High school life was a mystery, both slow and fast. The last minute before class ended was always agonizingly long, yet the final fifteen minutes before turning in an exam paper could vanish in a flash.
Rushing and dawdling, chasing and being chased.
One year, two years, three years—they often disappeared just like that.
In the second year of high school, classes were reassigned. Shen Ting chose the history and politics track and happened to be placed in the same class as Wen Xue. Wen Qianshu and Jiang Mingyue, just as the original book described, remained in Class 7, still under Gu Fangfei’s “devilish spice,” but they were no longer deskmates.
Wen Qianshu’s new deskmate was Zhang Zisheng, who had an endless supply of snacks. Her mouth never stopped moving during breaks, like a perpetual motion machine. Jiang Mingyue’s new deskmate was a transfer student from another school, a young girl with freckles who loved to laugh. Her smile was sweet, she spoke gently, and her voice was pleasant.
The class monitor, Yu Sheng, who was afraid of heights, was also there. Even Tang Ying, whom Luo Qing had mentioned before, was assigned to their class. He was a boy with exquisite features; sitting by the window, he looked like an oil painting, with the window frame as a natural picture frame.
Now, Class 7 had even more good-looking people. Wen Qianshu was overjoyed to be among them and even did her homework much more efficiently.
Teacher Gu told them that since they were now in their second year, they should think carefully about their future plans.
Zhang Zisheng admitted she had no grand ambitions, only hoping to be scolded less, receive fewer writing punishments, and escape with her life in her third year. “I’m begging Old-fashioned to be a little gentler.”
The student in front of them turned around, leaned on her desk, and said, “That’s impossible.”
Wen Qianshu said, “I’m different. I hope to get first place in Chinese.”
Zhang Zisheng: “…”
The student in front: “…”
The student in front said, “I think the head teacher being gentler is more realistic.”
Wen Qianshu: “Huh?”
Then the four of them, in the front and back rows, all started laughing.
2333 sometimes suspected whether these people were attending a normal high school or some drama academy.
Wen Qianshu settled into a routine of doing homework and zoning out in class, and eating and chatting during breaks. After school, she would meet up with Shen Ting at the liberal arts classes, often seeing Wen Xue walking with her. Occasionally, they would discuss the earth-shattering events their classmates had caused and how they and their head teachers had infuriated each other eight hundred times over.
The second-year Class 7 truly lived up to having an extra horizontal stroke compared to the first-year Class 7; they were a whole level naughtier. Their “special talents” developed in all sorts of bizarre ways, and the reasons for their self-criticisms were a complete mess.
Some were caught cutting a watermelon in the classroom during summer, while others made their teacher sick by eating durian in winter. The former was punished by writing “I should not eat watermelon in the classroom” five hundred times. The latter also had to write five hundred repetitions, but the person involved was said to be extremely regretful, because the characters for “durian” have significantly more strokes than “watermelon.”
“By the way,” Wen Qianshu said to Shen Ting, “Jiang Mingyue became the math class representative.”
Shen Ting: “Hmm?”
Wen Qianshu: “What do you mean, ‘hmm’?”
Shen Ting: “Is there a problem with that?”
“Umm—” Wen Qianshu said, “I guess there’s no problem.”
Although Jiang Mingyue didn’t like the head teacher, although she didn’t seem like the type to willingly be a class officer, and although in the original book she had indeed held no position for all three years.
But she couldn’t tell Shen Ting any of this.
So Wen Qianshu said, “2333, 2333…”
2333 couldn’t be bothered with her. “Don’t ask. If you ask, the answer is I don’t know.”
“Speaking of which—” Shen Ting asked curiously, “Is it such a coincidence? Are you and Jiang Mingyue still deskmates?”
Wen Qianshu: “No, my deskmate is Zhang Zisheng now. We haven’t changed for almost a year.”
Shen Ting smiled. “Oh, right. Zhang Zisheng mentioned it to me too, I completely forgot.”
Wen Qianshu teased her, “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Tomorrow I’m going to tattle to Zhang Zisheng that Shen Ting doesn’t even remember her anymore.”
Shen Ting: “?”
Shen Ting got flustered. “What are you talking about? It’s all your fault for always talking about Jiang Mingyue. I thought you two were still deskmates.”
Wen Qianshu stopped in her tracks, her bike swerving and jolting sharply. “What?”
Shen Ting said, “Yeah. Jiang Mingyue became the class representative, Jiang Mingyue answered a really hard question, Jiang Mingyue brought some really delicious snacks that you saw and she gave you a big bag of them—you talk about Jiang Mingyue every day, way more often than you talk about Zhang Zisheng.”
