Chapter 4
◎It was nothing more than a pastime during my teenage years. ◎
"Li Juntong, who are you sitting with this time?!"
Every half semester there's a major reshuffle, with seats changed. I hoped to find a deskmate I could chat with, and although flattering the class monitor who arranges the seating could have achieved that, I didn't. The reason is simple: I'm popular in class, and no one would want to make things difficult for me.
I asked, "Who is it?"
My former deskmate grinned and said, "Guess?"
I thought to myself, "It can't be that scruffy, fat guy from the corner before, can it?" Although we'd just gone through the class reshuffling and weren't very familiar with each other, it didn't mean I wanted to sit with someone I didn't like. I leaned against the window, bathed in the clear sunlight, thinking, "I'd better not leave this spot."
My face should look quite charming when the sunlight shines on it.
"I have no idea."
“Li Yuzhong is from the class next door.”
I frowned. "Who is that?"
I honestly don't know who that is. If it's someone I don't know, they're probably not famous or interesting. But my former deskmate reminded me, "The Thinker, the one you mentioned." I remembered; I had used that nickname.
During military training, there was someone who didn't have to participate, and everyone was curious and envious of him. One day, my friends and I saw him sitting on a bench on the grass, a book between his legs, one hand supporting his chin, deep in thought with a furrowed brow. He looked a lot like the sculpture behind him.
They do look very similar.
The friends burst into laughter.
Later, I occasionally ran into the Thinker, and because of my wide circle of friends, the nickname quickly spread. I had no idea whether the person with the nickname liked it, but I didn't care. I was witty and humorous, jokingly mocking a complete stranger, thus gaining attention and laughter from others. And even if I offended him, I figured such a strange person wouldn't dare to pursue the matter.
After all, I'm so beautiful.
Back then, I, Li Juntong, was proud and arrogant, the center of attention. I was not only in the classroom, the hallway, and the playground, but also in other people's conversations, photo albums, chat windows, and even in certain love letters. So when we changed seats, I was organizing the letters in my desk, arranging them neatly, and storing them in a metal box. I didn't care about the contents, only about its thickness.
I am so arrogant.
Arrogant and dismissive of everyone.
I can't think of anyone my age who would be a good match for me.
Suddenly, someone sat down in the empty seat next to me. My former deskmate hadn't moved their things yet, and the whole classroom was changing seats, with noisy shouts of "Excuse me!" and "Let me through!" rising and falling. I was lucky; I was still assigned my original seat by the window. The air was thick with dust.
I looked up and met the Thinker's gaze.
Actually, I didn't know him well—his face, his personality, or what kind of person he was. I didn't object to him being my deskmate, as long as he didn't upset me. He held a pink letter between his fingers, looked at me, touched his lips, and spoke very softly.
I can't hear clearly.
I raised an eyebrow: "For me?"
“It fell on the ground,” he said.
oh.
cut.
What are you pretending for?
His expressionless face made me feel embarrassed; I had misunderstood. Oh well, "The Thinker"—just a boy I nicknamed. What was so special about him? I observed his pale face, his hair, softer and lighter than others', tinged with an unhealthy yellow in the sunlight. He wasn't short, but he was thin, like a girl in a boy's school uniform; his fingertips were a tight, pinkish tinge.
I took it and put it into the tin box.
He added, "...my position."
"What?" I really couldn't hear him; the sounds of the tables and chairs being moved were very loud. I raised my voice, "Could you speak louder?"
His shoulders twitched slightly; I guessed my volume had startled him. I felt a little disgusted, actually. I always appear kind and generous in front of my classmates and teachers, and I rarely gossip about others' shortcomings, but when I face my own heart, I still feel a little...
dislike?
It's hard to say.
He also raised his voice:
"You're sitting in my seat."
Oh, so that's what happened. I'd completely forgotten. Because I like sitting by the window, I always ask to switch seats with my deskmate who sits on the inside. He almost never refuses, and I've gotten used to never being turned down. So when I asked him if I could sit by the window, I didn't expect him to refuse.
"I want to too..."
“Oh dear,” I interrupted him, “I’m used to sitting like this.”
