The next afternoon, after Chinese class, Sheng Xia found Fu Jie to explain her situation.
Fu Jie was shocked. "You mean, you're asking for two weeks off?"
Sheng Xia nodded firmly.
She had thought it through carefully the night before—she was willing to invest this time.
Fu Jie said, "But by the time you come back, the mock exams will be right around the corner! You won’t have any time to review! The first mock is extremely important!"
Sheng Xia knew. There had always been the saying that the first mock exam determined everything.
"And by then, it’ll already be March. Will you have enough time?"
Sheng Xia lowered her head. "I want to try both."
"You mean, writing drafts during the day and attending classes at the study abroad agency at night?"
"Mm."
Fu Jie felt the matter was too significant to decide on her own and suggested, "Go ask Teacher Wang. He’s taught two or three graduating classes already—he has more experience than I do. Given your situation, I don’t dare encourage you to take such a risk without approval."
Sheng Xia understood and was deeply grateful. "I’ve calculated the time—it’s enough. I pitched my plan to an editor from a Category C publishing house this morning, and she thought it was feasible too."
"Then I’ll help you consult the editor I’m in touch with," Fu Jie sighed. "As for the leave, go talk to Teacher Wang."
"Okay."
Wang Wei pondered for a long time before also sighing. "Will you have the energy for this? It’s not that I doubt your ability, but you need to be mentally prepared."
Prepared for the possibility of failing at both.
Sheng Xia analyzed, "I’ll write during the day, attend classes at night, and still have a few hours left to review when I get back. I’ll do my best."
She had weighed the risks carefully. If she truly ended up with nothing, she could follow Hou Junqi’s path—enroll in a preparatory program after the college entrance exams. The only difference was that her deception would be exposed, and she’d face criticism—perhaps more than just criticism.
She could handle it.
Wang Wei asked, "Where are you getting a few extra hours at night?"
Sheng Xia replied, "There are—from 11 p.m. to 2 a.m., three hours."
Wang Wei studied her matter-of-fact expression and asked, "Do you always sleep after 2 a.m.?"
Sheng Xia nodded.
The moment Wang Wei signed the leave approval, he felt as though he were signing some life-or-death contract.
Watching Sheng Xia’s thin figure walk away, he shook his head.
The longer you taught, the more types of students you encountered. The more privileged they were, the harder they worked—so hard it left you in the dust.
At dinner that evening, Sheng Xia finished early and left as usual.
Hou Junqi glanced at Zhang Shu’s expressionless face and hesitantly said, "Shu..."
Zhang Shu looked up.
"Qi Xiulei said... he went to find Lao Wang today... and heard... heard..."
"Get to the point."
Hou Junqi said, "He heard Lu Youze requesting leave—probably to attend TOEFL classes. And he also heard Lao Wang mention... that Sheng Xia had requested leave too."
Zhang Shu continued eating without much reaction.
"Apparently, it’s a long leave—over a month. She’ll leave right after the Hundred Days Pledge rally."
Zhang Shu’s chopsticks paused slightly, his eyelashes flickering.
His head remained lowered, so Hou Junqi couldn’t see his expression, but that brief pause was enough of a signal—he had listened.
As for what he was thinking, even a brother couldn’t read his mind.
...
The Hundred Days Pledge rally and coming-of-age ceremony at the affiliated high school were especially grand, even more elaborate than the school sports meet.
The campus was awash in red. A countdown sign with the character "win" stood at the school gate, while the trees in Taoli Square were adorned with wish ribbons. The buildings of the junior and sophomore classes were draped with banners covered in signatures and well-wishes.Even the peacocks and white geese kept by the artificial lake had red ribbons tied around their necks.
A "Top Scholar Arch" was erected on the sports field, with flower baskets gifted by various companies and organizations lining the red carpet all the way.
Parents' cars filled the playground, colorful and chaotic like a used car market.
The weather at the end of February was unseasonably hot—Nanli's summer had arrived in full force.
Everyone wore short-sleeved class uniforms today. The male teachers looked dashing in suits and ties, while the female teachers abandoned their usual plain appearances for trendy makeup and hairstyles.
Wang Lianhua couldn't attend as she had gone to Dongzhou to visit Wu Qiuxuan, but Sheng Mingfeng surprisingly showed up for Sheng Xia's coming-of-age ceremony.
He didn't make a fuss, quietly sitting among the parents with a bouquet of flowers in his arms.
Wang Wei spotted him and went over to shake hands, inviting him to sit on the podium. Sheng Mingfeng waved him off, whispering something to Wang Wei. After some back-and-forth, Sheng Mingfeng's insistence prevailed.
