On the sixth day of the Lunar New Year, the senior year of high school resumed classes.
With the new semester came new arrangements—seats were rearranged based on the final exam results from the previous term.
Sheng Xia’s new deskmate was Li Shiyi, who had previously been Zhou Xuanxuan’s deskmate. Both of them ranked in the middle of the class academically.
Zhou Xuanxuan’s grades hadn’t changed much, so she ended up sitting in front of Sheng Xia.
Other than that, the only familiar face around Sheng Xia was Qi Xiulei, who sat to her left.
Zhang Shu still occupied the last seat in the single column by himself.
Even after his Waterloo moment, he remained first in Class Six.
When it was time to move seats, Xin Xiaohe clung to Sheng Xia, pretending to cry dramatically. Only when almost everyone else had finished moving did she reluctantly leave.
But the person to Sheng Xia’s right merely asked, “Do you have anything left with me?”
Then he moved away.
After finishing, he came back to help her—first moving her desk, then her book box.
Then he asked again, “Anything else to move?”
Sheng Xia: “No.”
The process didn’t seem any different.
But Sheng Xia could feel it—something had changed.
He didn’t even meet her eyes anymore.
It was too different.
What had happened to him yesterday?
Was there something at home? Was he in a bad mood?
With their seats now separated by half the classroom, he didn’t come to her, and she didn’t know if she should ask.
Between classes, he either buried his head in sleep or buried himself in practice problems.
During the last break in the morning, Sheng Xia used the excuse of refilling her water bottle to pass by the back door. She saw him scrolling through his phone—he must have been free—and was just about to go over and greet him. But before she could even utter the first syllable of “A-Shu,” he had already slumped over his desk to sleep.
So it wasn’t appropriate to disturb him.
By noon, before Sheng Xia had even finished packing up, Zhang Shu had already left the classroom—without even waiting for Hou Junqi.
Hou Junqi called after him, “A-Shu, wait for me!” Then he turned to Sheng Xia, “Hurry up, Little Sheng Xia!”
Sheng Xia sped up and caught up with Hou Junqi.
But Zhang Shu still left them far behind.
By the time they reached the restaurant, he was already eating.
Sheng Xia and Hou Junqi took their usual seats.
The entire meal passed in silence.
“A-Shu, are you sick?” Hou Junqi asked.
Zhang Shu: “Are you cursing me?”
Hou Junqi: “……”
Sheng Xia kept her head down, eating without joining the conversation.
It felt like he still acted the same toward Hou Junqi.
So it was just toward her that he was different.
This intuition only grew stronger with each passing day.
He seemed exhausted—sleeping through almost every break, returning to his habit of arriving at the last minute in the mornings, and leaving after only two evening self-study sessions. It was a little strange.
Otherwise, nothing seemed off. He still answered questions when asked, and when the boys gathered around, he still occasionally threw out sharp remarks. He didn’t seem unhappy.
Even Hou Junqi didn’t notice anything amiss.
The three of them still ate together. Zhang Shu still took care of Sheng Xia—carrying her heavy backpack, fetching her soup if she forgot.
Their interactions didn’t seem any different either.
Then again, Sheng Xia had never been much of a talker, and their conversations had always been one-sided.
Sometimes, she even wondered if she was overthinking it.
But the silent Q.Q chat window told her everything had truly changed.
After submitting her draft, she no longer had to stay up past midnight writing. She went to bed at twelve.
After tossing and turning a few times, she resignedly opened her eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling, as if in a trance. The ceiling seemed like a screen, projecting all kinds of scenes about him.
Everything was the same, yet nothing was the same.The light in his eyes was gone, the warmth in his words had vanished. And this was only when he spoke to her.
She finally realized—he was distancing himself from her.
On her phone, the latest chat window in QQ was with Tao Zhizhi.
That day during their "date," Tao Zhizhi had practically been following along in real-time, so much so that in the end, she was even more upset than Sheng Xia.
