Princess Dress and Iron Shirt (3)

When I was little, I remember my mother jokingly saying that Zhao Shihua had puppy-like features. I always thought her mother was complimenting my large eyes, but now I think she was probably referring to my flat nose and upturned nose.

Looking at herself on the phone from nearly ten years ago, Zhao Shihua suddenly remembered that Wang Xingming had explained to others that it was impossible for him to like her, and the reason he used was "I don't like men."

Someone with an upturned nose was called a pig, and someone with a strong body was said to be like a man. She suddenly wondered why her classmates used so many metaphors when commenting on others' appearances. The problem was, they were often extremely inappropriate.

Koalas also have upturned noses and are large, black, and so why doesn't anyone say they look like a koala? Strong and athletic people can also be like Mulan or the Heroines of the Yang Family. The animated Mulan is so heroic and handsome, and the Heroines of the Yang Family can even defend their country! Why should strength and fighting skills be the exclusive privilege of boys? Conversely, boys can be sentimental and love Disney princesses, and it's no problem at all.

But these thoughts were all in the past. Right now, shame burned her cheeks like fire, then ate away at her heart like ice from the soles of her feet. She wondered if the other person had seen the photo, if they had realized that the child in the photo was her.

Zhao Shihua didn't dare to look up, much less imagine Pei Nachuan's expression. She reached out to cover the screen, her fingers curled to grasp the edge of the phone, and her fingertips gently touched his fair palm. But her heart was like a frozen lake, no longer able to ripple.

Don't think too much, don't think too much—Zhao Shihua muttered to herself, forcing herself to calm down and walk back to her seat. Although she wanted to throw her phone down the stairs, she suppressed the rage that was about to erupt like a volcano in her hands. She slammed the phone on Shao Yifu's desk and said coldly with the last bit of rationality she had left, "Delete it."

Then she sat down and looked around. Several classmates who had turned back to watch the excitement also turned around tactfully and continued doing their own things.

Zhao Shihua lowered his head in silence, his fingers gripping the edge of the magazine so tightly that the paper curved into a semicircle. Then, a teardrop the size of a bean fell, blurring out the words on the magazine: "Heartbroken."

It's nothing. It's really nothing. Zhao Shihua gritted his teeth and repeated this sentence silently.

At worst, she could study hard alone for another three years, and maybe, by some miracle, she'd even ace the exam and get into a top university. Although the chances of surviving the high school entrance exam were slimmer than the high school entrance exam, she could hold on to her studies as a lifeline and avoid drowning.

The only thing that made her feel regretful was that all those bright and beautiful stories had come to an end before they had even begun.

After school, Zhao Shihua, avoiding the curious questions of her classmates, wandered alone along the path that bordered the playground. The playground was still bustling with activity: people were running, playing soccer, and chatting arm in arm. The setting sun gradually faded behind the gymnasium, casting a soft, warm glow over everyone, like a scene from a youth film.

After just one study session, she already felt like the world on the other side of the fence was a world away, a world beyond her reach. Perhaps objectively, it wasn't that exaggerated; no one had turned against her, vowing to never see her again, nor had anyone disdained or distanced themselves from her because of her martial arts skills. It was just that she was digging deeper and deeper into a hole of self-loathing, unable to find a ladder to climb out.

Zhao Shihua had unknowingly wandered to the back door. Not far away, a man in a security uniform stood with his hands behind his back, his eyes quickly scanning the students filing out. Seeing her approach, he waved, his serious expression instantly transforming into a friendly smile. "Xiaohua, why are you here? Are you going to the back door to buy food?"

Zhao Shihua shook her head. Normally, she'd have already mentally compiled a long list of delicious dishes before school was over, but today, she had no interest at all. She walked up a few steps, pulled up a chair, and asked, "Master, can I sit here for a while?"

"Okay," he turned back to her after a while and asked, "What's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?"

“…Not really.” Zhao Shihua put his schoolbag on his thighs, supported his chin with both hands, sat diagonally behind his master, and inspected the students leaving school with him.

Zhao Shihua didn't offer any further explanation, and his master didn't ask any further questions. Compared to the typical teacher-student relationship in school, these martial arts students were indeed closer to their master. However, compared to the master-disciple relationship of the past, Zhao Shihua felt that his current master was more like a fellow villager, and he almost "tears up in tears."

"Master, you said last time that you've been at Yangzhong for almost three years?" Seeing Master nod with his back to her, Zhao Shihua counted in her mind and asked, "What about the three years before that? Did you continue teaching martial arts in Guangzhou?"

