Chapter 75: Letting Go Part 1

Amid the faint echoes of laughter, Xia Jing kept her head down, tending to the farm work as her lips curved upward in a slight smile.

May’s weather was pleasant, the sun’s warmth soaking into her skin. But as time wore on, the sunlight faded, and in this mountain village, a cold breeze swept through, turning the air chilly.

Yet Xia Jing pressed on with her tasks, feeling no cold at all. Fine beads of sweat dotted her forehead, trickling down her cheeks and into the collar of her neck.

The spot was some distance from the school, so the voices weren’t loud. Huo Lixue’s laughter blended into the mix, barely noticeable, almost inaudible.

But whether it was her imagination or not, Xia Jing found she could pick out Huo Lixue’s voice precisely amid all that mingled chatter. Was it because she was so familiar with it?

Not entirely.

It was more that laughter like Huo Lixue’s—truly heartfelt and unrestrained—was so rare.

The Huo Lixue of the past had loved teasing people in front of Xia Jing and laughed often enough. But this kind of full-throated, joyful guffaw? Xia Jing had hardly ever seen it, maybe once or twice. She hadn’t paid it much mind at the time, but her subconscious had etched it deep.

That’s why she could zero in on it so accurately.

Xia Jing had played those same student games lately, nothing special about them. They lifted the spirits a bit, sure, but mostly killed time. She never burst out laughing during them—just normal, everyday cheer.

But Huo Lixue…

At the thought, Xia Jing’s smile faded, her nose suddenly stinging. She recalled that time in Huo Lixue’s dorm, when Yueyue was teaching her a game. No matter how Yueyue explained it, Huo Lixue just couldn’t get the hang of it. Xia Jing had stood by, stifling a snicker, thinking she’d finally found something Huo Lixue was bad at.

Was Huo Lixue really bad at it? No. Probably just that she hadn’t had the chance to play as a kid, leaving her rusty.

Xia Jing sniffed, took a deep breath, and stepped out from the field.

Qin Shiyu, resting on the field ridge, stood up. “Heading back?”

Xia Jing nodded with a soft “mm-hmm.”

Qin Shiyu grabbed her tools and tucked them into her basket. She glanced casually at Xia Jing and let out a surprised “Huh?” “Why are your eyes all red?”

Xia Jing’s lashes fluttered. She paused a few seconds before explaining, “Sweat dripped into them earlier. Must’ve irritated them.”

Sweat was salty, after all, and uncomfortable in the eyes. Qin Shiyu nodded, and the two of them walked one behind the other along the ridges. Under the lingering glow of the sunset, with the mountain breeze whispering around them, they strolled leisurely back.

Folks still working the fields spotted them and called out warm greetings.

Villagers with fresh-picked veggies handed over bundles. Some even stuffed seasonal fruits straight into their baskets.

They reached the entrance to Tile-Drill Courtyard just as Huo Lixue’s group emerged from the school.

Qin Shiyu greeted them enthusiastically. Xia Jing kept her composure, stealing a few subtle glances at Huo Lixue. Her cheeks were flushed, hair a touch disheveled, jacket slung over one arm—she looked to be in high spirits.

Xia Jing withdrew her gaze and tugged at Qin Shiyu, who was still chatting away. “Come on, you’ve got dirt on your face.”

It wasn’t just her face; her field clothes and shoes were caked with mud too. Not exactly guest-ready outfits. Qin Shiyu said her goodbyes and followed Xia Jing into the courtyard.

Only after they’d turned away did Huo Lixue’s eyes settle on Xia Jing’s retreating form. A moment later, she looked away.

Teacher Wang beside her asked the Principal, “Where’ve they been? They’re covered in mud.”

“Helping the villagers with farm work,” the Principal explained. “Most of the kids here are left-behind children. With school in session, they can’t help the elders at home, so Little Teacher Xia and Little Teacher Qin have been pitching in to lighten the load.”

Teacher Wang knew they were urban volunteer teachers, not locals. She couldn’t hide her surprise. “They know how to do that stuff?”

The Principal elaborated, “When they first arrived, they didn’t know a thing—not even how to tell rice seedlings apart. Everyone figured it was a whim; they’d help a few days and quit. But nope—they’ve stuck with it till now and gotten really good. Those two are something else.”

Teacher Wang agreed. “They really are. What do you think, Teacher Huo?”