"What? He didn't show up?"
"No way, it was your first date!"
"He was the one who called it a date, wasn't he?"
"Didn't he say what happened?"
"Could something have happened at home?"
Sheng Xia couldn't answer these questions either—she wanted to know too.
So many days had passed, and he still hadn't offered any explanation. He just didn't want to talk about it.
Thinking carefully, they weren't all that familiar with each other. She couldn't even begin to guess what might have happened to him.
The only person they both knew, aside from classmates, was Zhang Sujin.
But Zhang Sujin had seemed in good spirits lately—it didn't seem like anything had happened at home.
"Don't worry, you're so pretty—it's his loss for not showing up!"
"Xiaxia, don't be sad. I'll help you curse him out this weekend!"
These were Tao Zhizhi's last two messages.
Was she sad?
Of course.
On her way there that day, she had deliberately brought two helmets, even wondering whether she should wrap her arms around his waist when he gave her a ride. Would that be too forward? Just the thought made her cheeks burn.
But on the way back, staring at the unused helmet, her eyes suddenly stung.
She had gone to the date blushing, only to leave with reddened eyes.
Confusion, heartache, regret.
Of course she was sad.
So sad that she never wanted to go on another date again.
Absentmindedly, Sheng Xia opened QQ Space again, scrolling through her feed until it repeated, then idly scrolling back. Suddenly, she remembered what he had said the night he confessed—that he had figured out her birthday from her message board. She clicked on his message board.
The earliest posts were from a year ago, all trivial things like "dropping by" or "just passing through."
As she exited, she accidentally tapped on the notification history.
Scrolling down casually, most of the notifications were his likes and comments on her posts.
Someone who had once scrolled through her entire profile, liking and commenting on every post, now didn't say a single word to her.
A pang of bitterness rose in her nose as she stared blankly at those comments.
Suddenly, Sheng Xia sat bolt upright.
She scrolled to the bottom, then read each comment one by one, moving upward—reading them in reverse.
[I'm dizzy.]
[You like spring? Nanli doesn't have spring, thanks.]
[Off to school happily, home again with joy.]
[You clearly don't fear the thunder gods.]
[This is your style?]
[Got it, oh great literary master.]
[Hearsay is truth.]
[Understood.]
[?]
I, like, you, do, you, know, that, ?
Sheng Xia couldn't believe it. She checked again.
It was exactly that—even the order was correct. How could this be a coincidence?
At the time, she had thought that while the first few comments loosely related to her posts, the later ones were just nonsense.
She hadn't paid much attention.
But when was that?
It was the night they came back from Binjiang Park.
Had he... liked her that early?
Sheng Xia lay back down, tossing her phone aside listlessly, staring blankly at the ceiling.
If that was the case, then why?
He liked her—she knew that now. But what did it change?
His feelings—she couldn't understand them.
Maybe... did she even have the right to ask?
Sheng Xia wasn't sure, but a voice inside her was screaming, urging her on.She picked up her phone again and posted a status update, visible only to "Song Jiang."
...
[In this season of lingering chill, rest comes hardest.]
At two in the morning, Zhang Shu saw Sheng Xia's post.
The desk lamp was still on—he had just finished studying for the day.
The weather was neither warm nor cold. Was she... unable to sleep?
If he remembered correctly, the line before that verse read: "Searching, seeking, endlessly, / Lonely, bleak, and miserably."
That seemed more fitting for him.
Twisting his tired neck and shoulders, Zhang Shu stood up, glanced at the time, hesitated for a few seconds, then knocked on Zhang Sujin's door.
"Sis, wake up."
"Sis?"
"Sis!"
Zhang Sujin opened the door, her expression far from pleased. Who'd be happy being woken up in the middle of the night?
Yet the next moment, she was wide awake.
Zhang Shu stood tall before her and said solemnly, "Sis, I'm in love."