I think I've found the right angle so the halo falls directly on my nose. I frown at him, feigning innocence and pleading. I'm sure he won't refuse me; I'm confident that this rarely happens. Usually, you have to beg several times, and if that doesn't work, you pretend to be magnanimous and say, "Okay, it's alright," and let's just let it go.
I thought coldly to myself.
He paused for a moment, then said, "That works too."
"Thank you!" I had to pretend to be very grateful and show appropriate surprise. Afterwards, I would mention it to the friend who came over to chat with me, telling him how kind he was. Because he was an unpopular person, he almost never walked with anyone.
These are the thinkers I have observed.
And just as I suspected, Li Yuzhong was withdrawn and timid. Even when the teacher called on him to answer a question or a classmate spoke to him, his voice was softer than anyone I had ever seen. Then, he coughed, covering his mouth and coughing softly.
Is he still a boy?
I often have doubts.
It wasn't until I saw him walk into the men's restroom like the other boys that I gave up the idea. It was during the first year's physical education test, and as the sports committee member, I had to supervise every student's morning exercises. It was early spring, and the weather was still chilly, so my breath felt cold and dry.
In his application to the homeroom teacher, Li Yuzhong stated that he could stop all activities that strain his heart and lungs if he felt unwell. I didn't think it was excessive. I had seen him playing badminton in the spacious venue; he could run, and I believed he could. So, when he stopped, panting, after running a lap, I blew my whistle and sternly urged him on. I admit I had the intention of mocking him, "Get moving!"
He seemed to be having some difficulty.
I clapped my hands. "Get moving! Get moving!"
As a result, something went wrong.
At the time, I didn't think much of it because after running during the long break, we had to go back to class. When I entered the teaching building, the stairs were blocked, and the classroom windows were closed, making it stuffy and stuffy, especially since people were sweating and panting. Li Yuzhong was weakly slumped on the desk, blocking my way in.
I coughed lightly twice.
He acted as if he hadn't heard.
So I coughed twice more and gently kicked the corner of his table. He slowly raised his head. Before I could see his face clearly, I did think that he might be deliberately ignoring me and refusing to give me his seat in retaliation for making me suffer. There are such people.
But soon, I changed my mind.
He looked terrible.
His face,
It's become incredibly popular.
The blush on his excessively pale and thin cheeks looked like paint, like he was being made up. He frowned deeply, his forehead was covered with a thin layer of sweat, he was panicked and helpless, he covered his nose and lips with his school uniform sleeve, breathing through the tiny gap.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
Who's that dramatic? Unable to run two steps and then collapse? Up until then, I still thought Li Yuzhong was putting on an act. Who could maintain such a refined expression if they couldn't breathe? He shook his head, propped himself up with one hand to offer me his seat, but quickly fell back down.
I was startled.
I shouted, "The Thinker has fainted!" Immediately, people gathered around. I felt very uneasy. Then the homeroom teacher arrived, rushed to Li Yuzhong's side, pressed on his stomach, and helped him breathe. Then she took a large brown paper bag from his desk.
The lower half of Li Yuzhong's face was completely obscured by the paper bag. He squinted unconsciously, looking like he was close to death. My fingers had unknowingly grown cold and clenched tightly into my palms. In that moment, I considered all the worst-case scenarios; I was afraid I was going to die.
Am I also implicated in someone's death?
Fortunately, no.
The homeroom teacher was very angry and asked the class monitor how the seats were arranged. He repeatedly emphasized that Li Yuzhong should sit by the window, not just "a seat by the window." The class monitor said that's how it was arranged, but after glancing at me, she changed her mind, "Maybe it was a mistake."
I immediately blushed.
"Li Yuzhong has health problems; he coughs and wheezes easily and needs fresh air. I told you to open the windows frequently, didn't I?" The homeroom teacher walked sternly to my desk again, opened my workbook, and saw my name. He wasn't so fierce anymore.
"Li Juntong, switch back with him next class."
The homeroom teacher said "switch it back," and I guessed he probably knew I had acted on my own initiative, but he wanted to save face for me. Blood rushed from my face to my limbs, and I said, "Okay." He then asked the other students if Li Yuzhong had done any strenuous exercise during the long break.
"He ran two laps," someone said.
"Who let him run away?" the homeroom teacher asked sternly again.
Everyone turned to look at me.
I said, "It's me, teacher, I'm sorry."
