After the long summer vacation, Pei Chuan's parents finally reached a compromise with each other.
The optimal age for children to be fitted with a prosthetic leg is between seven and fourteen years old. A body too young couldn't withstand the pain of prosthetic training, so they ultimately decided to postpone the procedure until Pei Chuan turned nine.
The start of elementary school was much livelier than preschool. In the early autumn of 1997, children from Preschool Class One advanced to First Grade Class One, while those from Class Two enrolled in Preschool Class Two.
Bei Yao made a surprising discovery—she had remarkably clear memories of fourth grade.
Two significant events occurred in fourth grade—first, the road from home to school was under construction, forcing the children in Bei Yao's neighborhood to take detours every day.
Second, her uncle caused a car accident and had to pay a large sum in compensation. Her mother wept as she used their savings to fill this financial black hole.
Being young, Bei Yao couldn't fully grasp the implications, but she knew both events meant trouble.
However, what captured the little girl's attention now was their new homeroom teacher. In first grade, their homeroom teacher was Hong Guanjing—a woman in her thirties with a bad temper. Bei Yao remembered having her palms slapped once for incorrect homework.
She instinctively feared this unfriendly Chinese teacher who also served as homeroom teacher.
Bei Yao asked anxiously, "Mom, can I go to First Grade Class Two instead?"
Zhao Zhilan carried her, stepping over a puddle: "No, Preschool Class One students can only go to First Grade Class One."
Bei Yao slumped listlessly in Zhao Zhilan's arms.
When they went to register, she discovered that the smiling female teacher wasn't Hong Guanjing, but rather a slender, intellectual-looking woman named Cai Qingyu.
Bei Yao was momentarily confused, then remembered something important. In this life, she had skipped one year of kindergarten, leading to a completely different path. Originally, she should only be starting preschool now, which explained why the teacher had changed.
This meant the future was entirely unpredictable.
Bei Yao's large eyes secretly observed this unfamiliar homeroom teacher. Cai Qingyu smiled while registering her, then praised to Zhao Zhilan: "I've seen Bei Yao's preschool grades—they're quite good."
Zhao Zhilan quickly responded: "Thank you, teacher. We'll be troubling you from now on."
"You're welcome."
Cai Qingyu paused thoughtfully, glanced at the small girl beside her mother, and asked Zhao Zhilan: "Do you live in the same neighborhood as Pei Chuan?"
"Yes, we do."
"Alright, that's fine. Registered children should come back to school tomorrow for classes. We'll distribute textbooks then."
Cai Qingyu already knew she would have a challenging student in her class. She had previously spoken with Yu Qian, the preschool teacher. As an elementary school teacher who would teach the same class for six consecutive years—quite a demanding task—both the Chinese and math teachers were women, but neither would be suitable to help the growing Pei Chuan with bathroom needs as he got older.
Yu Qian sighed: "He's very sensitive—he never once asked for my help with bathroom needs in preschool. If possible, please take extra care of him."
Cai Qingyu felt somewhat surprised internally.
She understood that children with disabilities often followed unusual development paths, so she paid special attention to the children in her class who were Pei Chuan's neighbors:
Chen Hu, Fang Minjun, Bei Yao, and Li Da.
First Grade Class One had exactly 62 students—no one would be left without a partner. This time, Pei Chuan would have a deskmate.However, according to Teacher Yu, this child held no goodwill toward anyone, and any child who became his desk mate would likely have a difficult time.
On the day Pei Chuan started first grade, he arrived very early. Teacher Cai waved him over. The child's gaze in the morning light was as silent as the sky at dawn. He paused for a moment, then pushed his wheelchair toward Teacher Cai himself.
Teacher Cai understood his temperament and didn't say much. She placed a paper with four names in front of him.
With a cheerful smile, Teacher Cai said lightly, "Pei Chuan, let's play a game. Point to a name, and that person will become your desk mate."
Teacher Cai knew that Pei Chuan, having only attended preschool, couldn't read. She wanted to use this fair method to let the child choose a desk mate.
Pei Chuan's dark eyes quietly looked at the four names.
He truly didn't recognize them.
Aside from Fang Minjun, whose name had three characters and he could guess it was her, the other three names became a multiple-choice question before him.
He lowered his gaze.
The character "达" contained a "大" that he recognized. He also guessed this name was "Li Da."
Only two choices remained.
He couldn't eliminate any further.
He sat for a long time, until even Teacher Cai couldn't help but urge him.
His gaze shifted slightly, quietly landing on the preschool grades spread out on the table. One was 50, the other 99. He glanced at them, then withdrew his gaze. This time, he knew which name was Chen Hu and which was Bei Yao.
The first lesson preschool taught him was that if he didn't strive, he would have nothing.
Life hadn't been kind to him; in this world, only the selfish welcomed the dawn. His finger skipped over the first name on the paper and landed on the third name.
~
Bei Yao became Pei Chuan's desk mate again, and she was overjoyed. Her almond-shaped eyes were clear and bright, like watery grapes.
Her soft, childish voice murmured, "Pei Chuan, can I bring the little sticks tomorrow so we can play together?" Although her memories were a few years ahead, her mentality was limited by her young body, making her childlike innocence adorable and vibrant.
