Undеr thе light, Jiаng Du was envеlореd in а bright chill. She was сrуing, and if Wei Qingуue showеd nо rеасtiоn, she would сontinue walking into the dark соld.
Wei Qingуue’s rеасtiоns werе usuаllу diffеrеnt from оthers’. Seeing а girl сry, hе didn’t feel awkwаrd or flusterеd, nor did he sау things likе, “I’m sо аfrаid оf girls crying, рlеasе stор, I don’t knоw how tо сomfort реoрle,” and so оn.
He said, “Реоplе could cоmе bу at аnу mоmеnt оn this рath. If уоu don’t wаnt to bе seen bу othеrs, find аnоther рlасе to cry.”
Нis tone was soft and dеep as Wеi Qingyue lоokеd аt her еarnestly.
But Jiang Du was overwhelmed with shame. She thought he was mocking her. In her panic, she had no energy to notice his tone of voice or his sincere expression. No matter how she heard it, his words carried a hint of sarcasm. Objectively speaking, Wei Qingyue did enjoy speaking this way.
She hastily wiped away her tears and turned to run, but Wei Qingyue grabbed her arm. “Jiang Du, why are you running?”
“I’m fine!” Jiang Du tried to make her voice sound optimistic, but it was shaky and fragile, trembling with tears.
The light fell on the right side of her face. Her eyes flickered, and the color on her lips seemed to have been blown away by the cold wind. Jiang Du seemed temporarily reduced to only half of herself. Wei Qingyue saw faint tear stains, and his mind went blank for a moment.
He abruptly changed the subject, speaking quickly: “Tell the person who wrote me letters before to keep writing to me. I know it wasn’t Wang Jingjing, but you know who it is. I won’t ask who exactly it is, but since you know, please tell her for me that she can write to me about anything. I’ll keep this a secret.”
As he spoke, a student from some class indeed appeared not far behind, probably heading to the restroom. But Wei Qingyue’s words were so convoluted and abrupt that Jiang Du stared at him in shock. Vaguely, she seemed to see Wei Qingyue even smile slightly. He wrapped it up neatly: “I’ll keep waiting for her letters.”
With this last sentence, Jiang Du’s body instantly burned with heat. She stared blankly as Wei Qingyue strode past her. The boy stirred up a gust of wind, carrying the scent of orchids.
It felt as if all the negative emotions had dissipated along with it.
Wei Qingyue was so certain, his words all declarative, leaving no room for doubt. Jiang Du returned to the classroom in a daze, her body still cold, her chest tightening intermittently. Beside her, Wang Jingjing was working on a physics test paper, her scratch paper rustling. Jiang Du found something to say and whispered:
“It’s still very cold outside.”
Wang Jingjing gave a faint “mm” and continued calculating. Jiang Du fell silent, quietly pulling out a math test paper and lowering her head.
After evening self-study ended, Wang Jingjing ran off faster than a rabbit, as if deliberately ignoring her. Jiang Du packed her things alone and went to the small shop near the school gate to buy stationery.
This time, she bought the most ordinary kind—the type used in offices, with red stripes, something students would never buy. Jiang Du bought a stack, thinking it could also be used as scratch paper.
But this letter remained unwritten for a long time. Jiang Du thought she would never have such an opportunity again, yet it had fallen from the sky. However, if she wrote it, it would be an indirect admission that the previous letters weren’t written by Wang Jingjing. That would mean betraying Wang Jingjing.Until Saturday after school, Zhang Xiaoqiang asked her to stay behind. The students on duty cleaned the classroom with incredible speed, hastily finishing up before rushing off. Lately, Wang Jingjing had been quite cold toward Jiang Du. Seeing that she wasn’t leaving, Zhang Xiaoqiang stayed as well. With no one else left in the classroom except the students on duty, Wang Jingjing snorted, pulled out her bag of materials, and left without even saying goodbye to Jiang Du.
Jiang Du watched her figure disappear through the doorway, her eyes dim and dazed.
“Jiang Du, these notes are for you.” Zhang Xiaoqiang placed something in front of her. “This monthly exam is the selection test for the class placement exam. Do your best—the math for the humanities track is relatively easier. These notes are my own summaries; they might be of some use to you.”
Jiang Du quickly picked them up, giving Zhang Xiaoqiang a grateful smile. Whenever someone was kind to her, she always felt a bit flustered, overthinking how to repay them… And in that moment, she wondered: what if someday, the other person got angry over something she unintentionally did and no longer wanted anything to do with her? How would she handle that?
It was like a nebula exploding in her mind. Jiang Du said, “Thank you so much,” but her head was already full.
“If you give me your notes, what will you use?” she hesitated awkwardly, wondering if she should politely decline them.
Zhang Xiaoqiang smiled brightly. “It’s fine, I’ll redo them. I’m aiming for the competition, to be honest, so these notes aren’t that useful to me anymore.”
