Hidden pen prank

Winter comes suddenly and is very cold in Nangang.

Xu Ying stood by the bus stop, her scarf wrapped tightly around her, her breath dissipating in the cold morning mist. She glanced at her watch—6:40, twenty minutes earlier than usual.

A few students, all wearing the same uniform of Lincheng No. 1 Middle School, stood sporadically on the platform, most of them hunched over, still half-asleep. Xu Ying tucked her red, frozen fingertips into her sleeves, her gaze fixed on the slowly approaching bus in the distance.

After the car came to a stop, she swiped her card to board and found a window seat. A thin layer of frost had formed on the window, which she gently wiped with her knuckles, then looked out through the small patch of clear glass.

This city was still very unfamiliar to her.

Two weeks after transferring schools, she still maintained the habits she had in the south—arriving at school early, quietly preparing for lessons, and trying not to attract attention.

The bus stopped at the No. 1 Middle School stop, and Xu Ying got off with a few other students. The students on duty at the school gate hadn't arrived yet, the iron gate was open, and the campus was quiet except for the rustling sound of the cleaning lady sweeping fallen leaves.

She walked towards the teaching building, her footsteps echoing clearly in the empty corridor. The classroom door of Class 7, Grade 11 was ajar. When she pushed it open, a warm breeze mixed with a faint smell of dust rushed out.

The classroom was empty.

Xu Ying walked to the middle seat in the first row—that was her seat.

Zong Heng's chair was crooked, and several textbooks with curled edges were piled up haphazardly on the table. A copy of "Hai Zi's Poetry Collection" was stuck diagonally on the edge of the drawer, with half a crumpled candy wrapper sticking out between the pages.

She put down her schoolbag, took out a pack of tissues from her pocket, pulled out a tissue, and began wiping her desk.

This is a habit she's maintained since transferring schools.

After wiping her own half, Xu Ying hesitated for a moment, her gaze falling on the table on Zong Heng's side—there was a ferocious skull drawn with a black marker, and the words "Don't mess with me" written in haste next to it.

She pursed her lips and ultimately did not cross the line.

After tidying up her desk, Xu Ying took out her pencil case from her schoolbag and prepared to preview today's English lesson.

The pencil case was made of light blue canvas, with a small cherry blossom embroidered in the corner—perfect for her name. She unzipped it, her fingers rummaging inside, then suddenly stopped.

The pen is missing.

That light blue fountain pen was a farewell gift from a close friend before she transferred schools. The cap was engraved with a cherry blossom pattern, and she cherished it ever since.

Xu Ying frowned slightly and emptied everything from her pencil case onto the table—a black ballpoint pen, a mechanical pencil, an eraser, a highlighter… but the fountain pen was missing.

She clearly remembered checking her schoolbag last night when she packed it.

"Did I leave it at home?"

She opened every compartment of her schoolbag, even checking the gaps between her textbooks, but still couldn't find it.

Outside the window, the sky gradually brightened, and sporadic footsteps began to echo in the corridor. Xu Ying took a deep breath, put the scattered stationery back into her pencil case, and then took out a spare black ballpoint pen from her side pocket.

Just then, the back door of the classroom was suddenly pushed open and slammed against the wall with a loud "bang".

Xu Ying looked up and saw Zong Heng standing at the door with one hand in his pocket.

He wasn't wearing his school uniform jacket today, just a black hooded sweatshirt, the collar loosely open, revealing a faint scar on his collarbone. Morning light streamed in from behind him, casting a long shadow on the floor.

His gaze swept across the empty classroom, finally landing on Xu Ying. He raised an eyebrow: "So early?"

Xu Ying lowered her head and continued tidying up her textbooks: "Hmm."

Zong Heng strolled over to his seat, tossed his backpack onto the table, and the chair legs scraped against the floor with a screeching sound. He lazily sat down, stretching his long legs directly under Xu Ying's chair.

Xu Ying quietly moved the chair forward a little.

Zong Heng noticed her little movements, chuckled, and suddenly leaned closer: "Hey, good student."

He carried a faint scent of mint cigarettes, mixed with the chill of a winter morning, causing Xu Ying to subconsciously lean back.

“You come to the classroom early every day,” Zong Heng tilted his head, a playful glint in his dark eyes, “could it be that you’re secretly studying harder?”

