A chance encounter on the rooftop
Xu Ying stared at the words in her English textbook, her fingertips unconsciously tracing circles on the pages.
“Abandon, abandon, abandon…”
The classroom was as noisy as a pot of boiling water. A few boys in the back row were cutting erasers into small pieces to use as bullets and using rulers as slingshots, aiming at the ponytail of the girl in the front row. A crumpled piece of paper whistled past her ear, hit the edge of the blackboard, bounced back with a "thud," and rolled onto her desk.
"Oh, sorry, top student!" The boy who threw the paper ball apologized with a grin, then turned and high-fived his friend.
Xu Ying didn't look up; her eyelashes cast a small shadow on her textbook. She simply pushed the crumpled paper to the corner of the table and continued memorizing the words.
--It's noisy.
Class 7 of Grade 11 has always been known for its "lively" atmosphere, and the homeroom teacher once lamented that it was a "monkey den." But for Xu Ying, this noise was like a transparent membrane, keeping her out of the crowd.
Three months after transferring schools, she still feels like an outsider.
"Hey, Xu Ying!" Lin Xiaoyu suddenly nudged her arm. "Let's sneak off to the convenience store during the next PE class, shall we?"
Xu Ying shook her head: "I want to memorize some vocabulary words."
"Another 'memorizing'?" Lin Xiaoyu sighed dramatically. "You're already in the top ten of your grade, leave some room for mere mortals!"
She laughed and ruffled Xu Ying's bangs, then skipped and jumped into the gossip circle of the girls in the back row.
Xu Ying watched their laughing and joking backs as she secretly tightened her grip on her pen.
Screams echoed down the corridor—boys from the next class were playing soccer in the corridor, and the ball hit the glass of a fire hydrant.
"Bang!"
The classroom erupted in chaos, everyone crowding to the window to watch the spectacle. Xu Ying's chair wobbled from the impact, the ink bottle tipped over, and blue-black ink soaked half a page of her notes.
She stared blankly at the smeared ink.
This is the third time today.
She was deliberately bumped into when handing in her homework this morning, and a note passed to her during math class contained a cartoon depicting her in a grotesque way. Now even the last quiet corner of her life has been tainted.
Xu Ying suddenly stood up.
No one noticed her packing her bag. She stuffed the wet notebook into the drawer, grabbed her vocabulary book and thermos, and tiptoed out the back door.
The hallway was colder than the classroom.
Xu Ying buried her face in her beige scarf, her breath condensing into small wisps of mist on the windowpane. She drew a kitten with her finger, then quickly wiped it away.
Winter in Nangang brings a sharp chill. Snow begins to fall outside the window, the fine snowflakes sticking to the window frame like a sprinkle of salt.
She remembered that when she was on duty last week, she found that the lock on the fifth-floor rooftop door was broken. The iron door was ajar and could be opened with a gentle push.
"There shouldn't be anyone here..."
The thought swept through her mind like a feather. Xu Ying gripped her vocabulary notebook tightly, her pace quickening unconsciously.
The fifth floor was an abandoned chemistry lab, with dusty microscope cases piled up at the end of the corridor. Xu Ying's canvas shoes made a soft creaking sound as they stepped on the old floor.
The iron gate on the rooftop was even more dilapidated than she remembered—there were obvious kick marks on the lock cylinder, and the rust on the door frame looked like dried blood.
Just as Xu Ying reached out to push the door open, she suddenly heard a soft "click".
Her heart skipped a beat.
The sound of a lighter's gears grinding came from behind the door, once, twice, followed by the faint sound of tobacco burning.
There is someone.
Xu Ying subconsciously took a half step back, and the vocabulary book slipped from her fingers, falling to the wet cement floor with a "thud".
Zong Heng turned his head, a half-smoked cigarette dangling from his lips, and squinted at her, like some dangerous feline eyeing prey that had wandered into its territory.
"Good students skip class too?" His voice was deep, with a hint of hoarse mockery.
A gust of wind swirled up fine snowflakes, dusting Xu Ying's eyelashes with snow and blurring her vision. She didn't answer, but instead crouched down to pick up her vocabulary notebook. Just as her fingertips touched the pages, a black sneaker stepped on the edge of the notebook.
Zong Heng's shoes.
He looked down at her, without using force, but without moving away either.
Xu Ying pursed her lips, her fingers twitching slightly, but ultimately she didn't pull hard. She looked up and said softly, "Excuse me."
