jing's Mother pulled her back after just two steps. "Why bother? Let them play."
"But Huan'er trained with her dad—"
"Worrying for nothing," Jing's Mother chuckled, watching the kids. "If his arm dislocates, Lao Song can pop it right back in. Easy fix."
Huan'er pinned Jing Qichi's arms behind his back, growling, "You did this on purpose! Spare the rod, spoil the child!"
Jing's Father strolled past them with a basket, and Jing Qichi spotted his savior. "Dad! Dad! Your son's life is hanging by a thread!"
"Tch. Been wondering where to dump you," Jing's Father replied, rubbing his jaw. "Damn kid, my teeth are still aching from that sourness."
After the picking session, the group gathered for dinner at the resort restaurant. Song Ba handed the fresh crucian carp he and his wife had caught together to the waiter, taking charge for once. "Steam two, braise two."
"Go easy on the ginger for the steamed ones," Huan'er interjected.
Hearing this, Jing Qichi brightened up and ruffled her hair affectionately. "Look at you, all grown up and considerate."
"Piss off." She raised her hand to retaliate but was immediately scolded by her mother. "Chen Huan'er!"
Huan'er had no choice but to sit back down, muttering under her breath, "Why don't you just adopt him as your godson?"
The younger ones chatted about exams and school gossip, while the adults discussed work and whether Zhou You—Dr. Zhou's son—and Shanshan, who grew up in their neighborhood, would finally get together when they returned from abroad this summer. What a perfect day it was. Plump, glossy grapes, bright red peaches, mulberries in rich purples—the fruits they'd picked themselves filled the trunk of the car, and the freshly caught carp flopped defiantly in the bucket. Everyone was laughing, their joy as radiant as the August evening sun, blazing and endless, as if it would never fade.
When school started again, the senior year students moved to the first and second floors of the main building—closer to the playground and cafeteria, a symbolic gesture from the school about valuing every second. Four new students joined the class: two transfers and two repeaters. No introductions were made; fitting in was trivial compared to grades. After the first monthly exam, Chen Huan'er dropped four places in the class rankings. Staring at the unfamiliar names above hers on the results sheet, she finally understood the teacher's oft-repeated words: Thousands of troops cross a single-log bridge—for every one who climbs up, another is pushed off.
This was a competition with no way out, and she had no choice but to participate.
Jing Qichi fared even worse. On results day, he confessed to Huan'er, "I don't even know how to study anymore."Tianzhong High School's curriculum was fast-paced, and by this point, there wasn't much new knowledge being introduced. Most of the class time was spent on review sessions led by the teachers. Apart from math, where his foundation was relatively solid and he could barely keep up, everything else was a complete mess. The surgery and subsequent absence from school had cost him a lot of time, leaving him floundering like a headless fly—hitting walls in every subject, unable to solve any problem.
Song Ma was still in recovery, so Song Cong naturally had his hands full. Huan'er thought about it and told him, "Starting today, come straight home with me after school. We'll do an hour of review before you head back."
She wasn't exactly a top student herself, and her only worry was whether she had the ability to teach him effectively.
"I have no idea where to even begin," Jing Qichi said, a rare note of defeat in his voice. At this moment, he was utterly dejected. "Besides, I don't want to hold you back."
"It's fine. We'll just hold each other back and muddle through this life together."
A sincere, smiling face reflected in Jing Qichi's pupils. But Chen Huan'er, do you know how long a lifetime really is?
After a moment's hesitation, he nodded silently.
—You asked about the first half of the sentence, but I answered the second half.
Truth be told, Huan'er didn't know how to teach either. She could only imitate Song Cong's method—grabbing a random test paper, explaining the mistakes as they came up, and flipping back to the textbook whenever he didn't understand, reviewing the concepts from start to finish. What was supposed to be an hour often stretched to nearly two, and they'd only wrap up when Chen Ma knocked on the door. After he left, she'd start on her own homework, often working well past midnight. She lacked Song Cong's natural talent—her explanations were slow, and her own work was slow too. The lack of sleep left her dozing off in class, and she was jolted awake more than once by the teacher's angry glare. Huan'er didn't mind it herself, but Jing Qichi felt overwhelmingly guilty.
He wanted to say forget it, but he was afraid of hurting Huan'er's pride. After much hesitation, he kept silent.
For the senior year, the school replaced the sports meet with a long-distance hike—partly to build everyone's physical endurance, and partly to save a day of class time. The route went from the school to a suburban forest park and back, totaling thirty kilometers. For Chen Huan'er, this distance should have been a breeze. Maybe she underestimated it, or maybe it was the recent lack of rest, but upon reaching the park, she vomited until her stomach was completely empty. Even Lao Xu was surprised—how could the girl who was usually the best runner in class be brought down by this half-distance trek? Jing Qichi gritted his teeth and told her, "Let's stop the tutoring. It's not efficient enough."
He knew her too well. If he told her the truth—that he was worried about her health—she would definitely refuse.
"You think I'm inefficient?" Huan'er glared at him.
"I can handle it on my own," Jing Qichi waved his hand. "If it really comes to it, I'll just hire a tutor."
He had always resisted getting a tutor. Both his parents were working-class. Back when he was playing soccer, his family had shouldered all the expenses—from equipment to training, they gave him the best. Now that that path was closed, he truly didn't want to burden them with extra costs.
Besides, he wasn't even sure if tutoring would help.
"Why hire a tutor when I can help you?"
Huan'er didn't get an answer. Jing Qichi's phone rang. He turned away to take the call, then sprinted off without looking back.
An overwhelmingly bad feeling settled over her—because this scene was exactly the same as when it had happened with Song Cong.
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