He questioned her slightly, "Didn't you know that Li has health problems?"
"I don't know." I bit my lip.
Li Yuzhong spoke weakly, "Teacher, it was because I didn't explain things clearly to the sports committee member. I thought I was fine at the time."
His voice was actually very soft, and because he had just caught his breath, it was even more intermittent. But the classroom was so quiet that it sounded quite authoritative. I outwardly breathed a sigh of relief, but inwardly I thought with disgust, "If he's sick, he should have told me! He made me get criticized!"
I'm someone who cares so much about saving face.
"What do you think? What do you think!" The homeroom teacher was also a little annoyed. It was understandable; if something like that happened, no one could take responsibility. His attitude towards the patient was even worse. "You should know your own body best, what your condition is, and how you should normally behave!"
"...I'm sorry, teacher."
He then turned to me:
"sorry."
This matter has now come to an end.
My conscience tells me he was already pitiful enough and didn't need to apologize to anyone. Actually, I'm not particularly compassionate; when I see stray cats and dogs on the street, I never squat down, but walk past them without looking at them. I'm inherently lacking in kindness.
Even so, when my weak deskmate, having just finished his brush with death, had a face glistening with a thin layer of sweat, looking tired, shy, and filled with guilt, and otherwise seemingly calmly helpless, I felt utterly disheartened. What the hell? I was completely devastated; I was just so incredibly unlucky.
I have no reason to pity him.
Why did I have to sit next to him? It made me get that "warning" from the homeroom teacher; no one has ever treated me badly before. The next class, I immediately changed seats, head down. I did it by moving my desk; when he tried to move his, I immediately raised my voice:
"lay down!"
He paused, then slowly loosened his grip on the hard edge of the table. Using the friendliest and most rational voice I could muster, I said, "You're so weak; I don't want you to move the table, lest something else happens."
I think he must have understood my unspoken meaning. Because he hesitantly moved his hand away. It was a hand with distinct knuckles and clearly visible veins; my hands, due to my deliberate efforts to reduce body fat, were already somewhat exaggerated. But Li Yuzhong was even more so.
He said in a low voice, "...It's not a physical reason."
"What?" I asked, a little impatiently.
“I have hyperventilation. Sometimes it’s because I get too excited or emotional,” he stammered as he explained, “that when I’m in a bad mood…”
I frowned: "You mean you acted that way because I made you run, and you were in a bad mood? Or did I kick your table?"
"No!" he said somewhat anxiously. "I rarely manage to run two laps within the allotted time. I get very nervous because I'm afraid I won't be able to do it."
"Did you have a seizure because you were nervous?"
I think it was a bit rude of me to say that. But he seemed so cautious, so he probably didn't have the right to think that way. He definitely didn't want to offend me, since I'm very popular in class. And someone as sickly as him probably hasn't had many friends growing up.
He must be very lonely.
I was different. I was popular; my classmates liked me, and my teachers favored me. At that time, self-esteem was something I would grit my teeth at if I couldn't have it, and I prepared myself with a strong desire to perform. I said worriedly, "No wonder, it must be very difficult."
“…Hmm.” He seemed a little happy because of my understanding. My false understanding, he took it seriously—how ridiculous! I have absolutely no sympathy for him. He added, “Actually, my body is really fine. And, maybe there were just too many people in the class at the time…”
Alright, I'm not interested in hearing his stories. Don't mistake a casual act of kindness for a signal to befriend someone. I quietly changed seats and got up to get some water. At the water fountain, someone from another class came up to me and asked about Li Yuzhong fainting.
It spread so fast.
I felt a bit nauseous. Good news doesn't travel far, but bad news spreads like wildfire. Please don't say I was making things difficult for him or preventing him from resting. I nervously inquired a few things, thankfully no one thought that. I wanted to clear myself of any wrongdoing; I didn't want my reputation to be ruined.
This is the only thing I cherish.
-
Let's get through this half semester peacefully.
Next semester, when we change seats, I promise I won't be sitting next to Li Yuzhong again! Even though he's a great student and has absolutely no sense of saying no, he's just not good at it at all. That idiot, we have nothing in common, and my happiness is incompatible with his.
At that restless age, when even the collar, cuffs, and ankles of school uniforms matter, and the number of closed comedones on one's face is crystal clear. Having given up on makeup, one focuses on other things: glasses, watches, shoes, brand-name items, and words that are difficult to pronounce.
