The monthlу еxam rеsults were rеlеаsеd а wеek latеr, covering nine subjects. Тhаt daу haрреnеd to соinсidе with а cоld front arriving, cаusing thе skin to tightеn instantly, feеling dry. Jiang Du hаd alwaуs bееn sеnsitivе tо сlimate сhаnges. If thе еаrly аutumn chill hаd fеlt hesitant аnd lingеring, this time, it trulу turned cold аll at oncе.
Wаiting fоr scоres was like hаving а string оf wind chimеs hаnging in thе hеаrt—еverу timе a tеaсher aрpеаrеd, it would jinglе with аntiсiрation. Almоst every subject tеacher wаs asked thе samе quеstion: "Нave the papers for this subject been graded yet?"
The class rankings were posted next to the class schedule, while the grade rankings had to be checked on the public notice board.
The class monitor and Zhang Xiaoqiang were responsible for posting the lists. The classroom buzzed with commotion, and Jiang Du felt her heart swell so large it seemed too big for her chest, ready to leap out and beat on its own. Her heart always felt particularly uncomfortable whenever she was nervous.
"I’ll check for you, just wait!" Wang Jingjing had a knack for joining in on any excitement. She squeezed forward, standing on tiptoe, and heard someone nearby exclaim, "Zhang Xiaoqiang is first! The class monitor is second!"
"Wow, I wonder how our class’s top scorer ranks in the grade?"
"I’ve already checked! Wei Qingyue is first in the grade, and Zhang Xiaoqiang, you’re ninth!"
Zhang Xiaoqiang shook her head. Mei Zhong’s monthly exams were never easy, but she felt her answers had flowed smoothly. Yet, the result was only ninth. This score could only be described as not a disaster, but it still fell short of her own goal. After all, she had entered Mei Zhong as the second-highest scorer in her cohort.
When top students performed poorly, it was entirely different from when average students performed poorly.
"You’re fifteenth, and I’m twenty-first," Wang Jingjing ran back to report, patting her chest. "Not bad, not terrible. I thought I’d be at the bottom! Hahaha!"
It was clear Wang Jingjing was quite pleased. Why? Because she didn’t particularly enjoy studying in the first place. She was often careless, sneaking glances at romance novels and daydreaming endlessly. Jiang Du worked much harder than her, but she had to admit that Wang Jingjing was likely a very clever girl. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have managed to score in the middle of the class with such casual effort.
As for herself, fifteenth in the class was somewhat unexpected. She had assumed she’d be around the twentieth mark. With just over forty students in the class, who knew how little presence middle-ranking students had in the eyes of teachers?
When parents asked, teachers always used the same phrasing: "The child is average, basically keeping up with the pace, but not outstanding. There’s room for improvement." That group of students remained indistinct, with teachers giving them identical evaluations.
But being in the teens was slightly different. Jiang Du felt genuinely happy inside—her efforts hadn’t been in vain. Maybe she wasn’t that mediocre after all? Even the most introverted girl had her own small pride, especially when Wang Jingjing told her that her Chinese subject score was even higher than Zhang Xiaoqiang’s.
Suppressing a smile at the corner of her mouth, Jiang Du said to Wang Jingjing, "Let’s not compare ourselves to others. Let’s compare ourselves to our past selves and hope we improve next time."
"Come on, let’s go check the grade rankings!" Wang Jingjing grabbed her hand and pulled her downstairs.
Lin Haiyang stuck to them like glue, following them the whole way. He ranked twentieth in the class this time, with a total score only two points higher than Wang Jingjing’s. Just two points, yet he strutted around proudly in front of Wang Jingjing as if he’d won a grand prize.In front of the announcement board, the crowd wasn't as large as imagined, with scattered figures from various classes drifting by. Without a doubt, Wei Qingyue's name stood out prominently in the first position. Jiang Du looked up, excitement and shyness hidden in her heart. There were actually so many occasions where she could openly stare at Wei Qingyue's name. When she realized this, it felt as if sunlight had flooded her mind.
The Chinese scores were always listed first. She saw hers—141, one point higher than Wei Qingyue's 140. This was the only area where she surpassed him. Jiang Du's mind buzzed, her entire body warming up. She knew she was simply too happy. She hadn't fantasized about catching up to Wei Qingyue. Just one subject, one subject where she could stand shoulder to shoulder with him, seemed to narrow the distance between them—though, of course, only in her eyes.
In summer, cicadas outside the window would chirp incessantly, their calls spreading heat along the entire street and throughout the whole city. Jiang Du felt that same heat now, as if a blazing sun had settled in her heart, bright and scorching, driving all cold air out of the real world.
