SWTHTC - 19

Chapter 19: “Hello?”

[“…Could you please come to the police station?”]

That night, Zhou Leqi found herself unable to sleep again.

She was utterly exhausted. The intense workload of her senior year had already pushed her to her limits, and the oppressive atmosphere at home left her emotionally drained.

Now, things at school were also spiraling out of control.

Lying in bed, she tossed and turned, repeatedly urging herself to clear her mind and fall asleep. Yet, images continued to swirl before her eyes—Teacher Pan’s reprimands, her classmates’ gossip, and Luo Siyu’s appearance that day.

These recent events were merely small triggers, dredging up far more terrifying memories. Scenes of arguments and fights replayed in her mind, as did blurred screenshots and a certain man shouting loudly in a crowd.

Everything she desperately tried to forget stubbornly resurfaced.

Her world seemed to be shrinking, closing in on her from all sides. Tall walls pressed in, trapping her in a landfill. She had tried a million times to escape but realized it was all futile.

She was a prisoner of the garbage heap.

Zhou Leqi tightly shut her eyes, unconsciously gripping the edge of her pillow while cocooning herself in her blanket. Despite the suffocating summer heat, she was drenched in sweat, feeling miserable. Yet, she refused to loosen her grip on the blanket.

Why?

Was she seeking comfort?

But blankets couldn’t provide security. No matter how tightly she wrapped herself, it wouldn’t help—otherwise, she wouldn’t be lying awake. Now, even her heart began to ache faintly from the lack of sleep, yet she still couldn’t drift off.

She watched as the sky slowly brightened.

The next day, the results of the Chinese weekly test were handed back. As expected, she bombed it.

113.

In truth, this score wasn’t bad—it was just disappointing for someone like her, a top student. This time, Yan Lin ranked first with 127, followed by the Chinese class representative, Yin Xin, with 126, and Hou Zihao third with 124.

…She lagged behind the top tier by more than ten points.

Zhou Leqi stared at her paper in silence.

During class, Teacher Pan was furious as he reviewed the exam. He scolded the entire class, saying their performance was abysmal. Their average score was only slightly higher than Class Two’s, neck-and-neck with Class 43’s liberal arts students. He called it a disgrace and ranted about how these science students were illiterate, completely botching the poetry analysis section.

He unleashed a torrent of criticism but still felt unsatisfied. By the end of class, his anger spilled over onto the half-finished blackboard newspaper at the back of the classroom. Pointing at it, he snapped at Hou Zihao, “Cultural Affairs Committee member, hurry up and finish that blackboard newspaper! What’s the meaning of leaving it half-done like that?”

With that, he stormed out of the room.

Hou Zihao: “… “

Yan Lin, who had topped Hou Zihao this time, was in high spirits. As soon as the Chinese class ended, he and Ge Ao sauntered over to Hou Zihao’s seat to mock him, gleefully dancing on his sore spots. They teased him about why his blackboard newspaper project had stalled.

Ge Ao slung an arm around Hou Zihao’s shoulder, grinning mischievously. “Come clean—are you really the one behind this blackboard newspaper? Or was it your former desk partner who helped you?”

That “former” hit hard.

Hou Zihao was fuming. But Ge Ao didn’t stop there. After muttering, “I knew your artistic talent wasn’t that great,” he pressed on with nosy questions. “Seriously, are you dating her or something? Did you confess and get rejected? Is that why she’s ignoring you now?”

Hou Zihao: “… “

Damn Ge Ao.

…He’d guessed it all correctly.

Hou Zihao remained silent, brushing off Ge Ao’s hand from his shoulder. Instinctively, he glanced toward the other side of the classroom. There, Zhou Leqi sat alone, head bowed over her test paper, strands of hair falling over her forehead—just like when she’d fallen asleep leaning on his shoulder last Friday.

Even that fleeting glimpse was enough to make him miss her.

Yan Lin, being more perceptive than Ge Ao, could tell Hou Zihao was genuinely upset. He stopped joking and prying into what happened between him and Zhou Leqi. Instead, he turned to look at the half-finished blackboard newspaper and asked, “What are you going to do about this? Do you have a plan?”

Hou Zihao tore his gaze away from Zhou Leqi, glancing at the blackboard newspaper. Twirling his pen, he said irritably, “It’s fine. I’ll slap something together tonight.”

Ge Ao asked, “Will that work? What if Teacher Pan isn’t satisfied?”

“That’d be perfect,” Hou Zihao replied with an indifferent shrug. “He can go ahead and remove me from my position.”

That evening, after school, Hou Zihao stayed behind to work on the blackboard newspaper. Coincidentally, Thursday was also Zhou Leqi’s turn for cleaning duty.

She noticed he had stayed behind, standing awkwardly in front of the blackboard with the box of watercolors they had bought together last Friday. When he turned around, their eyes met briefly—he seemed to want to say something.

Zhou Leqi averted her gaze, continuing to sweep the floor as if she hadn’t seen him.

But not long after, she heard his approaching footsteps and his voice, low and hesitant, just like that day in the basement garage. “Sorry to bother you, but about the wave part…”

Zhou Leqi’s back stiffened. For some reason, she felt an instinctive urge to avoid him. She couldn’t bring herself to look up at him. Why? Was it because she still believed his confession of liking her was a cruel joke?

Or… had she begun to realize that he had been serious?

Zhou Leqi didn’t want to dwell on it. She kept her head down, sweeping the floor as dust and scraps of paper filled her vision. In a cold tone, she said, “Just mix a few colors randomly and paint over it.”

