Chapter 10
Gao Xin's seat was empty for a long time.
The glaring emptiness, like a silent condemnation, loomed before Zhao Jinglu's eyes day after day. The class seemed to quickly return to normal. The teachers' voices continued, the exams continued to be handed out like snowflakes, and the noise continued during breaks. But something was different. Although Fan Chen and Wang Lei still spoke to her, the tacit understanding and unbridled banter had vanished. The barrier between them was like a layer of transparent glass, visible but impenetrable.
Xu Linjie keenly sensed her depression. He tried to comfort her, telling her more interesting stories on the way home from school and occasionally taking her to eat her favorite desserts. His companionship was still gentle and considerate, but Zhao Jinglu found it difficult to immerse herself in it as fully as before.
That sweet, ambiguous feeling was now shrouded in a gray shadow. She began to subconsciously examine her relationship with Xu Linjie. Had she truly neglected her friend because of him? Where was she when Gao Xin needed help the most, or at least someone to listen? She and Xu Linjie were sharing a pair of headphones, listening to a soft love song.
A subtle sense of guilt and self-doubt gripped her.
She tried several times to have another in-depth talk with Fan Chen or Wang Lei, but seeing their studiously averted gazes, she swallowed the words back. They too had their own crushes and preoccupations, forming a small, closed circle, and she was invisibly excluded. The feeling of isolation, a silent punishment from the collective, was even more painful than her breakup with Su Xiaowen and the others in junior high—because this time, she couldn't even pinpoint her specific fault. She only had a vague feeling that, perhaps unknowingly, she had become a "betrayer" of some kind.
The days slipped towards early summer in an atmosphere of oppression and alienation. The pressure of academic achievement tests intensified, and everyone rushed, as if they had a legitimate reason to avoid those complex and unspeakable emotions.
Just when Zhao Jinglu was almost getting used to this dullness, a message came in an unexpected way.
It was Saturday, and the school had no make-up classes, so Xu Linjie accompanied Zhao Jinglu to review at the library near their home.
Suddenly, my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was a text message from an unfamiliar number.
"Zhao Jinglu, this is Gao Xin. I sent this from someone else's phone. I just said a few words and deleted it afterward. I'm fine, don't worry. Transferring to this school is good, it's peaceful. I didn't tell you before because I didn't know how to say it, and I also felt... there was no need to drag you into this. This has nothing to do with you, don't think too much about it. You used to be my best friend, but now I'm no longer worthy of you. Be good in the future. Don't reply."
The text was short, and the words were so calm that they hardly resembled the Gao Xin she knew. There were no complaints, no explanations, just "It's okay" and "Don't think too much."
Zhao Jinglu stared at those few lines, reading them over and over again. The library was so quiet she could only hear the rustling of papers, but she felt something inside her collapse, as if those few words had strangely smoothed out some of the wrinkles.
He contacted her. It was his way of telling her that he was still there, that he understood her concerns, and that he even… to some extent, forgave her “absence.” Those words, “There’s no need to drag you into this,” and “It’s none of your business,” were like a fine needle, precisely piercing the most hidden guilt in her heart—he’d guessed it, sensed her self-blame, yet he chose not to blame her, even placing the blame on his own mistakes. What saddened her most was that this “former best friend” was over, and he’d chosen to let it go.
Tears welled up without warning, blurring the words on the screen. She quickly lowered her head and wiped them away with the back of her hand. She couldn't cry here.
She gripped the phone tightly, her knuckles turning white. Ultimately, she obeyed his instructions and didn't reply. Instead, she etched the unfamiliar number and those few lines of text deeply into her mind.
Xu Linjie saw everything and guessed roughly what was going on. His eyes gradually dimmed from worry.
As Zhao Jinglu left the library, the afternoon sun was a bit dazzling. She took a deep breath of the warm, early summer air. The heavy, helpless feeling of guilt in her heart seemed to have eased somewhat thanks to Gao Xin's text message. But it transformed into another, more complex emotion—a bewilderment at the sudden cruelty of youth, and a renewed appreciation for the weight of the word "friend."
She still went home from school with Xu Linjie, but they talked less. Sometimes, listening to him gently discuss his future university plans, her mind would suddenly wander, thinking of the empty seat, thinking of the calm text message. He tried several times to pull them back to the relaxed and joyful atmosphere they had before, but Zhao Jinglu's responses always seemed to be a thin veil between them. She still smiled at him, went home from school with him, and listened to him talk, but the complete immersion and excitement were gone. There was something more in her eyes, some quiet thought that he could not fully understand.
After school that day, the two walked down the familiar road as usual. Xu Linjie mentioned that their band might have an opportunity to perform abroad during the summer vacation, and his tone was full of longing.
"It's a good opportunity." Zhao Jinglu nodded, her tone sincere but calm.
Xu Linjie stopped and looked at her: "Jinglu, you... seem unhappy lately. Is it because of Gao Xin's matter, or... because of me?"
His voice was gentle, with a cautious tone of inquiry.
Zhao Jinglu also stopped and looked down at the tip of her shoe. The setting sun stretched their shadows very long.
"It's not because of you," she said softly. "Lin Jie, you're very good. It's just... Gao Xin's situation makes me feel... I feel like I've done a lot wrong." She looked up, confusion in her eyes, but also a serious attempt to sort things out. "I used to think that liking someone and being happy with them was a simple and natural thing. But now I realize that it doesn't seem to be the case. It can unconsciously change a lot of things, and can make you ignore other important people and things around you."
She paused, as if trying to organize her words. "I don't think I've quite learned how to strike a balance yet. I haven't figured out what kind of love is truly right and good."
This was the first time she revealed her inner confusion and struggle so directly, not because she didn't like him, but because she was too young to properly deal with this overly strong emotion and the series of chain reactions it brought.
Xu Linjie listened quietly, the light in his eyes gradually fading, replaced by a look of understanding. He was silent for a moment before speaking, "I understand what you mean." He smiled, a smile that was a little helpless, yet still gentle. "It's okay, Jinglu. We can... take it slow. You don't have to feel pressured. The college entrance exams are coming up soon, so focus on them first, okay?"
His thoughtfulness and concessions filled Zhao Jinglu's heart with a bittersweet feeling of gratitude. She nodded, "Okay."
In the days that followed, the two continued to walk together, but a tacit understanding seemed to have emerged. Their conversation shifted more towards studies and upcoming exams. The suffocating, ambiguous tension quietly eased, giving way to a more peaceful, even slightly distant, companionship. Xu Linjie no longer brought her snacks as frequently, and when they crossed the street, he would raise and lower his arm, ultimately offering only a vague sense of protection.
Zhao Jinglu poured even more energy into her studies. She buried herself in textbooks and exams, filling the suddenly extra, quiet time with formulas and vocabulary. She fell back into her middle school habit of fetching water during breaks alone, leaning against the corridor window, staring blankly at the figures running on the playground.
She still thought Xu Linjie was wonderful, his gentleness and talent still attracted her. But that pure, untainted sweetness was gone forever. For the first time, the price of growing up was revealed to her in such a heavy way.
Ling Peng, who was far away at the university and had long forgotten her, had no idea what kind of inner turmoil this girl, whom he had briefly met, was going through at the turn of spring and summer. They were both on their own paths, pushed by life, stumbling towards maturity.
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