Dazzling

The foreign guests were seated in the first and second rows, with students from all other classes arranged behind them in sequence. The principal, a middle-aged man around fifty years old, wore an unconvincing wig and stood at the center of the podium with his large belly and round waist.

Qing Ye, holding a microphone, had already taken her position at the edge of the podium in her polished black leather shoes. Initially standing below the stage, she hadn’t drawn much attention. However, as soon as the principal finished his speech, Qing Ye picked up the microphone and began translating simultaneously in flawless, standard British English. Instantly, everyone’s gaze—teachers, students, and the inspection group alike—snapped to this poised and confident young woman.

She stood with her eyes level ahead, a composed smile on her face, neither submissive nor overbearing. Dressed in a sweet, tailored apricot-colored dress paired with a burgundy fitted knit vest, she looked refined and elegant. The breeze from the playground gently lifted her wispy bangs, and as they fluttered slightly, her eyes sparkled like stars.

What drew even more attention was the fact that the principal read from a script, glancing down at his notes after every sentence, while Qing Ye translated entirely from memory. Her impeccable pronunciation was pleasing even to those who couldn’t understand the language.

By the end of the speech, nearly all eyes remained fixed on Qing Ye—after all, she was far more pleasing to look at than the principal. After setting down the microphone, she casually brushed her curly hair. Her long locks, combined with her delicate features, gave off a strikingly fashionable vibe—unmatched by any other girl in this small county.

Huang Mao stared, utterly captivated. Lang Dai muttered, "Did Qing Ye get a perm? Damn, she looks totally different—like a TV star."

Xing Wu leaned against a vaulting box behind them, hands braced, his narrow eyes squinting in the light as his gaze remained firmly fixed on her.

She stood there, radiant within his line of sight. Yet, Xing Wu’s mind echoed her words from the night before: she wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t pause for anyone. One day, she would soar out of this bleak place and return to the world that was rightfully hers. When that time came, everyone would fall back into their places. Suddenly, the Qing Ye before him felt somewhat unreal.

Just then, a few foreign guests raised their hands, seemingly wanting to ask the principal some questions. Since this hadn’t been planned, they inquired if it would be convenient.

The questions involved aspects of the teaching plan and issues of cultural coexistence, some of which were quite specialized. Unsure if Qing Ye could handle on-the-spot translation, the principal glanced at her for confirmation. Qing Ye nodded in response.

Thereupon, the principal straightened his large belly and answered the foreign parents’ concerns with grace. Being a literature graduate, Principal Zhong tended to speak in a flowery, scholarly manner—perhaps to showcase his erudition in front of the entire school—even quoting from the Analects of Confucius.The English teachers, led by Miss Yu, instantly broke into a cold sweat for Qing Ye. Qing Ye, however, quickly absorbed Principal Zhong's words and almost simultaneously translated the content for the group of foreign parents. She even skillfully translated Principal Zhong's quote: "To know it is not as good as to love it, to love it is not as good as to take delight in it."

Several teachers nearby looked at Miss Yu in surprise. Miss Yu let out a long sigh of relief and revealed a gratified smile.

After the event concluded, the principal personally saw the foreign guests off. Qing Ye, as a competent translator, accompanied them until the very end.

On the way back to school, the principal said earnestly, "Qing Ye, your performance today was excellent. The school will consider awarding you recognition."

Qing Ye smiled and replied, "It was just a small effort. Recognition doesn't matter much—are there any scholarships available?"

The principal was taken aback. What a novel and pragmatic student! He immediately laughed and said to Director Gu, "You and Principal Pan should arrange the subsidy for this semester."

Then, turning to Qing Ye, he said, "It's not much money, but given your academic performance, your tuition for this school year can be waived. The college entrance exam is getting closer—keep up the good work!"

"Thank you, Principal."

Ever since Xing Wu had asked her about the costs of studying abroad, Qing Ye suddenly felt that nothing was more practical than money.

After bidding farewell to the school leaders, Qing Ye headed toward the high school section. As she passed the cement road by the playground, a car suddenly flashed its headlights at her. She turned her head and saw a black Audi A6L parked in a spot. A man stepped out from the back seat—it was none other than Ye Yingjian, the one who had pointed at the gymnasium and called it a brothel.

He walked up to Qing Ye, his sharp face paired with a hairstyle that could withstand a typhoon. He adjusted his blazer arrogantly and said, "Classmate, let's exchange WeChat contacts."

For some reason, Qing Ye couldn't help but think of Hanawa from Chibi Maruko-chan as she looked at his inexplicable confidence. The key difference, though, was that Hanawa's bangs were at least flowing—what was that on his head? Super glue?

Qing Ye chuckled lightly. "Why should I add you on WeChat?"

Ye Yingjian said with a straight face, "I'd like to invite you to my house this weekend to practice spoken English."

"???" Qing Ye was utterly baffled, not even sure where this weirdo had come from.

Meanwhile, Huang Mao and his friends, who had just finished playing basketball, wandered over from the playground.

Seeing the dismissive look on Qing Ye's face, Ye Yingjian grew irritated and said, "This is my family's car. I can have the driver pick you up."

Qing Ye glanced at the Audi and understood his intention—he was trying to show off his family's wealth. Admittedly, in all the time she had been here, she hadn't seen many nice cars, but this model wasn't particularly impressive in her eyes, let alone a luxury vehicle.

She indifferently averted her gaze and walked away, tossing back, "I don't have time."

Unexpectedly, Ye Yingjian became agitated and blocked her path, preventing her from leaving. He said impatiently, "What's wrong with you?"As soon as the words fell, Xing Wu unceremoniously hurled the basketball in his hand directly at him. The ball struck Ye Yingjian's shoulder hard, causing him to stumble back a large step. Qing Ye turned her head, and Huang Mao strode over noisily, cursing at Ye Yingjian: "Looking to die? What rank are you to come to our Anzhong and cause trouble!"