Xu Ying calmly closed her textbook: "I just don't like being late."

"Really?" Zong Heng reached out and tapped her textbook with his fingertip. "Then what's this?"

Xu Ying looked down and saw the notes she had made in the corner of her textbook while previewing the lesson—dense annotations of words and grammar points.

Her ears felt slightly warm, but her voice remained calm: "Just previewing."

Zong Heng stared at her for two seconds, then suddenly laughed. He leaned back, the front legs of his chair lifting off the ground, wobbling dangerously: "So boring."

Students gradually entered the classroom, and noise began to rise.

Xu Ying was focused on her textbook and didn't look up until the English teacher walked into the classroom.

"Class, take out the essays you were assigned yesterday, and have your deskmates write them down."

Xu Ying took out a piece of writing paper from the folder and caught a glimpse of Zong Heng casually twirling a pen—a black fountain pen with a dull luster in the sunlight.

She was slightly taken aback.

That pen...

Zong Heng noticed her gaze and deliberately twirled the pen faster, a roguish smile playing on his lips: "What, even a good student is interested in my pen?"

Xu Ying looked away and pushed the essay paper in front of him: "Please correct it."

Zong Heng glanced at the neat handwriting on the paper, then suddenly reached into her pencil case and pulled out the black pen: "It's so pointless to use this."

He shoved his pen into her hand: "Try it?"

Xu Ying was stunned.

The pen still retained his warmth, feeling heavy in her hand. She hesitated for a moment, then lightly drew a line on the composition paper—the ink flowed smoothly, the nib was soft to the touch, it was a fine pen of considerable value.

"How is it?" Zong Heng leaned closer, his breath brushing against her ear.

Xu Ying handed the pen back to him: "It's easy to write with."

Zong Heng stared at her for a few seconds, then suddenly lowered his voice: "Your pen...did you lose it?"

Xu Ying's heart skipped a beat.

She looked up and met Zong Heng's ambiguous smile, and suddenly understood something.

"You took it." This is not a question.

Zong Heng grinned, revealing two sharp canine teeth: "Who knows?"

The school bell rang just in time, interrupting their eye contact. The English teacher tapped on the podium: "Begin writing [the lesson plan], and hand it in before the end of class."

Xu Ying took a deep breath and picked up Zong Heng's composition paper—it only had three lines of messy writing on it, and two words were misspelled.

She gripped the black pen tightly in her hand.

This silent battle has only just begun.

Xu Ying's pen stopped on the paper, the ink spreading intermittently before finally drying up completely.

She frowned slightly and held the black pen up to her eyes—no response. The ink in the pen was almost gone, leaving only a thin layer of blue sediment.

The math teacher was explaining trigonometric functions at the podium, the chalk making a sharp sound as it scratched the blackboard. Xu Ying looked down and rummaged through her pencil case, her fingertips brushing aside the eraser, ruler, and correction tape, but there was no trace of a second black pen.

There was only one red ballpoint pen and one mechanical pencil.

She pursed her lips, hesitated for a second, and then pulled out the red ballpoint pen.

Red is not suitable for taking math notes.

But she had no other choice.

The moment the pen touched the paper, the chair next to her creaked. Zong Heng lazily propped her chin up, her gaze sliding from the blackboard to her notebook, and then back to the red ballpoint pen.

"What, the good student has switched careers to become a grading teacher?" He lowered his voice, his tone slightly mischievous.

Xu Ying ignored him and continued copying the formulas on the blackboard. The red writing stood out starkly against the black notebook.

Zong Heng stared at her for two seconds, then suddenly reached into his pencil case, pulled out a black ballpoint pen, and threw it in front of her with a "thud".

"I'll lend it to you."

The pen rolled half a circle on the table and stopped at the edge of Xu Ying's textbook.

She paused, her pen poised, and glanced at him sideways.

Zong Heng had already turned his gaze away, twirling a pencil in his hand, with an air of nonchalance that said, "I'm just tossing it around casually."

Xu Ying looked away, not touching the pen, and continued writing with the red ballpoint pen.

Zong Heng's brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.

Chalk dust fell in a flurry, and the radiator in the classroom hummed.