After waiting for half a minute, there was no response from the master. Zhao Shihua, assuming he hadn't heard her, called out again. Still with his back to her, he held his hands behind his back, tapping his fingers over the knuckles of his other hand as if counting. She suddenly remembered how, as a child, when practicing horse stance, the master would occasionally do the same thing as she passed by, hands clasped behind his back, counting off the months one by one. Back then, she'd assumed he was counting the days.

"Xiaohua, what about you? Did you continue to learn martial arts?"

Zhao Shihua fell silent. Silence, it turned out, was also a form of answer. She later learned that her master had a difficult time finding work after arriving in Guangzhou, having been rejected by numerous martial arts institutions. To make a living, he first worked as a security guard in an office building, and later, through a series of chance encounters, he transitioned to a job as a gatekeeper at Yangzhong. School work was easier than office work because it didn't require long hours of guarding; one only needed to keep an eye on students during school hours. Of course, on the other hand, the responsibility was also greater.

When saying goodbye, she had solemnly promised her master that she would continue learning. In the end, neither of them persevered in their martial arts pursuits, leaving both feeling guilty and remorseful. But her words were irrelevant. After all, she had only learned to stay fit and expend energy, not with the ambition of winning an Olympic gold medal. On the other hand, her master, who had made that his career goal, had lost the opportunity to display his martial arts skills at the age of forty, now confined to a small security room. The frustration he felt would likely take more than a year or two to fully process.

Zhao Shihua couldn't help but sigh. She looked up at her master's back, and whether it was an illusion, she seemed to see his shoulders slump a little. The heartbreak she had wanted to tell her master suddenly became as light as a feather, leaving her speechless.

An unknown amount of time passed before Zhao Shihua regained consciousness. Most of the playground was now shrouded in the shadows of the surrounding tall buildings, and the crowds leaving the school had thinned out. Suddenly, a red figure emerged from the school gate like a koi carp swimming upstream.

The Yangcheng Middle School uniform was a lake green tracksuit with a bit of white on the top. Every Monday during the school assembly, it looked like a bunch of upside-down green onions from a distance. I was given a nice white shirt and plaid dress, but I'd only worn it once, at the opening ceremony.

Compared to the girl's plaid skirt, Zhao Shihua prefers loose sweatpants. Her calves are relatively thick, and she is always afraid of being pointed at by others. Even when sitting on a chair, she can't help but curl up and hide underneath.

The man in the red school uniform was obviously a student from another school. How could the master let him in? Zhao Shihua was about to remind him, but he saw the man striding over and daring to run into the gun.

"Is my mother back?" The boy looked a few years younger than her, and his vocal cords seemed to be in the voice change period, hovering between childish and low.

"Not yet, wait a moment."

Zhao Shihua stared at the other person for a few seconds, then suddenly realized: "Daxiang?!"

"...Fuck!" With his father right in front of him, the boy quickly stopped the curse words that were about to slip out of his mouth, "You are...Senior Sister?! Why are you here?"

It seemed the master hadn't yet told her family about her. The two of them stared at each other, speechless for a moment. An uninformed person would probably have thought they were having a staring contest.

The other person's name is Xiang Feiyu, the master's only son. He has been carrying the master's hope to inherit his mantle since he was a child. Therefore, although he is a few years younger than Zhao Shihua, he has always taken martial arts classes with his brothers and sisters.

Despite his small stature, he was quite skilled at boxing, kicking, and swordplay. His only flaw was his arrogance. He was incredibly well-behaved under his father's watchful eye, but once he got out of the house, he became arrogant and looked down on everyone. When they were little, they often had fights.

"I'm studying at Yangzhong!" Zhao Shihua straightened her back, revealing the school badge on her uniform. She wanted to ask about the other person's situation, but when she thought about how her son moved nearby with his father, it was only natural, so she cut the question short and just sighed, "What a coincidence! Long time no see!"

"Yeah." Perhaps out of shyness or because they had become strangers after so many years, Xiang Feiyu didn't continue talking to her. He nodded and turned to go into the guard room.

Zhao Shihua was immediately left awkwardly aside, the joy of a long-awaited reunion still etched on her face. She suddenly felt as if she were being spurned by everyone. Add to that the commotion during pre-school self-study class, and she could no longer contain her frustration. Her frustration overflowed like water from a cup, and she had no energy to turn off the tap. The water flooded everywhere, finally drowning her eyes.

"Kid, why are you so rude? Come out and talk to people! Otherwise, get back home!" The master yelled into the house.

"I just want to drink some water!" a voice popped up from inside, "I'm going to get out of here now, okay?"

Zhao Shihua lowered his head, staring intently at his eyes, one hand picking at the edge of the nail on the other. The lines of his fingers gradually blurred, finally turning into a single block of color.