I wore a counterfeit.
On social media, new products are posted in a nine-grid layout, with prices much lower than their symbolic value. Most people's perspective is limited; no one can tell the difference, and those who can probably won't bother to point it out. This allows me to create the illusion that I'm from a well-off family.
Then, wearing thick, hard basketball shoes, we'd spin around the playground, arm in arm with a friend, talking about some annoying headmaster, or some recently famous figure in the grade—and of course, some boys would be there too. It was just a bit of fun during our teenage years.
Gossip is flying everywhere.
Knowing full well that the more beautiful a person is, the more they need to maintain a good distance from the opposite sex, otherwise they will become the enemy of their own sex, I chose to "join" the girls' camp and keep my distance from any advances from the opposite sex. This often earned me praise, and some girls affirmed my actions because the girls they disliked were not as good-looking as me, yet they had good relationships with the boys. They would say, "Li Juntong is so beautiful, but none of them are like her!"
It seems like I'm very discreet.
No. Absolutely not. I pay more attention to guys than they think, and I always make sure to appear even more indifferent. It suits my looks, the persona I cultivate. I painstakingly work on it, hoping it will be as likable as possible, as likable as possible. Like writing a fictional novel.
My pen tip is dripping with sweat from a heart pounding with fear.
Unless absolutely necessary, I don't open up to anyone, not even my closest female friends. Not even my best friend with whom I use matching profile pictures, someone I go to the bathroom or get water with. If I were to be spied on, the last thing I want is to be spied on by someone I know.
I also encountered a very troublesome thing.
The winter fun sports meet featured many new events, with both first- and second-year high school students participating. As the sports representative, I was responsible for registration. In the doubles badminton competition, only one boy from our class was willing and qualified to participate. I firmly declined the offer to participate in the other event.
“You can’t report it,” I said.
For once, Li Yuzhong showed a willingness to argue with me: "I can do it. There's nothing wrong with my body, and besides, everything has been agreed upon."
"What's agreed upon?" I asked.
As I expected, he mentioned another boy who had signed up. I almost laughed: "What's the point of you agreeing with your family, your teacher, and your partner? Besides, if something really happens, who will be responsible? Can you take responsibility?"
He said, "My homeroom teacher said I can go up and play, just like I would play a regular game, not a competition. If I get tired, I can just take a break."
"What about your family?"
"Everything is agreed upon."
I paused for a moment, then said, "No."
Afraid that he would think I was being unreasonable, I said loudly, "With your physique, how could we dare send you to fight on the front lines? Go stay in the rear!"
I often acted as Li Yuzhong's mouthpiece. Since that incident, I've learned my lesson. In PE class, when the teacher asked him why he wasn't running, I loudly said, "Teacher, he has a health problem." When it came to moving books, changing seats, or doing cleaning, I would also "kindly" stop him from doing the work.
Gradually, the classmates accepted that he was weak and needed protection. I didn't need to do anything; I just did what I was supposed to do. How others interpreted him was his business. However, he genuinely struggled with interpersonal relationships.
His illness was a huge hindrance, requiring people to care for him and, on top of that, keep their distance. One can imagine how he survived those three years of junior high, elementary school, and even kindergarten, when others could freely cause trouble and push each other. He was like a fragile glass doll.
Nobody wanted to get close to him.
No wonder he deliberately concealed it.
None of this had anything to do with me, but who would have thought that he would take his anger out on me after failing to register? Actually, the sports meet had been over for a long time, and I thought it was all in the past. During an evening study session in biology class, everyone started joking about him again, calling him "the asthma sufferer." By the way, I was the one who gave him that nickname, but I thought he wouldn't mind, since he had never expressed any opinion about it.
While I went to the office to hand in my exam paper, he followed me. In the dimly lit corridor, he said, "Could you please stop giving me nicknames?"
"Why?" I don't think it's excessive.
He lowered his delicate face.
"I just... don't like it."
You don't like it? Haha, there are plenty of things you don't like. Even I have plenty of things I don't like. But I'm more noble than you. In my value system back then, I was popular enough, surrounded by admirers, and no girl or boy ever gave me the cold shoulder.
