Chapter 27: “Pineapple Bubbles” Part 2

She really couldn’t. Chi Buyu had called her that since high school. The Crab Boss Class Monitor liked SpongeBob SquarePants just like her, and she loved the color red. So the Crab Boss Class Monitor had happily embraced the nickname.

Cui Qijin sighed and murmured back, “Her name’s He Youzhen.”

He Youzhen watched the two of them.

She felt like they were whispering behind her back. No matter how she looked at it, it felt weird. Not long ago, one had asked over the phone, “Which Cui Qijin?” while the other had agreed with her, “She’s right.” And now…

He Youzhen sat at the wooden table next to theirs and took a sip of her pineapple sparkling water. Then she saw Chi Buyu look over and ask sheepishly,

“What’s that you’re drinking, Class Monitor? It looks so good.”

“Pineapple sparkling water,” Cui Qijin answered first.

“Right, right, pineapple sparkling water,” He Youzhen echoed.

Then she watched Cui Qijin turn to Chi Buyu and ask proactively, “Want some?”

Her tone was flat. But it seemed like she’d order one right away if Chi Buyu said yes.

Chi Buyu hesitated for a moment. “My fourth stomach hasn’t come into play yet today.”

Fourth stomach? What did that even mean?

He Youzhen was completely lost, just like she didn’t know how many episodes of SpongeBob SquarePants there were—and had never imagined the question even had an answer.

But Cui Qijin picked up her phone and tapped a few times. “So does the second stomach want anything else?”

That feeling hit He Youzhen again.

She racked her brain—

Like that snowy night, when the two of them stood all tangled up in the vast white expanse like knotted balls of yarn, and she tried to reach in to untangle them but had no idea where to start. She couldn’t join in at all.

He Youzhen took another sip of her pineapple sparkling water to calm herself. She heard Chi Buyu shake her head. “Nah, I’m done. Really full— all four stomachs stuffed.”

Back and forth through that exchange, He Youzhen barely accepted it. But then she glanced at Cui Qijin in her wheelchair and blurted out in alarm,

“What happened?”

Chi Buyu followed her gaze. “Oh, oh. She tweaked her back a few days ago. She can stand, but the wheelchair’s more convenient for going out.”

Cui Qijin said nothing, quietly peeling more shrimp.

He Youzhen let out a breath of relief. Seeing Cui Qijin’s wheelchair reminded her that she hadn’t safely gotten the two drunks home last time, and guilt tugged at her.

“So after the reunion last time, nothing happened to you two, right?”

It was normal reunion small talk, asking about what happened after they parted ways.

But Cui Qijin suddenly choked at those words. She coughed several times, her face going pale as she gulped down some water and forced down the food in her mouth before managing,

“Nothing.”

It sounded like she meant nothing now. He Youzhen was startled by her pallor. “Really nothing?”

Just then, Chi Buyu’s pineapple sparkling water arrived. She looked down and thanked the server, her lashes casting shadows as she bit into the straw. In a muffled voice, she said,

“Nothing at all.”

It sounded like she meant something else—not now.

He Youzhen was getting more and more confused. She felt like even sitting right there, she couldn’t understand a word these two were saying. By this point, it seemed Cui Qijin had finished eating. She methodically removed her disposable gloves and elegantly wiped her mouth.

The phone on the table suddenly lit up.

Cui Qijin frowned slightly. It was probably Cui He calling during a break to check in.

Chi Buyu bit her straw. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Cui Qijin said. “I’ll step out to take the call.”

“Want me to push you?”

“No need.” As she spoke, Cui Qijin maneuvered her wheelchair toward the restaurant door.

Chi Buyu wasn’t reassured. She let go of the straw anyway, ignoring the refusal as she gripped the handles and pushed Cui Qijin out to a nearby stone path on the patio—the kind of spot where Chi Buyu could glance up from the table and see her.

She kept a close eye on Cui Qijin’s condition at all times.

Meanwhile, He Youzhen’s table still hadn’t gotten their food, so she chatted idly with her companions while checking her phone. She must have seen Chi Buyu’s donation because she brought up this year’s alumni association fund drive.

Chi Buyu tilted her head to watch Cui Qijin’s silhouette in the wheelchair, responding absentmindedly.

“That’s great.”

Beyond being their class monitor, He Youzhen was also one of the main organizers for the Azure Pigeon Alumni Association. That was probably one reason she was so keen on class reunions.

Not many from high school had joined the Azure Pigeon Alumni Association after graduation—Cui Qijin and Chi Buyu were two of them. Unlike the official school alumni group, it had only been around a short while and focused on students’ mental health and similar smaller issues. They held lectures now and then or donated facilities to the school.

The group didn’t have many events. Mostly, it was a bunch of young grads, hardened a bit by adult life, reminiscing about the old days and offering some supportive guidance to kids under heavy pressure.

“Cui Qijin donates a pretty decent amount every year,” He Youzhen remarked offhandedly.

Hearing the name pulled Chi Buyu’s attention over. Curious, she asked,

“Is she the top donor?”

