CHAPTER 4
The forty-minute homeroom went by fast.
The bell rang. Zhuang Fangqin ignored the shrill clang and kept talking. “In a couple of days I’ll rearrange the seating. If you have ideas or objections, come see me in my office. As for class officers, we’ll keep the same group as before…”
A figure stopped at the classroom door.
She turned and met Hu Pang’s eyes. They understood each other at once.
“Alright, dismissed for now. Subject reps, collect the winter homework.”
At the words “dismissed,” Yu Fan’s head dropped to the desk.
“Yu Fan, I need a word with you.”
Her voice landed cold. “Wait for me in my office. I’ll come after I finish with Director Hu.”
Not long after homeroom, the teachers’ office was nearly empty.
On Zhuang Fangqin’s desk, workbooks were stacked high. On the other side sat a computer and lesson plans. Only a rectangle of space remained in the middle.
A cool draft slipped through the window seam. Pleasant and making one feel drowsy.
Yu Fan stared at that open space, then without hesitation folded his arms and went to sleep.
“Settling into the new class?”
“Yeah.”
“The regular classes move slower than Class One. Keep up your problem sets so you don’t get dragged down.”
“Yeah.”
“Your parent is very concerned. She called me this morning. I told her the class reshuffle is only temporary. Once this inspection blows over, the school will reorganize again.”
Yu Fan waited with his eyes shut for the next lifeless “yeah.”
It didn’t come.
He lifted his head from the crook of his arm, annoyance in his expression, and peered over the mountain of practice books.
He narrowed his eyes.
Still haunting me.
Chen Jingshen stood at the desk, speaking with the former Class One homeroom teacher.
Yu Fan had barely moved, and there were three desks and a partition between them. The two in front hadn’t noticed him.
“Your parent still has concerns,” the teacher said. “She wants me to transfer you into a better class. After all, the class you’re in now…”
“No need.”
Finally a reaction.
The teacher paused. “But your mother…”
“They’re all regular classes. No difference.”
His tone was cool, the thin lids of his eyes pulled slightly down.
Yu Fan propped his chin and watched lazily.
“You might not know yet,” the teacher went on, choosing her words, “but although they are all regular classes, Class Seven’s atmosphere is worse than the others. The average score is always at the bottom. Hygiene and discipline checks also last place. There are a few famous troublemakers, one named Yu Fan, you should have seen him. He reads self-criticisms at flag-raisings all the time. Your mother’s worry is not unreasonable. It is for your own good…”
Clack.
A pen hit the floor.
The teacher stopped. Both of them turned.
Yu Fan bent to pick up the pen and lifted his head to meet their gaze.
Seeing him, the stiffness in Chen Jingshen’s shoulders eased and his expression settled into its usual calm.
The teacher still had her mouth open.
She noticed the Band-Aids on his face and remembered rumors that Yu Fan had once hit a teacher. A prickle of fear rose. After a while she found her voice. “You…”
“I think you’re right,” Yu Fan said.
“?”
Before she could react, he added, “I’m vicious and scary. God forbid I frighten the top students. I support his transfer.”
“Who is vicious and scary? Who is transferring?”
Zhuang Fangqin’s voice came from the door. She took in the scene and barked, “Yu Fan. Who told you to sit in a teacher’s chair. I told you to wait, not to nap. Want me to set up a bed for you in class, huh?”
The Class One teacher fell silent.
“I didn’t sleep,” Yu Fan said.
“Oh no. So who stamped that face print into your cheek.”
She dropped the files onto the desk. “Still not getting up? I am supposed to stand while you sit and listen.”
Yu Fan clicked his tongue, then got to his feet and stepped aside.
Chen Jingshen drew back his gaze. “Teacher, I’m not transferring. If there’s nothing else, I will head back.”
The Class One teacher came to herself, but before she could speak he had already turned and left without looking back.
Maybe she felt awkward. Half a minute later she grabbed her lesson plans and left too.
Only two remained in the office.
Zhuang Fangqin hadn’t heard everything, but the scene was enough to guess most of it.
“Look at you. What have you turned our class’s image into.”
She took a sip from her thermos. “Tell me. What happened to your face?”
“I fell.”
“Save that line for the director,” she said. “You fought again, didn’t you?”
Yu Fan looked out the window and said nothing.
“How many times have I told you? You are a student. Stop mixing with those street punks. Do something a person your age should be doing.”
He stood there loose and lazy, the picture of indifference, a dead pig not afraid of boiling water.
She took another big swallow of hot water. “And Director Hu told me you threatened a new student outside school yesterday and had a knife. What was that about?”
“He’s such a good storyteller,” Yu Fan said. “Why doesn’t he write a book.”
“This book,” she tapped a math booklet on the desk, “was compiled by Director Hu.”
Silence.
After a long standoff, Yu Fan said flatly, “I didn’t threaten him. I picked up the knife. I don’t know him.”
“You can pick up a knife in the street?”
She glanced at his pocket. “Where is it?”
“At home. For cutting vegetables.”
She stared at him for a while and her expression softened a little.
After so long with this class, she knew her students, especially Yu Fan. From his tone and face, he probably had not done anything.
Still, judging from the flag-raising, he wasn’t exactly welcoming to the new student.