Zong Heng didn't move. Instead, he leaned down, the smell of smoke mixed with the cold scent of cedar approaching. Xu Ying held her breath, leaned back, and pressed her lower back against the cold iron railing.
"Afraid of me?" he asked, a wicked smirk in his voice.
Xu Ying didn't say anything, she just stared at him.
Zong Heng had high brow bones and deep-set eyes. A small mole at the corner of his eye, hidden in the shadow of his arrogant brow bones, gave him an inexplicably gentle appearance. Snowflakes clung to his eyelashes, melting into tiny water droplets, like some kind of fragile disguise.
—He's actually very good-looking.
The thought suddenly popped into her head, and Xu Ying herself was taken aback.
Zong Heng seemed to notice her distraction, chuckled, and stubbed out his cigarette on the snow-covered railing. The ember hissed out in the snow, leaving a small, charred mark.
He straightened up, and the toes of his shoes finally moved off her vocabulary book.
Xu Ying quickly picked up the notebook, patted off the snow water, and noticed that the edges of the pages were already a little wrinkled. She frowned, her fingers unconsciously rubbing the curled corners of the paper.
Zong Heng watched her little movements and suddenly reached out his hand.
Xu Ying instinctively dodged backward, her back slamming against the iron gate with a thud. Zong Heng's hand froze in mid-air, his eyebrows raised high: "I'm not going to hit you, why are you dodging?"
He snatched the vocabulary book from her hand in a huff, flipped through a couple of pages: "English phrase compilation?"
Xu Ying reached out to snatch it back: "Give it back to me."
Zong Heng raised his hand high, using his height advantage to keep her out of reach. Xu Ying stood on tiptoe, her fingers barely brushing the edge of the notebook, but still falling short. She was annoyed, and her voice turned cold: "Zong Heng!"
Zong Heng looked down at her and suddenly smiled.
When he smiles, the small mole at the corner of his eye tilts slightly upwards, instantly dissipating most of his fierce aura and revealing a touch of youthful mischief.
"Are you angry?" He deliberately shook the notebook. "Call me 'brother' and I'll give it back to you."
Xu Ying pursed her lips and suddenly stomped hard on his sneakers.
Zong Heng hissed, but didn't flinch. Instead, he laughed even louder: "That's quite a bit of strength."
He shoved the notebook back into her hand, then pulled something out of his pocket with his other hand, grabbed her wrist, and shoved it into her hand without a word.
Xu Ying looked down, a mint lying in her palm, its transparent wrapper printed with light green patterns.
She was stunned.
Last week, she had a cold and was coughing during break when a box of mints suddenly appeared on her desk. She assumed it was her female classmate who had put it there and even thanked her, but the other girl looked completely bewildered.
—So it was him?
Zong Heng had already walked back to the railing, turned his back to her, took out his cigarette case, shook out a cigarette and put it in his mouth. The lighter clicked, and the orange-red flame leaped up, illuminating the sharp profile of his face.
"Not eating?" He didn't turn around, his voice carrying the smell of tobacco, "Then give it back to me."
Xu Ying quickly stuffed the candy into her pocket, her fingers unconsciously pinching the edge of the candy wrapper, the plastic making a slight "rustling" sound.
"Thank you," she said softly, almost as if she were being blown away by the wind.
Zong Heng didn't respond, but simply exhaled a puff of smoke. The white mist was quickly blown away by the wind and dissipated into the snow.
Xu Ying's fingertips were red from the cold, and the letters on her vocabulary book blurred into a blur in her vision. She secretly glanced up and saw Zong Heng's back as a silent silhouette in the wind and snow. The cigarette between his fingers had long since gone out, but he was still unconsciously holding it.
Snowflakes landed on his shoulder, then quickly melted, soaking a small patch of his clothing.
Why is he smoking here all by himself?
Xu Ying recalled the whispers among the girls in her class:
"Zong Heng beat up the guys from Class 3 again last week, I heard it was because they insulted his father for abandoning his wife and children..."
"His mother seems to have some mental issues; only his grandmother takes care of him at home..."
The vocabulary notebook suddenly rustled in the wind, and Zongheng turned around.
"What are you looking at?" His voice was faint, and snowflakes clung to his eyelashes.
Xu Ying hurriedly lowered her head and drew a long line on "abandon" with her pencil.