Competition? Jiang Du was taken aback. “Are you participating in a math competition?”
“Yes, because our top student is competing too. I’m just trying to keep up. Even if I don’t win any awards, it’s good for expanding my thinking. I just started preparing a bit late.” Zhang Xiaoqiang sighed suddenly. “Wei Qingyue might go abroad and leave any day now. I want to learn as much as I can from him while he’s still here. I have to admit, he really is much smarter than me.”
Out of that long sigh, Jiang Du only heard the words “go abroad.” A sharp pang of sorrow suddenly struck her nerves. She knew exactly where this emotion came from, so she tried her best to suppress it and asked as if nothing were wrong, “Is Wei Qingyue going abroad soon?”
“He’s not entirely sure himself, but he definitely won’t finish high school here. Actually, it’s not just him—our school has a few students who go abroad during high school every year.” Zhang Xiaoqiang recounted the school’s history as if it were second nature.
Jiang Du wasn’t interested in any of this at all. She smiled, put away the notes, and thanked Zhang Xiaoqiang again. The two of them walked out together. At the school gate, mobile vendors had already set up their stalls, and students were everywhere—some riding bicycles, others walking—making the traffic a bit chaotic.
Suddenly, someone threw an arm around her shoulder. It was Liu Xiaole, who had rushed over from somewhere. She wrapped one arm around Jiang Du and the other around Zhang Xiaoqiang, but her face was twisted in pain. “Numb, numb, completely numb.” She had been squatting in the bathroom for over twenty minutes—no wonder she was numb.
“What’s wrong with you?” Zhang Xiaoqiang asked with a laugh.
“Constipated. My butt’s almost frozen off, and I only managed a tiny bit.” Liu Xiaole gestured with her hands. Zhang Xiaoqiang burst out laughing and quickly covered her mouth. “Isn’t that disgusting?”
Most of the girls in their class were very lively. Jiang Du was the exception. It was just her nature—she didn’t like talking much and couldn’t bring herself to say whatever came to mind. She was too prone to overthinking.For instance, at this moment, hearing Liu Xiaole joke about her own constipation, she was quite surprised.
"Hey..." Liu Xiaole suddenly grabbed both of them at once, nodding toward the front, "Wait."
"What now?" Zhang Xiaoqiang asked.
Liu Xiaole pursed her lips: "See that guy over there? The one with greasy hair, the creepy-looking old man."
Jiang Du spotted him immediately and froze.
Wasn't that the middle-aged man she had encountered in the bookstore? She had vaguely understood what happened afterward—it was a terrible experience, but because of Wei Qingyue, that rainy day had been sweet.
"What about him?" Zhang Xiaoqiang looked puzzled.
Liu Xiaole lowered her voice mysteriously: "He's a pervert. He's been hanging around our school lately. Last time, he pulled down his pants in front of a senior girl, and she was terrified. Did you know? Chen Huiming had an incident recently, but she kept quiet. I heard from her deskmate that when Chen Huiming was buying pen refills at the entrance, this guy pressed up against her. Strangely, later, the back of Chen Huiming's clothes was sticky and smelly, like thick snot. She threw that piece of clothing away. Don't tell anyone else, I'm only telling you two."
When Chen Huiming's deskmate told Liu Xiaole, she had said the same thing: I'm only telling you, don't tell anyone else.
During school days, whenever someone wanted to share a secret but couldn't keep their mouth shut and feared it would leak, they would always add: I'm only telling you, don't say anything.
But things often went the opposite way, and in the end, everyone would find out.
Jiang Du was confused, but if her clothes were smeared with thick snot, she would throw them away too. Sure enough, everyone was talking about how disgusting the incident was, how repulsive the pervert was, reminding each other to stay vigilant and avoid him at all costs, keeping their distance if they saw him.
When she returned home, Grandma and Grandpa were both busy in the kitchen, and soon, the aroma of food wafted through the air. The heating in the house was strong, so Jiang Du took off her silk-padded jacket, leaving only a white sweater. She peeked her head in and asked Grandpa what delicious food he had made today.
"Hey, you're in luck today—I made Eight-Treasure Duck," Grandpa's hearty laughter echoed from the kitchen.
The dishes were laid out on the table, each bowl brimming with the warmth of everyday life. Jiang Du ate heartily, savoring every bite. She suddenly remembered Wei Qingyue saying he would just make something simple to eat and couldn't help thinking how nice it would be if he could come over for a meal—no one was taking care of him.
After dinner, she took a walk, then washed up, and after that, reviewed her lessons. This was Jiang Du's routine at home, unwavering.
She didn't like turning on the main light, keeping only the desk lamp on. A single pool of brightness was enough, while the rest faded into a gentle dimness that felt inexplicably cozy.