But before long, the principal and the school's Party secretary arrived. As the surrounding parents began murmuring, Sheng Mingfeng found himself in a dilemma before eventually being ushered to the center of the podium.
The students only knew that was the seating area for Class Six parents, unaware of whose parent it was specifically, whispering among themselves.
Xin Xiaohe had met Sheng Mingfeng before. She leaned close to Sheng Xia's ear and asked, "Xia Xia, what exactly does your dad do?"
She knew he was impressive, but not to this extent.
While Sheng Xia might brush off others with a laugh, she couldn't do that with Xiao He. So she whispered the truth into her ear.
Xin Xiaohe froze for a few seconds before tightly clutching Sheng Xia's arm, declaring with utmost loyalty, "I'm holding onto the future with my own hands!"
Sheng Xia couldn't help but laugh.
It was precisely this kind of reaction that put her at ease.
The two tall figures, Hou Junqi and Zhang Shu, naturally stood at the back of the line again, observing everything.
Hou Junqi unconsciously sighed.
Zhang Shu glanced sideways at him.
The ceremony inevitably included various speeches—from the principal, teacher representatives, and outstanding alumni representatives.
Then came the student representative leading the oath.
Everyone craned their necks in anticipation, wondering who the representative would be, with many eyes turning toward Class Six.
However, an unfamiliar face appeared on stage.
He introduced himself as from Class Twelve—last semester's top scorer.
The student representative wasn't Zhang Shu?
This was most people's reaction.
Following the crowd, Sheng Xia also turned to observe Zhang Shu.
He simply gazed calmly at the podium, one hand in his pocket, looking completely at ease—as if he might pull out his phone to scroll at any moment.
Suddenly, his gaze lowered, meeting Sheng Xia's before she could look away.
Amidst the sea of people, their eyes locked in a brief clash.
Sheng Xia quickly averted her gaze.
Could he be feeling a little disappointed too?
Leading the oath was a tremendous honor. Had it not been for that Waterloo moment, he would undoubtedly be standing on that spotlighted podium right now. Sheng Xia suddenly felt regret—last semester she hadn't seen him give a speech, and this semester she missed hearing him lead the oath...
Though he hardly lacked for spotlights.
But this dazzling young man—didn't he deserve it?
If it had been him, standing there saying to her, "Classmates, let us solemnly swear together—"
She would have wholeheartedly, solemnly, without any pretense, made that promise—
"Ten years of diligent study, for this decisive battle; A hundred days of tireless effort, for a lifetime of pride! Striving with perseverance, unwavering in action; Drawing our blades, for the glory of Fuzhong!"
The chant shook the heavens, followed by thunderous applause.The oath-taking ceremony concluded, and the students spontaneously raised their banners, cheering with unwavering enthusiasm.
In the past, Sheng Xia had thought many ceremonies were just formalities, nothing to write home about. But in this moment, as a transfer student, she genuinely felt the pride of fighting for the glory of the school.
Some teachers and parents on the stage were already moved to tears.
Perhaps the effectiveness of a ceremony doesn't lie in its formality, but in whether you're standing alongside like-minded people.
The final event was exiting through the "Top Scholar Gate," then taking photos in front of a giant train ticket marked "Youth—Adulthood," receiving blessings from parents and teachers.
Running down the long red carpet, their young faces brimming with smiles, they whooped and hollered as they passed through the "Top Scholar Gate."
Sheng Xia and Xin Xiaohe held hands, jogging along with the crowd when suddenly a gust of wind brushed past—a girl with chestnut curls dashed by, her hair flicking against Sheng Xia's shoulder.
Chen Mengyao had weaved from Class 4 to their class, running ahead of Zhang Shu and walking backward with a bright smile. "There! Now that I've stepped through the Top Scholar Gate at the same time as you, the future top scholar, maybe I can absorb some of your genius essence!"
Zhang Shu stopped just in time to avoid colliding with Chen Mengyao.
Hou Junqi laughed heartily. "Are you nuts? Treating Shu like Tang Monk? What kind of essence are you trying to steal?"
Chen Mengyao lifted her chin. "If you say that, then you must be the Monkey King! Except you're a bit chubby for a monkey!"
Hou Junqi: "..."
Amid the noisy crowd, Zhang Shu's voice wasn't loud, but its distinct tone carried. "Then what does that make you? The White Bone Demon?"
Hou Junqi burst out laughing. "Hahaha, spot on! Took three tries to finish her off!"
"Shut up!" Chen Mengyao snapped. "No unlucky words today! Take that back!"
"No way!"
"Childish!"
"Still better than you!"
Their banter drew laughter, while the rest of Class 6 stayed quiet, simply watching the show.
