Li Mo
A few days later, one evening, Qi Anxin's pent-up dislike for her deskmate Chen You finally erupted completely.
The school bell had just rung, and the corridor of the teaching building was still noisy. She pulled Qin Yue and another girl, Chen Xiaohui, and quickly walked to the quiet corridor connecting the laboratory building.
The place was deserted, with only the afterglow of the setting sun casting long, slanted shadows of the three people.
"I really can't stand it anymore," Qi Anxin said, her brows furrowed and her voice filled with undisguised annoyance, as if she wanted to expel all the pent-up frustration she had accumulated around Chen You all day. "You have no idea, Chen You's face is covered in red, dense pimples. I can't even eat when I see them."
As she spoke, she rubbed her fingers together in disgust, as if she had just touched something unclean.
Qin Yue immediately widened her eyes in agreement and exaggeratedly chimed in, "Oh my god! Really? I always thought his hair was greasy and stuck to his scalp, so sloppy."
As if remembering something, she lowered her voice, her tone filled with curious excitement, "Hey, I think I smelled that too... Does he really have a certain odor? Could it be... that he doesn't shower?"
These words made Chen Xiaohui giggle, her voice sounding somewhat jarring in the empty corridor: "Hahaha, Anxin, you're so pitiful! Sitting with someone like that."
With her friend's support, Qi Anxin complained even more enthusiastically. She crossed her arms and said in a tone that was a mixture of superiority and helplessness, "Who knows? Anyway, I will never dare to get second place in the next monthly exam. I'm really unlucky to have such a deskmate."
None of them noticed that in the shadows on the other side of the corridor, a slender figure passed by, overheard the discussion, and froze in place as if instantly frozen.
It was Chen You.
He originally intended to find a quiet corner here to study.
At that moment, all the color drained from his face, his lips trembled, and the fingers holding the book shook violently from excessive force, his knuckles turning bluish-white.
He could even clearly recall that after PE class today, he was rushing back to the classroom to do his homework and didn't have time to wipe his sweat properly, so his hair might have been a little greasy; and his old school uniform, which he had worn for almost three years, did indeed have some yellowish stains on the collar that were difficult to wash completely...
An endless wave of inferiority and shame, like a filthy tide, instantly engulfed him.
He suddenly lowered his head, almost shrinking himself into a ball, like a startled snail, fleeing in a panic and silently from another direction, his steps unsteady, the thick exercise book almost slipping from his grasp.
He ran all the way to the highest point of the empty stadium stands. By this time, even the physical education students who were training had already left.
The setting sun cast his shadow long and distorted, much like his shattered state of mind.
He leaned against the cold cement steps, unable to hold on any longer, and slowly slid down, burying his face deeply and forcefully into his curled-up knees.
At first, only her shoulders trembled uncontrollably, but soon, suppressed, broken sobs leaked intermittently from her arms.
The girl he liked—though his feelings were so humble that he never dared to express them aloud, he spoke of her with such disdain and contempt, and mocked her so openly…
This made him feel more desperate than any exam failure.
He felt like a piece of worthless junk, smelling like trash, discarded in a garbage dump.
Not far below the stands, in a row of seats near the track, Jiang Yixuan was sitting quietly.
She held a thick book, "The Stranger," the golden rays of the setting sun shining on the pages and her serene profile.
She had noticed the stumbling figure running up to the stands long ago, and she had also clearly heard the suppressed sobs.
It's just that it has nothing to do with her.
She lifted her gaze from the book and glanced indifferently at the small, helpless figure huddled high up. Her face showed no emotion—no curiosity, no pity, no disgust.
That look was like watching a blade of grass being bent by the wind, or watching a cloud drift by quietly—purely an objective phenomenon.
Then, she lowered her head, her slender fingers calmly turning a page of the book, making a soft "rustling" sound.
The sounds of crying and the rustling of pages created an eerie and indifferent coexistence in this empty space.
Chen You cried for a long time, until his voice was hoarse, his tears seemed to have dried up, and all that was left was weak sobbing.
Jiang Yixuan remained in the same position, like an emotionless sculpture, immersed in her own world, never paying any extra attention, let alone offering a word or a glance of comfort.
The setting sun bathed the track in a golden-red hue. Li Mo, having just finished five laps of jogging, walked towards the stands, slightly out of breath, to do some stretching.
She habitually headed for higher ground, but as she turned the corner of the steps, she unexpectedly stumbled upon the figure huddled in the shadows.
Chen You's shoulders were still twitching slightly, and his suppressed, broken sobs sounded particularly clear in the empty stands.
After all, they were once deskmates. Although they didn't talk much, Li Mo paused for a moment before walking over.
"Chen You?" Her voice was soft, slightly panting from exercise. "What's wrong?"
Upon hearing the familiar voice, Chen You trembled violently and hurriedly wiped his face with his sleeve, trying to cover up the traces of crying.
He didn't dare to look up, but instead buried his face even lower.
Li Mo sat down next to him, one step away, without urging him, and simply waited quietly.
The evening breeze ruffled her sweat-dampened temples, bringing a touch of coolness.
After a long while, Chen You finally spoke, his voice hoarse and broken: "Qi Anxin...they...said about me..."
He painstakingly repeated what he had heard, each word as if squeezed out from between his teeth, filled with embarrassment and pain.
When he talked about "smelly" and "not taking a bath," his voice was almost inaudible, and his shoulders trembled uncontrollably.
Li Mo listened quietly, her face expressionless.