Zhang Sujin studied her younger brother quietly, blinked, then stepped out of her room and settled onto the living room sofa.
"Get me some water."
Zhang Shu obediently fetched a glass and grabbed a can of cola for himself. He popped it open one-handed and tilted the can to his lips.
From a few meters away, Zhang Sujin watched the tall, straight-backed boy with his bobbing Adam's apple and felt an inexplicable warmth in her eyes.
The little boy who used to cling to her legs had grown up—and grown up so well.
"Here." Zhang Shu set the water on the coffee table before her and leaned casually against the TV stand. "You said I had to tell you when I fell in love."
Zhang Sujin thought to herself: ...Did it have to be in the middle of the night?
"With Sheng Xia?" she cut straight to the point.
After two seconds of silence, Zhang Shu replied, "Not 'with,' but 'toward.'"
Zhang Sujin: "Meaning what? One-sided?"
Zhang Shu lowered his head: "Can't be mutual. She's going abroad."
He gave her the abbreviated version—from his confession to his conversation with Lu Youze and the date that never happened.
Zhang Sujin asked, "What are you thinking?"
"I don't know," Zhang Shu took another swig, letting the fizz sting his senses. "If this were any other time—first year, second year, even early third year—maybe I could figure something out. But now... I'm completely powerless."
Helpless. Adrift.
Zhang Sujin: "Have you asked her?"
"Hmm?"
"Asked what she thinks about it."
Zhang Shu shook his head.
"The biggest difference between boys and girls facing problems is that boys focus on solving them, while girls care more about feelings and attitudes," Zhang Sujin said. "Don't make decisions for her—give her choices. You need to talk to know what's truly good for her. What you think is unselfish might not be what she wants."
Zhang Shu: "Focusing on feelings instead of solving the problem—doesn't that mean being irrational? What if continuing this really affects her studies and future?"
Zhang Sujin nodded: "It might. But even if it ends, there should be a proper goodbye."
Zhang Shu fell silent, his gaze distant, lost in thought.
Zhang Sujin continued, "The reason I made you promise to tell me was to remind you to protect her—physically and emotionally. Not because girls are especially fragile, but because the wounds take much longer to heal, sometimes never healing at all. The purer the heart, the deeper the scar. By not showing up, you've already made a mistake. She might never want to go on another date with you."A sigh, barely more than a breath, escaped from Zhang Shu's lips.
"Got it." He downed the last of his soda in one gulp, twisted the aluminum can with both hands until it was completely crushed beyond recognition.
With a long-distance throw, the can followed a perfect arc before landing with a loud "clang" in the trash bin.
"Go to sleep, sis."
Zhang Sujin didn't say much more—for Zhang Shu, a sentence or two was enough.
As she stood up to return to her room, the defeated voice of the young man followed her—
"Sis, I really like her. So much that it hurts just thinking about her."
...
The next morning, the moment Sheng Xia woke up, she reflexively checked QQ. Aside from Tencent News, there were no messages.
No likes or comments on her post either.
Not even any visitor records.
Had he not seen it?
Maybe he'd gone to bed early? He had been coming home early recently.
Thinking back to their study sessions over voice chat—it had only been half a month ago, yet it already felt like a lifetime had passed.
Zhang Shu continued sleeping from morning until afternoon, though only during breaks between classes.
At lunch, Sheng Xia noticed he wasn't checking his phone either.
Recalling the post she had made, she felt a twinge of embarrassment. If he hadn't seen it, she might as well delete it by evening.
Lost in thought, she suddenly heard someone call out, "Sheng Xia, come here for a moment!"
It was Fu Jie calling her. Surprisingly, Wang Wei was there too.
Before she could stand up, she saw Zhang Shu suddenly wake up, as if responding to some command. He lifted his head abruptly, glanced at Sheng Xia, then turned toward the sound outside the window.
His eyes still carried the haze of someone not fully awake.
It seemed like an entirely instinctive reaction.