The bell rang, and the math teacher had barely stepped out of the classroom when Zong Heng kicked his chair away and stood up.

"Get out of the way."

Xu Ying was organizing her notes when she heard this and moved slightly to the side. Zong Heng squeezed out from behind her, the hem of his school uniform brushing against her shoulder, bringing a cool breeze.

She lowered her head and continued writing, the red formulas arranged neatly in rows.

—Until a hand suddenly reached out and snatched her notebook.

"Hello."

Xu Ying looked up and saw that Zong Heng had returned sometime earlier and was standing in front of her desk, looking down at her as he flipped through her notes.

"Give it back to me." She reached out to grab it.

Zong Heng leaned back easily, dodging her hand. His gaze swept over the red writing, and he chuckled, "So stubborn? You'd rather use a red pen than mine?"

Xu Ying pursed her lips and remained silent.

Zong Heng suddenly leaned over, his arm resting on her desk, and approached her: "Xu Ying, do you have a problem with me?"

His scent wafted towards her, carrying a faint mint aroma. Xu Ying instinctively leaned back, her back pressed against the cold wall.

“No,” she said calmly.

"Then why not use my pen?"

“I have a pen.”

Zong Heng stared at her for a few seconds, then suddenly smiled.

"OK."

He straightened up, casually tossed the notebook back onto her desk, and turned to leave.

Xu Ying bent down to tidy up the messed-up papers and suddenly noticed that the black ballpoint pen had been tucked into her pencil case at some point.

She stared at the pen for two seconds, then sighed softly.

During lunch break, the number of people in the classroom gradually decreased.

When Xu Ying returned from the cafeteria, she found several girls gathered around her seat, chattering about something.

As soon as she approached, they scattered, their eyes filled with strange looks.

Xu Ying didn't pay attention and habitually checked her pencil case after sitting down.

The red ballpoint pen is missing.

She paused for a second, searched through her pencil case and drawers, and even squatted down to look at the floor, but still couldn't find it.

Although the pen wasn't expensive, she brought it from her old school and used it for a whole year.

Xu Ying pursed her lips, her gaze unconsciously drifting to the back of the classroom—Zong Heng was playing around with a few boys, tossing a basketball in his hand, laughing smugly.

Seemingly noticing her gaze, he suddenly turned his head and looked at her, their eyes meeting in mid-air.

Zong Heng raised an eyebrow, a provocative smile playing on his lips.

Xu Ying looked away, took out a green highlighter from the inner pocket of her schoolbag, and continued doing her homework.

—She had long been accustomed to carrying several pens with her.

The third period in the afternoon was physical education class. Xu Ying was absent due to her period and rested alone in the classroom.

Sunlight streamed through the window onto the table, where she was highlighting key points with a green highlighter when she suddenly heard the back door being pushed open.

Zong Heng walked in, sweating profusely, his school uniform jacket casually draped over his shoulders, revealing a black T-shirt underneath.

He obviously skipped class again.

The two looked at each other, but neither spoke.

Zong Heng walked to the water dispenser, filled the bottle with water, and gulped down more than half of it, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. Water droplets slid down his chin and dripped onto his collarbone.

Xu Ying looked away and continued reading.

"Hello."

Zong Heng walked up to her desk without her noticing, and placed the wet mineral water bottle next to her textbook with a "thud".

"Your pen."

He pulled the red ballpoint pen from his pocket and tossed it in front of her. Water droplets still clung to the pen, glistening in the sunlight.

Xu Ying looked up at him: "Why did you take my pen?"

Zong Heng shrugged: "My hand slipped."

"..."

"What, you don't believe me?" He leaned down, his arm resting on her desk, so close he could smell the shampoo in her hair. "Then tell me, why would I take a broken pen?"

Xu Ying looked him straight in the eye: "Because you want me to use your pen."

Zong Heng was stunned.

Sunlight flowed between them, and dust particles danced in the light.

After a long pause, Zong Heng suddenly smiled.

"Xu Ying." He called her name softly, his finger lightly tapping the red ballpoint pen. "You're smarter than I thought."

After saying that, he straightened up, picked up his school uniform jacket, slung it over his shoulder, and turned to walk out of the classroom.

The moment the door closed, Xu Ying picked up the red ballpoint pen and noticed a small scratch on the pen.

