This littlе еpisodе quickly раssеd. Еvеrуone knеw that Jiang Du had someonе bаcking hеr up—hеr fiеrсеly рrоtесtivе best friеnd Wang Jingjing, whose соmbat skills wеre off the сharts. Not tо mention hеr рееrs, еvеn bаck in third gradе, shе cоuld оut-shоut grown wоmen аnd suсcessfullу rеducе them to teаrs.
It was true that еvеrуonе was here tо рrеpаrе fоr соllеge еntrаncе eхams and сarеd mоrе abоut thеir studiеs, but оutside of studying, thеy needed somеthing to spicе things up—like wаtching а bit оf dramа.
Today’s spectacle showed that Chen Huiming was no match for Wang Jingjing at all. Chen was the classic type who bullied the weak but feared the strong. After just a few rounds, she was left in tears. Though no one knew either side well enough to hold any biases, they still felt a sense of regret—the kind of regret that comes from being a spectator who didn’t get their fill.
Chen Huiming sobbed and stopped talking to the two of them.
By the time the military training ended, Jiang Du’s pink eye was gradually improving. She was extremely cautious in every situation and even believed the nonsense that a few glances could spread the infection. So, when talking to Wang Jingjing, she kept her eyes fixed on the ground.
Xu rearranged everyone according to height, with seats shifting every two weeks.
Over the weekend, Jiang Du went home for a visit.
After taking a shower, while Grandma was cooking, she wrote in her diary in her bedroom. What was a diary? It was something to fill the loneliness of adolescence, recording the trivialities of daily life, capturing unique scenes, or harboring hidden thoughts known to no one else.
Jiang Du was excellent at writing essays—not in a particularly literary way, but in an exceptionally simple and unadorned style, the kind described as "great skill appears clumsy." No matter what she wrote, there was always a sense of the earth’s warmth and gentleness. At first glance, her diary also seemed like a straightforward account: how the spring breeze blew, how the autumn mist spread, how the sun on the playground scorched her scalp, yet the sand under the trees remained warm… And also, there was a boy with exceptionally good grades, dark eyebrows, tall stature, who wore size X clothes and always looked down on others, making him seem difficult to get along with.
But he had no intention of getting along with me anyway.
After writing each line, Jiang Du would lift her head and stare blankly at the osmanthus tree outside the window for a few seconds. The fragrance of the osmanthus was almost cloying. She’d shiver slightly, then bury her head again to continue writing.
During dinner, Grandma came to call her.
Grandpa also returned home, carrying a small stool. Both elders were retired. Grandma loved taking a cloth bag and heading to the market early in the morning to wander around, while Grandpa enjoyed playing chess with other old men. Whenever Jiang Du came home, Grandma would cook a table full of dishes.
There were both meat and vegetable dishes, arranged in vibrant colors.
"Is your eye better now, sweetheart?" Grandma served her a large bowl of bone broth.
Grandpa had already sized Jiang Du up from head to toe and said, "I think the child is almost back to normal."
Jiang Du was the type to share only good news, not troubles. She talked about amusing incidents from the military training, imitating the homeroom teacher’s tone and the drill instructor’s sternness, making Grandma laugh heartily.
Only when Jiang Du returned did the house truly feel like a home—lively, filled with laughter and chatter, and even the old furniture seemed to take on a new shine.
As the meal neared its end, Grandma instinctively glanced at the calendar on the table. Jiang Du knew what that meant. She had already noted when the Mid-Autumn Festival was.
That person returned home twice a year—during the Mid-Autumn Festival and Lunar New Year’s Eve, times for family reunions, which were also the days she had to stay at her aunt’s house.
Jiang Du hadn’t spent Mid-Autumn Festival with her grandparents for many years.
Clearly, this year would be no exception.
The two elders exchanged a silent glance, and Grandma spoke with a face full of guilt, "Sweetheart, this year’s Mid-Autumn Festival will be the same as before, alright?"What could possibly be wrong with it? Jiang Du's expression dimmed for a moment as usual, then she smiled and said, "Alright, when school is on break, I'll ask Wang Jingjing to go to the bookstore with me."
Grandma hesitated, her eyes filled with emotions too complex to put into words.