Xin Xiaohe glanced at Sheng Xia, whose gaze was calm, her long lashes fluttering slightly.
Occasionally, snippets of conversation from other classes could be heard.
"Do you think our school will produce a top scholar this year?"
"Probably. There's bound to be one in either arts or sciences, right?"
"Who do you think it'll be? Zhang Shu or the one from Class 12?"
"Hard to say. Many start strong but lose steam. Let's see after the first mock exams."
"True."
Sheng Xia thought: To be remembered by name, not just as "that kid from Class X"—Shu, you've already won.
The first mock exams—you'll definitely ace them.
After taking photos in front of the "train ticket," they queued to receive their "Coming-of-Age Certificates" before heading to their parents.
By the time Sheng Xia and Xin Xiaohe collected their photos, Zhang Shu, Hou Junqi, and the others ahead were already embracing their families.
Class 4's parents were still queuing further back, but perhaps Chen Mengyao's mother had spotted her and squeezed to the front. Now, she was chatting amiably with Zhang Sujin, clearly having run into an acquaintance.
Both being from Lianli, it wasn't surprising they knew each other.
Sheng Mingfeng stood at the forefront of the parent formation, flanked by Lu Youze's father, the grade director, and Wang Wei.
The entire Class 6 watched the scene with curiosity.Sheng Xia hesitated for a moment before slowly walking over. Sheng Mingfeng was visibly elated today, his eyes even slightly moist. Unable to wait any longer, he took a few steps forward and embraced Sheng Xia, patting her shoulder. "Good child, you've grown up. Dad is proud of you."
Sheng Xia accepted the flowers from him.
Nearby, Lu Youze was hugging his father.
Then someone called out, "Secretary Sheng, President Lu, let's take a photo to commemorate the occasion!"
"Great! Wonderful! It would be an honor!"
President Lu was overjoyed, pulling Lu Youze along as he came over. Sheng Mingfeng, equally thrilled, wrapped an arm around Sheng Xia and turned toward the camera.
The two adults stood in the center, each with their own child beside them.
With a click , the moment was captured in the camera—and also in the dark pupils of a young man watching from a distance.
A red carpet seemed like an unignorable dividing line, separating two worlds.
As if illustrating the age-old principle of matching social status.
The event dispersed.
Though the ceremony had ended, the daily routine of senior year continued. There was still evening self-study, so parents and students went their separate ways.
Most students headed back to the classroom first. After packing her things, Sheng Xia decided to say goodbye to a few classmates.
After all, she’d been away for quite a while.
Xin Xiaohe, ever the dramatic and exaggerated one, clung to Sheng Xia and wailed, "Why did you take such a long leave? I’ll miss you so much! You have to miss me too, okay?"
Sheng Xia looked down at the head squirming wildly against her chest: ...Was she sure she wasn’t just using this farewell as an excuse to cop a feel?
"I will. I’ll miss you," Sheng Xia replied smoothly.
Her gaze traveled across the classroom, landing on a handsome silhouette outside in the hallway.
Zhang Shu was chatting with Han Xiao and a few others.
Should she say goodbye to him?
But for a relationship that had already ended, was a farewell even necessary?
Better not.
Sheng Xia hoisted her heavy backpack onto her shoulders. Lu Youze gave it a tug. "It’s so heavy. Are you really bringing all your college entrance exam books home?"
The sudden lightness on her shoulders sparked a fleeting hope in her heart—only for it to plummet just as quickly when she heard his voice.
Not him.
Back during the winter break supplementary classes, she’d been rushing to meet a writing deadline. She carried her laptop every day, typing away in the dorm during lunch breaks, so her backpack was always heavy.
Zhang Shu had once lifted it and teased, "Are you carrying gold to school? Why’s it so heavy?"
With crowds of students moving between the teaching building and the north gate, she’d been embarrassed and tried to twist away. But he’d only tightened his grip, adjusting his hold as she turned.
She twisted again, and he followed, still holding the bag. She walked forward, and he matched her steps.
He’d walked behind her like that, carrying her backpack...
Once, unable to bear the stares around them, Sheng Xia had broken into a run. Caught off guard, Zhang Shu lost his grip on the strap as she dashed up to the second floor.
His laughter had echoed behind her: "What are you running for? Be careful, you little rabbit!"
Snapping back to the present, Sheng Xia turned and pulled her backpack free from Lu Youze’s hand. "Yeah, I need them."
Lu Youze offered, "Want me to carry it for you?"
Sheng Xia: "No need. It’s not heavy."
Lu Youze: "Let’s go, then."
Sheng Xia: "Mm."
