Silent Corner
When I went to school on Monday, the air in the corridor felt strange.
As I passed by the entrance of Class 3, Li Ting and Zhao Lin were surrounded by a group of girls. They had bandages on their arms and were talking tearfully. They would glance at me from time to time, their eyes filled with resentment like poisoned needles.
I lowered my head and quickened my pace, feeling the gazes on my back burning like fire.
In the classroom, my deskmate shifted to the side, creating some distance between us, and stacked his textbooks high, like building a barrier. My seat was empty; even the student behind me who usually lent me his eraser pretended to be engrossed in his work, not daring to look up at me.
So this is what it feels like to be isolated. It's like falling into icy water; even though there are people all around, it's as cold as being in Antarctica.
During morning reading time, I took out my Chinese textbook, but couldn't concentrate on a single word. My gaze fell on the sycamore trees outside the window; the leaves rustled in the wind, like someone laughing softly. Suddenly, I remembered the past: Zhang Ya would always secretly slip me a piece of candy during morning reading, Li Ting would borrow my notes to copy, and Zhao Lin would come over and tell me about her dreams from the night before…
Those images flashed by like clips from an old movie, frame by frame, and finally settled on their now indifferent or resentful faces.
My heart started to ache again. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms, trying to use one pain to cover up another.
I skipped the morning exercises. I hid in the art studio; it became my only refuge. The canvas still bore traces of paint I hadn't completely scraped off last time, like an ugly scar. I picked up a brush, dipped it in black paint, and smeared it haphazardly across the canvas.
The blackness spread little by little, swallowing up all the colors, as if it wanted to dye the whole world pitch black.
"You're here again?"
A voice suddenly rang out, and my hand trembled, causing my paintbrush to fall to the ground. It was Zheng Yiming, standing in the doorway with two workbooks in his hand, looking at me with a complicated expression.
I ignored him and bent down to pick up my paintbrush, but he grabbed my fingertips first. His palm was warm, just like countless times before, but I recoiled as if I had been burned.
"Don't touch me." My voice was as cold as ice.
His hand froze in mid-air, a hint of hurt flashing in his eyes, but he still insisted on handing over the workbook: "This is what you left behind when you asked for leave. The teacher asked me to return it to you."
I didn't answer, I just looked at him: "Didn't you see everything? You saw them cursing me, you saw them insulting my grandfather, you saw me fighting like a madman... Why didn't you say anything?"
He opened his mouth, his Adam's apple bobbing: "I...I thought you didn't want me to get involved."
"I don't want to?" I laughed, tears streaming down my face. "Zheng Yiming, do you think I'm exceptionally strong? Exceptionally resilient? So you can stand by and do nothing when you see me being bullied?"
"No!" he hurriedly explained, his eyes brimming with panic. "I... I was stunned. I didn't expect them to say those things, and I certainly didn't expect you to..."
"You didn't expect me to actually do it?" I interrupted him. "You didn't expect a 'good student' like me to go crazy?"
He didn't speak, just kept his head down, like a child who had done something wrong.
The studio was eerily quiet, save for the sound of the wind outside the window and my suppressed breathing. After a long while, he finally looked up, his voice very soft: "I'm sorry."
"What's the use of saying sorry?" I looked at him, my heart as cold as an ice cellar. "Will it make them take back what they said? Will it bring my grandfather back? Will it make me feel less pain?"
He didn't say anything, but took a piece of candy out of his pocket and placed it on the easel in front of me—it was my favorite lemon flavor, the same one he gave me last time.
“I know it’s no use saying anything now,” he looked at me, his eyes filled with guilt like an impenetrable fog, “but I want you to know that I never intended to hurt you.”
Looking at that piece of candy, I suddenly found it ridiculous. Did he think a single piece of candy could make up for all the silence and indifference? It was like using a band-aid to cover a deep, bone-revealing wound.
"Take it." I turned around, my back to him. "I don't need it."
He didn't move or speak. The air in the studio seemed to freeze, so heavy it was hard to breathe. After a while, I heard him sigh softly, his footsteps slowly fading away until they disappeared through the doorway.
After he left, I picked up the candy, unwrapped it, and threw it in the trash. The cloying lemon flavor lingered in the air, yet it seemed to carry a bitter aftertaste, making my eyes sting.
When school ended, I deliberately waited until I was the last to leave. The school building was empty, and the setting sun shone through the windows, casting long shadows on the ground. When I reached the stairwell, I saw Zheng Yiming standing there, like a silent statue.
When he saw me, his eyes lit up, and he quickly walked over: "I'll take you home."
"No need." I walked past him, intending to leave.
“Zhi Xia,” he grasped my wrist, his grip light, as if afraid of breaking something, “I know you’re still angry, I…”
“Zheng Yiming,” I looked at him, my voice as calm as still water, “were we very close before?”
He froze, and the light in his eyes gradually dimmed.
“We’re not close,” I said, pulling my hand away. “So you don’t need to see me off, and you don’t need to feel sorry. From now on, let’s just pretend we don’t know each other.”
After saying that, I didn't look at him again and walked down the stairs step by step. The gaze behind me felt heavy, making it hard for me to move, but I knew that this time I couldn't turn back.
As I walked out of the teaching building, the setting sun cast long shadows, leaving only my own shadow lying alone on the ground.
On my way home, I passed by the stationery store that Li Ting and I used to go to. I stopped and looked at the same star-shaped bottle displayed in the window. Suddenly, my eyes felt very sore.
It turns out that people really can lose everything they once thought was important in an instant.
Love, friendship, and even that last bit of warmth.
Back home, I locked myself in my room and opened my physics book. Those formulas that I once found difficult to understand now seemed surprisingly familiar—at least they wouldn't betray me or stab me with the most hurtful words.
The lamplight cast a warm, yellow light on the pages of the book, but it couldn't penetrate the silent corner of my heart.
I know that from now on, I will really have to walk this road alone.
Quietly, silently, like a shadow, walking in a corner where no one pays attention.
Maybe this way, it won't hurt anymore.
Maybe.
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