Jiang Yueming stared blankly at Wen Xiaoyu.
Her expression remained as calm as ever, as if getting into Linxiang University was something completely insignificant.
“Me?”
Jiang Yueming pointed at himself and let out a short laugh.
“Are you kidding? With my grades?”
“You can score 141 in math.”
“But I only got 53 in Chinese.”
“That’s why I’m helping you review Chinese.”
Jiang Yueming opened his mouth, at a loss for what to say.
He glanced down at the workbook.
Wen Xiaoyu’s neat, orderly handwriting sat right beside his own messy scrawl—like the two of them, one proper and graceful, the other careless and sloppy.
“Linxiang University…”
The name felt distant to him. “I’ve never even thought about it.”
“Then start thinking about it now.”
Wen Xiaoyu’s gaze was serious. He couldn’t just brush it off.
“Why…” Jiang Yueming hesitated. “Why do you want me to apply to that school?”
Wen Xiaoyu didn’t answer right away. Her eyes left his face and drifted to the orange-red sky outside the window.
A flock of birds flew across the horizon in a V formation, heading south.
“Because…” she said softly, “I don’t want to go alone. If you could come with me, I’d be really happy.”
The classroom fell quiet. The wall clock ticked steadily.
Jiang Yueming stayed frozen, staring at her side profile.
The orange light bathed her face.
He noticed a faint flush beneath her earlobe—he couldn’t tell if it was from the sunset or if she was blushing.
Jiang Yueming stared at that hint of red and suddenly realized something.
Was Wen Xiaoyu… shy?
Because of what? Because of me?
Because she said she wanted to go to Linxiang University with me?
The thought flashed through his mind.
For a moment, Jiang Yueming didn’t know what to say.
The flock of birds had already flown far away, turning into tiny black dots against the huge setting sun.
“Um…”
Wen Xiaoyu turned back toward him.
“Are you serious?”
“When have I ever not been serious?”
Jiang Yueming was rendered speechless.
She was right. Wen Xiaoyu never said anything meaningless, never joked around.
Every word she spoke was sincere.
So when she said she wanted him to go with her, she really meant it.
It wasn’t a casual remark.
She had thought about it seriously, then said it seriously.
That realization sent a strange rush of emotion through Jiang Yueming’s chest—something swollen and a little sour, like a gentle hand squeezing his heart.
“But my grades…”
He lowered his head, looking at his own crooked handwriting.
“I only scored 53 in Chinese. The cutoff for Linxiang University is way higher than that.”
“That’s why we need to review,” Wen Xiaoyu finally turned to face him, her eyes meeting his.
“Your math score shows you’re not stupid—you’re just weak in one subject. Chinese is the kind of subject where putting in the effort gives the fastest results.”
“How fast can it improve?”
“If you review seriously for one hour every day, in three weeks you can at least reach 90.”
“Ninety?”
Jiang Yueming’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Wen Xiaoyu’s tone was firm. “But only if you listen to me.”
That look in her eyes made Jiang Yueming feel a little guilty and, at the same time, deeply moved.
No one had ever looked at him so seriously and said, “You can do it.”
The homeroom teacher always said, “Your grades are dragging the class down too much.” Dong Ziyang always said, “Your Chinese is a total disaster.”
After a while, even he had started to believe he just wasn’t cut out for studying.
But Wen Xiaoyu said he could. She believed in him.
In that moment, Jiang Yueming felt truly trusted. He wondered if he was really someone worth that kind of firm belief.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll listen to you.”
The corner of Wen Xiaoyu’s mouth curved up—just a tiny arc, but Jiang Yueming saw it clearly.
The rest of the time passed quickly.
Wen Xiaoyu explained the questions one by one.
Jiang Yueming listened with rare focus, his pen scratching across the paper as he took notes. Occasionally he would glance up at her.
The sky outside had grown completely dark.
Wen Xiaoyu checked the time and frowned.
“It’s already eight-thirty.”
“Huh? It’s that late?”
Jiang Yueming pulled out his phone and saw more than a dozen unread messages—all from Xia He.
He didn’t open them.
“Let’s stop here for today,” Wen Xiaoyu said as she started packing up her books.
“Go over today’s questions again when you get home. Ask me tomorrow if there’s anything you still don’t understand.”
“Got it.”
They put the desks and chairs back in place and walked out of the classroom one after the other.
The corridor was long.
Motion-sensor lights flicked on one by one as they passed, then clicked off again behind them.
“Where do you live?” Wen Xiaoyu asked.
“South of the city, near Phoenix Road.”
“I’m in the north side. Not the same way.”
“Mm.” Jiang Yueming nodded. They kept walking.
When they reached the school gate and were about to part ways, Wen Xiaoyu suddenly stopped.
“Jiang Yueming.”
“Hm?”
“About what happened today… don’t overthink it.”
Jiang Yueming blinked. “What do you mean?”
Wen Xiaoyu gave him a look that clearly said Are you really this dense or just pretending?
“I mean… the Linxiang University thing,” she pressed her lips together, her voice softening.
“I just meant… if you can get in, we could still be classmates. There’s no other meaning.”
“Oh,” Jiang Yueming nodded. “I know.”
Wen Xiaoyu looked at him for two seconds, watching his completely clueless expression.
She seemed to want to say something more, but in the end she looked away.
“That’s good then…” She turned to leave. “…See you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow.”
Jiang Yueming watched her back disappear around the corner.
He stood there for a moment, shook his head, and headed down the opposite path.
He took out his phone and opened Xia He’s messages.
There were several missed calls and texts from her, most of them asking where he was and why he wasn’t replying.
The last one was just a question mark.
Jiang Yueming thought for a second and typed in the chat box.
“Sorry, I just saw the messages. I’m heading home now.”
“Where are you.”
The reply came instantly.
Before Jiang Yueming could finish typing his response, Xia He’s voice call came through.
He hesitated, then answered.
“Where are you?”
Xia He’s voice came from the speaker.
“At the school gate. I’m about to—”
“Stay right there. I’ll be there soon.”
The call ended.
Jiang Yueming hadn’t even managed to finish a full sentence.
He looked at the disconnected call, feeling like there had been something off about Xia He’s tone.
But then he brushed it off.
If he had sent Dong Ziyang a bunch of messages and calls without getting a reply, he would probably be annoyed too.
He leaned against the roadside and waited a few minutes.
Soon a car turned the corner and stopped in front of him.
A middle-aged man in a dark suit sat in the driver’s seat, both hands on the wheel, staring straight ahead.
He never once looked at Jiang Yueming.
The rear window rolled down, revealing Xia He’s face.
“Get in.”
Jiang Yueming was confused. “There’s no need. My house isn’t far—I can walk.”
“It’s going to rain,” Xia He said.
The moment the words left her mouth, the night breeze suddenly stopped.
The air grew heavy and stifling, as if her prediction had come true.
Jiang Yueming instinctively looked up at the sky.
The moon had just risen above the horizon.
There wasn’t a single cloud in sight.
Yet he still had the vague feeling that something invisible was quietly gathering overhead.
“Get in. I’ll take you home.”
Xia He repeated herself.
In the face of her unquestionable tone, Jiang Yueming hesitated for a moment before finally opening the door and climbing inside.