Sheng Mingfeng was busy and had already left. Lu Youze’s father offered to drop Sheng Xia home on the way, but she politely declined, saying she needed to ride her bike back.
So that was that.Lu Youze also remembered his electric bike and said he would ride back, but his father had instructed him to ensure Sheng Xia got home safely before returning himself.
Thus, they decided to leave together.
They exited through the back door of the classroom, their retreating figures drawing the gazes of several students sitting or standing by the corridor desks.
Only Zhang Shu remained, staring at the distant covered walkway, lost in thought.
"Shu..." Wu Pengcheng, ever the talkative one, broke the silence. "Wanna go play cards?"
Zhang Shu shifted his gaze and replied, "How about we go watch the sunset instead?"
"Huh?" Four faces stared back in bewilderment.
"Spring's infinite beauty awaits. Let's go," Zhang Shu said, already striding ahead.
The others exchanged glances: Had Shu lost his mind?
They climbed over the railing of the second-floor staircase to reach the top of the covered walkway.
The rooftop was lush with green grass. Zhang Shu sat by the edge, letting his legs dangle naturally.
Hou Junqi, Han Xiao, and the others followed suit. The boys sat in a row along the walkway's edge, swinging their legs, their colorful class uniforms dazzlingly bright.
The sight was both exhilarating and perilous.
This area was usually off-limits, and now curious onlookers from the classroom corridors leaned out to watch them.
Envy and admiration filled their eyes: Such daring souls.
"Are we seriously here to watch the sunset?"
"Come on, it's only five. How long do we have to wait? It's scorching."
"Since when did Shu have such leisurely whims?"
Their chatter died down abruptly.
Because two figures came into view: Sheng Xia and Lu Youze.
From their vantage point, the straight camphor tree-lined avenue stretched before them. Nearby, two small electric bikes—one black, one white, identical in make—emerged from the bike shed.
The girl and boy exchanged a few words before mounting their bikes. The white bike led the way, with the black one following closely. Once they reached a wider stretch of road, they rode side by side.
Bathed in the dazzling sunlight, they gradually receded into the distance, eventually becoming two tiny dots.
This...
What was the point?
Did we climb up here just to see this?
Is Shu torturing himself?
No one spoke.
Zhang Shu suddenly broke the silence, asking Han Xiao, "Got a cigarette?"
Everyone was stunned.
They all smoked—Hou Junqi less frequently, with little addiction—but the other three were rarely without a cigarette.
Zhang Shu never smoked. Even during card games, when the room was thick with smoke, he showed no interest, usually chewing on a lollipop or some milk candy instead.
His self-control was legendary, impervious to all vices.
Han Xiao handed him a cigarette, asking, "Shu, you serious about this?"
Zhang Shu: "Got a lighter?"
Han Xiao produced one.
With a flick, the flame ignited.
Wu Pengcheng offered tips, chattering away.
The ember glowed faintly as smoke curled from Zhang Shu's lips. He held the cigarette between his fingers, examining it. There was nothing magical about it.
If he had to pinpoint when he first wanted to try, it was the day he stood Sheng Xia up. Sitting on the low stool at the newsstand, gnawing on lollipop after lollipop but tasting no sweetness, he suddenly craved a deeper solace.
But this thing didn’t seem to provide it.
He still felt miserable. Empty.
Just as everyone was marveling at how effortlessly cool Shu looked—a natural even at smoking—Zhang Shu erupted into a fit of coughing, gasping for breath before stubbing the cigarette into the dirt.
"What the hell is this? Cough, cough... This thing’s lethal!" Zhang Shu's face turned red as he cursed. "And you guys spend money on this?"
Four bewildered faces stared back: ...
So much for lasting coolness.In the end, none of them got to see the sunset. The campus security arrived, standing below with a megaphone shouting, "What are you doing up there? Don't you know this is against the rules? Come down and register your names!"
The teenagers froze momentarily, exchanged glances, quickly pulled their legs back, and scrambled away in panic.
The covered walkway connected all the teaching buildings. The group, thoroughly amused, played hide-and-seek with the security guards—leaving traces here, peeking out there.
That day, the entire academic area echoed with the security's amplified voice: "Stop right there! Students, stop!"
Every floor's corridor was packed with onlookers, the audience grinning from ear to ear.
Golden light slanted across the teaching buildings, flooding everything in sight.
The sunset was perfect, and they were in the prime of their youth.
...
Sheng Xia began her arduous journey.
In the morning, she left home at her usual time, and Wang Lianhua didn't suspect a thing.
Since everywhere was closed so early, she could only sit in McDonald's for a while, charging her devices while organizing her drafts.
That night, as she listened to meditation music, inspiration struck.