I wasn't just joking with him; perhaps I set a precedent and influenced what others said. But was it my fault? Those blindly amused mob, those sheep jumping one by one in the direction I pointed—weren't they at fault?
Why did he only talk to me?
I've thought of many reasons. I often judge others with a malice no less than my own; I must have a sharp edge within me, I can feel it myself. One reason is that he mistakenly thought I was the kindest and most approachable person in the crowd, right?
He treated me like the easiest person to bully.
I asked, "Why don't you tell someone else?"
He paused, then nervously clutched the sleeve of his school uniform. I remembered him covering his mouth and nose with that fabric, which must have been stained with his breath, pain, and saliva before being cleaned by laundry detergent. His cheeks, which always flushed easily, were like roses.
He said, "I regard you as..."
Hold.
No way.
He absolutely mustn't say that word!
"No!" I said immediately, "You're overthinking it!"
After saying that, I stepped back, afraid of getting involved with something unpleasant. Actually, I should have followed a set procedure. There's always a way to refuse someone's kindness: first, express gratitude; then, appropriately elevate the other person and belittle yourself; and finally, say that it's inappropriate. That's how I should have done it.
This was my lapse in composure.
I quickly explained, "I told others that you weren't feeling well because I was afraid something might happen to you again. As the sports committee member, I also have responsibilities. I don't want the homeroom teacher to scold me, and I don't want others to talk about me either. It's that simple. Also, since you don't like it, I won't do it again."
I used the word "like" because I also misunderstood: I thought boys would enjoy being teased by a popular girl like me, because whenever I frowned and jokingly teased them, they would always respond with a blank, unbearably happy smile.
cut.
They don't know what's good for them.
No wonder he's unpopular.
That's really boring.
After that, I had no further contact with the thinker.
The parent-teacher conference is coming up soon, and I'm anxious to find someone to impersonate me. I spent over 800 yuan. I found the owner of a hot pot restaurant near the school and told him that my family is from out of town and can't come. He thought I was just a young girl who cared about appearances, and that I was wearing my school uniform and there was nothing to lie about.
I told him he didn't need to say anything, just sign something after the meeting and he could leave. My face flushed as I said my dad's name, afraid he'd find out who it was; thankfully, he probably didn't. The one who, years ago, attacked someone at a construction site and then made it onto TV.
I don't know what happened between him and his coworkers, but he got locked up. My mom remarried and didn't visit me often. I didn't tell my dad about the parent-teacher conference. He got locked up as soon as I started elementary school, and I was laughed at for six years. I went to middle school in the same district, couldn't transfer to another school, and it was always the same familiar faces. I couldn't make any friends, and I became so depressed I felt like I was going crazy. So I specifically went to a school in another district for high school.
I didn't expect him to come looking for me.
It was raining heavily at the time, and he insisted on coming into my school. I pushed him into a nearby alley. He asked why I wouldn't let him in, and I said, "Who would let me in? Don't embarrass me." He yelled, "Am I embarrassing you?" I said, "Yes, you murderer! Why didn't we kill you in that fight?" He shouted that it wasn't his fault. I wasn't arguing with him about that; I just told him to get lost.
He slapped me and left.
"You're crazy! You're insane! If I weren't afraid of being seen by my classmates, I would have already climbed on his shoulders from behind, torn open his scalp with my fingernails, dug out the stuff inside, and thrown it down the drain!" My eyes were red, and I bit my lip hard. Raindrops from my forehead dripped into my eyes, cold and piercing. I wiped my blurry eyes in frustration, and suddenly an umbrella appeared in my vision. I looked up and saw Li Yuzhong.
In an instant, a sense of inferiority overwhelmed me.
I was struck dumb.
I slapped away the umbrella he offered me.
"What are you pretending to be, being a good person?"
The umbrella crashed to the ground, splashing water everywhere. I breathed heavily, trying to calm myself down. Darkness enveloped my vision once more.
He placed the umbrella in my hand again. His fingers pressed against the back of my hand, trying to slowly tighten his grip. The umbrella handle was hard and cool. I closed my eyes briefly, and when I opened them again, the warm, bright ceiling lights shone, applause filled the air, and I felt the hard touch of his fingers. I lowered my eyes.
Li Yuzhong put the engagement ring on my hand.
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