Chapter 3: “Never Coming Back”

[…This doesn’t seem like dislike at all.]

Aside from the brief exchange about the meat floss bread, Zhou Leqi hadn’t spoken to Hou Zihao for the rest of the day—not just him, but anyone.

In stark contrast, Hou Zihao’s surroundings were always lively.

During breaks, a small crowd inevitably gathered around him. Boys from other classes came to invite him to play basketball, while girls from other classes brought him things. These interactions often sparked discussions within their own class. The girls would make sarcastic remarks, and the boys would either tease or join in with their own snide comments.

…It was quite noisy.

Zhou Leqi endured the entire day until school finally ended.

No. 1 High adhered to a philosophy of free-range education—no evening self-study sessions, no boarding system. Classes ended at 5 p.m., and students were free to do as they pleased after leaving school. Ironically, the more freedom they had, the harder the students pushed themselves. Though they joked around on campus, once outside the school gates, they either rushed to cram schools or went home to study late into the night, competing fiercely.

As soon as the dismissal bell rang at 5 p.m., the entire class began packing up. At that moment, Old Pan walked in to announce two things: first, that class committee positions would be selected tomorrow, and those interested should prepare; second, he specifically assigned Hou Zihao to clean up today—since it was the first day of school and there was no duty roster yet, the latecomer would have to handle everything.

As soon as Old Pan left, Zhou Leqi heard Hou Zihao mutter a curse under his breath. Immediately, his friends gathered around to tease him.

Ge Ao was the first to approach, unleashing a barrage of mockery. “So, are you still playing ball today? Zhang Zhouning invited us. He says his class has no one good enough to play, so we’ve got to step in.”

Hou Zihao remained expressionless, saying nothing.

Yuan Jiahui also came over. Out of the forty students in Class 1, only nine were girls, and she was one of them. With thick eyebrows and large eyes, she had been hailed as the pride of the science-focused class since her sophomore year. Unfortunately, her feelings for Hou Zihao were painfully obvious. She’d been pursuing him diligently since their sophomore year, effectively discouraging any other boys from even thinking about early romance.

Now, she approached Hou Zihao and said, “Monkey, I’ll help you sweep. Afterward, I’ll go watch you guys play.”

Her words were directed at Hou Zihao, but her gaze flickered toward Zhou Leqi.

What was this? A woman’s intuition—she couldn’t shake the feeling that Zhou Leqi posed some kind of threat. Having her as Hou Zihao’s desk mate made her uneasy.

Fortunately, this senior who had repeated twice seemed considerate. Throughout the day, she had quietly packed her things, showing no apparent interest in Hou Zihao. Just then, she stood up and said, “Excuse me, could you move?”

Zhou Leqi and Hou Zihao sat by the window in the third row, with her on the inside and him on the outside. Unless he moved, she couldn’t leave.

Hou Zihao responded quickly. As soon as she spoke, he stood up and stepped aside smoothly. Zhou Leqi didn’t look at him, keeping her head down as she walked away.

After she disappeared, Ge Ao whistled and instinctively remarked, “Cool,” only to immediately get elbowed in the stomach. Clutching his side, he glared at Hou Zihao. “What was that for?”

But Hou Zihao had already turned to grab a broom.

Yuan Jiahui, who had witnessed everything, offered a reasonable interpretation, enlightening Ge Ao: “Are you stupid? He’s already clashing with her, and you’re praising her for being cool? Use your brain, will you?”

With that, she chased after Hou Zihao to grab a dustpan.

Ge Ao was utterly baffled, muttering as he rubbed his stomach. He thought, Monkey isn’t that petty, is he? And look how smoothly he let her pass earlier… This doesn’t seem like dislike at all.

________________________________________

The evening commute was always bustling.

Some parents came to pick up their children, but most students walked home in groups. They carried snacks bought from street vendors near the school gates, eating and chatting as they walked. They talked about what they did during the break, how their mock exams went, which classes they were assigned to—endless chatter.

Zhou Leqi walked alone through the lively crowd, heading toward the Cultural Palace bus stop, which was a bit far from the school.

No. 1 High was located in the city center, the most bustling area. Stops near the school were often crowded, not just with students but also people working nearby. In contrast, the Cultural Palace area was quieter, though it required walking about two stops—a considerable distance.

But Zhou Leqi didn’t mind walking such a long way. She disliked being surrounded by people, especially when someone recognized her and pointed or whispered about her. She preferred walking to the Cultural Palace, where fewer people knew her.

She walked slowly, taking over half an hour to cover the two stops. By the time she arrived, the sky had already darkened. She waited a little longer at the bus stop before the 301 bus finally arrived.

At first, the bus was crowded, with no empty seats. Fortunately, it gradually emptied out. Zhou Leqi lived in a development zone far from the city center, and she intended to ride the bus to its final stop.

As the number of passengers dwindled, only a few remained. Zhou Leqi found a seat by the window. By then, it was completely dark outside. Neon lights began to flicker along the streets, their reflections lingering in her eyes. She sat quietly, gazing out as if she could keep watching forever.

But eventually, the bus reached its destination.

It was 7:15 p.m. By the time she walked back to Jin Hua Residential Complex, it was 7:30.

The complex was old, and though the streetlights from the bus stop to the entrance were bright, the interior of the community was dimly lit. The narrow roads were further cluttered by cars parked haphazardly, making the space feel cramped and disorderly.

Zhou Leqi was somewhat afraid of the dark. From the moment she entered the complex, she jogged lightly, keeping an eye on the shadows in the stairwells, wary of anyone lurking.

There was no elevator in the building, so she ran straight up to the fifth floor, where her family lived. The stairwell of the old complex was plastered with advertisements, including their own door. Standing at the entrance, she paused for a moment to catch her breath before pulling out her keys from her bag. She opened the rusted iron gate first, followed by the wooden door inside, and stepped into the apartment.

