Chapter 49

“Good, then tell me now—what do you like about me? What’s so special?”

Miao Bai’s words cut straight to the point, leaving Meng Bai momentarily at a loss.

It wasn’t so much that Miao Bai wanted an answer; it felt more like she was trying to make Meng Bai back off.

This really was a tough question.

Yet Meng Bai answered directly: “Miao Bai, what do you want me to say? It’s a feeling. How do you put a feeling into precise words?”

Miao Bai looked puzzled. “Truth is, I don’t really get it. If I’m someone who’s about to vanish, what’s the point of you catching feelings for me?”

Meng Bai didn’t yield. “By that logic, everyone in this world disappears eventually. So what’s the meaning of love? Nothing, right?”

Miao Bai pressed on: “My time is short. Shorter than you think.”

“The next second?” Meng Bai stared right at her. “Even if you disappear in the next second, I’d still want to like you.”

Miao Bai hadn’t seen that coming.

Up until then, she’d always thought of Meng Bai as a kid—even now that she was grown, Miao Bai couldn’t shake that view.

But those words just now? Not a kid’s words at all.

“Don’t spend too much time on me.” Miao Bai’s voice dropped suddenly, soft and low. “Finish your cake and get home.”

“So what about us?” Meng Bai was set on pushing it. “Is this you rejecting me?”

The urgency, the passion—it made Miao Bai’s heart tingle. Still, she nodded. “Yeah.”

“Can I still come see you? Are we still friends?”

Miao Bai hesitated. She found she couldn’t say no to Meng Bai.

“You can come by. We’re still friends.”

Relief washed over Meng Bai. Better to lay it all out than play cat-and-mouse.

The rejection wasn’t a shock; she’d braced for it. Miao Bai saying yes would have been the real surprise.

“Oh. I thought you didn’t want to see me anymore.”

Miao Bai’s expression softened, and she spoke plainly: “You haven’t done anything awful. Why wouldn’t I?”

Meng Bai tested the waters: “But after what I said this afternoon, you just left…”

“I went to buy cake.”

Of course, that afternoon Miao Bai truly hadn’t known what to say back—that played a part, but she kept it to herself.

With dusk settling in, Miao Bai urged her to eat up and head home.

Neither had much of an appetite. Meng Bai took a few dainty bites and set the plate aside. “Okay, I’m going.”

Five curt words, laced with reluctance but unavoidable.

“Mmm.”

Miao Bai made no move to walk her out, and Meng Bai got the message.

She left the rest of the cake behind. Standing, Meng Bai headed for the courtyard gate. At the threshold, she turned back. “Miao Bai.”

Miao Bai glanced up. “Yeah?”

Meng Bai drew a deep breath—she had to get it out. “I’m not that opera-singing woman.”

“Huh?” Miao Bai frowned, confused. “What?”

“I won’t abandon you like she did.” The words out, Meng Bai turned and ran.

By the time Miao Bai processed it, Meng Bai was gone.

Short words, but they took root in Miao Bai’s heart like a fermenting seed. They started gentle, then soured into something deeper. Tasting the intent, a subtle warmth flickered through her.

She couldn’t help sighing to herself: This kid—how many more surprises did she have in store?

~~~

Nights without Miao Bai were bleak. Nights with her, even in pitch darkness, lit up the world.

That was Meng Bai’s thought as she lay alone in bed.

She tossed and turned, sleep nowhere in sight.

Resigned, she fished the ancient pocket watch from under her pillow and clutched it tight. Not enough. She grabbed the pillow Miao Bai had used the night before, desperate for any trace of her scent.

No idea why the obsession hit so hard. Just days ago, sharing a bed hadn’t stirred this. Tonight, the ache peaked.

Eyes shut, her mind brimmed with Miao Bai.

She wondered if she was losing it.

Like Zhou An said—she’d fallen hard.

Love surged through the night, spilling from her heart, soaking the pillow, drenching the empty ceiling, blanketing the world.

Deep breath. She pictured the old courtyard, mere hundreds of meters away. The walnut tree. Its owner.

What was she doing right now?

Staring into space? Counting falling walnuts?

A wild notion struck Meng Bai: Why couldn’t she be that tree? Then she’d have Miao Bai forever.

Sleep came grudgingly.

She had no clue how late insomnia kept her up…

~~~

Next morning, the sun rose on cue. Life rolled on, predictable as a commuter train.

Up, school—just like any other Senior Year 3 kid.

Meng Bai pedaled her mountain bike through the dawn light, flying free down the small town’s cobblestone streets.

Miao Bai haunted her dreams, alright.

All night, her. Waking brought the first breath of relief.

“Hey!” Zhou An waved from the road. “Pull over—give me a ride!”

Meng Bai braked, teasing: “Five bucks. Five bucks!”

Zhou An swung onto the back rack with practice, grinning: “You’re on, driver. Make it quick!”

They jostled through the town market, bumps and all, pulling up at the school gate.

Girls clustered by the entrance, whispering furiously.

Zhou An dashed over for the scoop. “What’s the buzz?”

“Ye Hong’s mom lost it!” Li Yue shot a look inside. “Stormed the school at dawn, kicking up a fuss.”