Ye Yingjian brushed the dust off his shoulder and angrily pointed at Xing Wu and his group, who had followed: "You, do you even know who I am?"

Huang Mao glared at him: "Are you the Queen Mother of the West from the Temple of the Queen Mother?"

"My dad is the factory director of the target factory!!!" He pointed his thumb at himself, the words oozing with arrogance.

Xing Wu raised an eyebrow and glanced at him: "Your surname is Ye?"

"I am Ye Yingjian." The reply was delivered with the pride of someone claiming to be Steve Jobs.

Qing Ye rolled her eyes inwardly. At the school she used to attend, anyone randomly pulled from her class would have been embarrassed to claim a family background without a few respectable companies to their name. And yet this guy, who was just the son of some shabby plastic factory director, managed to carry himself like the richest person alive—truly remarkable.

Qing Ye said to him in a flat tone: "I don't care if your dad's a factory director or Li Gang. Your family has plastic, mine has mines. What a joke."

With that, she turned and walked straight toward Xing Wu, looking up at him and saying: "I want a cola. Iced."

And so, the group ignored Ye Yingjian and turned to leave. Xing Wu glanced at her sideways: "What kind of weather is this for drinking iced drinks?"

Qing Ye replied matter-of-factly: "I'm afraid I might get sleepy later. Need to stimulate my brain."

Huang Mao immediately leaned in: "I'll go buy it for you."

"No." She tugged at Xing Wu's sleeve: "You buy it."

Huang Mao was indignant: "Why? What's the difference between me and Brother Wu buying it?"

Qing Ye laughed: "It's different. The one he buys smells better." Xing Wu shot her a playful sidelong glance.

Qing Ye waved at them: "I'm heading back to class first."

Qing Ye simply didn't want to trouble Huang Mao—after all, they were just friends. What would it mean to always have him spend money and buy her drinks? But why was it okay to trouble Xing Wu without a second thought? Family, that's why.

Before class started, Xing Wu sauntered back to the classroom and placed a bottle of iced cola on Qing Ye's desk. Though it was just a small gesture, with so many classmates watching, the relationship between Xing Wu and Qing Ye remained a mystery in the eyes of others. Were they siblings? They didn't resemble each other in looks or academic performance. If not, in two years of sharing a class, no one had ever seen Xing Wu bring water for any other girl. Well, let it remain a mystery—no one dared to ask.

After school, a few junior schoolmates called out to her together: "Senior Qing Ye."

Qing Ye turned around, and they said somewhat shyly: "Your new hairstyle looks really nice."

Qing Ye smiled, her eyes curving into charming crescents: "I got it permed at Dazzle Island. They're running a promotion right now—Zhazha Pavilion, number 38." The girls instantly looked as if they had discovered some incredible secret.

In the evening, Xing Wu made a quick stop at Shunyi and returned. When he entered the room, he saw Qing Ye hunched over the desk, her right hand gripping a pen and her left hand clutching her stomach, her brows tightly furrowed.

He poured a cup of hot water and set it beside her: "Stomachache?"

When Qing Ye looked up, Xing Wu was startled to see her face deathly pale: "What happened?"

Qing Ye hugged the hot water cup, opened her mouth, but said nothing.Xing Wu furrowed his brow and asked her, "Where are you feeling unwell?"

Qing Ye remained silent. Feeling utterly bewildered, Xing Wu pulled the crumpled test paper from her grip and said, "Speak up."

In a very low voice, Qing Ye said, "Do you... know where your mom keeps that thing?"

"Which thing?"

Qing Ye looked up and glared at him. Suddenly, Xing Wu understood. "You mean..."

"I'll go look for it."

With that, he rushed into Li Lanfang's room. Shortly after, he returned with a pack of sanitary pads and handed it to her. Qing Ye didn't dare look at Xing Wu, snatched the pads, and dashed downstairs, not returning for a long time.

After finishing a round of his game, Xing Wu checked the time and went downstairs. He knocked on the bathroom door. When Qing Ye opened it, she looked completely drained, as if she had just been fished out of water. Xing Wu asked, "How are you feeling now?"

"Uncomfortable."

"Serves you right for drinking cold stuff." His tone carried a hint of irritation.

Qing Ye didn't have the energy to argue with him, so she quietly followed him back to the room. Xing Wu, unaccustomed to her silence, glanced back at her. It was rare to see her looking so meek and docile, which made him impulsively tug at her hair.

Qing Ye finally looked up and glared at him fiercely, like an angry kitten. "Got an itchy hand?"

Xing Wu just looked at her and smiled without saying a word. The dim stairway light cast shadows in his deep-set eyes, like whirlpools that could make one lose themselves. Qing Ye quickly averted her gaze.

As soon as she entered the room, she climbed into bed and burrowed under the covers, wrapping herself tightly. She said to Xing Wu, "Are you free?"

Xing Wu leaned against the nearby bed and made a questioning sound. "Hmm?"

"Can you help me copy some questions?"

"..."

At first, Xing Wu thought copying a few questions—not even solving them—shouldn't be a big deal. Just a small favor, right? But he soon realized he had been way too naive.

What Qing Ye meant by "copying questions" was transcribing all the key problems from an entire mock exam workbook. And she had eight of these workbooks—all completed. They contained past exam questions from provinces like Jiangsu, Zhejiang, Henan, Guangdong, and Sichuan. He wondered if she was trying to collect all the dragon balls to summon some mythical beast or something.

But he had already agreed. What could he do now? Throw down the pen and refuse? Let her drag her exhausted body up to copy them herself?

In the end, Xing Wu couldn't bring himself to do that. Fine, he'd do it!