Use mine.

The handwriting was crooked and messy, as if it had been hastily carved with a key.

Xu Ying stared at that line of text for a long time, a slight smile playing on her lips.

She finally picked up the black ballpoint pen that had been neglected all along and twirled it between her fingers.

—A small sticky note with a smiley face drawn on it was stuck to the pen.

During the afternoon biology lab class, a faint smell of alcohol permeated the back of the classroom.

Xu Ying lowered her head to organize the lab reports, her fingertips lightly tapping the tabletop—she felt something was off.

Zong Heng was unusually quiet from the morning onwards.

He didn't deliberately kick her chair, didn't suddenly lean in to look at her while she was taking notes, and didn't even glance at her with that lazy, slightly provocative look.

— Anything abnormal is a sign of evil.

She glanced sideways, her eyes scanning the area beside her.

Zong Heng was resting his chin on one hand, while casually twirling a silver scalpel in the other, its blade gleaming coldly under the light. His gaze was fixed on the lab table, but clearly unfocused, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips, as if he were pondering something.

Xu Ying looked away, took a black ballpoint pen from her pencil case, and wrote the date on the report.

Click.

The moment the pen touched the paper, the girl in front of her suddenly turned around: "Xu Ying, can I borrow a pen? Mine's out of ink."

Xu Ying nodded and casually took another blue ballpoint pen from her pencil case and handed it over.

"Thank you!" The girl smiled. "Why are there so many colors in your pencil case?"

"It's a habit," Xu Ying replied briefly, her gaze unconsciously drifting towards Zong Heng.

He was still twirling the scalpel, but the curve of his lips seemed more pronounced.

Halfway through the experiment, Xu Ying's ballpoint pen suddenly jammed.

She pressed the end of the pen, but the lead just wouldn't come out.

—This pen is new; I just bought it from the stationery store this morning.

She frowned slightly, shook the pen forcefully, but the lead remained motionless.

On the podium, the biology teacher is adjusting the microscope with his back to the students.

Xu Ying quietly unscrewed the pen to check—the pen refill had been glued on.

Her breath hitched, and she instinctively looked at Zong Heng.

He had put down the scalpel at some point and was tilting his head to look at her, his eyes filled with blatant schadenfreude.

Their eyes met in mid-air.

Zong Heng raised an eyebrow and mouthed silently, "Oh no."

Xu Ying closed the pen cap expressionlessly, took out the last red ballpoint pen from her pencil case, and continued recording data.

Zong Heng's smile froze on his face.

"Next, observe the onion epidermal cells." The biology teacher tapped the blackboard. "Each group, send one person to collect the slides."

Just as Xu Ying was about to get up, Zong Heng suddenly stood up: "I'll go."

He strode to the podium, and when he returned, in addition to a glass slide, he also had a brand-new scalpel in his hand.

"Here you go." He pushed the knife in front of Xu Ying, deliberately lowering his voice, "This knife is especially sharp, be careful not to cut your hand... good student."

Xu Ying didn't answer, but calmly asked, "What do you want to do?"

Zong Heng shrugged: "I'll help you."

She stared at him for two seconds, then suddenly reached for the scalpel—

Zong Heng abruptly withdrew his hand: "Hey, I suddenly don't want to give it to you anymore."

Xu Ying: "..."

He brandished the knife menacingly: "Beg me?"

Xu Ying got up and went to the next group to borrow one.

Zong Heng: "..."

After the lab class ended, Xu Ying went to the sink to wash her hands.

Zong Heng stared at her retreating figure, then quickly opened her pencil case—

Empty.

“How is that possible…” He frowned, and flipped through it again, not even missing the inner compartments.

Indeed, there are no pens left.

Just as he was about to close his pencil case, he suddenly noticed that the lining of her textbook was slightly bulging.

Zong Heng abruptly flipped open the textbook—

A silver mechanical pencil lay there quietly.

"Damn it." He laughed angrily. "Xu Ying, are you a hamster?"

When the school bell rang, Xu Ying packed her schoolbag and headed straight for the girls' restroom.

She turned on the tap, and the icy water washed over her fingers.

In the mirror, her expression remained calm, with only her slightly reddened ear tips betraying a hint of emotion.

