Chapter 12: Not Close with Him
Yu Fan felt like he could take two Yu Kaimings with one hand, so after leaving the hospital he went straight home by cab.
The driver had been on the road all day and was a bit stuffy. The front window was half open. He glanced at the back seat. “Little brother, you don't mind if I leave the window open a bit, right?”
“No,” Yu Fan said.
Wind slid in from the front and cooled his face. He tucked his chin into his collar on reflex. A faint detergent smell reached his nose. He frowned and, following the scent, looked down at the oversized white down jacket on his body.
“…”
He had forgotten to return it.
He would take it to school tomorrow.
At the gate of his complex, Yu Fan got out and thought for a second, then took the jacket off and carried it in his hand. No sense getting it dirty if he ended up fighting.
He was overthinking it.
The power was out at home, and there was no one to open the breaker in the middle of the night. Yu Kaiming had left last night and still was not back.
Yu Fan locked the front door behind him, glanced at his bedroom door on his way in, and took in the scuffed footprints from when it had been kicked. Pure, useless rage.
He looked away, cool and flat, and went to his room.
The next morning, Yu Fan walked through the school gate hugging a bulky white down jacket and felt like an idiot. Yesterday, due to being feverish, he had not noticed. Now the thing felt ridiculous.
Chen Jingshen must be frail.
He slipped into the classroom as the morning reading bell rang. Zhuang Fangqin was unusually early and already at the lectern. Wang Lu’an caught sight of him and tried to flag him down with wild eyebrows. Before Yu Fan could react, Zhuang Fangqin stood up, face set.
“Yu Fan, come with me.”
She scanned the room. “Morning reading starts now. English rep, lead.”
Yu Fan’s butt had not even touched the chair before he turned back out into the hall.
“What did you do yesterday?” Zhuang Fangqin asked, arms folded.
“Slept,” Yu Fan said.
“And what else?”
On a normal day, he could have listed plenty.
But after thinking it over, Yu Fan was sure he had done nothing yesterday except sleep.
“Not talking, are you.”
Zhuang Fangqin flicked a look toward the class. “Did you put Chen Jingshen in the hospital?”
“…”
She saw the coat in his hands and stared. “Beating someone is bad enough. You stole his jacket too?”
For some reason, Yu Fan remembered swinging last night and having his fist caught like nothing.
“I did not hit him.”
At least he had not landed it.
He paused. “Where did you hear that?”
“I saw it in a school group. You and he were at the hospital—” She stopped.
“Wow,” Yu Fan said. “You joined the school group now?”
She had not, but she did have keyword alerts set for his name. Any time someone typed “Yu Fan,” she got a ping.
“Of course not,” Zhuang Fangqin said. “Another student sent me the photo.”
“…”
“Then why were you at the hospital last night?”
The explanation rose to his lips and he swallowed it.
“Joking,” Yu Fan said, leaning on the wall, bored. “I did beat him. That honor-student face annoys me. Maybe next time I will do it again.”
Zhuang Fangqin arched a brow and watched him. After a year with this boy, she could tell truth from nonsense at a glance.
Sure enough, he added, “So hurry and change his seat, or I might swing for real.”
The knot in her chest loosened. No fight was good. Yu Fan already carried demerits; another serious offense would be trouble. She had not truly believed he would attack a classmate for nothing, but she had to ask.
Still, if Yu Fan was this resistant, maybe the seating did need a rethink. If two students could not manage a basic truce, nothing else would work.
“All right,” she said, jerking her chin at the room. “Go read.”
When Yu Fan came back, half the class was looking. He was used to stares, but today they grated. He narrowed his eyes and stared back, one by one, until every head turned away, then looked at the person beside him.
Chen Jingshen was dressed lighter than yesterday, just a coat, and was following along with the vocabulary. He looked lazy and pale-lipped. With no expression, he seemed sickly.
So he really was frail.
It struck Yu Fan that if Chen Jingshen had taken off his jacket and sat in a hospital all night, he would be worse today.
Chen Jingshen’s voice was not loud, but lower than the rest. In the long, dragging chorus of readers it stood out. Midway, he covered his mouth and coughed.
Yu Fan snapped back and shoved the jacket at him. “Forgot yesterday. Here.”
Chen Jingshen had been up late doing problems and was low on energy. “Mm,” he said, taking the jacket and setting it on his lap, eyes lifting again to the page.
Yu Fan leaned back and glanced over. Two minutes later, he glanced again.
When the English rep stepped down, he finally lost patience. “Hey.”
“What,” Chen Jingshen said, like he had just noticed.
“It is poking me.”
Yu Fan tipped his chin at the soft jacket on Chen Jingshen’s lap and nudged it with his knee. “Put it on.”
Chen Jingshen paused with the workbook half in his drawer and turned to look at him.
Under that stare, Yu Fan’s eyelid twitched. “What are you looking at.”
“Nothing.” Chen Jingshen put the jacket on.
Then he turned aside and coughed harder.
“…”
At big recess, Wang Lu’an asked Yu Fan out for a smoke.
A boy nearby said, “Fan-ge, when I saw the pic Zuo Kuan posted, I really thought you beat Chen Jingshen.”
“I told you, Yu Fan would not go after our own,” Wang Lu’an said, blowing smoke. “So why were you two at the hospital?”
Yu Fan could not be bothered to explain. He lied lazily. “I was passing by. He was coming out. We ran into each other.”
“Oh,” Wang Lu’an said. “You were standing so close I thought you went together.”
“Is that possible?” Yu Fan looked out the window. “Not close with him.”
Zhuang Fangqin’s class was next, so they put one cigarette out and hustled back.
“I skimmed your homework from last night,” Zhuang Fangqin said as soon as she stepped in. “Several of you slacked. Some problems were not copied ten times. If you cut corners, copy every missed one ten more times this weekend.”
“And,” she said, lifting a notebook from her text, “Yu Fan, stand up and tell us yourself.”
Him again.
Yu Fan stood, unhurried. “Tell you what.”
“Someone else wrote this,” Zhuang Fangqin said, shaking the book. “Your handwriting is not this pretty. Look at the characters inside and the name outside. Same person?”
“…”
“I can accept fewer copies, even no submission,” she said, “but you cannot force another student to do your work. That is—”
A chair scraped.
Before Yu Fan could react, the person next to him stood. “Teacher, he did not force anyone.”
Zhuang Fangqin blinked. “What…”
“I offered to help,” Chen Jingshen said.
“…”
“…”
“???” Wang Lu’an managed.
Both of them ended up outside the classroom with their books. One stood straight. One slouched. The corridor windows were thrown wide.
Annoyed, Yu Fan straightened enough to block the draft. “Are you f***ing stupid? Why stand up.”
“Sorry,” Chen Jingshen said after a glance.
“…”
No need to apologize.
Yu Fan moved his lips, about to say something.
“I did not expect your handwriting to be that ugly,” Chen Jingshen said.
“…”
“You should practice.”
“…”
“At least write your name so people can read it.”
“You keep yapping one more word,” Yu Fan ground out, knuckles tight on his book, “and I will paste your trash love letter on the bulletin board so the whole school can admire your crappy handwriting.”
Chen Jingshen looked over, light as a breeze. “You kept it?”
“…”
Inside, everyone had been watching the two whispering by the door.
This is “not close,” Wang Lu’an thought, baffled.
This is “annoyed on sight,” Zhuang Fangqin thought, fists tightening.
She was about to tell them to take the chatter to the stage when Yu Fan turned, ears bright red. He went to stand by the back door, putting a whole classroom between himself and Chen Jingshen.
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