Thoughts

The parent-teacher meeting dragged on for over two hours before finally concluding. Pei Huan had long since been yawning at her seat, eager to slip away quietly, but Ma Fei, standing by the podium, kept glancing in her direction, worried she might doze off and topple over right there.

The top ten scores for each subject in the midterm exams were displayed on the screen at the front of the classroom. Zhong Su noticed Pei Huan’s name listed in several humanities subjects, and her gaze toward Pei Huan grew all the more approving. Receiving that look, Pei Huan thought perhaps she might have a shot if she tried asking Zhong Su for a raise in her allowance.

Her deskmate, Lu Yinghuai, had placed first in nearly every subject. Aside from scoring four points less than the top student in Chinese, he had swept the rest—so far ahead that the others couldn’t even see the dust he left behind.

Pei Dashan looked at the rankings on the screen and whispered to Pei Huan, “Your deskmate is really something, isn’t he?”

“Isn’t he?” Pei Huan nodded, not forgetting to emphasize, “I often ask him for help with questions, too.”

Pei Dashan gave Pei Huan an equally gratified look. In the past, Pei Huan had never been one to study seriously. Now, hearing his daughter say she takes the initiative to ask others questions, he was both astonished and elated, as if she had suddenly seen the light.

The top three students in each subject and the top three overall were called up to the podium to receive certificates. Of them, Yuan Tao was the most celebrated—she ranked second in several subjects and second overall as well. She went up to the stage multiple times, drawing envious murmurs from the parents below and the disgruntled admonitions of those scolding their own children.

Pei Huan could only stifle her yawns, finding the whole ceremony pointless and a waste of time—especially for someone like her, who had no chance at a certificate. In her view, it would be far more entertaining if she were allowed to perform a stand-up routine instead.

At last it was over. Pei Huan thought she could finally go home, but for reasons unknown, Zhong Su was suddenly seized by the urge to chat with Ma Fei. Taking advantage of the lull before other parents crowded around, she made her way over.

Ma Fei started off by praising Pei Huan’s progress this term, using such flattering language that Pei Huan, standing behind Zhong Su, nodded in satisfaction. But then came the criticisms. With both hands resting on the corridor railing, Pei Huan gazed absent-mindedly at the distant nightscape.

After a while, the conversation finished, and Pei Huan thought she was finally free to leave. But then Ma Fei’s gaze suddenly shifted to Pei Dashan. “You’re Lu Yinghuai’s father, aren’t you?”

Pei Huan froze, about to deny it, but Pei Dashan responded naturally, “Yes, I am.”

“Well,” Ma Fei said, “Lu Yinghuai is an excellent student and has really pulled up the class average, but I’ve noticed he’s always by himself—very withdrawn, with no friends to speak of. It’s not healthy for a child to remain so isolated over time.”

Pei Dashan listened attentively as Ma Fei spoke of Lu Yinghuai, his eyes glinting with curiosity.

“If you have some spare time outside of work,” Ma Fei continued, “I hope you can pay more attention to your child. Encourage him to open up, make friends, or find any way to come out of his shell. It could only benefit him.”

Ma Fei spoke at a measured pace, making sure Pei Dashan absorbed every word. After a few more exchanges, Pei Dashan finally said, “Thank you for your concern, Teacher Ma. On behalf of Yinghuai, I appreciate it.”

Ma Fei smiled and nodded. “It’s my duty.”

Pei Dashan had driven that evening. As the three of them walked to the small square in front of the teaching building, where many cars were parked, he said to Pei Huan while looking for their vehicle, “Haven’t you gotten to know your deskmate yet?”

“I have,” Pei Huan replied matter-of-factly.

“That’s odd,” Pei Dashan mused. “Weren’t you always the chatterbox who once made a mildly autistic classmate outgoing by talking to him? How come you haven’t managed with Lu Yinghuai?”

This called to mind one of Pei Huan’s legendary exploits. Back in her second year of middle school, her homeroom teacher, fed up with her incessant chatter, kept changing her seat until finally putting her next to a mildly autistic boy, hoping she’d quiet down. To everyone’s astonishment, within half a month, Pei Huan had coaxed the boy out of his shell so much that he began seeking her out to chat.

The boy’s parents, upon learning of this, came to thank Pei Huan in person, tearfully grateful. They said she had accomplished in two weeks what years of therapy could not. No matter how much Pei Huan tried to decline, they insisted on inviting her family for dinner, and in the end, she agreed.

“Lu Yinghuai’s situation is a bit different,” Pei Huan scratched her head. “He just ignores everyone—including me at first. It was only because I kept pestering him that he finally started responding, probably out of annoyance.”

“Someone actually finds our daughter bothersome? Your chirping is the loveliest sound,” Zhong Su chimed in with exaggerated praise.

Pei Huan: “…”

If they couldn’t find anything else to praise her for, perhaps it was better not to try.

