After starting high school, Sheng Xia found herself sitting next to a boy for the first time. Back at No. 2 Middle School, mixed-gender seating was common, and classmates often teased those pairs. Sheng Xia had been worried the same might happen here.
During breaks, she noticed only three or four mixed pairs in the class.
But as the day passed, there were no odd glances or teasing remarks. Perhaps the class atmosphere was different—students here didn't pay much attention to such things.
She and Zhang Shu coexisted peacefully.
A shared bookcase occupied the space between them, so Zhang Shu usually sat turned outward, one leg casually stretched into the aisle.
Aside from the closer proximity, it wasn’t much different from when they’d been separated by the aisle.
The only issue was leaving her seat during breaks—she had to squeeze past Zhang Shu’s back. She drank a cup of water every class period and frequently needed bathroom breaks, so she was in and out almost every recess.
And he was almost always facing away.
Each time, she had to make some noise or call his name.
First time—
Sheng Xia: "Zhang Shu."
He glanced back at her.
Sheng Xia: "I need to get out."
He pulled his chair forward.
Second time—
Sheng Xia: "Zhang Shu, I need out."
No look back—just his chair sliding forward.
Third time—
Sheng Xia: "Zhang Shu, I—" need out.
Before she could finish, his chair moved.
Eventually, she stopped explaining and just called his name.
Zhang Shu, Zhang Shu, Zhang Shu…
After a day of hearing that soft-spoken summons, Hou Junqi finally couldn’t take it anymore. While Sheng Xia was out refilling her water, he turned with a raised brow and asked, "Shu, how do you handle that?"
Zhang Shu didn’t look up. "Handle what?"
Hou Junqi lowered his voice. "I’d say Sheng Xia’s no worse than Chen Mengyao. What do you think?"
Zhang Shu’s pen-twirling paused. He lifted his gaze slightly. "If you like her, go for it."
Hou Junqi scoffed, self-aware. "As if I could. I’m talking about you."
Zhang Shu smacked him in the face with a draft notebook. "Mind your own business."
Compared to her old seat by the door, Sheng Xia was much happier with her new spot.
By the window, she could listen to cicadas by day and the rustling of camphor leaves at night.
It would’ve been perfect if not for the janitor’s corner outside—brooms and mops ruined the view.
Just as she thought this, one of the mops… moved on its own.
The darkness outside made the rustling leaves suddenly less pleasant. The vibe turned eerie.
Sheng Xia remembered the mop head she’d seen the other day. A chill ran down her spine. She quickly shut the window and scooted slightly inward—only to accidentally elbow Zhang Shu.
He turned and found the girl trembling again, leaning toward him as if hiding from something outside.
His eyes lifted to the head peeking past the window, using the mop as cover.
Zhang Shu chuckled, reaching past Sheng Xia to open the window.
She grabbed his arm in a flash. "Don’t—there’s something dirty out there…"
Zhang Shu: "…"
Hou Junqi, who’d turned at the noise: "…"
The "dirty thing" outside—Han Xiao: "…"
When Zhang Shu leaned in to open the window, the distance between them had already closed. Now, with her gripping his arm and her head tucked near his chest, her stray hairs brushed against his jaw…
A faint fragrance drifted into his senses. His Adam’s apple bobbed. Keeping his forearm still, he flexed his wrist and pushed the window wider, announcing flatly, "Too late."
Then he coolly withdrew his arm.Han Xiao mechanically imitated an AI: "Hey beautiful, sorry to bother you, I'm looking for Zhang Shu. I just took a shower, so I should be clean enough."
Hou Junqi clutched his stomach, rolling on the desk, "I can't stop laughing!"
Sheng Xia turned her head and saw a face peeking out from behind a mop—small eyes, large glasses frame. Though not exactly handsome, it was unmistakably human.
Not a ghost.
She glanced at the supervising teacher outside the hallway and understood—he was using the mop as cover from the teacher.
Embarrassing.
Rude.
Mortifying.
Sheng Xia felt her cheeks burn, her hands too. Slowly, she lowered her still-suspended hand and bent over her desk again, almost prostrating herself to make space for the people by the window, not wanting to be in the way.
She couldn't focus on the problems, but she heard every word of their conversation.
"What now?" Zhang Shu said. "Couldn't you wait until after class?"
Han Xiao: "Sorry, did I scare your deskmate?"
Zhang Shu: "What do you think?"
"Oh, really sorry about that," Han Xiao didn't dare laugh in front of his "brother," keeping a straight face. "Shu-ge, how about we just hang out nearby on Thursday instead of going to Milk? Maybe play cards by the north gate?"
Zhang Shu: "What did Zhou Yingxiang promise you to make you work so hard for him?"
"Not that! Why would I care about him? We gotta celebrate anyway. It's just that Hou-ge mentioned... you know, your situation, that thing..." Han Xiao glanced around, changing his tone. "Said you've been in a bad mood lately. Just have some fun, relax. Besides, who wouldn't be handing you money playing cards against you? You calculate cards like you're cheating..."
Zhang Shu stared at Hou Junqi, who raised his hands in surrender. "Wrongfully accused! I never said that. But come on, A-Shu, free money, why not take it?"
"Besides..." Hou Junqi lowered his voice. "Chen Mengyao said she'd deal for us."
Zhang Shu: "We'll see."
No refusal meant agreement. Han Xiao and Hou Junqi exchanged a glance and left happily.
The mop head fell to the ground with a dull thud.
Sheng Xia knew they were gone.
She slowly straightened her posture, continuing her work as if nothing happened—back straight, eyes forward—but her body subtly inched closer and closer to the window.