After a while, she heard footsteps quickly passing by behind her. He jumped down the stairs twice, then suddenly stopped. After hesitating for a while, he turned around and asked her as if his conscience had come to his senses, "Um, Senior Sister...what grade are you in?"

After waiting for a long time, seeing that she still kept her head down and didn't say anything, Xiang Feiyu took a few steps closer, bent down to take a look, and was immediately startled by Zhao Shihua's red eyes: "Senior Sister, why do you have pink eye?"

"Men don't shed tears easily," she remembered her master often using the saying to teach them: "Don't cry when you're tired or sleepy, don't cry when you've bumped into something, and don't cry even when you've fallen and been hurt. Only after going through countless trials and tribulations can one become a hero." She rarely cried when she was little, even when she was sick and needed a shot, she gritted her teeth and endured it for the sake of her martial arts dream.

On the contrary, as she grew older, Zhao Shihua no longer wanted to be a hero. She often burst into tears like a child, as if she wanted to pour out all the tears she had swallowed during her childhood. However, the last shred of dignity in her heart forced her not to show weakness in front of others. But today, facing her trusted master and long-lost junior apprentice, she no longer wanted to hold on.

Originally, she could still hold it in, but after hearing the question, the master came up and slapped her son on the back of the head, which blew up a gust of wind, but the younger brother dodged it nimbly by bending his head. Then he chased her and scolded her, "I think you are mentally ill. How can you talk to your senior sister like that?!" She immediately burst into laughter, but because she relaxed, tears began to flow down her face.

Zhao Shihua hid in the room and, with tears in her eyes, recounted what had happened that afternoon. The more she spoke, the sadder she became, and she began to talk about even sadder past events, which went on and on. By the end, she seemed to be blaming her master for teaching her martial arts instead of ballet.

She didn't know how long she cried. When she rubbed her eyes and looked outside, it was already completely dark.

"Oh—" Xiang Feiyu stretched out his tone and concluded with a knowing tone, "Did the person you like laugh at you?"

When did Xiang Feiyu become such a clever guy? Before Zhao Shihua could make a move, the master next to him struck him in the back, but unfortunately, he dodged it again: "What nonsense are you talking about, kid? Look at you, you made your senior sister cry."

"It's not me who messed with her!"

"You dare to talk back?"

So this is what Lu Xun meant when he said, "The sorrows and joys of mankind are incommensurable; I only perceive them as quarrels." Zhao Shihua slumped in her chair, watching the father and son bicker. She pulled a tissue from the table and blew her nose, detaching herself from the deepest grievances. She couldn't help but find it a little amusing. It seemed Xiang Feiyu had grown stronger, daring to speak back directly.

"Senior Sister, are you okay?" Sharp-eyed Xiang Feiyu noticed that Zhao Shihua had gradually calmed down. His originally cautious, tentative tone seemed to carry a hint of condescending criticism. "Who dares to laugh at you for looking like a man? You used to be very powerful, didn't you? One punch back would have been enough! Do you need my help?"

"Fight, fight, fight! Are you learning martial arts just for fighting?" The master's anger was about to flare up again. He slammed the cup of water down, spilling a lot of it. He then wiped the water away with his palm, paused, and took a deep breath. "But Xiaohua, Feiyu has a point. If there are friends who make fun of you just because you learn martial arts, then it's better not to keep them!"

It's always the case that those involved are often confused, while those on the sidelines can see more clearly; the advice of outsiders always reveals the truth. Zhao Shihua understood the truth they were talking about, but she just couldn't pull herself out of it. In the end, it was the hungry frog with its rumbling stomach that finally saved her.

"I have to go get some food," Zhao Shihua sniffed and stood up suddenly. His legs felt numb and his head felt a little dizzy. "I'll be back soon. Master, don't lock the door too early!"

"Okay, go ahead! I'll hold the door open for you."

"Dad, you actually opened the back door for her?"

Zhao Shihua put the quarrel between father and son behind him, walked out the door but immediately turned back.

Just over ten meters away, a few boys approached, laughing. One of them had a football tucked into his elbow. He raised it, noisily, as if about to throw it at someone, after some unspoken comment. It was none other than the culprit of today's farce—Shao ​​Yifu himself.

Perhaps it was the support of his master, or perhaps it was Xiang Feiyu's instigation, or perhaps it was simply that once a person hits rock bottom, they will always bounce back to save themselves. Zhao Shihua suddenly felt as if possessed by his younger self. His whole body was instantly filled with strength, and he pulled his master towards the door.

"Master, did you see that guy holding the football? Yes, yes, that's him. Catch him harder next time!"