Wen Qianshu subconsciously retorted, “It’s not that exaggerated. I don’t talk about her every single day.”
Shen Ting: “Right, right, but it’s almost every day. She really is amazing, though—”
Wen Qianshu froze. Her heart started beating faster for no reason, faster and faster.
She gripped the handlebars tightly, almost twisting off all the remaining rubber.
Fortunately, it was too dark to see anything clearly, and neither Shen Ting nor 2333 noticed.
“Ah, Qianqian, look up.” As they passed the dormitory area, Shen Ting told Wen Qianshu to look at an article on the school’s blackboard newspaper. “I wrote that. Teacher Mei helped me submit it to a magazine a while ago, and it got published.”
Teacher Mei, the teacher from the Reading Club, was now Shen Ting’s head teacher.
Wen Qianshu: “That’s amazing!”
Shen Ting smiled, pressing her lips together. “I was so incredibly proud, but I didn’t dare show it too much, afraid Teacher Mei would criticize me.”
After saying that, Shen Ting became nervous again. “Mm, but I really can’t get complacent. I’m still far behind Wen Xue, I need to work harder—oh, I’m so envious of Wen Xue. It feels like she’s read so many books and knows everything—”
Wen Qianshu smiled. “What are you muttering to yourself about?”
Shen Ting stopped talking, smiled as well, and said, “I’m so happy, Qianqian.”
“I’m really so happy, it’s like a dream.”
After evening self-study, the voices on campus gradually faded. A gentle breeze passed by, and the soft night lights illuminated this girl with her delicate features and brilliant smile.
Perhaps it was the softness of the lights or the gentleness of the wind, but as Shen Ting pushed her bike, she suddenly said, “Qianqian, did you know, I’ve actually always been very envious of you.”
Wen Qianshu: “Hmm?”
She smiled. “Envious of what?”
“Many things—your math skills, and your aunt and uncle are so nice—” Shen Ting also smiled. “You know, my parents both have new children of their own and don’t care about me at all anymore.”
“Oh?” Wen Qianshu said, “Then how about I trade my math for your Chinese?”
2333 was just feeling touched, but was shocked by her words.
What kind of first-class genius at ruining the mood are you?
“Hahaha—” But Shen Ting laughed. “Yeah, I’m always envying others.”
She happened to walk directly under a streetlight, and the gentle light enveloped her. Wen Qianshu, half a step behind, remained in the deep darkness of the night.
Shen Ting: “But I still have my grandma. Even if my parents don’t care about me, my grandma still wants me. And my article got published, so I’m actually super amazing, right?”
Wen Qianshu smiled. “Yeah, you’re super amazing.”
Shen Ting: “You’re super amazing too.”
She turned her head, her eyes shimmering with a sparkling light, perhaps a reflection from the streetlamp. “We’re both super amazing.”
“Yes.” Wen Qianshu also gradually stepped into the light. A bit of brightness reflected in her smiling eyes, tinging them with a touch of softness. “We’re both super amazing.”
Being super amazing didn’t help with everything. All the way until her third year, Wen Qianshu still couldn’t figure out why Jiang Mingyue wanted to be the math class representative.
2333: “Why do you have so many ‘whys’? Are you the ‘One Hundred Thousand Whys’?”
“It doesn’t make sense,” Wen Qianshu said to 2333 while frantically working on problems. “I even asked her, and she said she just wanted to be the math class representative—I always feel like it’s not that simple.”
2333: “Sigh, Wen Qianshu.”
Wen Qianshu: “What?”
2333: “You have three minutes left. You’re not going to make it.”
Wen Qianshu: “!”
The “XX Short Answer Questions” workbook truly lived up to its reputation as a “city specialty.” Tearing out a page a day brought “joy” that surpassed the gods. The head teacher loved to hand one out every day before the noon break, grade them during the break, and during evening self-study, make those who got questions wrong stand up and reflect, one by one.
In half an hour, there were over ten fill-in-the-blanks and two long-answer problems. The questions weren’t difficult; the challenge lay in maintaining both speed and accuracy. Forgetting an equals sign in an interval was a death sentence. Coupled with the fear of the head teacher, it was enough to make one lose all desire for a noon break and only wish to drop dead on the spot.
“Thirty minutes are up.” The head teacher stood at the podium with her hands on her hips. “Group leaders, please collect the papers.”
