Zhang Xu gasped as if he’d uncovered some unspeakable secret, widening his long eyes. “You’re Shen Jianqing? I thought you were a girl…”
Shen Jianqing shot him a puzzled glare.
“You and our Yuze…”
I immediately guessed what Zhang Xu was about to say and cut him off. “Class monitor, the teacher is calling roll. You should go.”
Zhang Xu gave a sly, knowing smile, eyes squinting into crescents, nodding repeatedly as if saying, “I understand.”
I turned slightly and caught Shen Jianqing watching Zhang Xu’s retreating back. When he faced me again, his expression was calm and even.
Perhaps I had misread him.
Shen Jianqing drew back his gaze, furrowing his brow slightly, and whispered, “Yuze, what’s your relationship with him?”
“We used to be roommates. Now we’re still friends,” I said.
“What’s a roommate?”
He knew nothing of anything beyond the Miao village, so I patiently explained, “It’s someone you live with in a dormitory at school.”
The moment Shen Jianqing heard that, his expression shifted. He pressed his lips together, eyebrows low, murmuring softly twice under his breath, “No wonder he said ‘our Yuze’…”
“Don’t overthink it,” I said, suspecting he might have misunderstood something. But just then the teacher entered the classroom, and everyone quieted down, so I let it go.
This class was Modern History, taught by a Mediterranean-looking man named Tu, whom everyone privately called “Bald Teacher.” He tried to comb his sparse hair over his shiny scalp, but he didn’t seem to care much about appearances, often joking about being “exceptionally smart.”
He set down his black thermos with the “Yan University” logo, adjusted his loose belt, and said, “Class, let’s review what we learned last time about our country’s founding. I’ll ask a student to answer… hmm, who should it be?”
At the mention of being called on, everyone quietly lowered their heads, afraid of being singled out.
Bald Teacher scanned the room, enjoying the selection process, deliberately teasing the students.
“Don’t be so stiff… Ah, the boy in the last row! Long hair, so much of it—oh, I envy you just looking at it!”
All eyes followed his finger—and landed on Shen Jianqing.
I inhaled sharply.
Shen Jianqing lifted his eyelids slightly, his gaze flickering. To the sudden attention, he squinted faintly, expression unshaken.
Whispers around the room reached my ears.
“Who is he? Never seen him before.”
“Not from our majors… but so handsome!”
“From the art school, maybe…”
Seeing that Shen Jianqing remained still, Teacher Tu said, “Student, which major are you from? Stand up and answer my question.”
Shen Jianqing just stared at Teacher Tu, silent and unmoved. An outsider might have thought he was being defiant.
I braced myself and stood up. There was no way I would let Shen Jianqing answer the question directly.
Tu frowned. “I mean the one beside you.”
“Teacher, he… he’s a friend from another school, just auditing.”
The low murmurs around us seemed even louder. I faintly heard Zhang Xu telling two other roommates, “That’s Shen Jianqing.”
“Quiet!” Tu snapped, dissatisfied. He touched his shiny scalp, resigned, and finally said, “Fine, you answer then.”
I exhaled in relief.
The rest of the class passed quietly, though curious glances toward Shen Jianqing never ceased—especially from Zhang Xu, whose half-smile still had that teasing edge.
Shen Jianqing seemed oblivious.
I had thought he might find this boring, but he listened intently. His dark eyes followed Teacher Tu, occasionally reflecting deep thought.
At that moment, he seemed like an ordinary college student, sitting in a bright, spacious classroom, with a future full of promise.
If only this could be real.
“Yuze, was what that bald teacher said true?” Shen Jianqing asked suddenly as we left the classroom.
I said, “That’s history—facts that happened in the past.”
“But how can we see what happened back then?” he asked.
He was referring to the videos Teacher Tu had played—archival footage of the historical periods being discussed.
I explained, “These are recorded images. No matter how much time passes, you can watch them again.”
Shen Jianqing raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Better than a camera? You can preserve them forever, and they move?”
I nodded.
His eyes flickered as if pondering something deeply.
We walked through the teaching building and eventually reached the school’s back lake.
The back lake was artificial, with wooden floating bridges and lotus plants. In summer, the water would be covered with green leaves and blooming lotuses, some stretching high above the water, with large seed pods scattered here and there—a true summer spectacle of Yan University.
But now, it was late autumn. The lotuses had withered, leaving only sparse, brown leaves and bare stalks.
Shen Jianqing had mentioned he had never seen lotus flowers before.
I felt a strange pang of disappointment as well.
This artificial lake was at the center of campus, a passageway to many places.
“Yuze!”
Someone suddenly called from behind.
I turned to see Zhang Xu, slightly out of breath and in a hurry.
“tsk.” I heard Shen Jianqing’s low, impatient voice beside me.
“You two really have some… refined taste, huh?” Zhang Xu winked at me.
I reluctantly changed the topic. “What’s the rush?”
Zhang Xu said, “I’m having an allergic reaction—lots of red rashes suddenly appeared. It itches and hurts. I’m heading to the campus clinic for medicine.” He rolled up his sleeves.
His arms were dotted with countless red spots, making them look swollen.
“What happened?” I exclaimed. “You were fine in class.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, it just happened.”
Shen Jianqing glanced down at Zhang Xu’s arms silently, tidied his own sleeves, and then hid his hands behind his back.