Fu Jie laughed. "Zhang Shu, awake now? Want to sleep some more? No one called you—why are you up?"
The whole class burst into laughter.
"Sleep, sleep, all you do is sleep. Even the bell can't wake you up. Have you seen how many days are left on the countdown? Can you sleep your way back to first place?" Lao Wang nagged incessantly.
Sheng Xia hesitated, unsure if she should leave now.
Wang Wei really worried endlessly about Zhang Shu.
Then someone suddenly shouted, "He woke up when Sheng Xia was called! Her name is like an alarm clock to him!"
Another round of uproarious laughter followed.
Sheng Xia's face burned crimson.
They could tease in private all they wanted, but in front of the teachers...?
Zhang Shu chugged most of a water bottle, as if trying to sober up, then muttered darkly, "What the hell are you all yapping about?"
His tone carried unmistakable irritation.
The classmate who had shouted froze. Sheng Xia stiffened as well.
This was the first time he had ever responded to their teasing.
Almost as if... he was trying to distance himself.
Wang Wei scolded the rowdy student, "Focus on your own studies!"
Then, in a gentler tone, he said, "Sheng Xia, come here."
...
"Sheng Xia, I have to tell you this as soon as possible," Fu Jie said with a grave expression. "Your manuscript didn't make it past the first round of selection. The editor said the individual pieces aren't bad, but as a collection, there's no unifying theme—it's too scattered. That's partly because we didn't plan it well from the start."
Truthfully, it was also because Sheng Xia had taken shortcuts. She had considered that a collection needed more cohesion, but most of what she had written before were pieces inspired by fleeting moods, naturally lacking a central theme. Later, she couldn't bear to discard the tens of thousands of words she had already written.
Sheng Xia's heart sank. "For the theme, should I unify the era or genre?"
Fu Jie nodded. "That's the general idea."
"What if we try another publisher?"
"It would probably be the same."
Unwilling to give up, Sheng Xia asked, "What if I rewrite it?""It's difficult," Fu Jie analyzed. "I've looked carefully—at most, there are eight essays from the same era you've selected, but the genres vary too much. If we only consider genre, there are six from the bold and unconstrained school, while the graceful and restrained school has the most, around ten. Many others are hard to categorize and are very niche."
Even if there were ten essays of the same genre at most, that would only amount to 20,000 to 30,000 words. Rewriting was no longer an option—time had run out.
During the end of last semester, she had stayed up every night until dawn, resting only four hours a day, writing tirelessly—only for it all to be in vain.
A bolt from the blue.
When this phrase becomes reality, the mind goes numb.
What truly crushes a person is never the absence of hope, but watching hope shatter before your eyes.
Wang Wei looked at the girl's instantly pale lips and hesitated over whether to continue.
"Sheng Xia..." he finally spoke. "Director Li called to ask about your transcript. Your grades from No. 2 High School haven't been uploaded yet. When you have time, send them to me."
Sheng Xia's ears were ringing, and she barely caught his words. But she knew Fu Jie and Wang Wei hadn't come for the same reason.
Fu Jie nudged Wang Wei's arm, shooting him a warning glance to stop talking.
"Sheng Xia?" Fu Jie called her.
"Yes, teacher."
Fu Jie reassured her, "If this path isn't viable, then focus fully on preparing for the college entrance exam. You've made great progress—maintain it, push a little harder, and you can still get into a very good university."
Sheng Xia murmured, "Mm, I understand. Thank you, teacher."
She didn't know how she made it back to her seat. Only after sitting down did she realize that, for the first time in days, she hadn't noticed what he was doing when she passed the back door.
She had no energy left to care.
Tomorrow, the first and second-year students would officially start school. Now, as evening self-study preparations began, the neighboring buildings buzzed with noise. The third-years merely shook their heads, sighed a few words, glanced at the countdown board, and buried themselves back in their work.
Most people would ultimately have to cross the single-plank bridge of the college entrance exam.
