CS - 54

Lin Zhexia’s grades improved rapidly.

By the end of the first semester of her senior year, she ranked first in her class.

And in Class Seven, which was almost entirely made up of underperforming students, her grade-wide ranking entered the top 50.

Class Seven was a humanities-focused class.

When students chose their subjects at the end of sophomore year, an interesting phenomenon occurred—while other classes scrambled to pick their subjects, Classes One and Seven seemed detached from the chaos.

The group of high-achievers in Class One naturally opted for science, while the “underachievers” in Class Seven all chose humanities.

At the time, Tang Shuxuan and Chen Lin secretly discussed this: “This is the difference. Even if you don’t understand the material well in humanities, you can still memorize it… But with science, if you don’t get it, there’s no way around it. You could pin me down on the test paper, and I’d still never figure it out.”

As for Class One…

It seemed everyone believed that science provided better options for choosing majors. And judging from their class averages, they clearly had a stronger advantage in science.

The reason Lin Zhexia threw herself into studying was simple: she wanted to see him again.

If she could get into the same university as him…

But the gap between their scores was hard to bridge.

Looking at the report card that earned her praise from her homeroom teacher, Lin Zhexia didn’t feel happy.

…

Compared to Chi Yao, her performance still fell far short.

She had looked up several prestigious schools for physics majors, and none of them were within her current reach.

Finally, she sighed and resolved to work even harder.

After Chi Yao left, Lin Zhexia couldn’t stop worrying about his family situation.

Even though she knew he wouldn’t accept money, she couldn’t help herself.

She deposited all her New Year’s money into her mobile banking app, amassing over two thousand yuan—a “fortune” in her eyes—and used an unfamiliar phone number to transfer the money to Chi Yao.

But the next day, Chi Yao returned the money.

Without saying a word, Lin Zhexia transferred it back.

Chi Yao finally responded through the transfer notes: [Wrong person.]

Lin Zhexia: [I didn’t send it to the wrong person. To be honest, I’m actually a millionaire. I have so much money that I like to randomly select a few lucky people online every day and give them money.]

Within ten minutes.

Her WeChat buzzed.

It was a message from Chi Yao, with only three words:

Chi Yao: Lin Zhexia.

Lin Zhexia: …

Lin Zhexia knew he had figured it out.

She expected this, but she still felt puzzled.

• How did you know it was me?

Chi Yao replied with four words: Does it need thinking?

Afraid he might be upset, Lin Zhexia typed an apology: Sorry.

• Actually, I just had a dream of being a millionaire.

• I’ve wanted to say something so arrogant online for a long time.

…

About half a year later, she began to get used to life without Chi Yao.

When she saw places online she wanted to visit or new combo meals recently launched at the school store, she no longer thought first: I want to go with Chi Yao.

Only occasionally, very occasionally, would she recall small details that belonged only to him.

“The school store has started selling popcorn!”

Tang Shuxuan excitedly informed them, “Ten yuan a bucket. You can buy some during PE class.”

Lin Zhexia’s first thought was that Chi Yao didn’t like popcorn.

But he had eaten from the bucket she held at the cinema.

In her senior year, Lin Zhexia continued to bury herself in her studies.

After Chi Yao left, she unknowingly found male classmates trying to get closer to her.

She started having “admirers.”

One of them was a boy who had sat behind her since freshman year.

That boy had asked for her contact information, but like other classmates, after adding her, they hardly talked. He only sent holiday greetings.

One break, she found a box of cookies on her desk.

A quiet message lay on her phone: I noticed you ate very little at lunch… so I bought these for you.

Lin Zhexia was taken aback and replied: Thank you, but I can’t accept your gift. How much were the cookies? I’ll transfer the money to you.

But the boy surprisingly persisted.

Even after she repeatedly refused, he couldn’t help but say, “Lin Zhexia, I’ve actually liked you for a long time.”

Lin Zhexia was stunned: “Huh?”

The boy from the back row: “Actually, since freshman year… when we first entered school, I’ve been paying attention to you.”

“I think you’re really cute,” the boy spoke to her carefully. “But before, there were always too many people around you, so I didn’t dare talk to you.”

Lin Zhexia didn’t expect to receive a confession.

She felt awkward but still said earnestly, “Thank you, but I promised someone that I’d focus on studying in my senior year. I hope you can study hard too.”

After school, she told He Yang about the confession, omitting key details.

He Yang’s expression was somewhat complicated.

Lin Zhexia: “Why are you reacting like this? Is it strange for someone to confess to me?”

He Yang said, “Not strange at all.”

Lin Zhexia: “Dazhuang, something’s off with you.”

He Yang couldn’t say that he was thinking of another person far away who also liked his Xia Ge: “I’m perfectly fine.”

He Yang kept this secret to himself, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

After a while, he couldn’t help but ask, “Didn’t you once ask me what kind of girl Chi Yao likes?”