The house was pitch black.

A sense of foreboding suddenly washed over Zhou Leqi. She tentatively called out, “Mom?” while reaching to turn on the light. No one responded. When the light came on, she saw the disarray in the house.

The apartment wasn’t large, about 60 square meters, with the living room and dining area merged together. Turning on just one light in the living room was enough to illuminate the entire space—and enough for her to see the shattered bowls scattered across the floor and her mother, Yu Qing, sitting motionlessly on the small sofa in the living room.

Her expression was vacant, her hand bleeding from a cut, yet she seemed oblivious to the wound, leaving it exposed.

On the floor lay her phone. As Zhou Leqi hurried over, she caught a glimpse of the text message interface. The name displayed was “Zhou Lei,” and the last message sent by the other party read, “I’m sorry.”

“Zhou Lei.”

The contact’s previous nickname had been “Husband.”

Zhou Leqi’s heart skipped a beat, but now wasn’t the time to dwell on the phone. She crouched down to examine her mother’s wound, likely caused by the broken bowl. Thankfully, it wasn’t deep and didn’t require a hospital visit.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Zhou Leqi stood up to retrieve the first aid kit from a small cabinet near the entrance. Returning, she cleaned and bandaged the wound. Throughout the process, her mother remained silent, seemingly still in shock.

Finally, Zhou Leqi asked softly, “…Mom?”

Still no response.

This was a familiar situation for Zhou Leqi. She knew that anything she said now would be futile. So, she put away the first aid kit, turned on all the lights in the house, and began cleaning up the broken bowls on the floor.

Once everything was tidied up, she checked the small kitchen. On the cutting board lay half-chopped leeks. After finding an apron, she began washing rice, steaming rice, chopping vegetables, and cooking.

As she cracked eggs into the pan, she heard footsteps approaching. It was Yu Qing, standing at the kitchen doorway, looking much calmer now. She gazed apologetically at Zhou Leqi, her face pale, and asked awkwardly, “Qi Qi’s home? …How was school today?”

What could a person repeating their third year of high school possibly say?

Zhou Leqi smiled brightly, appearing cheerful as she replied, “Everything’s fine—Mom, why don’t you watch some TV? I’ll finish up here soon.”

Yu Qing looked even more awkward. She wiped her hands on her clothes and said, “Let me take over. You just got home from school, go rest for a bit…”

“It’s okay,” Zhou Leqi had already turned back to light the stove. “It’ll be ready soon.”

The sound of sizzling eggs filled the kitchen. Yu Qing pursed her lips, looking lost as she wandered back into the living room.

Dinner was eaten in silence.

Zhou Leqi hesitated over whether she should ask her mother what had happened today. Ever since the divorce last year, her mother’s emotions had been unstable—sudden bursts of crying or anger were common, and she was easily triggered by memories.

That “person.”

She no longer called him Dad.

She suspected that today’s emotional breakdown was triggered by a message from him. If she asked too many questions, her mother might collapse further; but if she didn’t ask… something worse might happen later.

After some thought, Zhou Leqi first served her mother some scrambled eggs, then cautiously asked, “…Did something happen today?”

This question carried significant risk. Her mother might burst into tears or become angry, and either scenario would make it difficult for Zhou Leqi to complete her homework tonight. It was already 8:30 p.m., and even for her, the workload of a senior year student required several hours to complete. Add in extra supplementary materials, and she wouldn’t be able to sleep before 1 a.m.

But compared to academic concerns, family issues felt trivial. What Zhou Leqi feared most was another upheaval at home. Had that person decided to stop sending them monthly support? Or was there some other, more complicated situation? If something truly dire occurred, how would she resolve it?

Zhou Leqi didn’t know. She could only hold her breath and wait, hoping her mother would tell her what had happened.

By now, Yu Qing’s eyes were red, tears falling into her bowl of rice. Her fingers gripped the chopsticks tightly as she spoke: “Your father… is marrying Gao Xiang.”

Upon hearing this, Zhou Leqi felt a mix of relief and a sinking heart.

Gao Xiang—the woman her father had been cheating with for six years.

This affair had been uncovered years ago, and after the divorce last year, this outcome had been all but inevitable. Thus, Zhou Leqi wasn’t surprised. But her mother clearly didn’t share her indifference. Though she had resolved to move on from that marriage, the news of her ex-husband’s remarriage had shattered her emotionally.

Zhou Leqi felt powerless.

She didn’t know how to comfort her mother anymore. Over the years, she had tried every method and said everything she could think of. Now, she felt like an empty shell, devoid of anything new to offer. She could only serve her mother more food and assure her: “Mom, it’s okay.”

“After I finish this year’s college entrance exam, we’ll leave this place,” she forced a smile, pretending to be excited about the future. “We’ll move to Beijing and never come back.”

She wanted to study in Beijing.

Attend the best schools, pursue the best majors, and start earning money as soon as possible.

Earn a lot of money so she and her mother would no longer depend on that man’s monthly transfers. She would buy a house, and they would live there together.

Never return here.

This aspiration wasn’t new. Yu Qing had heard it countless times before. But Zhou Leqi had already failed the college entrance exam twice, leaving Yu Qing doubtful and anxious about these plans.

Still, she didn’t want to add pressure to her daughter. She managed a strained smile, patting Zhou Leqi’s hand. “Don’t stress yourself. Just study the way you used to—you’re the best at studying, aren’t you?”

Used to…

Zhou Leqi unconsciously tightened her grip on the chopsticks, then forced another smile, nodding confidently.

As if… she was still the same Zhou Leqi from before.