"Ask Wen Yan."
With those three words, Zhang Jia’s face shifted from a flushed red to a sickly, ashen green. Her hands, hanging at her sides, clenched into tight fists.
She retreated from Wen Yan’s seat. A girl beside her supported her, asking with concern, "Zhang Jia, are you okay? Your face looks..."
Before she could finish, Zhang Jia shook her head. Her lips were pale as she whispered, "I’m fine."
Only then did Su Jingming sit back down. The surrounding area became terrifyingly quiet, save for the faint murmur of hushed discussions and the scraping of chairs.
This was the first time Su Jingming had rejected Zhang Jia so bluntly in front of so many people.
Zhang Jia felt the sting of humiliation; her pride was shattered.
Over this period, she had endured no fewer rumors than Su Jingming. She had banked on the fact that Su Jingming wouldn't stoop to playing mind games, and she had seized upon the sympathy most people felt for her. She had cast aside all her dignity, hoping only that Su Jingming would spare her a single glance.
Zhang Jia’s entire body went stiff, a chill running from her head to her toes. She was trembling slightly. Sitting behind her, Li Yang and Ren Wei took in her strange behavior.
They couldn't help but lament—of all the people to like, she just had to pick Su Jingming.
News like this traveled at the speed of light, eventually reaching the ears of Zhou Hong and the Dean. Both students were top performers; at such a critical juncture, the school had to crack down on any signs of "puppy love."
The Dean personally came to Class 2 to collect them, leading Su Jingming and Zhang Jia away in front of the entire class. As they walked, he muttered, "You two..."
He hesitated, then asked, "Is there really something going on?"
Su Jingming was taken aback by the question. "Something like what?"
The Dean gritted his teeth. "Puppy love!"
Su Jingming’s expression didn't flicker. He steadied his gaze and answered earnestly, "No."
He answered so crisply and sincerely that for a moment, the Dean thought he had caught the wrong people. In all his years of teaching, he rarely missed the mark on these things. But this was Su Jingming—hadn't he nearly made a mistake with him last time and ended up almost treating the boy to a meal out of guilt?
The Dean wondered to himself: *Is Su Jingming my jinx?*
Why was it that whenever something involved him, it was never anything good?
He decided to stop questioning Su Jingming and turned directly to Zhang Jia. "Zhang Jia, you’re a good kid. You tell me."
Hearing this, Zhang Jia lowered her eyes to hide her dejection. "...No."
The Dean still wasn't convinced. He settled them both in his office and said earnestly, "Puppy love is a normal thing. You’re at the age where your hearts are beginning to stir; there’s nothing wrong with liking someone."
Su Jingming nodded in rare cooperation. "I agree with that."
"..." The Dean choked. "But you are students, and minors at that. You should focus on your studies."
Su Jingming replied, "Minors have their own thoughts, too. Besides, I’m almost an adult."
"At this age, you should study hard and enrich yourselves. Don't get caught up in romance. Once you get to university, you can date however you like. Mutual attraction now is fleeting. In time, you’ll realize that dating isn't nearly as good as studying hard and getting into a good university. It won't be too late to date then."
Su Jingming asked, "Do university students really have time to date? From what I’ve seen, they’re busy enough to never touch the ground."
"..." The Dean’s brow twitched. He hadn't realized Su Jingming had this kind of personality before. "What I mean is, I hope you don't act on impulse right now and ruin your future."
"Don't worry, I definitely won't act on impulse." Su Jingming seemed to think of something, and a rare smile touched his lips. "Barring any accidents, my future is already in my hands."
His words were a bit bold, even reckless, carrying the arrogance of a seventeen-year-old boy who feared nothing.
Standing beside him, Zhang Jia couldn't help but clench her hands. She was the only one who understood.
Su Jingming was saying that his future—his "prospects"—was Wen Yan.
A wave of bitterness flooded her heart, and for the moment, she could find no way to stop it.
After the two of them gave the Dean repeated assurances, he finally felt at ease enough to let them go.
On the way back, Zhang Jia followed behind Su Jingming, staring at his lean back. Her sense of indignation swelled in that instant.
"Su Jingming," she called out.
Su Jingming stopped but kept his back to her.
"Can't it be a girl?" Zhang Jia didn't even realize her voice was trembling as she spoke.
Su Jingming turned his face slightly, his prominent Adam's apple bobbing several times. "Gender is irrelevant. It just has to be him."