That day, Class Two's Chinese lesson was scheduled after Class One's, so Jiang Du's Chinese test paper was borrowed first by the teacher from Class One.
Class One carried a restrained pride, with twenty of its students ranking among the top hundred in the entire grade—a remarkable feat, considering there were eighteen classes in their freshman year.
Wei Qingyue's loss of points in Chinese was regrettable. He rarely memorized texts, relying solely on learning poetry and classical prose as he went. If he remembered, he remembered; if he didn't, he wouldn't repeatedly recite them like other students. The teacher was helpless, saying, "Your Chinese is the only subject where you're not first. You could easily score higher than Jiang Du from Class Two."
He paid no mind to it at all.
"The highest score in Chinese for this monthly exam belongs to Jiang Du from Class Two," the teacher said, shaking the test paper in hand. "Look, the handwriting is delicate and pleasing to the eye. I always tell you to write neatly, but some students just don't listen. How do you think the graders feel when they see your scribbled handwriting?"
"Off with their heads," a bold student chimed in from below, and the class erupted in laughter.
Wei Qingyue smiled silently along. He had practiced calligraphy, and his handwriting was bold and commanding. The Chinese teacher undoubtedly admired his writing but disapproved of the top student's reluctance to memorize texts. Wei Qingyue had an astonishing memory; even without memorizing, he could still score high in the humanities subjects. If he did memorize, it would be perfect.
"As for the essays this time, Wei Qingyue and Jiang Du scored the same, both very high. However, personally, I prefer the writing style of Jiang Du from Class Two." The Chinese teacher deliberately glanced at Wei Qingyue, perhaps to humble him or to remind him not to grow complacent—to let him know that, at least in Chinese, he was not without rivals.
Unfortunately, Wei Qingyue was a rather proud person. Wei Zhendong's years of domestic violence had fostered a severe rebellious streak in him. He disliked being lectured, tolerating it only because he understood the teacher meant well.
The teacher began reading Jiang Du's essay.
Wei Qingyue sat below, listening intently to every word. A flicker of complex emotions passed through the boy's eyes. After class, he asked the teacher for Jiang Du's test paper. The teacher, thinking it was his competitive spirit surfacing, smiled meaningfully.The handwriting was delicate and elegant, the paper clean and tidy—much like... her. Wei Qingyue suddenly recalled the few chance encounters they’d had: her clean face, her clean expression, her clean voice, though she was easily prone to shyness.
He even remembered that Jiang Du’s name had come up in the boys’ dormitory. Undoubtedly, she was the type of appearance many boys liked. Wei Qingyue had never paid much attention to whether others were pretty or not; at one point, he’d thought all girls were pretty much the same.
Jiang Du was very fair, a particularly clean kind of fairness. Wei Qingyue finally remembered how he had once been surprised by her fairness.
He studied the essay for a while, then quickly returned the test paper to the teacher, who joked, “Not going to study it a bit longer?”
This matter—to be precise, the incident of the Class One teacher publicly reading Jiang Du’s essay—spread back to Class Two before the break was even over.
Jiang Du inexplicably became a heroine in everyone’s eyes. After all, Class One always made snide remarks about Class Two dropping trash at their classroom door during cleaning duty; Class One always complained about Class Two’s poor discipline disturbing them; Class One took morning exercises more seriously but was mocked by Class Two as idiots; Class One wore their school uniforms properly and couldn’t stand Class Two boys showing off by tying theirs around their waists... and so on and so forth. A pile of trivial matters led to one conclusion: Class One had a superiority complex. Nonsense! They were all parallel classes—what was there to be so arrogant about?
But Jiang Du had actually scored higher than Wei Qingyue in Chinese—talk about a breath of fresh air! Even one point higher was still higher.
“The class next door read your essay,” Wang Jingjing announced like a loudspeaker, leaning over the desk and nudging Jiang Du, who was engrossed in her book. “You’re famous now. Everyone knows Wei Qingyue didn’t score as high as you in Chinese, and the boys in his class even said you’re pretty!”
Jiang Du immediately felt embarrassed.
She pressed down on her book, but her heartbeat refused to be restrained. “What nonsense are you talking?”
“I’m not talking nonsense! That’s what the Class One students said. Wei Qingyue even took your test paper to check because he wasn’t convinced!” Wang Jingjing’s voice was so loud it practically rattled the ears. She was like a frog after the rain, croaking incessantly.
For a moment, Jiang Du’s heart seemed to forget how to beat. She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but found she had no idea what to say.