She clamped her mouth shut right after. “Or is that not something I should ask?”

“It’s fine. These past few years, it’s all public info—big donations go up on the official account.” He Youzhen said that but didn’t give numbers. “She’s not the highest, but it’s still a good amount.”

“Yeah.”

Chi Buyu lifted her chin, then propped it on her hand to gaze at Cui Qijin’s back in the sunset glow. Quietly, she resolved to donate more this year herself.

After a pause, she added deliberately for He Youzhen’s benefit, “She’s always been a really good person.”

On that note.

He Youzhen nodded sincerely and followed Chi Buyu’s gaze. After a moment, she chuckled suddenly. “But I never would have guessed…”

“Guessed what?”

“You know that project we have for the sanitary pad emergency kits in the girls’ bathrooms, right?”

“What about it?”

Chi Buyu turned back, a bit puzzled.

The alumni association listed every donation project each year, along with detailed costs.

By the time Chi Buyu joined, there were already plenty like it. And the class monitor’s mentioned kit project had been around for ages before then.

The food arrived then. He Youzhen wiped her hands and went on. “I think it was right after we started college. That’s when Cui Qijin joined the alumni association. I came in after her, but she’s always been hands-off with this stuff—so she’d donate each year and that was it.”

Chi Buyu pursed her lips. “So?”

He Youzhen smiled. “Yeah, she donates a ton to that project every year.”

“I always thought it was weird. I even secretly wondered if maybe she’d had some issue like that back in school herself? You know, like wanting to hold an umbrella for others after getting caught in the rain? Get me?”

“But no clue what it’s really about. Just that she’s super into that project. Not sure if she was one of the original applicants?”

“Anyway, applying for new ones is a hassle. Like now that the group’s grown these past few years, we add a few each time—setting up counseling rooms, basic bedding for new dorm students, lab equipment…”

“All sorts. Last year, some alum wanted to donate new desks because they never had a good one in school. Still hasn’t been approved…”

“Mainly, new projects need a ton of paperwork. Feasibility studies, budgets, all that. I think it’s a nightmare to write.”

By the time she finished speaking, all of He Youzhen’s dishes had arrived. She picked up a mouthful of noodles and chewed it slowly, chatting idly with the companion across from her for a few moments. Then her gaze shifted again, noticing that Chi Buyu hadn’t touched her food. Chi Buyu simply sat there stiffly, her back ramrod straight, staring out at Cui Qijin, who was on the phone just outside.

As dusk fell, the world grew dim and hazy. One of them was inside, the other outside, separated only by a pane of glass so clean it seemed on the verge of vanishing altogether. Cui Qijin remained seated in her wheelchair, her hair tousled by the wind. No one knew what she was discussing on the phone, but her expression was calm—even if a faint undercurrent of impatience simmered beneath the surface.

Before heading out, two thin blankets had been draped over her legs. But once outside, Chi Buyu had shivered in the biting wind, her skin prickling with goosebumps.

So both blankets now covered Chi Buyu’s legs. She fidgeted with their edges, folding and unfolding them awkwardly, before turning to Cui Qijin.

“Should I not have tried to look pretty by wearing a short skirt in the dead of winter?” she asked. “It feels like such a hassle now. I’ve even ended up stealing the blankets meant for your legs.”

Cui Qijin lifted her chin slightly and frowned without a word. In a tone that wasn’t entirely serene, she said to Chi Buyu, “Why is it that whenever you’re at loose ends, you start overthinking yourself?”

Then, just as she always did, she reached out and lightly flicked Chi Buyu’s forehead. In a slow, deliberate voice, she added a single word:

“Dumb.”

She always called her dumb like that. And yet, every single time… she would make a choice based on that very dunderheadedness—choices that Chi Buyu herself could never have imagined were even possible.

It made Chi Buyu wonder more than once whether she wasn’t somehow… special to Cui Qijin.

Lost in a daze, Chi Buyu bit down on her straw and slurped nervously at the Pineapple Sparkling Water, the bubbles gurgling up noisily. The music blared around her ears, chaotic and swaying, as a male voice crooned amid scents of tropical foliage:

“You’re the only one who can smell me.”

She didn’t quite understand what the lyric meant, but she imagined Cui Qijin must smell like some kind of plant too. It would be a subtle, low-saturation mountain herbage—never overpowering, always faint. Sometimes, Cui Qijin didn’t seem all that soft; there was even an innate hardness to her.

Cui Qijin had a hard time breaking free from the confines of her native soil, light, and moisture. Most people simply didn’t have the patience to wait for her softness to spill over the branches.

And yet, if Cui Qijin truly were some mountain plant, her presence would be impossible to ignore. She would draw people in, compelling them to uncover even more of that elusive scent.

Strange thoughts bubbled up alongside the fizzing drink. Chi Buyu’s tongue felt faintly numb. After a moment, she heard He Youzhen muttering right by her ear:

“You know, Cui Qijin doesn’t really seem like the warm-hearted type…”

Thinking she hadn’t heard, He Youzhen added:

“Huh?”