She remembered Fu Jie's words: "The others are too niche, they can't even be categorized."
But isn't "niche" itself a category?
Moreover, whether something is niche or not is somewhat subjective—open to personal interpretation.
This gave her considerable room to maneuver.
Even among the works of very famous lyricists, there were pieces that remained obscure.
So most of her drafts were usable.
Her theme was "niche yet stunning."
However, with "niche" as the defining characteristic, all drafts needed to align with a unified tone, requiring further revisions.
After a quick review, she found over twenty drafts that needed minor edits, a few that required major overhauls, and nearly twenty that had to be completely rewritten from scratch.
Gathering new material and researching was an incredibly tedious process.
Two weeks—time was tight, extremely tight.
All she could do was keep writing relentlessly.
By 10 a.m., Yifang Bookstore opened. Sheng Xia rode her bike there, enjoying the breeze along the way to relax.
She had initially considered working at the municipal library but realized her laptop might disturb others. At Yifang Bookstore, however, she would be the one disturbed by others.
Faced with the choice between disturbing others or being disturbed, Sheng Xia chose the latter.
She wasn't the type who could write while listening to music, unlike someone who sometimes wore headphones during evening self-study sessions. Occasionally, when she got close enough, she could hear the clamor of drums and gongs—wild and frenzied.
Who knew what kind of rock music that was.
It sounded chaotic and intense.
She kept unexpectedly recalling him in all sorts of little details. Even after so many days, it was unavoidable.
Truly, "the surroundings remain the same, but the heart has changed; everything feels different with every glance."
During these moments, she would listen to 15 minutes of mindfulness meditation to regain focus. Sometimes, she achieved a state of flow, feeling as though she were in a realm of solitude—just herself and the keyboard before her, moving at high speed...
Her writing efficiency soared miraculously.
But such states were rare and precious.
On weekends, Tao Zhizhi and Xin Xiaohe came to keep her company—though "keeping her company" mostly meant the two of them hitting it off and chatting incessantly, frequently interrupting Sheng Xia's train of thought.
She used these days to take a break.
Life was busy, simple, and repetitive.
In the evenings, she biked from Yifang Bookstore to Henghui Tower for her scheduled classes at the institution.
Mostly one-on-one, though language classes sometimes had more attendees. She often ran into Lu Youze, and they would head home together at night.
After returning home, she would grind through practice tests, complete full sets, then spend half the time reviewing mistakes and digesting the material.When she came across a problem whose solution she couldn't even understand, her first instinct was to open QQ and call Zhang Shu.
But she stopped her finger just as it touched the screen, switching instead to Xin Xiaohe's chat window to ask her instead.
...
The classroom was still packed at 11 p.m.
The motivational boost from the hundred-day pledge rally had been strong enough—everyone was full of drive, as if leaving the classroom first meant losing.
Xin Xiaohe took a break to drink some water and glanced at her phone, then sat down deep in thought.
She looked up, resigned: she didn’t know the answer either.
She placed her phone on the table next to her, where Zhang Shu was working on an English exercise. He raised his head. “What’s up?”
“Take a look at this question.”
Zhang Shu picked it up, pinching to zoom in on the image, but accidentally tapped it, causing the picture to shrink back and reveal the full chat window.
The contact name: Xia Xia Ruan Mianmian.
There was also a cute sticker with text next to it.
Ruan Mianmian?
Zhang Shu’s brow lifted slightly.
The screen displayed their conversation. He had no intention of snooping, but one glance took in everything.
At the top were messages from a few days ago.
Xia Xia Ruan Mianmian: “I’m always at Yifang Bookstore. You can come hang out with me this weekend!”
Xin Xiaohe: “Sure, sure! I’ll go this week!”
Xia Xia Ruan Mianmian: “I’ll introduce you to my friends.”
Xin Xiaohe: “Okay, okay!”
Zhang Shu’s brow lifted again.
Did she ever say anything new?
Friends—was it Tao Zhizhi?
Below that were today’s messages.
Sheng Xia had sent this image, followed by a sticker of a cat scratching at a door.
“You there? You there?”
“Help me!”
Zhang Shu: “…”
Was she really that desperate?
He picked up the phone and asked, “Should I reply?”
Xin Xiaohe, thinking he had already figured it out, nodded in shock. “Go ahead, reply!”
Zhang Shu started typing but was immediately put off by the flashy input method background. It was a nine-key layout, which he wasn’t used to, and he couldn’t find the switch button. How was he supposed to type like this?
He simply tapped the voice input button instead, lifted the phone, and spoke into the mic: “Beg me.”
Xin Xiaohe: “……???”
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