—That stuck pen was definitely done by Zong Heng.

She turned off the tap and suddenly heard a muffled thud from the cubicle, as if someone had bumped into the door.

Immediately afterwards, Zong Heng's voice drifted over from the men's restroom next door:

"I do what I want, what's it to me?"

Xu Ying was stunned for a moment, and subconsciously softened her breathing.

After a flurry of footsteps, another male voice rang out: "Heng-ge, you don't actually like that transfer student, do you? You're always teasing her..."

"Get lost." Zong Heng's voice was impatient. "If you say another word, I'll beat you up too."

The tap was suddenly turned on, and the sound of rushing water drowned out the rest of the conversation.

Xu Ying stood there, her heart inexplicably racing.

She had just stepped out of the restroom when a strong arm blocked her way.

Zong Heng leaned against the wall, his school uniform jacket open, revealing a black T-shirt underneath. He looked down at her, his eyes filled with inquiry: "Did you hear me?"

Xu Ying feigned ignorance: "What?"

"Pretending." He chuckled, then suddenly leaned closer. "Xu Ying, your ears are red."

She took a half step back and calmly said, "It's hot."

Zong Heng stared at her for a few seconds, then suddenly smiled: "Okay."

He straightened up, took the black ballpoint pen that was stuck to the wall out of his pocket, and casually tossed it into the nearby trash can: "Continue tomorrow."

Xu Ying: "..."

He turned and took two steps, then turned back and added, "—Remember to bring a few extra pens, good student."

"..."

As the last class on Friday ended, everyone in the classroom quickly left.

Xu Ying slowly packed her schoolbag, sorted her notebooks by subject, and carefully checked that each pen was in its proper place.

Zong Heng didn't leave.

He leaned back in his chair, resting the back of his head against the wall, his gaze unabashedly fixed on her.

He wanted to see how long she could keep up the act.

Xu Ying zipped up her pencil case and stood up.

"Hello."

Zong Heng suddenly spoke, and the chair fell back to the ground with a "bang".

Xu Ying didn't stop walking.

"Xu Ying".

His voice deepened.

She finally turned around, her eyes as calm as a deep pool: "What is it?"

Zong Heng stood up, took a few steps to her, and grabbed her pencil case.

"you--"

Xu Ying instinctively reached out to grab it, but he dodged to the side.

Zong Heng opened his pencil case, revealing ten pens of different colors neatly arranged, gleaming softly in the setting sun.

He stared at the pens for two seconds, then suddenly laughed: "How many pens do you have?"

Xu Ying pursed her lips: "Give it back to me."

Zong Heng didn't move, but instead took a step closer: "I'm asking you, are you planning to open a stationery store with so many pens?"

His scent wafted towards her, carrying a faint hint of mint. Xu Ying took a half step back, her back hitting the desk.

"Because I keep losing my pen lately," she said, looking him straight in the eye, enunciating each word clearly.

Zong Heng's heart skipped a beat.

—She knew.

He had assumed she would remain silent or simply tell the teacher. But she chose this most direct way, silently declaring: I saw through you a long time ago.

"Oh?" He suppressed a hint of panic and raised an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance. "Who's so bored as to steal a good student's pen?"

Xu Ying didn't answer, but reached for her pencil case. Zong Heng suddenly raised his arm, using his height advantage to make it out of her reach.

"Zong Heng".

Her voice finally carried a hint of annoyance.

Zong Heng looked down at her. The setting sun slanted in through the window, casting a small shadow on her eyelashes. The tips of her ears were slightly red with annoyance, like cherry blossoms in early spring.

He suddenly felt his throat go dry.

"Give it back to me," Xu Ying said again.

Zong Heng asked, as if possessed, "What if I don't return it?"

Xu Ying stared at him quietly for a few seconds, then suddenly turned around and took out another highlighter from her bag, marking a few lines on her textbook right in front of him.

Zong Heng: "..."

—She actually had a backup?!

He snatched the highlighter from her, gritting his teeth: "Xu Ying, did you do this on purpose?"

Xu Ying closed her textbook and said in a flat tone, "Enough until you get tired of it."

Zong Heng was stunned.

These words were like a needle, gently piercing through the facade of his childish behavior over the past few days.

