cold war
At 7:20 a.m., Xu Ying stood at the door of the teachers' office, her fingertips unconsciously stroking the wrinkles on the cuffs of her school uniform.
In the office, homeroom teacher Ms. Li was grading homework when she heard a knock on the door. She looked up, adjusted her black-rimmed glasses.
"Come in."
Xu Ying took a deep breath and pushed open the door. Several teachers who had arrived early were still sitting in the office, and the air was filled with a faint aroma of tea and ink. She walked to Teacher Li's desk, stood up straight, and curled her fingers slightly at her sides.
"Xu Ying, do you know why I called you here?" Teacher Li put down her red pen, her tone calm but carrying an undeniable sense of pressure.
Xu Ying pursed her lips and said softly, "Because of what happened yesterday."
“Yes.” Teacher Li pulled two sheets of paper from the drawer and spread them on the table. Xu Ying looked down and saw that they were two self-criticisms. One was written in neat handwriting, while the other was written in a flamboyant style, with the force almost penetrating the back of the paper.
She recognized that the hastily written handwriting belonged to Zong Heng.
"You've always been sensible, how could you follow Zong Heng and cause trouble?" Teacher Li frowned. "Fighting and brawling, even in the girls' restroom, what kind of behavior is that?"
Xu Ying's throat tightened, and her fingers unconsciously gripped the hem of her clothes.
"Teacher, they started it..."
"What first?" Teacher Li interrupted her, her tone stern. "No matter the reason, it's wrong to resort to violence! You're a good student; you shouldn't get involved in this kind of thing."
Xu Ying bit her lower lip and remained silent.
Teacher Li sighed, her tone softening slightly: "Write a self-criticism and hand it in to me after school."
Xu Ying nodded silently, but her gaze unconsciously fell on Zong Heng's letter of self-criticism.
There was only one line of text on it, written in a fierce, snarling style, as if it were filled with anger—
"I'm not wrong, even if I rewrite it ten times, it's still the same sentence."
She stared at the words, feeling a strange tightness in her chest.
As she walked out of the office, Xu Ying quickened her pace a bit more than usual.
The morning light was just beginning to break through the corridor. Morning reading hadn't started yet, and students were walking to their classrooms in twos and threes, textbooks in hand. She kept her head down, unaware of the figure leaning against the corner until a shadow fell over her.
"Did you write a self-criticism?"
A deep voice sounded above her head, and Xu Ying looked up sharply, meeting Zong Heng's dark eyes.
He had one hand in his pocket, his school uniform jacket draped loosely over his shoulder, and his other hand braced against the wall, blocking her way.
The morning light shone from behind him, outlining his sharp features and making his eyes and brows appear even more profound.
Xu Ying subconsciously took a half step back and clenched the self-criticism paper in her hand.
"Give it to me." Zong Heng held out his hand, his tone leaving no room for refusal. "I'll write it for you."
Xu Ying shook her head: "No need."
Zong Heng raised an eyebrow, his gaze falling on her slightly reddened eyes, his brows furrowing almost imperceptibly.
"Tsk, are you angry?" His tone was lazy, yet there was a hint of tension that was barely perceptible. "Those people deserved it, what are you complaining about?"
Xu Ying suddenly looked up, a flash of anger in her eyes.
“You’re always like this!” Her voice was low, but every word was clear. “Does a fight solve everything? Now I’ve become the ‘troublemaker’ too!”
Zong Heng was stunned.
Xu Ying took a deep breath and continued, "Do you know what my homeroom teacher said about me? 'Good students shouldn't get involved in this kind of thing'—as if associating with you is a form of self-degradation."
Her voice trembled slightly, and her eyes reddened even more, yet she stubbornly refused to blink, as if something would fall if she did.
Zong Heng's Adam's apple bobbed, and a dark emotion flashed in his eyes.
“Xu Ying…” His voice was low and hoarse as he reached out to touch her wrist.
Xu Ying suddenly dodged.
"Don't touch me." She took a step back, her voice soft but firm. "I don't want to talk to you right now."
After saying that, she turned and left, her back straight, but her steps were much faster than usual, as if she were fleeing in panic.
Zong Heng stood there, his hand still hanging in mid-air, before slowly withdrawing it after a long while.
He looked down at his fingertips, where the warmth of her school uniform sleeves still seemed to linger.
Zong Heng did not attend the morning reading session.
He stood on the empty rooftop, an unlit cigarette between his fingers, his gaze fixed on the distant teaching building.
The wind was a bit strong, ruffling his hair and dispelling the restlessness in his chest.
He recalled Xu Ying's red-rimmed eyes and her words, "You're always like this," and felt a sharp pang in his heart.
"Damn it." He cursed under his breath, crumpled the cigarette into a ball, and threw it into the trash can.
He was aware of Xu Ying's grievances.