Huo Lixue murmured her assent.

~~~

Qin Shiyu and Xia Jing’s rooms were next door to each other. No private bathrooms—just a communal bathhouse in the courtyard, divided into small stalls with curtains for privacy.

After grabbing clean clothes, Xia Jing went to wash her hair and bathe. Qin Shiyu took the stall to her right.

Hot water cascaded from overhead, rushing down the drain with a steady gurgle.

Qin Shiyu called out suddenly, “Xia Jing.”

She raised her voice to cut through the water noise.

“What?” Xia Jing replied.

Qin Shiyu asked outright, “Do you not like Professor Huo much?”

No one else came to bathe at this hour, so she didn’t hold back.

Xia Jing paused a few seconds. “Why do you think that?”

Qin Shiyu laid it out logically. “I know your personality—you’re friendly with everyone, chatty no matter who it is. But haven’t you noticed? Whenever Professor Huo’s around, you barely say a word. And you don’t stick around long.” She paused, then added, “Actually, that doesn’t add up. You don’t even know her, so why dislike her out of nowhere? Unless… like me, you get nervous around her and just clam up?”

“Xia Jing? Xia Jing? You listening?”

“I’m listening,” Xia Jing said. “I’m not nervous, and I don’t dislike her. Don’t overthink it.”

Qin Shiyu pressed, “Then why so quiet?”

Xia Jing replied, “Maybe I just don’t have much to say to her. She’s not part of my world.”

Qin Shiyu liked Huo Lixue a lot herself, so Xia Jing’s lack of reaction struck her as odd. But this explanation made sense—who could demand everyone feel the same? Her doubts eased; she dropped it.

Xia Jing stared at the water beading on the wall, her eyes flickering in the steamy haze. Truth was, Qin Shiyu was spot on. She was avoiding Huo Lixue a little. The reason? She figured Huo Lixue wouldn’t want to see her—and she didn’t want to spoil her good mood.

At the washbasin outside the stalls, Huo Lixue filled a basin with hot water, her expression neutral. She carried it out, pausing to glance toward Xia Jing’s stall before heading off.

~~~

Around six-thirty in the evening, as dusk deepened into twilight, the group headed to the school cafeteria. They gathered around a table and shared dinner.

Xia Jing ate quickly, the first to set down her bowl.

The Principal asked, “That all you’re having?”

“I’m full,” Xia Jing said.

The Principal insisted, “After a full afternoon of farm work, you should eat a few more bowls at least.”

“Not hungry now. If I get peckish later, I can boil some noodles. No need to worry,” Xia Jing replied. “Take your time eating. I’ll head out.”

The Principal nodded and reminded her to rest early.

Teacher Wang, curious, asked, “Does Little Teacher Xia like staying up late?”

“No way,” the Principal said. “Signal here’s spotty—no good streaming or anything. Best evening entertainment is TV, but the shows are dull; you nod off quick. I remind her to sleep early because she always runs to the student dormitory late at night to tutor the kids, helping with homework. Often doesn’t leave till past midnight, then tidies up before bed—nearly one a.m. Up again at dawn for morning study hall. I’m worried she’ll wear herself out.”

That was Xia Jing’s routine.

Qin Shiyu chimed in, “I’ve told her to rest more, but she can’t sit still.”

Sometimes Qin Shiyu feared she’d collapse from exhaustion. But what did Xia Jing say?

She’d told Qin Shiyu: I won’t be here long—maybe half a year tops. While I’m here, I need to do what I can. Skipping a little sleep is no big deal. But these small helps, these little bits of care—they might be the only warmth some kids get in tough childhoods.

Qin Shiyu had started the volunteering gig; Xia Jing tagged along. But once here, Xia Jing did more—and seemed more committed.

Sometimes, watching kids cared for only by grandparents while parents were away, Xia Jing fell into a quiet sadness.

In those moments, her gaze lingered on the children, but Qin Shiyu always felt like she was seeing through them to someone or something else. Who? She didn’t know.

That’s why Xia Jing stayed late at the dorms and helped with farm chores in her spare time. The more she did, the less the kids had to when they got home.

Worn out from the afternoon’s labor, Qin Shiyu grabbed another bowl of rice, polished it off, and headed to the student dormitory.

The dinner table conversation shifted quickly. Huo Lixue’s group had covered all their planned activities that afternoon. Tomorrow was free time—they could go anywhere.

The Principal briefed them, then apologized. “I should’ve shown you around myself, but I’ve got errands in the county tomorrow. Let Little Xia and Little Qin guide you—they know the area well.”

Teacher Wang said, “No problem. Handle your business. We can manage, or trouble Little Xia and them if needed.”

The Principal advised, “Some paths are tricky. Better with a local guide.”

Zhou Mountain’s scenery was stunning but undeveloped, unmanaged, barely commercialized. Some trails dead-ended on sheer drops. Climbing solo was risky—best with someone familiar.

Huo Lixue asked, “You’ve been busy these past couple days. Something wrong?”

The Principal sighed. “One student’s family is in dire straits—just her and her grandma. Granny’s healthy enough, but affording school is a stretch. Our scholarships don’t go far. The girl doesn’t want to burden her, so she’s talking about dropping out. Yesterday, I visited to talk her out of it.”

Tomorrow’s county trip was to seek more aid. Money troubles solved, she’d return to class. Words alone wouldn’t cut it.

The Principal kept it brief. After dinner, she walked Huo Lixue’s group back to the courtyard. “Rest well.”

Huo Lixue replied, “You too, Principal.”

Holiday season meant most teachers had gone home. Few remained. A single big lamp lit the courtyard, cold winds whistling through the quiet desolation.

Phone signal sucked, but if it connected, you could make do with the lag.