What made her think she could build a ladder to the clouds?
Her abilities had limits. There was no other choice.
Sheng Xia took out her phone and opened QQ. In the chat window, her study abroad consultant had sent her a new class schedule.
SAT classes were being scheduled now too.
She still didn't reply. Instead, she clicked into her profile and deleted her latest post.
"Slow, Slow Song"—it was a poem of boudoir resentment.
A lament destined to go unanswered.
Sheng Xia popped a chocolate into her mouth, steeling herself to focus on studying.
At any time, wallowing in sorrow was pointless.
As she casually tossed the wrapper into the trash bag, she noticed it was too full, crowding her deskmate Li Shiyi's trash bag. Li Shiyi shot her a displeased look.
"Sorry," Sheng Xia apologized, picking up the bag to throw it away in the trash corner.
Back when she shared a desk with Zhang Shu, her trash bag always took up his hook. Had he actually been annoyed by it too? And her things were always scattered everywhere...
Even Xin Xiaohe had been exasperated sometimes.
But he had never said a word.
For someone who seemed so hard to deal with, he was surprisingly tolerant.
Sheng Xia tossed the bag into the large bin and shook her heavy head—why was she thinking about him again?
Even throwing out trash made her think of him.
Just as she turned to leave, the world suddenly plunged into darkness. Simultaneously, waves of screams and complaints erupted around her—
A blackout?
Even the affluent and prestigious Affiliated High School could have power outages?"Damn! Did the first and second years turn on all the lights everywhere again? Overloaded the circuit?"
"Can the electricians get their act together? This happens every year. Didn’t they do maintenance over the break?"
"Wait, I don’t think so. My family group chat says the power’s out at home too."
"The whole area’s down?"
"Alright, everyone, go home!"
"Hell yeah, who dares to study now?"
"Let’s go buy candles!"
Sheng Xia stood frozen in place. She was near the cleaning supplies corner—a small hallway on the north side—with a row of camphor trees rustling behind her in the pitch-black night.
Everything was shrouded in darkness.
She knew she should head back to the classroom immediately, but her feet refused to move. Her night blindness made it impossible to adjust to the dark, leaving her completely disoriented.
A chill ran down her spine.
All sorts of eerie, long-buried thoughts crept into her mind...
Sinister ones.
Suddenly, she felt a gust of wind, as if something massive had approached. Then, a hand grabbed hers. She stiffened, instinctively letting out a scream—"Ah!"—though it was barely audible over the chatter in the classroom.
Then, a familiar voice said, "Don’t be scared."
Before she could process what was happening, she was being led forward, out of the small hallway and straight through the building to the connecting corridor.
The night was so dark she could hardly see a thing.
But the warmth from the hand gripping hers sent her blood racing.
Behind them, Hou Junqi’s voice rang out from the classroom: "Let’s go buy candles, A-Shu. Huh? Where’s A-Shu? A-Shu! Where’d he go, huh?"
A moment later, Wang Wei’s voice, nearly shouting: "The whole area’s out. The school’s backup generator will kick in soon—half an hour tops, maybe an hour at most. Just wait! Stop making noise!"
The noise died down.
They walked farther and farther away until the voices behind them faded entirely.
They reached the sports field. As they descended the steps, he led the way, still holding her hand, and glanced back to ask, "Can you see?"
Her eyes had adjusted slightly to the dark. "A little," she murmured.
On the track, he said, "Let’s take a walk."
Her hand was released, but she stayed close to his side. Neither spoke, the silence so deep she could almost hear their breathing. The white dividing lines of the rubber track stood out starkly in the darkness. She followed them, taking small, careful steps.
He seemed to notice and slowed his pace.
A walk.
Someone once said that strolling together was more intimate than holding hands or kissing.
The night was ordinary, moonless. Yet, Sheng Xia suddenly recalled a phrase— The moon is beautiful tonight.
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