She not only knew it was him, but she had also prepared a countermeasure.

What annoyed him even more was that she was so calm, so calm that he felt like a clown.

"Why aren't you angry?" he heard himself ask.

Xu Ying was silent for a moment, then said softly, "Because it's childish."

Zong Heng's ears suddenly burned.

He opened his mouth, but didn't know what to say. Rebut? That would be childish. Apologize? That would be even more embarrassing.

While he was distracted, Xu Ying took back her pencil case and highlighter. She turned to leave, but Zong Heng suddenly grabbed her wrist.

"etc."

His palms were very hot, and Xu Ying could feel his pulse beating.

"Where's my pen?" she asked.

Zong Heng subconsciously reached into his pocket with his other hand—he always carried that light blue fountain pen with him, and the cherry blossom on the cap had been polished to a shine by his rubbing.

Xu Ying's gaze fell on his bulging pockets.

Zong Heng released her hand as if he had been electrocuted and took a step back.

"Give it back to me tomorrow." Xu Ying said, then walked out of the classroom without looking back.

Zong Heng stood there, listening to her footsteps gradually fade into the distance.

He took out the fountain pen, its metal body gleaming warmly in the setting sun.

"Hold."

He cursed under his breath, but he didn't know what he was angry about.

That night, Zong Heng tossed and turned in bed.

He took out the fountain pen from under his pillow and examined it carefully under the lamp. The cherry blossoms on the pen cap were exquisitely carved, and the veins of the petals were clearly visible.

As if guided by some strange force, he took out a small knife and carefully carved a five-pointed star next to the cherry blossom.

He only realized what he had done after he finished carving, and wished he could throw the pen away.

"What the hell am I doing..."

He buried his face in the pillow, but the image of Xu Ying's expression when she said "it's childish" kept replaying in his mind.

— Calm, tinged with a hint of helplessness, even a little... indulgent?

Zong Heng sat up abruptly and grabbed the inkwell from the table. He had bought it last week at the stationery store; it was an imported product, supposedly best suited for this type of fountain pen.

He stared at the inkwell for a long time, then suddenly grabbed a piece of paper, scribbled a few words down, crumpled it up, and threw it into the trash can.

After a while, he picked up the crumpled paper again and rewrote it.

After repeating this three times, he was finally somewhat satisfied and stuffed the note, pen, and ink into the paper bag.

On Saturday morning, Xu Ying was awakened by the chirping of birds outside her window.

She rubbed her eyes, drew back the curtains, and the winter sunlight slanted in, casting a pale golden halo over the desk. She had stayed up late studying last night and had originally wanted to sleep a little longer, but for some reason, she couldn't stop thinking about that fountain pen.

Will Zong Heng come back?

She shook her head, banishing the absurd thought from her mind. Knowing his personality, he'd probably already thrown that pen into some trash can.

After washing up, Xu Ying put on a beige knitted cardigan and went downstairs to get the newspaper. As soon as she opened the door, a brown paper bag lay quietly on the steps in front of the door, with a crooked star drawn on it in black marker.

Her heart skipped a beat.

As she crouched down, the moment her fingertips touched the paper bag, Xu Ying smelled a faint minty scent—the same scent as the candy Zong Heng had given her on the rooftop that day.

Inside the paper bag were several crumpled sheets of draft paper, as if they had been casually torn from an exercise book. Xu Ying carefully parted them, and there lay the light blue fountain pen, the cherry blossom on the cap gleaming softly in the morning light.

She picked up the pen and found that the pen body was shinier than she remembered, as if it had been repeatedly wiped with a soft cloth.

"It really came back..."

Xu Ying murmured to herself, her fingertips unconsciously stroking the pen cap. Suddenly, she stopped—

Next to the cherry blossom, there is a small scratch.

It was a crooked five-pointed star, with lines of varying depths and rough edges, clearly carved out bit by bit with a knife. She could even picture Zong Heng frowning, awkwardly holding the pen under the desk lamp.

A sudden surge of unfamiliar warmth welled up in my chest.

At the bottom of the paper bag was an elegant ink bottle, its dark blue glass bottle bearing a German label. Xu Ying recognized the brand; it was imported Eternal ink, costing as much as half a month's allowance.