She was so well-behaved and tried so hard to be a good student, but she was labeled a "troublemaker" because of him.
But what could he do?
Does he have to just stand by and watch those people bully her?
He scratched his hair in frustration, then turned and went downstairs.
He stopped when he reached the back door of the classroom.
Xu Ying sat upright in her seat, her head down as she wrote something. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating her soft profile.
Zong Heng stared at her for a few seconds, then suddenly turned around and walked towards the homeroom teacher's office.
Teacher Li was organizing her lesson plans when Zong Heng pushed the door open and immediately frowned.
What are you doing here again?
Zong Heng put his hands in his pockets and said calmly, "I'll rewrite the self-criticism."
Teacher Li was taken aback for a moment, then looked at him suspiciously: "Did the sun rise in the west?"
Zong Heng didn't reply. He walked straight to the table, picked up a blank sheet of paper, and started writing.
His handwriting was still not very neat, but it was much more serious than before.
Teacher Li stared at him for a while, then suddenly said, "Zong Heng, Xu Ying is a good student."
Zong Heng paused, pen in hand, without looking up.
"Don't lead her astray."
Zong Heng's fingers tightened slightly, his knuckles turning white.
A few seconds later, he put down his pen, pushed the written self-criticism in front of Teacher Li, and turned to leave.
"Zong Heng!" Teacher Li called out to him, "Did you hear me?"
Zong Heng stopped at the doorway, leaving without turning his head, and said:
"I heard you."
His voice was cold, as if it were wrapped in ice.
"But you've got one thing wrong—"
"She changed me, not the other way around."
After saying that, he pushed open the door and left, his back view resolute and sharp.
The next morning, the sunlight slanted into the classroom, and Xu Ying arrived twenty minutes earlier than usual. She quietly pulled out her chair, took out a wet wipe from her bag, and wiped her desk until it shone. After hesitating for a moment, she took out another wipe and carefully drew an invisible dividing line in the center of the desk.
Her pencil case was placed solemnly to the right of the dividing line, and her textbooks and notebooks were neatly arranged, taking up her half of the space. Only after doing this did Xu Ying breathe a sigh of relief and open her English book to begin her morning reading.
The back door of the classroom was pushed open with a "bang". Zong Heng carried his schoolbag in one hand, his school uniform jacket casually draped over his shoulder, and the stray hairs on his forehead were still damp from his morning run. His gaze paused slightly when it fell on Xu Ying's back, but then he resumed his nonchalant demeanor and slowly strolled to his seat.
"Make way." He nudged Xu Ying's chair with his knee.
Xu Ying's back stiffened slightly, but she didn't turn around. She simply moved her chair forward half an inch without saying a word. Zong Heng narrowed his eyes and deliberately threw his schoolbag on the table with a "thud," making Xu Ying's pencil case jump.
"You..." Xu Ying finally turned her head, but froze when she saw the bruise on Zong Heng's lip. It was a mark left from yesterday's fight, which looked particularly glaring in the morning light.
Zong Heng keenly caught her gaze, a roguish smirk playing on his lips: "What? Feeling sorry for her?"
Xu Ying immediately turned her head, but the tips of her ears turned a quiet red. She forcefully flipped open her textbook, the sound of turning pages three times louder than usual. Zong Heng stared at her taut back, then suddenly stretched out his arm, deliberately crossing that invisible dividing line, and pressed his elbow directly onto her notebook.
"Take it away," Xu Ying said without looking up.
Instead of withdrawing his hand, Zong Heng went even further, slumping his entire upper body onto the table, resting his chin on his arm, and tilting his head to look at her: "I won't take it."
Xu Ying slammed her textbook shut and stood up to change seats. Zong Heng quickly grabbed her wrist: "Where are you going?"
"Let go."
"I won't let go."
As they stood there locked in a tense standoff, the bell for morning self-study suddenly rang. Xu Ying seized the opportunity to shake off his hand and strode towards the podium—it was her turn to lead the reading today. Zong Heng watched her ramrod straight back, scratched his hair in frustration, and pulled out a nearly melted fruit candy from his pocket, fiddling with it in his palm.
"Yingying, over here!" Lin Xiaoyu waved her chopsticks, gesturing for Xu Ying to come and sit down.
Xu Ying had just sat down with her tray when a commotion arose at the cafeteria entrance. Zong Heng swaggered in with several boys from the basketball team, drawing stares from the girls wherever he went.
"Wow, Zong Heng looks so handsome today..." the girls at the next table whispered.
"I heard he got into a fight with a senior high school girl yesterday because of Xu Ying?"
"Really? Weren't they in a cold war all along?"
Xu Ying paused, pretending not to hear, and focused on picking at the green peppers in her rice. Lin Xiaoyu leaned over gossiping, "Hey, Zong Heng's been watching this side the whole time."