By the time she finished her test papers, it was already very late, but she felt no trace of sleepiness.
Through the window, Jiang Du saw the moon—so bright, so cold. She wondered if she was the only one seeing such a beautiful moon. Tiptoeing to the living room, she quietly rummaged through the drawers, looking for Grandpa's old-fashioned camera, wanting to capture the beauty of the moon.
But the result, due to the camera and her lack of skill, was far from the moon she had seen. Never mind, she thought silently, putting the camera down again. She really wanted to tell everyone to look up at the sky—how beautiful the moon was tonight.
The moon, the moon—does the moon also shine in foreign lands? At this moment, the moonlight fell silently on the osmanthus tree outside the window.She gazed at the moon, thinking, I can write a letter that will never be sent, one that hurts no one. This thought instantly comforted her, soothing her like a spring breeze.
With paper and pen ready, Jiang Du sat quietly by the window, occasionally looking up at the moon.
"Hope this letter finds you well.
It’s been a long time since I last wrote to you. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I couldn’t.
Yet I’m glad I’ve finally found a way to reconcile with myself. Why must a letter always be sent? Why must you always know? Am I being too utilitarian?
Now, at last, I can be more honest.
I don’t want to talk about the bad things that happen in life. To me, sharing troubles with others feels like a burden—for them. My unhappiness would only make others unhappy too. But I can write about it in a letter, because I know I’ll always be this honest from now on, since you won’t see it.
I’ve been misunderstood by a close friend, and I don’t know how to explain myself. I don’t want to lose her, but if she no longer wants to be as close as we once were, I suppose there’s nothing I can do. I’m probably not as carefree as you, someone who seems to need no one. I’ve wondered if you ever feel lonely, but I’m afraid that might just be my wishful thinking. Maybe some people are born to enjoy solitude and don’t see it as a problem. I’m not like that—I’m actually very afraid of being alone. When I was little, there was a time when Grandma was hospitalized, and Grandpa was taking care of her, running back and forth between home and the hospital. No one checked or signed my homework, and my teacher scolded me. Eventually, she even called Grandpa to the office, saying that elderly people shouldn’t be in charge of a child’s education, and that a child’s learning should be managed by her parents.
At the time, Grandpa, who was always so cheerful and straightforward, could only smile awkwardly under the teacher’s lecture, like a student being reprimanded. He kept apologizing to the teacher, but even then, he never said I had no parents to look after me. He only promised that he would cooperate better with the teacher and pay more attention to my studies from then on.
I was in elementary school then, just a child in the eyes of adults, but I felt deeply sad—perhaps even sadder than an adult would. For a long time afterward, I kept thinking that if one day Grandma and Grandpa were no longer here, I wouldn’t want to live either. Of course, as I grew older, I realized that such thoughts were too pessimistic and not worth holding onto. They also dishonored the hard work Grandma and Grandpa put into raising me. They raised me to love life and this world, not to seek death.
So, I cherish the feelings of anyone who is kind to me. I always hope that we can become good friends and stay that way forever. But now that something has gone wrong, I don’t even know what to do. Will time heal things, or will it drive us further apart? I don’t know, and I feel lost.
I understand that I’m not asking you for answers. I just feel better writing it all down."Actually, I haven't been able to truly feel happy this whole time. I thought that the sixth day of the lunar new year would probably be the happiest day of my high school life. You've mentioned going abroad several times, and each time, I could sense the anticipation and excitement in your tone. For someone with such lofty ambitions, this is only natural, so I can understand—after all, you're so outstanding. I just hope that Mei Zhong still holds some beautiful memories for you—the teachers, the classmates, even every blade of grass and every tree in Mei Zhong.
It's already past eleven now. The neighborhood is quiet, with only a few scattered lights still on in the opposite buildings. I wonder if there are high school students studying in those homes, or perhaps someone so engrossed in watching TV that they've forgotten to sleep. It's really too quiet outside. The moon is large, and its bright, silvery light casts a luminous glow everywhere. Moonlight is magical. When I think that no matter where people are, they can all be bathed in the moonlight, I feel strangely comforted. It's a distant, yet singular commonality—we are all illuminated by the same moon. After you go abroad, if you ever miss home, you can just look at the moon, because the moon shines on you and also on the people here.
By the way, Zhang Xiaoqiang gave me a math notebook today. She's such a kind person. I envy how she can ask you for math advice anytime. You two are old classmates. If we had known each other for that long, I think you'd be willing to share some study tips with me too. Zhang Xiaoqiang said you're not stingy and never mind sharing your study methods with others—it's just that you speak quite directly and sometimes complain about her being slow. If I were to ask you for advice, you might think I'm a complete idiot, because in our eyes, Zhang Xiaoqiang is already an incredibly outstanding student.
Unknowingly, I've filled this page with ramblings. The night is deep, and I should rest now. Wishing you all the best in everything.
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