Shutting him out completely.

She didn’t know what expression crossed his face after hearing her words. All she knew was that a long silence stretched between them. After a while, he gave a soft reply and turned away.

She wasn’t sure if his voice had sounded a little despondent.

After a moment, she finally looked up and saw his figure standing in front of the blackboard. He clearly didn’t know how to use watercolors—he wasn’t dipping the brush in water, instead trying to smear dry paint onto the board, fruitlessly attempting to pick up color.

Zhou Leqi bit her lip, inexplicably feeling a pang of guilt. Though she bore no responsibility for the blackboard newspaper, she couldn’t shake the sense of remorse.

After hesitating for a moment, she wavered. Maybe she’d help him one last time—just as a thank-you for the bowl of beef noodles he had treated her to last Friday.

But just as Zhou Leqi made up her mind, before she could even put down her broom, something changed.

—Luo Siyu arrived.

Peeking into the classroom from outside, she saw that most of Class One had already left. Cautiously stepping inside, she carried several notebooks in her arms.

She walked up to Hou Zihao and lightly tapped his back. Zhou Leqi turned her head and heard him ask, “What are you doing here?”

Luo Siyu’s gentle voice drifted over. “I came to return your notebooks. I’ve already photocopied them.”

Hou Zihao responded, “Okay, leave them on my desk.”

After a moment, Luo Siyu asked, “Are you working on the blackboard newspaper? Why aren’t you using water with the watercolors?”

Perhaps Hou Zihao had just realized that watercolors required water, as he paused momentarily without answering. Luo Siyu laughed, her voice as pleasant as a silver bell—both soft and lively.

“You don’t know how to paint, do you?” she said. “Let me help you—I’m an art student.”

As Zhou Leqi swept the trash into the dustpan and dumped it, she heard Hou Zihao reply, “It’s fine. Don’t trouble yourself. I can finish it myself.”

But Luo Siyu smiled and said, “It’s no trouble at all—it’s easy for me. Besides, the proportions of that sailboat are a bit off. Let me erase it and redraw it for you?”

“Clang!”

The metal dustpan hit the cleaning corner with a loud, jarring noise.

Hou Zihao immediately turned his head.

…But all he caught was the sight of Zhou Leqi walking out of the classroom, her backpack slung over her shoulder.

________________________________________

Later that day, Zhou Leqi encountered that middle-aged man again on Bus 301.

She had silently wished during her walk from school to the bus stop, praying she wouldn’t run into him today. But fate, as usual, ignored her plea, and she encountered him once more.

Her heart sank, though she wasn’t overly panicked. Since Hou Zihao no longer rode this bus, Zhou Leqi had carefully considered how to handle encountering the man alone. She decided not to sit down at all—she would stand near the driver until her stop.

Though tiring, it was safe. Surely the man wouldn’t dare harm her under the driver’s watchful eye.

Still, her behavior looked odd. The driver couldn’t help but ask why she wasn’t sitting down. Zhou Leqi lied, saying her lower back hurt from prolonged sitting and that standing would help.

The driver sighed, remarking how stressful life was for high school students these days—back pain at such a young age. After chatting idly for a while, he casually asked, “Young lady, why hasn’t your boyfriend been riding with you these past few days?”

Zhou Leqi pursed her lips. In the rearview mirror, she saw the middle-aged man staring at her back. A chill ran down her spine, her heartbeat quickening. Struggling to remain calm, she raised her voice slightly and replied, “He’s been busy lately and can’t always accompany me, but he’ll meet me at the final stop to escort me home.”

The driver chuckled, commenting on how romantic young love was, and reminded her to focus on her studies, not letting romance distract her.

Zhou Leqi pretended to chat lightly with him, but her nerves remained taut.

As soon as the bus reached the final stop, Zhou Leqi rushed off first.

She didn’t pay attention to the man’s movements, focusing instead on hurrying home. Once she reached dimly lit areas, her pace quickened further.

Eventually, she broke into a run.

She sprinted along the uneven dirt path, nearly tripping over potholes. Yet, she dared not stop, running and running without pause. At some point, she thought she heard hurried, rapid footsteps behind her—someone chasing her. Fear gripped her heart, making it impossible to suppress her panic.

She was so terrified that she didn’t dare turn around. What would she do if she saw him pursuing her? She could only keep running, fleeing for her life.

Finally, she made it home, her trembling hands quickly locking the door behind her.

Only then did she allow herself to exhale deeply.

By then, Yu Qing was already asleep in the kitchen, unaware of her daughter’s distress. Zhou Leqi didn’t want to tell her mother about what happened. She knew Yu Qing couldn’t solve these problems—she would only worry and fret, which wouldn’t help at all.

She had to face this on her own.

Suppressing the involuntary tremors brought on by fear, Zhou Leqi walked to the small window of their cramped apartment and peered outside. Seeing no suspicious figures lurking nearby, she relaxed slightly, convincing herself she had been overthinking. Perhaps no one had been following her—it was likely just a hallucination born of sleep deprivation and stress.

She consoled herself this way, then acted as if nothing had happened while having dinner with Yu Qing, sharing only cheerful stories from school. Afterward, she washed the dishes, took a bath, and started her homework.

Everything seemed normal.

Until 10 PM, when the landline suddenly rang.

Yu Qing was already asleep, and Zhou Leqi was studying alone in the small living room. Worried the ringing might wake her mother, she quickly picked up the phone.