Silence returned.
In the distance, students from the sports class were playing soccer on the playground, their cheers fragmented by the wind and snow. Xu Ying's toes unconsciously traced circles in the snow when she suddenly heard a "click"—
Zong Heng tossed the lighter over.
"Take it." He said without turning his head. "My hands are freezing."
His body heat still lingered on the metal casing. Xu Ying curled her fingers, and the warmth spread through her palm.
Zong Heng suddenly turned around and walked towards the water tank, pulling out a crumpled plastic bag from behind.
"Here you go." He tossed over a bottle of mineral water, its surface covered in ice crystals.
Xu Ying caught it in a fluster, almost dropping it because it was so cold. Zong Heng chuckled, unscrewed his own bottle, and took two gulps. As his Adam's apple bobbed, water droplets slid down his chin and into his collar.
Xu Ying took a small sip of water, then suddenly felt a shiver from the cold. Zong Heng stared at her reddened nose for two seconds, then suddenly snatched the bottle from her hand.
"you……"
He took out a lighter and heated the bottom of the bottle: "Now it's drinkable."
The plastic emitted a faint burnt smell from the heat, and the water temperature actually warmed up a bit. Xu Ying thanked him blankly, while Zong Heng leaned back against the railing, knocking a cigarette out of his pack.
“Um…” Xu Ying mustered her courage, “Smoking is bad for your health.”
Zong Heng paused in his act of lighting a cigarette.
The wind and snow suddenly intensified, and Xu Ying heard him chuckle softly: "Xu Ying."
This was the first time he had called her by her full name since she transferred schools.
"Mind your own business." He said, his voice muffled as he took a drag on his cigarette. "If you come out dressed this thin next time, you might as well freeze to death."
Xu Ying then noticed that he was only wearing a thin sweater, with dried bloodstains on the cuffs. She instinctively reached for a band-aid in her pocket, but then heard the rooftop door slam open with a loud bang—
"Heng-ge! The teacher's checking attendance!" A boy with spiky hair poked his head in, his eyes widening when he saw Xu Ying. "Holy crap, you guys..."
Zong Heng kicked the door shut: "Get out."
After the hedgehog-haired man's footsteps faded into the distance, Xu Ying noticed that Zong Heng's expression had turned very unpleasant.
"You can leave now." He crushed his cigarette butt on the water tank. "Don't come back again."
Xu Ying clutched her vocabulary notebook tightly, then suddenly sneezed.
Zong Heng stared at her for a few seconds, then suddenly ripped off his scarf and threw it at her. The gray plaid cashmere scarf carried his body heat and a faint smell of tobacco. Xu Ying froze on the spot.
"Put it on." He said rudely.
The scarf was too long; Xu Ying frantically wrapped it around twice, but a large portion still hung down. Zong Heng clicked his tongue and suddenly moved closer.
As his fingers brushed against her earlobe, Xu Ying heard her own heart pounding deafeningly.
"You're so clumsy." Zong Heng quickly tied the scarf, his knuckles accidentally brushing against her chin. "Your face is so cold?"
Xu Ying suddenly took a half step back, her lower back hitting the water tank. Zong Heng suddenly reached out and cushioned her back, the warmth of his palm burning through her school uniform.
The two froze simultaneously.
Snow fell into the gap between them, like an invisible boundary.
The sharp sound of the preparatory bell shattered the silence of the rooftop. Xu Ying suddenly stood up, her vocabulary notebook falling into the snow with a "plop".
"Oh no, the next period is the homeroom teacher's class—" She frantically tried to pick it up, but suddenly her neck tightened.
The tassels of the gray checkered scarf were tightly tangled around the rusty water tank valve.
"Don't move."
Zong Heng's voice came from behind, followed by the crunching sound of boots crushing the thin snow. Xu Ying stiffened her neck, not daring to turn around, but she could feel his breath approaching, the scent of tobacco mixed with the crispness of mint, like a gentle avalanche.
His fingers brushed against her earlobe.
"Why are you trembling?" Zong Heng's voice was teasing, his breath brushing against her frozen red earlobes. "I'm not biting anyone."
The knot of his scarf got stuck in the valve shaft. He clicked his tongue and suddenly took off his black leather gloves. Xu Ying caught a glimpse of his slender fingers out of the corner of her eye—the knuckles were distinct, and there were several light-colored scars on the back of his hands. At that moment, they were deftly weaving through the gaps in the yarn.