Admitting to this relationship in front of an outsider for the first time made the palm of his hidden hand turn warm, breaking out in a fine, dense sweat.
For the first time, Zhang Jia felt her loss was utterly senseless. It felt as though she had lost completely before she had even begun.
"Zhang Jia, what exactly do you like about me?" Seeing her looking so soul-crushed, Su Jingming finally asked the question that had been on his mind for a long time. "We haven't had much contact. Regarding the competition incident, I heard from Ren Wei that you were speaking up for me. Come to think of it, I haven't properly thanked you."
"Thank you." Su Jingming paused. He opened his mouth as if to say more, but swallowed the words.
Faced with Zhang Jia’s silence, Su Jingming felt as if every second was an eternity.
After a moment of stillness, Zhang Jia finally spoke with a smile, "There’s nothing to thank me for. I believed in you anyway."
That was the end of it.
It was like a ripple on the ocean's surface; calm on the outside, but surging with undercurrents within. After a period of stillness, the sea breeze picked up, tossing higher waves that lingered across the dark expanse of the water.
Summer in Liangcheng wasn't as gentle as spring; it arrived with a certain crude violence. The hot wind blowing in through the windows was unreasonable, blanketing every corner of the classroom. The silver bell on the boy's wrist made a faint, crisp sound in the blazing sun, sounding exceptionally cold.
The weather grew hotter. The old ceiling fan groaned with a strange noise every time it rotated.
This was the twentieth time Li Yang had looked up.
Ren Wei couldn't stand the habit anymore. Taking advantage of the teacher turning to write on the blackboard, he poked Li Yang’s arm with his pen. "Can you stop fucking looking up?"
"I’m just afraid the fan is going to fall and crush me." Li Yang rolled his sleeves up higher. "Damn it, why won't the school consider making summer uniforms? They really don't know how to make money."
Ren Wei nodded in agreement. "Then stop looking up. The teacher’s looked at you several times. How am I supposed to play on my phone later?"
"..." Li Yang suddenly felt a surge of sympathy for Su Jingming, who was always Ren Wei's deskmate.
Su Jingming was somewhat irritable from the heat, his brow furrowed. He unzipped his school jacket, revealing the white short-sleeved shirt underneath, and pulled his sleeves up to his elbows. He had just finished calculating a problem, but the result didn't match the answer key. He slashed his pen back and forth across the paper, making a harsh, grating sound.
Wen Yan heard the noise and looked over. He pulled the paper toward himself, gave it a quick glance, and casually corrected a step for him, writing down the right answer.
"What is it?" He handed the problem back. "Unhappy?"
Su Jingming didn't know how to put it. He had been feeling restless since the morning. "It's too hot. I have no interest in studying."
Wen Yan hummed. "Then just lie down and sleep. This weather is perfect for it."
Su Jingming actually listened to Wen Yan and slumped onto the desk to sleep. He slept all the way until school ended. When he woke up, he was stunned. "I slept that long?"
Wen Yan gave a soft "mm" and packed his things. "Back to the dorm, or...?"
Before he could finish, Su Jingming’s phone rang. He gave Wen Yan an apologetic look and answered Su Qicheng’s call.
"Jingming, come home tonight."
Su Jingming almost thought Su Qicheng was having an episode; his voice over the phone was bone-chillingly cold. He had almost forgotten what kind of person Su Qicheng used to be.
When he opened the door to his home, the light inside was dim, with only the floor lamp by the sofa turned on. The house was filled with the smell of alcohol and cigarettes. Su Jingming walked in, frowning.
Su Qicheng was sitting on the sofa smoking. He didn't turn around when he heard the movement.
"Is something wrong?" Su Jingming changed his shoes and tossed his backpack onto the sofa, having no intention of sitting down. He noticed, out of the corner of his eye, a thick photo album sitting on the edge of the coffee table.
It was his childhood album. Ever since Cheng Hui left, no new photos had been added.
Su Qicheng looked up at his son. His voice was hoarse. "Sit. Dad has something to ask you."
Su Jingming sat down formally across from Su Qicheng. He watched as Su Qicheng, a cigarette dangling from his lips, picked up the album and flipped through it page by page.
It wasn't until the cigarette went out that Su Qicheng seemed to snap out of it. He said, "Actually, when you were first born, I was very happy. Your arrival made me feel like life had a new meaning."
Su Jingming pressed his lips together and said nothing.