Lin Zhexia suddenly recalled the “black history” caused by her accidental slip: “…What about it?”

—Have you never thought that the person Chi Yao likes might be you?

But Chi Yao had hidden this so deeply that he had no right to say it on his behalf.

In the end, He Yang regained his composure and swallowed the words that almost spilled out: “Nothing. I just happened to think of it.”

Days passed one by one.

Every time she looked up from the endless stack of practice tests, she often realized with a start that the distance between her and Chi Yao seemed to have grown even further.

She unlocked her phone.

Scrolling through her chat history with “Chi Mou,” she noticed that their topics of conversation had become fewer and fewer.

• Just saw it.

• I just finished my homework.

• I just got home.

• I’m doing practice tests.

• There are five sets of math problems today—I might not finish them.

These meaningless messages repeated over and over.

And Chi Yao’s replies were similarly sparse: “At the hospital.”

• Just finished surgery.

• Just left school.

• My phone was confiscated by the teacher this week.

…

Instead, they talked more about studying.

Chi Yao would regularly summarize key knowledge points for her and send photos of them.

Lin Zhexia had originally thought that even though Jing City was a bit far, they could still meet.

She knew Chi Yao couldn’t leave the hospital, and she had planned to visit him during winter break. But life always has unexpected twists.

Cheng’an No. 2 High School only gave five days off for the senior year winter break.

And those five days…

“Xia Xia, we’re going to Wei Shu’s hometown for the New Year,” Lin He told her before the holiday. “It’ll take two days to get there and back, and we’ll stay for three days—perfect timing.”

Lin Zhexia’s plan fell through, and she let out a disappointed “Oh.”

Wei Shu’s hometown was in the countryside, and it was her first time going there.

Grandpa and Grandma Wei were very kind. Knowing she was preparing for the college entrance exam, they reassured her not to be nervous and gave her a big red envelope.

There were many children around, and as soon as Lin Zhexia arrived, she was surrounded by a group of kids.

On New Year’s Eve, amidst the noise of children playing and firecrackers, she received a video call from Chi Yao.

In the video, Chi Yao appeared to still be in the hospital. During the holiday, the hospital corridors were eerily empty, with only the occasional doctor in a white coat passing by. He wore a gray hoodie, his features holding up well under the camera lens—his familiar eyes and brows. Perhaps because the corridor lighting was dim, his gaze seemed deep as he looked into the camera.

After answering, Lin Zhexia said, “Why did you suddenly think of calling me on video?”

“To see how you are.”

Lin Zhexia’s heart skipped a beat at those three words.

Chi Yao paused briefly before completing his sentence: “...to see how you’ve been recently.”

Lin Zhexia internally noted that he hadn’t finished his sentence earlier: “Oh, I’ve been doing pretty well lately.”

“Where are you?” he asked.

“At Wei Shu’s hometown,” she replied. It had been so long since she last saw his face, and she felt shy meeting his eyes. Her gaze dropped downward. “It’s my first time here, but they’ve been very kind to me.”

Lin Zhexia added, “Are you still at the hospital? Why are you still at the hospital during the New Year?”

Chi Yao: “My mom’s condition isn’t great. After surgery, she recovered for a while and was discharged, but then other symptoms appeared.”

They hadn’t seen each other for such a long time.

Even through the screen, they felt oddly restrained.

Lin Zhexia: “How about your family… how are things at home?”

Chi Yao: “Still dealing with it. If the new production line issue can’t be resolved, the factory and the land we bought initially still have some value—they should cover the losses.”

Only, the cost of “covering it” meant years of hard work gone to waste.

After exchanging pleasantries, the two fell into a brief silence.

Lin Zhexia realized that the sudden feeling of noticing how much farther away he was compared to the last time had returned in full force.

…

It turned out that even two people who were once close could become speechless when separated from the same environment and social circle.

“Chi Yao.”

Finally, she held her phone up to the fireworks in the night sky and said, “Happy New Year.”

The fireworks soared into the air, bursting in the dark night.

“Happy New Year.”

Inside the First People’s Hospital of Jing City.

The young man lowered his voice and spoke softly into his phone.

On the phone screen, the fireworks were dazzling, and the camera shook slightly—it seemed a child ran past her, shouting noisily, calling her “Sister.”

After a moment, the girl in the video hurriedly said, “My mom is calling me—I have to go.”

The video call ended.

Chi Yao sat on the bench for a few minutes. He put his phone back in his pocket, hands in his pockets, head bowed, lost in thought.

Soon, Bai Qin’s voice came from the ward behind him: “Chi Yao.”

Chi Yao responded and pushed the door open.

Due to her illness and Chi Yao’s constant care, Bai Qin, the woman who had never softened before, began to rely on her son. This rare moment of tenderness in her life: “What were you doing outside?”

Chi Yao said, “I made a phone call.”

Then he walked to the bedside, helped Bai Qin sit up, and asked, “Do you want an apple?”