"Do you often...untie your scarf?" she tried to ease the embarrassment of her racing heart.
Zong Heng chuckled: "First time." He suddenly yanked hard on his finger. "All done."
As the scarf came undone, Xu Ying staggered forward half a step, her back almost bumping into his chest. Zong Heng steadied her by bracing himself against the water tank with one hand, the warmth of his palm burning her shoulder blades through his down jacket.
"Thank you." She hurriedly moved forward to avoid it, but then heard a "rip" sound—the scarf had been snagged.
The air froze.
Zong Heng stared at the dangling gray thread and suddenly laughed: "Xu Ying, you're quite the troublemaker."
Xu Ying clutched the torn scarf, at a loss, but her gaze involuntarily fell on Zong Heng's collar.
His movements were too forceful, and the zipper of his down jacket slipped down a bit, revealing a hideous scar on his collarbone—as if it had been slashed by a sharp weapon, the healed flesh slightly raised, standing out starkly against his pale skin.
"Have you seen enough?" Zong Heng lazily pulled up his collar.
"I'm sorry!" Xu Ying immediately lowered her head. "Um... I'll make you back the scarf..."
“No need.” He bent down to pick up her dropped vocabulary book, then suddenly stopped.
On the snow-soaked pages, between the densely packed English phrases, there were a few pencil doodles: a cute little figure squatting in a corner crying, with a speech bubble next to him that read "Zong Heng is a pig."
Xu Ying gasped.
Zong Heng smeared the doodle with his fingertip, the pencil marks spreading out: "It looks pretty good."
"That was... when you hid my physics homework last week..." Her voice trailed off.
The snow started falling again, landing on Zong Heng's eyelashes. He suddenly shoved the notebook back into her hand: "Hurry up, the bell's about to ring."
As she turned around, Xu Ying asked, almost as if possessed, "The wound on your collarbone..."
“Last year, the vocational high school students blocked the school gate,” he waved his hand without turning his head, “one against seven, a souvenir.”
When Xu Ying reached the rooftop entrance, a thin layer of snow had already accumulated. She glanced back—
Zong Heng lit another cigarette, the embers flickering against the gray background. A small patch of snow at his feet was swept away, revealing at least twenty or thirty cigarette butts scattered on the cement ground.
This indicates that he has been coming here alone for a long time.
The iron gate creaked open. Zong Heng suddenly called out to her, "Hey."
Xu Ying gripped the doorknob tightly.
"I broke the lock." He exhaled a puff of smoke, squinting at her. "Dare to tell anyone..."
“I won’t!” she blurted out, then added, “...I need this place too.”
Zong Heng seemed to be stunned for a moment, then laughed so hard his shoulders shook: "Even good students need a place to skip class?"
“When we were reciting the text,” Xu Ying explained earnestly, “the classroom was too noisy.”
Snowflakes landed on her eyelashes. Zong Heng suddenly stubbed out his cigarette and walked over. He was so much taller than her; the moment his shadow fell over her, Xu Ying instinctively closed her eyes—
A mint was placed in her palm.
"Payment." He pulled open the iron gate. "Hush money."
Xu Ying only dared to stop at the corner of the stairs.
The mint in her palm still carried Zong Heng's body heat, its transparent wrapper gleaming in the snow. She carefully peeled it open and suddenly noticed dents and dents on the inside of the wrapper.
Looking into the light from the corridor window, she saw clearly—
XY
The marks were extremely shallow, as if someone had repeatedly traced them with the tip of a compass. The initials of her name.
Footsteps sounded downstairs, and Xu Ying hurriedly stuffed the candy into her mouth. The spicy minty flavor exploded, making her eyes red.
"Xu Ying?" The class monitor peeked out from around the corner of the stairs. "The teacher is looking for you!"
She wiped her eyes and ran downstairs, pressing the candy against her tongue, the sweetness slowly rising within her.
As she walked down the second-floor corridor, she saw a figure on the playground—Zong Heng, hands in his pockets, walking towards the school gate, snowflakes covering his shoulders, like a silent farewell.
Xu Ying took out the candy wrapper from her pocket.
This is the third time.
The cold medicine that appeared in my desk last week, the umbrella that was left in my locker on a rainy day last month, and this piece of candy today—
When exactly did Zong Heng start paying attention to her?
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