Pei Chuan still didn't speak. He pressed his lips together.
Everyone in the class had a new desk mate. He wasn't a good person. He had deprived her of a three-quarters chance of not being his desk mate, just to secure the next six years.
Because she was once again Pei Chuan's desk mate, Bei Yao was extremely happy. She packed the thin, colorful little sticks her mother bought into her backpack and played with Pei Chuan during breaks.
The little sticks were originally tools for the first-grade math teacher to teach addition, subtraction, and counting, but Bei Yao knew there was also a game called "picking up little sticks." First, hold all the sticks in your hand, then suddenly release them. The sticks would scatter across the table, and then you'd pick them up one by one, but during the process, you couldn't disturb the other sticks. The one who picked up the most would win.
In an era of material scarcity, this was a game all children loved to play, just like the marble jumping game popular in second and third grades.
She handed the little sticks to him with her small hands: "You go first."
The person who went first had an advantage, and every child wanted to be first. He looked at the innocent, clear eyes beside him, reached out, and took them.
It was the first time he played such a game with a little girl.
Yet he was calm, unlike a child. Her small hands were clumsy, but he could pick them up steadily.
In the end, out of fifty little sticks, he had forty-three, and Bei Yao had seven.Pei Chuan held a large handful of colorful sticks in his hand. He looked at her, and she blinked adorably, staring at her own lonely seven sticks. For the first time, she realized playing with Pei Chuan wasn’t fun at all.
With an expressionless face, he could completely ruin her gaming experience.
The young Pei Chuan didn’t know how to yield. He was like a tender bamboo shoot standing resiliently in the hailstorm of ’96, braving the wind and rain until it could only be broken by the gale.
Bei Yao grinned, revealing her tiny milk teeth. "Pei Chuan is so amazing."
Bei Yao continued playing with him, only to be thoroughly defeated every time.
He never went easy on her. By the time math class had covered simple addition and subtraction, she still couldn’t collect more than ten sticks.
Tender and soft-hearted, she extended a child’s greatest tolerance to embrace his aloof indifference.
Yet when the second sweltering summer arrived and second grade began, Pei Chuan, who never drank water at school, started bringing an extra cup. Crossing the "38th parallel" desk divider, the cup would always end up on little Bei Yao’s desk.
~
Fang Minjun was devastated.
Her final exam scores for first grade were 93 in Chinese and 94 in math. Meanwhile, Bei Yao scored 95 and 100. Throughout second grade, she studied with constant anxiety.
What crushed her even more was that the class’s top scorer—with perfect double hundreds—was Pei Chuan, the boy with no legs.
Fang Minjun nearly cried from frustration. When Zhao Xiu asked what was wrong, she sobbed, "Bei Yao cheated by looking at Pei Chuan’s paper, and he didn’t cover it."
Zhao Xiu thought to herself, Zhao Zhilan’s daughter was quite something—cheating at such a young age.
Having reached this conclusion, she instead comforted Fang Minjun: "Don’t worry, in third grade they’ll change seats for exams." I doubt she’ll be able to copy from anyone else then."
As for that top scorer Pei Chuan—clever as he was, with such a sharp mind—he was still a cripple when it came down to it. No matter how brilliant, he’d probably struggle to find a job or a wife. What family would be willing to marry their daughter to someone like that?
As for Chen Hu, he consistently ranked at the very bottom of their entire community, firmly holding the title of last place in every exam.
~
Pei Chuan hated two subjects most:
Music and P.E.
These were every child’s favorite classes—except his. Music class involved singing lessons, where the female teacher would pedal the organ under the sunset glow, teaching children songs from their music textbooks.
This music lesson featured "The Snail and the Oriole."
He was seven years old, going through teething. With two front teeth missing, he rarely spoke even at home. Intense pride and shame kept Pei Chuan silently listening.
His little deskmate had a crisp voice, like a cheerful sparrow on a morning branch.
Bei Yao still hadn’t lost her childish lisp, her hair still tied into two ribbon-wrapped buds. As the teacher sang each line, she followed: "The snail carries its heavy shell, climbing up step by step~"
She was also losing teeth, causing her singing and speech to whistle through gaps, yet she obediently sang whatever the teacher taught. The children’s clear voices joined in for another round.
Music Teacher Zhu frowned at Pei Chuan by the third-row window.
She stopped pedaling the organ, knitting her brows. "Pei Chuan, why aren’t you singing with everyone?"
Pei Chuan’s dark pupils calmly watched the teacher.
This child lacked the other children’s fear of teachers—his eyes resembled stagnant water. He didn’t even bother verbally responding to Teacher Zhu.
Feeling her authority challenged, Teacher Zhu felt an inexplicable disgust toward this icy, shadowy presence.
She said, "Your legs may not work, but you can clearly sing yet refuse to. Do you understand this is disrespectful to your teacher?"
Pei Chuan remained silent.Teacher Zhu was so angry that she exerted her authority as a teacher: "From now on, I'll sing one line, and you'll follow with the same line!"
OpenNovel