35 Middle School

Liang Yizheng’s homeroom teacher from his first year of middle school, surnamed Ye, is still teaching at the same school today.

Under the pretext of "wanting to help Liang Yizheng film a short video of well-wishes as a wedding gift," Fang Qingzhou managed to secure an entire class period of her time.

However, Fang Qingzhou had failed to successfully reset her sleep schedule.

When Zhou Suirong came to wake her up in the morning, she had already put on her socks and changed her clothes, but when she reached the final step, she simply laid back down on the bed.

Zhou Suirong stood by the bedside, helpless. "Boss, ten minutes ago, you told me you were putting on your shoes."

Fang Qingzhou, with her legs dangling off the edge of the bed, moved them half-heartedly. With her eyes closed, she brushed him off: "I am putting them on."

Zhou Suirong didn't feel particularly awake himself, but looking at her dazed state, he only found her adorable.

He stepped forward, lifted Fang Qingzhou’s feet, propped them onto his lap, put on her shoes, and tied the laces. He urged her to get up, only to see her committing even more deeply to playing dead.

She had her hands clasped over her lower abdomen, a very obedient and disciplined sleeping posture, as if she were trying to elicit his sympathy.

Zhou Suirong smiled and chided her, "Fang Qingzhou, you are so willful."

Fang Qingzhou replied without a second thought, "You love it."

Zhou Suirong couldn't help but laugh. "You are so narcissistic."

Fang Qingzhou said with dissatisfaction, "Say something nice."

Zhou Suirong then leaned over, propping himself up on one hand by her face, and kissed her nose tip and eyelids with soft lips. "I love all of it."

"Mm." Fang Qingzhou gave him a charitable flicker of her eyelids and said with confidence, "I know. Little Zhou, you’re just bad with words."

Zhou Suirong chuckled under his breath, propping his head up to lie with her for two minutes. Seeing that time was truly running out, he fretted, "What should we do? How about we don't go out today?"

Fang Qingzhou let out a long sigh and decided to get up. Zhou Suirong pulled her up.

Fang Qingzhou opened her eyes and once again lingered on his face for too long, wearing an expression that suggested she was about to offer a critique. She mused, "You are today..."

"Am I looking flashy again?" Zhou Suirong called her name, "Fang Qingzhou—"

Fang Qingzhou, having anticipated this, spoke for him: "Speak nicely."

Zhou Suirong raised an eyebrow, signaling her to finish her thoughts quickly because it was time to go.

In consideration of the fact that he had helped her put on her shoes, Fang Qingzhou learned a bit of flattery: "But what I wanted to say was, you look quite good today."

Zhou Suirong held back, but eventually couldn't resist. A bright smile bloomed at the corners of his lips. Forcibly maintaining a veneer of reserve, he said with satisfaction, "Really? I didn't notice. You really think so? In what way?"

As he spoke, he took a step closer, pressing against Fang Qingzhou's shoulder. Fang Qingzhou took the initiative to kiss his chin.

Zhou Suirong bowed his head slightly, and Fang Qingzhou kissed his lips again. Then, she hugged him, habitually nuzzling his neck, and said with satisfaction, "Let's go."

Zhou Suirong hooked his fingers around hers from behind. When they entered the elevator, Fang Qingzhou pulled her hand away, becoming unromantic once more: "It's too hot, I'm sweating."

This summer had been cursedly long, dragging its tail into early autumn.

Sitting in the car, as Zhou Suirong was setting the navigation, he felt a strong urge to set the destination to City A. He stared at the "Go Home" feature, his fingers and gaze tugging at each other under an inexplicable pull as they drifted downward. After selecting the address, he immediately asked, "When are we going back? Did you ask someone to help water those plants at home?"

Fang Qingzhou felt it was strange that he had brought up this topic for no reason. Not thinking too much about it, she replied, "Sister Lin can help."

Zhou Suirong said, "If Sister Lin doesn't take her anger out on your pots, that would be considered kind. Let's go back early."

Seeing his lack of enthusiasm for the task at hand, Fang Qingzhou couldn't help but remind him, "You were clearly anxious to know the details of your memory loss before."

"Was I?" Zhou Suirong had almost forgotten about that, but now that he thought of it, he didn't put much heart into it. He said dismissively, "Oh."

Fang Qingzhou pointed at him again: "You were clearly angry with me over this before."

"Was I? Really?" Zhou Suirong responded perfunctorily, grabbed her hand, and kissed her fingers. He smiled, full of spirit, "It's fine, I'm not angry anymore."