There was a folded strip of paper pressed under the ink cartridge, its edges jagged, as if it had been torn and then smoothed out.

Unfold the note; it contained only four hastily written characters:

"I'm fed up."

The signature was a flamboyant letter "Z", with the last stroke drawn out so long it almost tore through the paper.

Xu Ying stared at the note for a long time, then suddenly noticed a line of very faint pencil writing on the back, as if it had been written and then hastily erased. She held it up to the sunlight to examine it closely, and could vaguely make out a few broken strokes:

"...It's crooked...don't laugh..."

A gust of wind blew by, and the ginkgo trees in the yard rustled. Xu Ying folded the note again, but she couldn't smooth out the wrinkles—just like her ears, which were inexplicably burning at that moment.

"Yingying, breakfast is ready!"

Her mother's voice came from the kitchen. Xu Ying hurriedly stuffed the pen and ink into her coat pocket and crumpled the paper bag into a ball before throwing it into the trash can.

At the dining table, the father was reading the newspaper, while the mother brought out golden-brown fried eggs.

"Up so early today?" Her mother handed her a glass of warm milk. "Why is your face so red? Do you have a fever?"

"No, no." Xu Ying lowered her head to drink her milk, only realizing she was smiling when her lips touched the rim of the cup. "Maybe... the weather is just too nice."

The father peeked out from behind the newspaper at the gloomy sky outside the window: "..."

Her mother suddenly pointed to her pocket: "What's that?"

Xu Ying froze, the outline of the ink bottle standing out prominently against her knitted cardigan. A quick thought struck her: "My classmate lent me some blue ink... I need it for art class next week."

Which student is it? Do you live nearby?

"...my deskmate."

She regretted it as soon as the words left her mouth. Sure enough, her mother's eyes lit up: "Is that the boy who spoke up for you last time? What was his name again..."

"Mom!" Xu Ying suddenly stood up. "I'm full!"

She practically fled back to her room, and as she closed the door, she heard her mother laughing and saying to her father, "This child, she reacts so strongly to the mention of her deskmate..."

Xu Ying locked the door and let out a long sigh of relief.

She took a pen and ink from her pocket and placed them on the desk. In the morning light, the ink bottle looked like a deep blue gem, while the crooked star on the pen cap glittered.

As if guided by fate, she unscrewed the ink bottle and filled the fountain pen with ink. The deep blue liquid rose slowly in the glass tube, like a tranquil night sky.

The moment the pen tip touched the draft paper, the ink spread into a tiny blue flower. Xu Ying wrote down today's date and then subconsciously drew a five-pointed star—much neater than the one Zong Heng had carved.

She stared at the two stars side by side for a while, then suddenly touched the crooked mark with her fingertip.

"Fool…"

The sound was so soft it was almost inaudible.

Outside the window, ginkgo leaves twirled and fell. Xu Ying opened the drawer, tucked the note into the innermost layer of her diary, thought for a moment, then took it out again and taped it to the title page.

"I'm fed up." —Z

The erased pencil marks were positioned directly in the light from the window, appearing faintly visible.

At three o'clock in the afternoon, Xu Ying was doing her homework when the doorbell suddenly rang.

Through the peephole, she saw a tall figure wearing a baseball cap standing outside the gate, impatiently kicking pebbles with the tip of his shoe.

—Zong Heng?!

Xu Ying's hands instantly became sweaty. She subconsciously tidied her hair, then felt utterly bewildered. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door: "How come you..."

There was no one outside the courtyard gate.

There was only a box of strawberry cake on the stone steps, with a huge five-pointed star drawn on the wrapper in marker.

Xu Ying picked up the cake box and found a convenience store receipt underneath, with the following words scrawled on the back:

"I apologize. Please don't misunderstand, the staff made a mistake with the flavor."

She looked up at the end of the street and vaguely saw a familiar figure jump onto a bicycle, the school uniform jacket billowing in the wind like fluttering wings.

A pink card floated out of the cake box, bearing the dessert shop's advertising slogan:

"Stars and sweetness go hand in hand~"

Xu Ying burst out laughing and quickly covered her mouth.

The wind swept fallen leaves past her feet. She hugged the cake box tightly and suddenly felt that this gloomy weekend was dazzlingly bright.