“No more writing! If you can’t finish during the college entrance exam, can you keep writing then?”
“Even if you know how to do it, you’re not allowed to write anymore. If you can’t write it down within the time limit, what’s the difference from not knowing how?”
Collecting this kind of assignment was always a struggle. The group leaders themselves didn’t want to get up, their feet seemingly nailed to the floor and their hands to their papers. Only their butts would lift higher and higher as a symbolic gesture to show they were in the process of collecting.
Once the group leaders finally got up, they had to forcefully pull the papers from each desk. At every desk they passed, there was a desperate struggle, which would leave either a long ink streak or a long scratch, depending on how sharp the pen tip was.
Wen Qianshu still hadn’t managed to finish the last problem. After turning it in, she collapsed onto her desk in despair. She had rushed at the end, and her face was flushed. The cool desk felt nice against her skin, so Wen Qianshu pressed one cheek against it, then turned over and pressed the other.
“What’s going on? Why haven’t the papers from Group Seven been collected yet!”
Group Seven?
Wasn’t that her group?
Wen Qianshu looked up in confusion and saw a girl in the very front row writing with her head down, refusing to let go of her paper. The group leader was too embarrassed to snatch it away and was just pacing beside her.
The head teacher, however, came straight down from the podium and stormed over.
Wen Qianshu sighed. Her gaze followed the head teacher, moving past the podium and landing on Jiang Mingyue, who was standing to the side. Their eyes met perfectly.
Jiang Mingyue was holding the collected assignment papers. A few group leaders stood beside her, then waved their hands and fled back to their seats. A clock hung above the blackboard, its second hand ticking away.
Jiang Mingyue just stood there, amidst the ticking of the second hand, behind the head teacher, among the students coming and going. Several rows of desks and chairs, several rows of students, and a sound that was both quiet and somewhat noisy separated them.
Jiang Mingyue lowered her eyelids and looked away.
But Wen Qianshu immediately pressed her face back onto the desk. “No way.”
2333: “No way what?”
Wen Qianshu closed her eyes, circled her arms, and rested her head on them. “Nothing. Time for a nap.”
2333: “…”
After that, however, Wen Qianshu never asked about that question again.
No matter how slow 2333 was, it realized she already knew the answer. So their roles immediately reversed, and it was 2333 who kept asking.
2333: “So why was it?”
“Why what?” Wen Qianshu retorted. “Are you the ‘One Hundred Thousand Whys’?”
2333: “You obviously know!”
Wen Qianshu played dumb with it. “Know what? Of course I don’t know.”
2333 was about to die from anger.
Everything after that was like hitting the accelerator, as if a hand was rapidly turning the hands of a clock without stopping. Every day was spent doing problems, writing problems, and explaining problems.
The sun rose and set, set and rose again.
Test papers were handed out one after another, and English newspapers were completed one after another. New lessons had long been finished, and reviews went on round after round. The error correction notebooks were organized impeccably, yet the same mistakes were still made again.
In Chinese, it was memorizing pinyin until you got cramps, correcting faulty sentences until you became a recluse, and for multiple-choice questions, picking whichever option looked the weirdest. In math, you tried to grasp both concepts and calculations but couldn’t hold onto either; you couldn’t calculate the problems you knew how to solve, and you couldn’t solve the ones you knew how to calculate. English was like Russian nesting dolls, with grammar stacked on grammar and clauses embedded in clauses, seeming like a newly invented language that just happened to share the name “English.” In physics, light and electricity were intertwined, force and magnetism were mixed up, the left-hand and right-hand rules were a complete mess, and everyone ended up dancing in the exam hall. Chemistry was also a joy: one day you couldn’t balance a chemical equation, the next a new element would sneak into your experiment’s product, and the day after, you’d accidentally forget a subscript, turning non-toxic carbon dioxide into something toxic【1】.
Then came three rounds of mock exams. After finishing their own city’s papers, they did other cities’ papers, and after finishing those, they did the school’s own papers.
The head teacher said, “It’s okay. Generally speaking, our city’s exams are among the more difficult ones in the province. If you do well on the mock exams, the difficulty of the college entrance exam won’t be a problem.”
And so the students got their low-scoring papers from the second mock exam: “…”
Thanks, but we don’t feel comforted at all. In fact, we’re a little panicked.
It was a time of chaotic, arduous toil.
The college entrance exam was here.
Author’s Notes:
Note【1】: CO2 is carbon dioxide, non-toxic. CO is carbon monoxide, toxic.