Watching his dazed state, Fang Qingzhou felt all her words fall flat, so she wisely shut her mouth.

Zhou Suirong realized something and said, "Fang Qingzhou, are you a bit neglectful of home?"

Fang Qingzhou didn't know how to follow his line of questioning and nonchalantly took his phone.

Zhou Suirong said, "Checking my phone again?"

Speaking of which, Fang Qingzhou had the confidence to accuse him: "You shouldn't just hand your phone over to anyone."

Zhou Suirong said innocently, "Who did I just hand it to?"

"Wang Da," Fang Qingzhou emphasized. "To no one."

Zhou Suirong, certain that she was just making excuses to change the subject, didn't pursue it and pulled out of the parking lot.

***

After two expansions, the roads leading to the teaching buildings at City B Middle School were lined with vibrant poplars and lawns that remained a deep green even in September. The early autumn breeze brought a faint, humid heat.

A stray cat lay quietly on the thick turf to rest. Sensing the two passing by, it opened its glass-bead-like eyes to meet their gaze, its round head turning inch by inch as they walked, until it watched them enter the teaching building.

The bell rang, and students in school uniforms ran quickly through the corridors. The sound of their chatter was muted, cut off behind the closed doors of the classrooms.

There was only one person in the office. Fang Qingzhou knocked on the wide-open door against the wall and paused in the doorway to greet her: "Hello."

Teacher Ye took off her glasses and nodded at the two. "You're here. Welcome, welcome."

She took a prepared photo from her drawer and handed it over. "This is their graduation photo from that year. I dug it out to look at it; fortunately, it hasn't faded."

The photo was well-preserved, though the faces of people captured over twenty years ago had a water-colored blur, as if filtered.

Liang Yizheng stood in the center of the crowd, taller than the boys in the back row, and with his unique eye-patch look, he was quite striking.

Zhou Suirong took out his camera, pulled up a chair to sit opposite them, and struck a filming pose.

Teacher Ye felt rather awkward with the lens pointed at her.

She knew Liang Yizheng had many fans, and thinking of the attention on the internet, she felt as if she were facing a microscope rather than a camera. Her hands moved from the table to her lap, unable to find a comfortable position. Fortunately, her years of teaching experience kept her composed on the surface, preventing her from showing too much panic.

Sitting straight, she introduced, "When I was their homeroom teacher, I had only been out of university for two years. Being asked to be a homeroom teacher made my heart race. A small number of students were quite slippery; they couldn't be managed. They wouldn't listen to reason, scolding was useless, and I couldn't lay a hand on them. Fortunately, there was Liang Yizheng. He was quite mature for his age and could help me maintain order in the class."

Fang Qingzhou let the words go in one ear and out the other. While nodding, she clearly scanned the faces of the thirty-some students. Once she finished reciting this dull script, she asked, "Are there any other photos? Anything at all. Surely the school would have kept photos of various activities?"

Teacher Ye didn't suspect anything and told her to wait a moment, opening the QQ on her computer to find the corresponding photo gallery.

"Sports meets, art evenings, flea markets, and the like—from their first to third year, I picked out a few and put them here."

She gave up her seat at the computer to Fang Qingzhou and stood to the side with her hands behind her back.

Fang Qingzhou began flipping through from the album labeled "First Year," her gaze lingering slowly on one youthful face after another.

Teacher Ye didn't know what she was looking for and waited patiently by her side.

There were four or five hundred photos in the album. After ten minutes, seeing that she showed no sign of stopping, Teacher Ye couldn't stand it any longer. She lifted her hand slightly, wanting to interrupt.

Fang Qingzhou stopped on her own, scrolled the mouse forward, zoomed in on one of the photos, and pointed to a figure, asking, "What about this student? I don't seem to see him in the graduation photo."

In the photo, the boy occupied only a hidden corner, caught in the middle of moving a desk behind his classmates, with only half his body captured.

Teacher Ye leaned over to look. A momentary flash of shock and surprise crossed her face, and her probing gaze pierced Fang Qingzhou as if it were physical. After a moment, she said, "This student dropped out."

Fang Qingzhou had a sudden realization: "Oh, he's the one who blinded Liang Yizheng."

Teacher Ye twitched the corners of her mouth, eager to explain, "Actually, such malicious incidents rarely happen at our school. In all these years, this was the only one. Later, the school strictly investigated such behaviors..."

Fang Qingzhou didn't seem to be listening to her defense; she kept flipping through the photos and picked out another one.

A group of students were gathered around a wishing wall at the back of the classroom, writing on sticky notes.