"Let's eat." Xu Ying picked up a piece of pork rib and stuffed it into her best friend's mouth.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the tall figure moving in their direction. Xu Ying's back straightened involuntarily, and her fingers gripping the chopsticks tightened slightly. The footsteps grew closer and closer, finally stopping behind her.
"Excuse me." Zong Heng's voice came from above, carrying a deliberately cold tone.
Xu Ying had to move her chair. As Zong Heng squeezed past her from behind, the hem of his school uniform jacket lightly brushed against her shoulder, leaving a faint scent of mint.
"Yingying! Your ears are red!" Lin Xiaoyu suddenly exclaimed.
"What nonsense!" Xu Ying frantically covered her ears, just in time to meet Zong Heng's amused gaze from not far away. She immediately lowered her head, but then heard the boys' jeers:
"Heng-ge, what are you looking at so intently?"
"Shut up and eat." Zong Heng looked away and took a vicious bite of the chicken leg.
The setting sun cast long shadows. Xu Ying walked home alone, clutching her schoolbag, glancing back every now and then. From the moment she left the school gate, she felt someone following her.
As she turned the second corner, she deliberately slowed down, then suddenly turned around—five meters away, Zong Heng was frantically trying to hide behind a telephone pole.
The two stared at each other across a narrow road. Zong Heng stood frozen in place, awkwardly holding a half-eaten popsicle, the melted syrup dripping onto the asphalt, leaving dark stains.
Xu Ying pursed her lips, turned around, and continued walking. The footsteps behind her hesitated for a moment, then persistently followed, this time maintaining a greater distance.
As Xu Ying passed by the convenience store at the entrance of her residential complex, she inexplicably went inside. Through the gaps in the shelves, she saw Zong Heng standing across the street, kicking pebbles listlessly. He wasn't wearing his school uniform today; a simple black T-shirt made his shoulders appear exceptionally broad, and there was a band-aid on the back of his neck from yesterday's fight.
Xu Ying took a bottle of mineral water and then took an extra box of band-aids when she paid the bill.
"That's twenty-three dollars in total," the cashier said.
Xu Ying's hand, which was reaching for her money, suddenly stopped. She bit her lip and put the band-aid back: "Just water is fine."
When she stepped out of the convenience store, there was no one left across the street. Xu Ying breathed a sigh of relief, but then felt a strange sense of loss. She quickened her pace and walked into the residential area, but someone grabbed her wrist at the corner.
"This," Zong Heng shoved a plastic bag into her hand, his tone curt, "my mom insisted I bring it, saying it's good for bruises."
The bag contained a tube of ointment and a few fruit candies. Xu Ying looked up and noticed that Zong Heng's ears were bright red.
"I don't want it." She pushed the bag back.
"Take it or leave it." Zong Heng turned and walked away, but after a few steps he turned back, "Remember to apply the medicine."
Xu Ying stood there, watching his figure disappear into the twilight. She slowly unscrewed the ointment and smelled it; it had a faint herbal scent. At the very bottom of the bag, there was a crumpled note:
Three days is too long, how about one day?
Under the desk lamp, Xu Ying's diary lay open on the table.
December 14th, sunny. The first day of the Cold War.
He crossed the line again today; he's incredibly childish.
In English class, someone passed me a note asking if I wanted candy, but I ignored it.
Actually, I kind of want to eat it.
The pen paused here for a long time, and finally added a line of small text:
"The ointment smells quite nice."
Outside the window, the moonlight quietly spilled onto the windowsill. The fruit candy that had been returned had somehow reappeared in Xu Ying's schoolbag side pocket, its wrapper gleaming in the moonlight.
The last class on Thursday afternoon was physics. Zong Heng sat in the back row, his knuckles touching his chin, his gaze sweeping across half the classroom and landing on Xu Ying's back.
She hasn't spoken to him for three days.
From the day she ran away in the hallway with red eyes until now, she hasn't even given him a glance. The note he handed her was returned untouched. He deliberately made noise during breaks to try and get her attention, but she just put on her headphones and buried her head in her work.
"Heng-ge, want to go to the internet cafe after school?" Zhou Yang asked him in a whisper, his finger secretly swiping his phone screen under the table, displaying a promotional image for a new game.
Zong Heng didn't respond, his gaze still fixed on Xu Ying. Today she wore a high ponytail, the ends of her hair swaying gently as she wrote, like a proud cat's tail.
“I’m not going.” He suddenly stood up, the chair legs scraping against the floor with a screeching sound.
The whole class turned around, and the physics teacher frowned: "Zong Heng?"
"My stomach hurts." He picked up his school uniform jacket and slung it over his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Xu Ying's pen pause for a moment, but she didn't look up.
Zhou Yang's eyes widened: "If you're going to fake illness, at least make it sound plausible—"
Zong Heng kicked him and strode out of the classroom.