The three drove home. Pei Yan, having already solved dinner with a late takeout meal, was heading upstairs when he saw them walk in. Pei Huan entered first, and Pei Yan teased, “Heard you did well on your exams?”

“How did you know?” Pei Huan asked, surprised.

“Who was it that bragged to me as soon as the results came in?” Pei Yan raised an eyebrow.

Thinking back, Pei Huan realized she had indeed done so, and without another word, she headed upstairs, beaming as she carried her backpack.

Back in her room, she took out her phone and saw that the chat was still on the last message she’d sent to Lu Yinghuai. After a moment’s thought, she typed: What are you doing right now?

No sooner had she sent it—and started to feel it was too abrupt—than Lu Yinghuai replied.

Lu Yinghuai: Just woke up.

Pei Huan sent back an “oh,” then told him about how Ma Fei had mistaken her father for his and dragged him into a long conversation, relaying everything Ma Fei had said.

She’d expected Lu Yinghuai to say something in response, but after a few seconds, all he sent was a simple “mm,” and nothing more.

Lu Yinghuai stared at the message for a long time, so long he lost track of it. He turned off the screen and tossed the phone aside. The last bit of light in the room vanished, and darkness reclaimed the space. Alone in the gloom, Lu Yinghuai sat, his gaze unfocused, staring at nothing.

His parents hadn’t attended a parent-teacher meeting since he started elementary school. Each time he watched his classmates’ parents arrive, while he sat alone, he felt both lonely and aggrieved. Though he’d long grown used to his parents’ absence, he couldn’t help but hope—just once—they might show up.

But the more you hope, the more disappointment you invite. Eventually, Lu Yinghuai abandoned such fantasies. In the end, he stopped attending the meetings altogether. The homeroom teacher called his parents countless times but was at a loss.

Upon entering high school, his parents wanted him to attend an international school in preparation for studying abroad. Lu Yinghuai remembered that was the first time he defied them. He didn’t comply but instead enrolled in Fifth High, and chose the humanities track without hesitation.

From then on, the conflict between the three of them deepened. Lu Yinghuai avoided his parents, and they, in turn, avoided him.

No one tried to mend the rift; they remained at an impasse.

Sitting alone in the dark, Lu Yinghuai’s thoughts wandered endlessly. At last, he slipped into his slippers and went downstairs to find something to eat.

Someone had been by recently to restock the fridge; it was packed to the brim. Unfortunately, Lu Yinghuai’s cooking skills were mediocre at best, so he made do with something simple.

The next day was Friday. Perhaps because it was the last day of the week, everyone’s spirits were inexplicably high. No one complained as they went downstairs for morning exercises after morning reading. Only after the exercises, when they had to wait for the school leaders to finish their speeches, did Pei Huan start shifting her weight, her feet sore from standing.

When the gym teacher finally called for dismissal, the students surged toward the teaching building like a tide. In the rush, Pei Huan and Tang Yue got separated and couldn’t find each other. Instead, she ended up walking alongside Ji Qinshu.

“You did really well this time, Pei Huan,” Ji Qinshu said, not at all stingy with her praise, though her voice was still timid.

“Aw, being praised by the tenth in the grade—I’m almost embarrassed,” Pei Huan replied, scratching the back of her head shyly.

Ji Qinshu gave a gentle smile. “You really did do well.”

Pei Huan grinned, chatting with Ji Qinshu as they walked. Though Ji Qinshu was not much of a talker, Pei Huan’s energy coaxed her into saying more than usual.

A familiar figure passed by. Pei Huan glanced over—it was Lu Yinghuai, with Yuan Tao beside him, chatting about something. Yuan Tao’s face was all smiles, while Lu Yinghuai remained impassive.

Ji Qinshu noticed as well and remarked sincerely, “I think the two of them make a good pair.”

“Really?” Pei Huan raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Ji Qinshu nodded, “they both get top grades, and their personalities complement each other—one’s quiet, the other lively. Plus, they’re both good-looking. Lots of people at school are shipping them.”

Pei Huan glanced at their retreating figures and replied noncommittally.

As they walked on, Pei Huan suddenly blurted out, “What about me and Lu Yinghuai?”

“You and Lu Yinghuai?” Ji Qinshu repeated, adopting a thoughtful pose.

Pei Huan had asked casually, but inwardly, she was eager for Ji Qinshu’s answer.

“You two are an unexpected match,” Ji Qinshu said seriously, “but somehow, you fit together surprisingly well. Besides, you’re very pretty yourself. Honestly, I think you and Lu Yinghuai are even more compatible than him and Yuan Tao.”

“Really?” Pei Huan was incredulous.

“Really,” Ji Qinshu replied with a smile.

Pei Huan was caught off guard by such a high assessment and hadn’t quite recovered.

More compatible than Yuan Tao and Lu Yinghuai… could that really be?