The image zoomed in. At the left edge, a hand reached out laboriously from behind the crowd, pressing a blue sticky note onto the wall.

On that arm was a long, vertical scar with deep, black scabs that had yet to fall off. Even though the photo wasn't clear, one could still see, from the obvious color difference, the severe tear that had been deep enough to rip muscle.

Fang Qingzhou pointed the mouse at the winding, horrific wound and said nothing.

Teacher Ye fell silent. Her emotions became even more agitated than before. She lost control of her expression for a moment, took a deep breath, and then said, "This injury wasn't caused by our students. This student’s family situation was quite special."

She stopped herself and asked vigilantly, "Who exactly are you people? You aren't here to film wedding well-wishes, are you?"

"The netizens are just interested in this, just say a few words, Teacher," Zhou Suirong stepped in to smooth things over with a friendly smile. "Don't worry, we will edit it. We won't keep a single word that you feel isn't right."

Teacher Ye’s lips were pressed into a straight line, and the gloom between her brows was heavy.

Fang Qingzhou asked, "What was this student’s name?"

Teacher Ye thought for a while and shook her head. "It's been too long. I don't remember."

She was unsettled, swallowing repeatedly. Her fingers pressed against her dry throat as she went to the table to pick up her water cup.

Zhou Suirong asked with great curiosity, "How did they come into conflict? It even escalated to bloodshed. That's too exaggerated."

Teacher Ye gulped down two mouthfuls of water, her temples tightened. Her light makeup masked the changing color of her face, and her brief reply revealed a great deal of resistance: "I don't know."

She waved her hand, covering her face, and said, "Don't film anymore!"

Zhou Suirong obediently put down the camera. His bright eyes curved, and wearing a smile that was hard to dislike, he requested sincerely, "Then we won't film. Let's just chat casually, Teacher. We promise not to repeat a word of it. What was that student like? Was he popular? Usually, those who bully have quite a few friends to band together, right?"

"No, he didn't have any friends in the class. His personality was solitary, and he generally didn't speak to people," Teacher Ye originally didn't want to answer, but hearing this, she added a bit more. "And no classmates were willing to be his friend. He didn't wash often, and in the summer, the whole classroom was filled with the smell on him. The school required him to cut his hair, but he wouldn't listen. His hair was messy and unkempt, his bangs covered his eyes, and he cost our class a lot of points."

Zhou Suirong was silent. The arc of his lips seemed fixed, as fake as if he were wearing a mask.

Fang Qingzhou glanced at him and asked, "Did you talk to him?"

"I did! He had a thick skin and wouldn't listen to anything! I made him stand as punishment, and he didn't care. He wouldn't bring books to class, and when I called his name, he would stand up and not answer. It's not that I didn't want to teach him, it's that I simply couldn't!" Mentioning the boy, Ms. Ye’s resentment burst open. As she spoke, she felt itchy all over, unable to stand still, and said sourly, "He even had lice on his head and spread them to his classmates; no one wanted to sit next to him. I dragged him to shave his head, but not long after, the hair grew back! The dorms couldn't even accommodate him! I couldn't just go to the boys' dorm every day to watch him take a bath, what do you expect me to do?!"

Fang Qingzhou opened her mouth, then closed it again. She looked at her with a very complex expression, filled with an obscurity she couldn't understand—like pity, mixed with condemnation, and a touch of bitterness.

Zhou Suirong said abruptly, "I was like that too."

Teacher Ye turned to him in confusion.

Zhou Suirong said calmly, "My stepfather wouldn't let me bathe. He thought washing and doing laundry was a waste of water and soap. If I spent a long time in the bathroom, he would complain. Whether I was dirty didn't matter to him; anyway, he wouldn't let me sleep in a bed. We didn't even eat at the same table."

"When I was in elementary school, I might have been dirtier than that boy. My classmates didn't dare to get close to me and would gather to call me a wild boar. But my teacher wasn't like that. She asked me why I didn't bathe, and after learning the situation, she took me home and lent me her bathroom. She learned how to cut hair from videos and helped me cut mine. Although it didn't look good, she didn't think that a child not bathing was the child's fault. She only thought I was pitiful."

Teacher Ye’s expression turned awkward, cycling through shades of blue and white as if he had slapped her hard in the face. A shade of pink bloomed at her ears and the base of her neck. She stammered for a long time before saying, "Your situations were different."

Zhou Suirong shrugged and laughed again, heartlessly, "Maybe so. I was just projecting, thinking it was his roommates who wouldn't let him use the bathroom or enter the dorm."