The early autumn wind swept fallen leaves across the empty playground. Zong Heng used one hand to push himself against the wall and climbed out of the school grounds, landing with a gray stain on the knee of his school trousers. Too lazy to take a picture, he ran straight towards the commercial street.
Xu Ying mentioned last week that a new dessert shop had opened on the commercial street, and the mango mille-feuille was delicious. At the time, her eyes sparkled, and she drew a small cake on the edge of her textbook with her fingertip: "It's just that the queue is too long."
"Only a fool would queue up." He scoffed, but he remembered the shop's name.
The dessert shop was crowded with girls in front of the glass display case. Zong Heng stood at the end of the line with his hands in his pockets. His height advantage allowed him to spot the only two mango mille-feuille cakes left in the display case. A couple in front of him were affectionately ordering, the girl pouting and asking for double the mango, while the boy smiled and patted her head.
Zong Heng turned his face away, his Adam's apple bobbing.
"This is the last mille-feuille cake." When it was his turn, the clerk pointed to the cake. "Would you like it to go?"
"Hmm." He took out his phone to scan the QR code and glanced at the small card next to the counter—"Today's Special: Confession Cake," pink background with white lettering, incredibly tacky.
The shop assistant smiled and packed the box: "Is this for your girlfriend? Would you like a greeting card written on it?"
Zong Heng's ears burned: "No."
"So you haven't won her over yet?" The shop assistant skillfully tied a bow. "Keep it up! Couples get a 20% discount at our store."
He grabbed the cake box and said, "Mind your own business."
Something went wrong when I tried to climb over the wall to get back to school.
Zong Heng was holding the cake box under one arm, and his other hand had just reached the top of the wall when a loud shout suddenly rang out behind him: "Which class are you from!"
The security guard rushed over, waving his flashlight, the beam making him squint. He cursed under his breath, then leaped over the wall, but the cake box made an ominous "crack" sound as it was squeezed.
"Stop!" The security guard's footsteps drew closer.
Zong Heng leaped off the wall, landing with a tumble protecting the cake, his school uniform back covered in dirt. He dashed into the grove, weaving through the security guards, and panting as he lifted the cake box—inside the transparent lid, half of the mille-feuille cream had collapsed, and mango chunks were stuck to the sides of the box, a truly pitiful sight.
"Damn." He stared at the cake, suddenly remembering Xu Ying's back as she wiped the blackboard yesterday when she was on duty. She couldn't reach the top when she stood on tiptoe, and he instinctively wanted to go forward, but he stopped himself. Later, the class monitor helped her wipe it, and that guy's hand almost reached her waist.
Zong Heng ground his back teeth, clutching the cake box as he walked towards the teaching building. Passing by a stationery store, he inexplicably went inside and grabbed a stack of light blue sticky notes.
"Want a pen?" the shopkeeper asked, peeking out.
He shook his head and pulled out the pencil stub that he always kept in his pocket—the one Xu Ying had lent him to highlight important points last time, which he hadn't returned.
Twenty minutes after the school bell rang, the corridor was already empty. Zong Heng slipped into the classroom. Xu Ying's seat was tidied up meticulously, her pencil cases were arranged by color, and there was a sticky note on the corner of her desk: "Duty 17:30-18:00".
He lifted the lid of her desk, stuffed the deformed cake inside, and then paused.
The pencil stub hovered over the sticky note for a long time before finally falling down to write a crooked line of words:
"I was wrong, okay?"
Too stiff. Frustrated, he erased it and rewrote it.
"Don't eat the cake, it's ruined. I'll buy you a new one tomorrow."
Still not right. Zong Heng stared at the note, suddenly remembering the notebook she had brought him in the rain that night he had a fever, with "Important" marked on the title page in highlighter. His throat tightened, and he added:
"—Mango, double portion."
The handwriting was ten times neater than usual.
Before leaving, he went to the teachers' office and slipped a piece of paper into the homeroom teacher's mailbox. It was a brand-new self-criticism, the handwriting bold and clear:
"We shouldn't have dragged Xu Ying into this. We should resolve issues in a civilized manner from now on."
When signing off, he hesitated for a second, then added:
P.S.: She really didn't participate in the fight.
The next morning, when Xu Ying found the cake and note in her seat, Zhou Yang's strange shout came from the back door:
"Holy crap! Heng-ge, you skipped class yesterday to buy a cake? And you got chased by security guards?"
The whole class erupted in commotion. Zong Heng kicked Zhou Yang's chair: "Shut up."
Xu Ying's fingers trembled slightly as she held the sticky note. Sunlight streamed through the glass window, illuminating a small drawing in the corner of the note—a crooked, rotten mango with an angry cat drawn next to it.
It's exactly the same as her profile picture.
Xu Ying smiled, opened the cake, took a bite, and found it very sweet and delicious.
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