Jiang Du only knew that the person was her mother. If her mother came home, she had to leave; otherwise, her mother would never return.
One year, driven by curiosity and longing, she felt her mother should like her. She never caused trouble, loved studying, and was diligent, like a gentle little lamb. Wang Jingjing got into fights and arguments with boys, and even when people came knocking on their door, her mother always took her side. Jiang Du believed that if her mother got to know her better, she would surely like her too. With this thought, she secretly returned home again, but before she could see anything clearly, Grandma discovered her. The old woman, horrified, hurried her off toward her aunt's house.
Jiang Du felt terribly wronged. Holding back tears, she kept looking back, only to see Grandma's hands constantly gesturing: "Go, quickly."
She cried all the way there, wiping her tears dry only when she reached her aunt's doorstep before going inside.
Even so, Jiang Du never asked any of the adults, including her aunt's family, what was really going on. She believed that if someone wanted to tell you something, they would do so without being asked. If they didn't want to say it, asking wouldn't help, so why put them in an awkward position? And if that someone was family, it was even more important not to make things difficult for them.
As if to make up for it, Grandma gave her extra pocket money as usual. Jiang Du wasn't one to spend recklessly, but this time, she planned to use it. Competition at Mei Zhong was fierce. Jiang Du had entered the school with average grades and felt rather invisible. The teachers only cared about two things: getting students into top universities like Tsinghua and Peking University and the overall admission rate to first-tier universities. Jiang Du was deeply worried she might end up at an ordinary university.
She didn't have any brilliant strategies. Relying on endless practice tests and doing more exam papers seemed like the only way out. After all, she wasn't afraid of hard work.
But at Mei Zhong, the admission rate to first-tier universities was very high. Unless you were at the very bottom of the class, there was still hope. Whenever Jiang Du felt anxious, she would think of this and feel a little better.
While Grandma was clearing the dishes, Jiang Du overheard the two elders whispering in the kitchen. She didn't go over. Instead, she quietly returned to her bedroom and opened her diary. A crescent moon hung outside the window, clear and bright, almost like a pale human face.
Jiang Du felt she should wrap up her diary entry, but in the end, she only wrote the word "him"—bare and without a name.
One word, one paragraph, one period.
After military training, the most dreaded task was writing reflections. It felt exactly like having to write an essay after a primary school spring outing—utterly agonizing. The essay notebooks hadn't even been handed out yet, and everyone was reluctant to submit their diaries, afraid the Chinese teacher might just sell them as scrap paper. To avoid such a loss, they simply tore a page from their notebooks and began churning out the same old nonsense.
As a result, the stack of papers collected was uneven and rather shabby. Jiang Du sorted them by size. Wang Jingjing grumbled but helped her anyway, saying Jiang Du was the type to do thankless and annoyingly tedious good deeds.
"I'm the Chinese class representative. It's my duty to organize everyone's assignments neatly for the teacher," Jiang Du said with a smile, revealing a row of tiny, even teeth and eyes that curved like crescents.
Wang Jingjing spoke with a worldly tone, "I suspect the Chinese teacher won't even look at them. It's just a formalistic task. You're going to unnecessary trouble."
Jiang Du replied softly, "I'm doing what I should. I don't think it's unnecessary."
"Stubborn," Wang Jingjing teased, playfully tapping her forehead.When delivering the composition, she passed by Class One as usual. In the corridor, Wei Qingyue was explaining a problem to Zhang Xiaoqiang, one hand in his trouser pocket, the other gesturing over Zhang Xiaoqiang’s materials. He always seemed so casual in everything he did. When Jiang Du saw him, her heart trembled slightly, unsure whether it was joy or nervousness.
Three parts return to the source.
Jiang Du didn’t know why her mind drifted to The Storm Riders, her and Wang Jingjing’s childhood favorite.
Wei Qingyue had the aura of Bu Jingyun… In those brief seconds, Jiang Du’s mind had already played out an epic television drama.
No one noticed her, but her face flushed. Out of the corner of her eye, she cautiously glanced at the two model top students, as if harboring some shameful secret.
When distracted, it’s easy to make a fool of oneself. Jiang Du’s attention was entirely focused on the two people by the corridor when a boy running out of the back door bumped into her, scattering her composition papers all over the floor.