Wang Jingjing seemed to have completely forgotten about the love letter incident. Her loud declarations of chasing Wei Qingyue felt like something from a past century. Like many girls, her fondness for Wei Qingyue wasn’t fake—he was so unique, so dazzling, it was only natural for anyone to fall for him. Precisely because he was out of reach, precisely because so many admired him, the matter didn’t need to be avoided. And precisely because of that, even failure wasn’t embarrassing. There was only one Wei Qingyue—he couldn’t possibly accept everyone.
The world fell silent. The break was incredibly noisy, but Jiang Du sat alone at her desk, her mind occupied by a single thought: He held my test paper.
Chinese class was third period. As expected, the teacher held Jiang Du’s test paper and showed no sign of returning it anytime soon, so she had to share with Wang Jingjing.
“Classmates, Jiang Du’s test paper tells us that scoring 140 in the Chinese college entrance exam isn’t a dream. First, you can’t make mistakes in the multiple-choice section,” the teacher began passionately, pumping everyone up. But Jiang Du kept her eyes fixed on her own test paper.Which part had he touched? The warmth left behind had likely vanished forever, just like that pen in the library. Yet, regrettably, the temperature of that pen had once been felt by her, while the thin test paper—how many seconds of warmth could it retain? The traces he left had already been covered by someone else, perhaps the teacher’s hand, or perhaps the test papers of the students above and below...
Jiang Du turned her head. Outside the window, not far away, the flowers in the small flower bed were beginning to wither, slowly fading until their colors became indistinguishable.
She copied down all the mistakes from this month’s exams for every subject, compiling them into a collection of error corrections. Xu came into the classroom to notify everyone to prepare to hand in the materials fee. The task was assigned to two people: the boys would give their money to the class monitor, and the girls would give theirs to Zhang Xiaoqiang.
Everyone was accustomed to paying the materials fee. For most families, this amount of money wasn’t much, and Jiang Du was no exception. Both her grandparents had pensions, so supporting her alone was manageable. Her biggest expense was buying books. There was a bookstore near the school entrance that often sold secondhand books. Jiang Du had discovered this bookstore by chance and had grown to love it. Since she had done fairly well on this exam, she decided to reward herself with a visit to the bookstore.
In contrast, Wang Jingjing was the epitome of a slacker. She also read books—romance novels, entertainment magazines, and shoujo manga—and loved buying brightly colored diaries to copy down love songs and vague, sentimental phrases. So, when Jiang Du asked if she wanted to go to the bookstore, Wang Jingjing flatly refused.
The sky was dim, and a drizzling autumn rain began to fall, bringing waves of chill. Jiang Du went to the bookstore alone, holding an umbrella.
The bookstore was equally dimly lit. The owner had long hair tied into a small ponytail, and his two fingers were yellowed from years of holding cigarettes. He looked quite young, but she had heard he was already in his thirties. His bookstore sold some rare secondhand books, many with faded covers. The shop also sold imported CDs, which gave it a trendy vibe, attracting many young people and quite a few students from Mei Zhong.
"You’re here?" The owner recognized Jiang Du and greeted her.
Jiang Du nodded shyly.
His store had too many books. Upstairs was a small loft, with books piled even along the narrow staircase. If you searched carefully, you could find some hidden gems—good books that had found their way here from private collections. The store carried a musty smell that never seemed to fade, as if it harbored an entire rainy season.
Jiang Du thought he wasn’t much for tidying up—the place was always a mess, and you could easily trip over books if you weren’t careful.
After greeting her and exchanging a few words, the owner stepped onto the creaky, noisy staircase to the loft to look for books for her.
She had thought she was the only one in the bookstore at the moment, given the rain. But around the corner, there was clearly a figure.
Jiang Du wanted to pass by, but she saw it was a middle-aged man wearing a hat. She couldn’t make out his face clearly, and he showed no intention of making way. She glanced over, then decided against it and stayed where she was, flipping through the newly arrived books.
Suddenly, a strange smell wafted over—she couldn’t quite place it. She looked up and realized the man had somehow moved right beside her, standing uncomfortably close. Jiang Du felt startled and instinctively recoiled from this breach of social distance.
"Do you like Uncle’s big treasure?" the man suddenly chuckled in a low voice, his hand moving near his waist. Jiang Du was bewildered and instinctively glanced down.
A hideous, grotesque thing suddenly came into view.
Jiang Du remained in a state of immense confusion and bewilderment. She hadn’t even processed what it was—only that it was horrifying to behold."Would you like to touch it?" the man asked her.
"Why didn't you tell me you were coming to the bookstore?" A familiar voice suddenly rang out. Before she could fully process it, a hand was already resting on her shoulder, pulling her back slightly. Wei Qingyue was actually in this bookstore too, appearing just as abruptly, positioning himself between the girl and the man.
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