Zhang Shu watched the girl's attempt at inconspicuous movement, her whole being practically trying to phase through the wall. He had no idea what scenarios she was concocting in her head and couldn't be bothered to guess.
Images flooded Sheng Xia's mind:
Those magazines and discs in his bag...
Him taking money from the stationery shop owner...
Him holding cards, undefeated at the gambling table...
The school beauty sitting beside him, dealing cards...
...
Her deskmate—a delinquent top student with "multiple occupations."
So gangster!
After her close call on the first day's morning reading, Sheng Xia learned her lesson and started arriving at the classroom by 6:30 a.m.
Many students were already seated.
Instead of heading straight to her desk, she stopped by the second row near the door where Xin Xiaohe sat, handing her a cup. "Xiao He, ginger brown sugar tea, for you."
Xiao He lifted her lethargic eyes, filling with gratitude. "Xia Xia, how did you know I was on my period...?"
Sheng Xia smiled, not answering the silly question, and whispered, "I brewed it this morning—still hot. I always start drinking it two days early, so it doesn't hurt. Is your cycle exactly a month?"
Xiao He: "Not super regular, about 28 or 29 days."
Sheng Xia: "How many days each time?"Xin Xiaohe: "Five days."
"Then I roughly know," Sheng Xia said. "Since it's inconvenient for you to handle in the dorm, I'll remember this date and brew it for you two days in advance."
"No need, Xia Xia, that's too much trouble for you. The thermos works just fine."
"It's no trouble at all, I'll use the health pot."
Xin Xiaohe was genuinely about to shed tough-girl tears this time. "Wuwu, you angel, Zhang Shu really doesn't deserve you..."
Sheng Xia: "Huh?"
"Never mind..." Xin Xiaohe shook Sheng Xia's arm. "Let this week pass quickly! Next week you'll be my desk mate again!"
Sheng Xia said: "I hope so too!"
Xin Xiaohe said: "If Zhang Shu bullies you, just call me!"
Sheng Xia smiled, her voice clear and sweet. "Okay!"
"Let's smash his stupid head!"
"Mhm!"
The two girls chatted away, completely absorbed in their conversation. Lu Youze sat behind Xin Xiaohe, originally focused on memorizing vocabulary, but now couldn't help smiling slightly.
Did they really think they were being quiet?
He looked up—Sheng Xia had already left. His gaze unconsciously followed her figure until she took her seat, then slowly withdrew.
For the first composition class of the semester, the entire class groaned in despair.
No one wanted to write essays, much less critique their desk mate's work.
This was Fu Jie's teaching method: a double-period composition class—writing in the first period, peer review in the second, followed by explanations, and finally submission. Fu Jie would then grade both the essays and the critiques.
Poor writing wasn't acceptable, and superficial critiques weren't either.
The material essay referenced many famous figures who achieved greatness amidst the tides of their times. The key themes were nothing more than "era" and "heroes."
A topic of standard difficulty, non-prescriptive, leaving ample room for creativity.
This kind of contemporary policy-themed material wasn't hard to write. It didn't require overly nuanced emotions, leaning more toward lofty theories—perfect for argumentative essays. After brief consideration, Sheng Xia picked up her pen and began writing.
Zhang Shu recalled how Wang Wei had praised her essays to the skies. After reading the material and jotting down a title, he glanced at her paper.
Damn, she'd already finished the introduction!
Putting everything else aside, her handwriting was truly beautiful. Unlike her gentle and shy demeanor, her characters were vigorous and powerful, the ink penetrating the paper with force, exuding an overall imposing aura.
Title: There Is No Era of Heroes, Only Heroes Within an Era
Zhang Shu looked back at his own paper.
Title: The Era of Heroes
...
If she hadn't written hers first, he might have suspected her of deliberately undermining him.
Utterly incompatible. Unbelievable.
Forty minutes for an essay wasn't enough for most. By the end of class, many were still scribbling furiously. Sheng Xia checked her paper, folded the essay neatly, and went out to refill her water.
This time, as soon as she picked up her cup—before she could even speak—Zhang Shu's chair proactively scooted forward.
Sheng Xia paused, then passed behind him, murmuring a soft "Thank you."
No sooner had she stepped out than Hou Junqi turned around and snatched her essay. The moment he unfolded it, he exclaimed, "Holy shit, is this handwriting printed or what?... This title sounds so philosophical. 'The wheels of history roll forward; the tides of the era surge mightily'—this opening... A-Shu, have you seen this? It's amazing. Should Lu Youze abdicate and make way for her?"
Zhang Shu: "Is it really that good?"
"It's great!" Hou Junqi didn't know the first thing about essay techniques. "Anyway, it's impressive."
Zhang Shu: "Hmph."
The second period was for peer review. Those who hadn't finished would be marked as incomplete. If you couldn't finish an essay in 55 minutes during an exam, your chances of scoring high were basically nil.Sheng Xia froze for a couple of seconds when she received Zhang Shu's essay.
The Age of Heroes ... Well, not exactly off-topic. He grasped the key points, but the perspective wasn't particularly profound.
The angle didn't align with the materialist view of history subtly implied in the prompt.
His writing style was average, and the examples he cited were just passable—a bit clichéd, as if lifted from Primary and Secondary School Essay Materials , lacking freshness. Still, the structure was clear, a standard five-paragraph, three-point approach—safe, but unlikely to score high.
Sheng Xia wrote her feedback: Neat handwriting, coherent logic, appropriate citations. Could be improved with more timely evidence.
After finishing, she silently reread it.
Was that tactful and fair enough?
Her gaze drifted slightly toward him. He had just finished reading and was jotting down his comments.
With a bold stroke, he left four words: Don’t get it, but impressive.
Sheng Xia: "..."
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