“Sorry, really sorry!” As the boy apologized, Zhang Xiaoqiang turned at the sound. Clutching her materials, she ran over to help Jiang Du pick up the papers.
Jiang Du felt as if her whole body were on fire. Flustered and frantic, her body stiffened, her limbs moving awkwardly, as if she were enveloped in someone’s omnipresent gaze. In reality, Wei Qingyue only glanced over briefly, recognized Jiang Du, and showed no interest. He turned his head to look out the window.
An autumn breeze suddenly rose, rustling the half-yellow, half-green leaves on the branches, making them tremble precariously.
Wei Qingyue was lost in thought for a moment.
Leaving his back to Jiang Du, who had already looked over, he and she didn’t even exchange a single glance. Nor did he offer help. Clearly, Wei Qingyue acted entirely on his own terms. His speech at the opening ceremony wasn’t out of concern for his classmates suffering under the sun but simply because he found the school leaders’ speeches boring. He also knew that any subsequent criticism from the teachers wouldn’t be too severe—after all, he was the top student in the school. As long as he didn’t do anything too outrageous or violate discipline, no one would really hold him accountable. He could be pure when he wanted to be, yet he understood the ways of the world all too well.
Jiang Du’s eyes stung slightly. She whispered her thanks to Zhang Xiaoqiang, then silently withdrew her gaze and almost ran downstairs.
The wind was strong, instantly tousling her hair, yet it couldn’t blow away the deep sense of melancholy.
She was in the class next to his, with no real connection between them.
Suddenly, Jiang Du wished she could throw up on him again, so she could return his clothes once more.
But that wouldn’t be good either. The girl tightly clutched her composition papers as if holding onto all the secrets of her adolescence.
On the way back, the corridor was empty. Jiang Du stared blankly at the spot where Wei Qingyue had stood. There was nothing there.
Her heart felt just as empty and lost.
Back at her seat, Wang Jingjing’s eyes shone like lightbulbs, sparkling brightly. Before Jiang Du could sit down, she eagerly pulled her over and said seriously, “Wei Qingyue smiled at me. You know Wei Qingyue from Class One, right? He likes me.”
Wang Jingjing was just that confident.
Jiang Du felt her heart skip a beat. She forced herself to stay calm, though the pounding of her heart threatened to make her voice sound different from usual.
But she still tried to act nonchalant, pretending to recall, and asked, “The one who gave the speech at the opening ceremony?”“Right, I just went to the bathroom, and guess what? Wei Qingyue happened to come out of the men’s restroom and asked to borrow some toilet paper, saying a classmate inside forgot to bring any,” Wang Jingjing suddenly covered her face dramatically, shaking her head back and forth. “Oh, how embarrassing! Imagine a guy asking you for toilet paper right outside the bathroom—so awkward! But Wei Qingyue is so handsome. Even borrowing toilet paper, he looks so cool. My mind went blank, so of course I gave him some. And then,” she pinched Jiang Du’s arm hard, her eyes wide, “he smiled at me! Wow, Wei Qingyue’s smile just melts my heart. I can’t take it, Jiang Du! Quick, get me some heart pills!”
Wang Jingjing’s performance was wildly exaggerated.
Jiang Du was shaken by her tugging, her mind flashing with a thought: He’s never smiled at me.
But what does Wei Qingyue look like when he smiles?
As Jiang Du pondered, she lowered her gaze slightly, but Wang Jingjing turned her face back, grinning. “Good deskmate, I’ve decided—starting today, I’m going to pursue Wei Qingyue. He must have feelings for me.”
Some girls are always brimming with confidence, like Zhang Xiaoqiang, because of her outstanding grades. Or like Wang Jingjing, who’s been boisterous since childhood, doing whatever she wants. Amid the chaotic thumping of her heart, Jiang Du found her voice:
“How… how are you going to pursue him?”
Wang Jingjing winked mysteriously at Jiang Du. “Jiang Du, help me write a love letter. I’ll copy it after you finish. How about this—aren’t you saving up to buy that Zhonghua Book Company set, Classical Poetry Masters? There are thirty-one books in total. I’ll give you ten of them. Good enough for a friend, right?”
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