Caring for her had become second nature to Chi Yao. He quickly peeled an apple and handed it to her. As Bai Qin took the apple, she was about to express her gratitude when she accidentally noticed Chi Yao’s phone lighting up on the bedside table.

His phone’s screensaver was a photo.

Bai Qin looked closely and saw a cluster of blue-purple hydrangeas and the side profile of a girl squatting beside the flowers.

It felt familiar.

After thinking for a long time, she remembered where her impression of this girl came from.

The memory stemmed from many years ago when she and Han Shan returned to retrieve something, and a little girl suddenly ran out to block their way, questioning why they didn’t spend time with Chi Yao.

The two faces were similar, though the girl in her memory was much younger, with baby fat on her cheeks.

The girl in the photo now had delicate features, was much taller than when she was a child, and carried the slender grace unique to adolescence.

Bai Qin took a bite of the apple and asked, “Do you still keep in touch with... your old friends?”

Chi Yao: “Yes.”

Fireworks were being set off outside the hospital.

It was rare for the two of them to spend the New Year together, yet the scene before them was like this.

Bai Qin couldn’t help but feel sentimental. She suddenly said, “I wasn’t a good mother in the past. I missed so much of your growing up.”

Chi Yao was tidying up the fruit peels, and upon hearing this, his movements paused momentarily.

“In the past, I felt like someone carrying a heavy shell forced to move forward. Along the way, I thought this ‘shell’ was important—my career, money, social status, and the title of ‘Boss Bai’ in others’ eyes were all important.”

“At some point, the word ‘mother’ became less significant in my life.”

For so many years, she had missed the most important thing.

Sitting on the hospital bed, Bai Qin thought that what the girl had said back then was right.

But at the time, she and Chi Hanshan were in a hurry to return to Jing City and only thought the child was too young to understand.

“During this time, you’ve been taking care of me,” Bai Qin looked at Chi Yao. “You’re in your senior year, running between school and the hospital. I never imagined that now it would be me relying on you—you’ve grown into an outstanding, remarkable ‘adult’ in ways I never saw.”

To her surprise,

Chi Yao, after tidying up the fruit knife, looked at her and said, word by word: “I didn’t.”

Bai Qin was stunned.

He added, “I didn’t grow up alone.”

One day, after Lin Zhexia thought the distance between her and Chi Yao was getting farther and farther, she suddenly had a new realization.

Before the college entrance exam, there was an important mock test.

She performed exceptionally well, even excelling in math, which she usually struggled with, and her grade ranking entered the top twenty in the entire grade.

This score was almost on par with the top students in Class One.

Both Principal Liu and Principal Xu were ecstatic. Principal Liu even called her into the office and praised her as a “dark horse.”

“Little Lin, I never expected this,” Principal Liu patted her shoulder and handed her a crudely printed certificate. “I never imagined you had such talent for learning.”

“As a student whose admission score placed her in Class Seven, you’ve challenged Class One through your own relentless efforts.”

“Our school needs someone like you—a representative of excellence.”

“…”

Lin Zhexia glanced down at the low-quality certificate. Principal Liu had written in bold letters: “Learning Genius Lin Zhexia!”

She took a deep breath and said, “Thank you, Principal Liu.”

Principal Liu waved his hand dismissively. “No need to thank me. If you really want to show your gratitude, give a speech at next Monday’s flag-raising ceremony. Share your study experience and motivate everyone before the exam.”

“…?”

Lin Zhexia couldn’t help but say, “Principal Liu, you’re quite the businessman.”

Principal Liu finalized the decision: “Then it’s settled.”

“…”

Giving a speech at the flag-raising ceremony.

This was something she could never have imagined when she first entered school.

Given her personality, she was the type to stand in the audience and clap for others.

Lin Zhexia sighed as she left the office with the certificate. Though she wasn’t resistant, the thought of it still made her a bit nervous.

When she got home and finished two sets of practice problems, she started writing her study reflections.

Her study methods were actually quite clumsy.

There weren’t any particularly special techniques, and after finishing, she thought the speech might be boring.

The day before the speech, she happened to be organizing her bookshelf.

As she opened the cabinet, she saw the small rabbit figurine inside.

Because it had been well-preserved and stored in the cabinet, the rabbit keychain still looked brand new.

She picked it up, and for a moment, it felt like she was back squatting in front of the claw machine with Chi Yao. She could almost see the young man hooking the keychain and handing it to her.

And the words he had said to her that day.

“Coward.”

“You shouldn’t be too unlucky tomorrow.”

Before this day, Lin Zhexia felt the distance between her and Chi Yao had grown farther and farther, to the point where it felt like she could no longer reach him.

But on this day, she suddenly realized that the silent companionship of those long years had unknowingly seeped into their very bones. Because of his presence, a part of her had shaped who she was now.

This was the true distance between her and Chi Yao.

Even though he had been absent from her side for a very, very long time.