"I worked very hard to win your mother over. There were many people pursuing her back then, and I had to put in a lot of effort. She liked floral dresses, so I saved up half a month's salary just to buy her one she liked. She liked the candied haws from the street corner, so I’d run from one end of the city to the other without a second thought. It was so hot back then that by the time I got them to her, the sugar coating had melted."
As Su Qicheng spoke, a faint smile appeared on his face—a smile Su Jingming had never seen before. He rarely heard about the romance between Cheng Hui and Su Qicheng, but there was one thing he had to admit: Su Qicheng had truly, deeply loved Cheng Hui.
"...Mm," Su Jingming responded.
Su Qicheng continued, "You were born just as the sky was turning bright, right at sunrise. Your dad is a common man without much education, so that’s how I came up with your name."
This was the first time Su Jingming had learned the origin of his name.
Su Qicheng said, "I hoped your tomorrow would have a bright future, brilliant and radiant."
At this point, Su Qicheng picked up a nearby bottle and took a large gulp. His eyes were red, and the floor lamp cast a long, stretched shadow of him. Su Jingming caught a glimpse of the white hair at Su Qicheng’s temples.
"Actually, Dad really regrets it... why I treated you that way... It’s my fault you’ve become like this." Su Qicheng took a deep breath. He flipped another page of the album, his fingers tracing the photos. "When you were in kindergarten, you spent all day clamoring to transform into Ultraman. It was your favorite thing to watch, and it was all you talked about."
"Dad still remembers you saying back then that you wanted to be a messenger of justice. I just don't know if you still like it now..."
"I do," Su Jingming answered quickly. He lowered his eyes. "Just like when I was little, I still like it."
Hearing this, Su Qicheng nodded repeatedly, muttering under his breath, "That’s good, that’s good."
He flipped another page.
Su Qicheng looked down at the album, his eyes suddenly crinkling. "In primary school, you got into a fight with a classmate once, and I was called in. If I remember correctly, your forehead and knees were covered in bruises that day, but you never made a sound or complained about the pain."
Su Jingming thought about it; there did seem to have been such an incident. He gave a light laugh and nodded. "I didn't."
"Your mother and I knew then that you were a very independent and strong child. You never showed your weakness to others—not even to us." There was a hint of loss in Su Qicheng’s voice. "You blame me, don't you? These past few years, I haven't been good to you. You never said a word to your mom either; you just endured everything in silence."
Su Jingming didn't deny it. That was his personality; he wouldn't say a word to defend himself.
The album reached the end. There were no more photos. A look of desolation appeared in Su Qicheng’s eyes; this was a past he couldn't make up for, a childhood he couldn't restore.
His fingers lingered on the blank pages of the album, stroking them back and forth. He asked Su Jingming, "Dad was truly wrong..."
Su Jingming said nothing. He couldn't judge whether Su Qicheng was right or wrong. From beginning to end, the same blood flowed through his veins as Su Qicheng’s. This was a familial bond he couldn't sever. He had accepted his lot with resignation, without a single word of complaint.
"Can't you just say you blame me?" Su Qicheng suddenly looked up at him. "At least say you blame me, so I can..."
"So you can feel guilty? Or so you can feel a bit better?" Su Jingming was very calm. He looked down at his school uniform, most of his face hidden in the shadows, making it impossible for Su Qicheng to see his expression.
Su Qicheng was stunned by the question.
Would he feel better if he were blamed?
He was beginning to lose his understanding, and even Su Jingming was beginning to lose his.
Father and son remained silent for a long time—long enough for the street vendors downstairs to pack up their stalls and for the street to fall silent. Su Qicheng put the album away, placing it on the corner of the coffee table. He picked up the unfinished bottle of hard liquor and downed it in one go.
Su Jingming listened to the sound of the liquor going down. His heart suddenly felt heavy and swollen with an inexplicable ache, one he couldn't find an outlet for.
By the time Su Qicheng finished the bottle, the entire living room was overwhelmed by the smell of alcohol. With trembling fingers, Su Qicheng lit a cigarette and took a sharp drag. His voice was incredibly hoarse. "Go back to sleep."
Su Jingming gave a soft "mm," picked up his backpack, and walked toward his room.
The moment he stepped into his room, the sound of the bottle hitting the floor made him pause.
Suddenly, Su Qicheng spoke, his voice thick with the scent of smoke and alcohol: "It’s my fault you turned out this way."
***
**Glossary**
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