“I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt,” she said, tone unchanged. “New term. Do you have a study plan?”
“Memorize the multiplication table.”
“Say a few more things like that and see if I land in the hospital.”
She rolled her eyes, opened a drawer, and set a brand new guidebook in front of him. “I went to the bookstore for this. The problem types are basic and the explanations are simple. Take it home, read and practice. If you don’t understand, come ask me.”
He stared at the cover, swallowed the “don’t waste money,” and said, “Okay.”
As he reached the door, she called out again.
“And another thing.” She weighed her words. “The transfers this time are all strong students. Treat them as examples. Try not to clash with them…”
“Relax,” Yu Fan said without turning. “I’m allergic to top students. If he comes within a foot, I will stay ten feet away. I am committed to creating a harmonious, beautiful learning environment for our new classmate.”
—
First PE class of the term. Yu Fan skipped it.
The restroom on the first floor of the lab building was foggy with smoke.
There were rarely teachers around. Fat Tiger was in a meeting. A few boys were gathered there, smoking with impunity.
“Those idiots from next door never fight fair. Always playing dirty. Next time let’s find them at the back gate.”
“They picked the wrong target. Tried to block the baddest man in South City No. 7.”
“Thanks for the invite. I was there. My bro dropped them one per punch. Had them crapping themselves,” Wang Lu’an said, glancing at the person beside him. “Right, bro?”
“Shut up.”
Yu Fan had dragged a chair over from an empty classroom and sat with one leg over the other, lazy as ever. Head down, one hand moving a game character on his phone, the other hand holding a cigarette. “Chat about yourselves. Leave me out of it.”
“Damn,” the boy crouched on the right muttered, staring at a ranking chart on his phone. “Why are there transfer students in second semester. Four dropped into our class at once. My class rank tanked from 57 to 61.”
“Not much difference,” Wang Lu’an snorted. “Still last.”
“Get lost,” the boy said, blowing smoke at him. He stood. “Final bell soon. Ball or not?”
The call found plenty of takers. They stubbed out their smokes and fanned the air with practiced flicks.
He looked at Yu Fan, who hadn’t moved an inch. “Yu Fan, you coming?”
“No. Gaming.”
“Then I’m staying too,” Wang Lu’an said immediately.
The rest filed out.
Yu Fan lounged back, happily mowing people down in-game, when the sharp clatter of phone key-clicks rattled beside him.
Wang Lu’an had a quirk. He liked the default typing sounds on his phone. Loud and annoying.
Yu Fan paused the game and looked over. “You sending a telegram?”
“Chatting,” Wang Lu’an said. “Asking around about Chen Jingshen.”
“?”
“Why bother,” Yu Fan said.
“What do you think?” Wang Lu’an replied. “He’s first in the grade. I have to find out if he’s easy to talk to. See if he can help me with quizzes and homework.”
Yu Fan’s interest flatlined. “Oh.”
A moment later, Wang Lu’an put down his phone and sighed.
He had messaged a friend from Class One. The reply came fast and polite. No chance.
That top student was famous for being quiet and cold. Personality matched his face. If you brought him a few questions, he might help if he had time. Anything more, forget it. Conversation rarely went past ten sentences.
“Oh, right. My friend says Chen Jingshen’s family is loaded.” Wang Lu’an went on. “Said at the last parent meeting, his mom showed up with a whole entourage. Total boss… Hey, the cut on your hand is healing fast.”
Yu Fan turned his wrist.
Small wounds like this healed quickly. By last night it had already scabbed.
He stared at it for a while and, for no reason, felt a sudden urge to scratch.
If he tore it open, it would bleed again, then fester, then inflame.
He just bent his other hand toward the scab when the shoulder beside him bumped him hard twice.
He snapped back, dazed for two seconds. “Looking to die.”
“No. Look outside.”
Wang Lu’an dropped his voice. “Never talk behind people’s backs. Isn’t that Chen Jingshen?”
Yu Fan looked out on instinct.
No need to see the face. The washed-out green-and-white winter jacket was enough.
From this angle they could only see Chen Jingshen’s tall, straight profile.
A girl stood in front of him.
Wang Lu’an squinted. “Is that Zhang Xianjing?”
The two biggest headaches in Class Seven were Yu Fan and Zhang Xianjing.
Her name said quiet and gentle. She was not. In first year she permed and dyed her hair, smoked, skipped, and made more than a few boys cry.
She was pretty. In first year she had a flock of admirers. Once her reputation spread, most boys took a detour when they saw her.
“What are they doing?” Wang Lu’an murmured.
As he spoke, Zhang Xianjing took a step closer to Chen Jingshen. Her glossy curls swung in the wind.
“Hey, you’re Chen Jingshen, right?”
She smiled. The lipstick brightened her mouth. “I like you. Will you date me?”
Yu Fan’s eyelid twitched. He stood to leave.
Wang Lu’an grabbed him. “Where are you going? Watch how this ends.”
“Not interested.”
“Come on, stay,” Wang Lu’an said. “Has she lost her mind? A model student like Chen Jingshen would never be in a relationship.”
Yu Fan remembered the pink love letter and thought, Sure. Keep telling yourself that.
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