She was silent for a moment, her gaze falling on the setting sun gradually sinking below the horizon, then she turned back to look at Chen You, her tone calm to the point of being almost agitated:
"So you cried because of this?" She paused, her voice clear and steady. "It's not that important."
Chen You suddenly raised his head, his bloodshot eyes filled with astonishment.
Li Mo continued, her tone flat yet carrying a strange, comforting quality: "If you have pimples, try to get rid of them. Many people get pimples during puberty, it's normal. If your hair is oily or smells, wash it more often, shower more often, and change your clothes more often."
She looked into his eyes, her tone becoming more serious, "Instead of wasting time here and making yourself miserable, why not think about how to make a change?"
She paused briefly, then added the last sentence, her voice not loud but exceptionally clear: "Besides, Chen You, you're not as bad as you think."
Jiang Yixuan, who had been quietly reading, paused slightly as she turned the pages of her book upon hearing Li Mo's calm, almost "heartless" words of comfort.
She raised her eyes, her gaze passing over the top edge of the book, and glanced thoughtfully at Li Mo.
Chen You stared blankly at Li Mo, somewhat bewildered by her direct and pragmatic approach. However, the sharp pain in his heart seemed to have eased a little because of her calm tone and the words "You're not that bad."
He sniffed, his voice still hoarse, yet carrying a hint of bewildered longing:
“I know all of this… But…” he lowered his head helplessly, “I don’t know how to change it…”
His voice was filled with the limitations brought about by poverty and the sense of helplessness caused by long-term inferiority complex.
He knew the problem, but didn't know where to start. It was like being trapped in a transparent glass dome, able to see the outside but unable to find the exit.
Li Mo sighed, deciding to let her chivalrous tendencies kick in: "It's easy, I'll teach you."
Before lunch break the next day, Li Mo took out a small bag she had prepared from her schoolbag and called out to Chen You, who was about to go to the cafeteria, in the corridor.
"Here, take this." She handed over the bag, her tone casual.
Chen You paused for a moment, then took the bag and looked inside. Inside were several elegant bottles and jars—a well-regarded acne gel, an oil-control shampoo, and a small tube of hand cream. They were all basic yet practical skincare products.
“These are quite useful,” Li Mo explained in a low voice. “They were all gifts from my friend, and some are still unopened. You can take them and give them a try.”
She was referring to the gifts her friends sent to her in Beichuan for her birthday in July. Some of the brands were indeed gentle and effective, and she had used them herself and found them to be good, so she sorted out the extra, unopened ones.
Looking at the somewhat "luxurious" items in his hands, Chen You was momentarily at a loss, a blush of embarrassment spreading across his face, but more than anything, he felt a deep gratitude struck by kindness. He clutched the bag tightly, repeatedly expressing his thanks, his voice trembling with emotion: "Th-thank you... Li Mo, really... thank you so much!"
"It's okay." Li Mo shook her head. Seeing that he didn't seem to know how to use it, she patiently added a few more words, "Use this acne gel after cleansing in the morning and evening. Just apply it to the pimples, don't apply it all over your face. Use the same shampoo as usual. Washing your hair twice might make it feel more refreshed."
She spoke in a calm tone, without any hint of charity or excessive enthusiasm.
However, the scene of the two talking in the corridor and Li Mo handing something to Chen You was witnessed by several male classmates who came back from the restroom with their arms around each other.
One of the boys immediately let out an exaggerated "Wow!" and started jeering with winks and exaggerated expressions.
Wow! Li Mo gave Chen You something! What's going on?
"Wow, Chen You! You've been keeping a low profile!"
"What nice gift did you send? Let us see!"
Laughter and teasing glances instantly surrounded Chen You. His face, which had just regained some color, turned pale again. He lowered his head nervously, wishing he could hide the bag in his arms.
Li Mo frowned, annoyed by these pointless jeers.
She didn't even bother to lift her eyelids, let alone explain. She simply told Chen You, "I'm going back to the classroom first," and then turned and left, leaving a cold back view for the group of boys who were still yelling.
Just as she walked through the back door of the classroom, Liang Xinchong, Lin Shusen, and several other boys came up from the stairwell, drenched in sweat, after finishing a game of ball.
They happened to see the end of the group of boys teasing Chen You, and they also caught a glimpse of the bag in Chen You's hand that clearly didn't belong to him and had a slightly girlish aesthetic, as well as the hem of Li Mo's clothes disappearing at the classroom door.
Zhang Shan nudged Liang Xinchong lightly with his elbow, lowering his voice with a hint of anticipation: "Brother Chong, look over there... what's going on? Did Li Mo just deliver something to Chen You?"
Lin Shusen remained silent.
Liang Xinchong stopped in his tracks.
His gaze swept over Chen You's embarrassed yet secretly pleased expression, over the ambiguous smiles of the boys, and finally settled on the empty classroom doorway.
His face was expressionless, his thin lips pressed into a straight line, and his eyebrows and eyes, which were originally bright and lively because of exercise, were now calm and covered with a faint haze.
He didn't answer Zhang Shan's question, but silently twirled the dirty basketball in his hand. The basketball rubbed against his fingertips, making a dry "shh" sound, as if suppressing some surging emotion.
The exhilarating feeling of running freely on the field just now has vanished, replaced by a dull, sour, and inexplicably restless feeling that has quietly tightened around my heart like vines.
Without saying a word, he walked straight into the classroom, casually slammed the basketball under his seat, and slumped onto the desk, looking utterly dejected.
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