“Lost it?” Meng Bai pushed in. “What happened? Over what?”

“Says someone killed Ye Hong, school’s involved, ranting all kinds of crazy. And get this—she cursed out Uncle Zhang!”

Uncle Zhang.

They’d nearly forgotten: sleazy Zhang Gou, now the girls’ benevolent “Uncle Zhang.”

Meng Bai and Zhou An exchanged a glance.

“And then?”

“Then her mom just got hauled away! It was creepy as hell! That scream was seriously bone-chilling!”

Zhou An couldn’t help but cut in. “Don’t you guys think Ye Hong’s death is totally bizarre? She was a top student, nice to everyone, with a bright future ahead of her. Why would she kill herself?”

The girls glanced at one another, at a loss for words.

“Uh, I don’t really know. Ye Hong and I weren’t that close.”

Someone else piped up. “She seemed nice enough, but we never really talked much.”

Zhou An’s heart clenched. She remembered that evening in the classroom when she’d run into Ye Hong—the last night of her life.

Someone in the crowd called out, “Break it up, everyone. Class is starting soon!”

~~~

It was back-to-back math classes that morning.

When Teacher Xu Qin walked in carrying a stack of books, Meng Bai was the first to look up and meet her eyes.

The three of them had forged an unspoken pact after that incident.

They would act like Zhou An’s ordeal had never happened.

Teacher Xu had never “adopted” Zhou An. Those days, Zhou An had simply run off on her own, and nobody knew what had gone down.

“Zhou An, come up and pass out the workbooks.” Xu Qin set the practice books on the lectern and turned to sketch a curve on the blackboard. Her gaze drifted incidentally to the numbers scrawled in the corner.

【222 days until the College Entrance Exam.】

Xu Qin paused for a beat, then turned to face the class. “Two hundred twenty-two days. They’ll slip by before you know it. October ends, winter arrives in the blink of an eye, New Year’s comes and goes, and June next year is just around the corner.”

She seemed to be musing aloud, not expecting any response, and turned back to draw a large ellipse on the board.

Down in the seats, Meng Bai twirled her pen, her mind wandering.

She wasn’t thinking about class. Her thoughts were on Ye Hong’s mother.

Why had she cursed out Zhang Gou like that? What did she know?

Just then, Zhou An passed her a test paper. Meng Bai reached out and grabbed her arm. “After school, wanna go find Ye Hong’s mom?”

“Let’s do it.” Zhou An was multitasking, shooting a flirty glance back at Xu Zhou and trading some bizarre lip signals with her. Meng Bai couldn’t make them out—and didn’t care to try.

“Bring Xu Zhou along.”

Zhou An nodded. “Got it.”

Up on the podium, Xu Qin finished her diagram, tossed the chalk into its tray, and brushed the dust from her hands. “Today’s focus is one of those questions everyone messes up. Ears open, people.”

Meng Bai pulled out her ballpoint pen, ready to jot down notes, when Zhou An poked her from behind.

“What?”

Zhou An whispered, “I just remembered something. Something huge.”

Meng Bai shrugged her hand off. “Teacher’s going over the key points. Don’t mess up my focus.”

Zhou An poked her again, harder. “This is bigger! You’ll regret it if you don’t hear me out!!!”

Meng Bai’s patience was fraying. “Fine, out with it.”

“I can’t say it out loud! Here—note.”

Zhou An scribbled furiously on a scrap of draft paper, tore off the strip, and shoved it at Meng Bai.

Meng Bai had no idea why she was making such a production of it and figured nothing earth-shattering would come out of Zhou An’s mouth anyway.

But when she unfolded the note, her heart slammed in her chest.

Zhou An had written:

【Remember during weekend tutoring when I said that quiet math teacher looked familiar? That Zhou Yizheng—I’ve definitely seen him before.】

Meng Bai’s eyes scanned lower, where Zhou An’s handwriting shrank to a whisper:

【I have seen him. At Teacher Xu Qin’s house. There’s a photo of him. If I’m right, Zhou Yizheng is Teacher Xu’s boyfriend.】

！！！！

No way!

Meng Bai snatched the note and crushed it into a tight ball in her fist, terrified someone might glimpse it.

Zhou Yizheng? Teacher Xu’s boyfriend?

They hadn’t exactly sung his praises that tutoring day.

He’d struck them all as a sanctimonious creep.

How could he possibly be Teacher Xu’s guy?

And yet, Zhou An’s intel was usually spot-on.

Up front, Xu Qin’s voice rang out clear and strong, her cheeks faintly flushed from the nonstop talking.

Meng Bai stared at her, turning over a question in her mind: What did Teacher Xu and Zhou Yizheng have in common?

Both math teachers.

Both from the city.

Roughly the same age.

Both…

Meng Bai stared a moment too long, and her chest tightened as a new possibility sparked in her head.

Xu Qin and Zhou Yizheng shared eerily similar features: high nose bridges, small faces, cheekbones that could almost align perfectly, eyes sparkling with clarity—especially the way they carried themselves while lecturing, down to their cadence and pace.

Lovers?

They looked more like brother and sister.