Hopeless Romance (GL) - Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Just before the end of the semester, the results of the Mathematics Competition were finally released. Shang Ruixi won first prize in the junior high division, while Ye Du received second prize. Although she wouldn’t be advancing to the national league, the second prize was more than enough to guarantee Ye Du a direct admission to the senior high department of Yunchuan Middle School.

Shang Ruixi was kept in the office by Huang Yuqin, likely to discuss the upcoming rounds. In Ye Du’s life, this was a rare experience—to be passively removed from the center of the storm and become an ignored bystander. Naturally, there was a sense of loss; no one rejects a perfect outcome. However, Ye Du felt better than she expected. Perhaps it was because she knew she had tried her best, or perhaps because the direct admission was secured. She just didn’t know how to tell Ye Sangshu; making others accept your failure always seemed harder than accepting it yourself.

“You’re still not back in the classroom?” As soon as Shang Ruixi stepped out of the office, she saw Ye Du leaning against the corridor railing, her head tilted as she scrutinized the score sheet.

“Oh… yeah. Anyway, congratulations.” Ye Du snapped back to reality, nearly letting the paper fly out of her hand.

“Thanks. You were amazing, too.” Honestly, if Ye Du hadn’t been standing right there, Shang Ruixi would have loved to run to the roof and scream—not just out of joy, but out of sheer exhaustion.

“You’re being quite polite. But don’t train so hard for the next round.” Aside from Shang Ruixi herself, Ye Du was the only one who knew how hard she had worked. During the intensive camp, Ye Du would wake up to see Shang Ruixi doing problems, and the last thing she saw before sleep was still Shang Ruixi doing problems. Sometimes Ye Du wondered if she worked as desperately as Shang Ruixi, perhaps Ye Sangshu would worry less. But fate seemed to enjoy a good drama; a harmonious mother-daughter relationship lacked entertainment value.

Shang Ruixi adjusted her glasses, unsure of what else to say. The glasses felt like a permanent, public side-effect of this competition, making her feel slightly self-conscious. She almost hated herself for working that hard—especially the kind of effort that was so transparent to others—yet she felt compelled to be more serious every day. She simply nodded and said okay.

…

Ye Du was caught red-handed by Jiang Xinwan before she could hide. Jiang Xinwan’s enthusiasm for knowing Ye Du’s grades occasionally made Ye Du think: Maybe I should change the school notification phone number to hers. (Assuming, of course, that Ye Sangshu wouldn’t kill her.)

“Second prize. Didn’t make the finals. Got the direct admission.” Ye Du reported the key info succinctly, then realized she missed one thing: “Oh, and Shang Ruixi got first prize.”

Seeing Jiang Xinwan’s deflated yet incredulous expression, Ye Du marveled at her friend’s capacity for empathy. An outsider would have thought it was Jiang Xinwan herself who had been battling Shang Ruixi for that top spot. Before Jiang could offer a lengthy lament, the bell rang, forcing all her questions back into her stomach.

Chen Pupu passed over a large note with a sentence that left Ye Du a bit puzzled: Are you happy? Ye Du didn’t know which event or which day Pupu was referring to; she only knew that whenever she received something written by Chen Pupu, she was happy.

Carrying that localized joy, Ye Du gave Pupu a definite “Yes.”

Pupu knew Ye Du wouldn’t be unhappy just because Shang Ruixi won. But she was terrified that Ye Du would be sad over missing the first prize herself—she feared Ye Du would blame herself or, worse, doubt herself. If the second prize was a regret, Pupu didn’t want Ye Du to shoulder the negative emotions that came with it. Yet she also knew Ye Du didn’t want “comfort.” Pupu remembered crying and asking Ye Du why she never saw her look sad or vulnerable. Ye Du had replied, “Because it’s a waste of time; I have too many problems to solve, I literally don’t have time.” Pupu had been amused by the seriousness of the answer, but later felt sad for her. If a person never has the chance to be sad, they probably don’t know how to be truly happy either.

Thus, on the birthday card she gave Ye Du, Pupu wrote: I hope that in your life, there is more happiness than sadness. When you do encounter sadness, remember to give half of it to me—that way, we can save time!

…

“Ye Du, so does that mean you don’t have to come to class anymore?” Wang Zhu blurted out while waiting for Jiang Xinwan to pack.

“Huh? Why? Was I expelled?” Ye Du couldn’t think of any reason to drop out in the eighth grade.

“Well, you got the prize and the direct admission, right?” In Wang Zhu’s logic, direct admission meant no high school entrance exam (Zhongkao). If there was no exam, why go to class? She only studied diligently for the sake of tests, after all.

“While you have a point, but…” Before Ye Du could find the flaw in this strange logic, she was interrupted by Pupu. “What do you mean ‘no class’? No way. Ye Du can’t stop coming.”

“Why not?” Jiang Xinwan joined the conversation, bag on her shoulder.

“Well… if Ye Du isn’t here, who are you two going to copy homework from?” Pupu said with mock gravity.

Ye Du whipped her head around. “Pupu! So I’m only good for that in your heart? I’m so heartbroken.” Suddenly feeling theatrical, Ye Du clutched her chest and shook her head slowly, looking very much like a wounded soul.

“No, that’s not it!” Pupu panicked, reaching out to grab Ye Du’s sleeve, her words catching in her throat. She was too embarrassed to say the second half. When she heard Wang Zhu’s suggestion, she had tried to imagine school life without Ye Du and realized she simply couldn’t. Every school activity she could think of—morning exercises, lunch, walking laps around the track—naturally included Ye Du. Without her, life would be hard. No—life would be miserable.

“Anyway… just don’t stop coming just because you got in early,” Pupu said, trying her best not to sound too sentimental.

In that moment, Ye Du felt a surge of something fierce and strange. She had never acted spoiled or “coquettish” toward anyone, but Pupu’s pleading tone, those eyes looking up at her, and the touch of Pupu’s hand through her sleeve were more than she could handle. She didn’t know how to react; she could only try to suppress the internal explosion of joy and the shivering thrill in her mind.

“You two are so silly,” Jiang Xinwan sighed. “This is compulsory education. Even if Ye Du skipped a grade, she’d have to finish the eighth grade first. What are you thinking?” Jiang Xinwan sometimes wondered how she ended up with Pupu and Wang Zhu. The “Law of Attraction” must have failed their group, because she really didn’t want to admit she was attracted to this level of dorkiness.

To hide her blushing face, Pupu let go of Ye Du’s sleeve and immediately started playfully hitting Wang Zhu. “Stop spreading rumors!”

Ye Du laughed and pulled Pupu away, catching her slender wrist and whispering softly, “Who told you to believe her?”

…

The rain in Yunchuan fell for another season, making the city—and people’s hearts—feel damp and sluggish. Looking at her monthly exam results, Chen Pupu had no motivation to study at all. She had tried so hard! She tried to stay focused in class (and was nudged back by Ye Du when she drifted), her notes were beautiful with red, blue, and fluorescent pens highlighting everything, and she did her homework diligently. She even called Ye Du for help on tough problems and had one-on-one tutoring for Math and English every weekend. Why were the results still like this?

“Pupu, are you waiting for your mom?” This was the final parent-teacher conference of the eighth grade. The teachers were taking it very seriously; every subject teacher was expected to speak, meaning it would take a long time.

“My mom told me to wait. She wants to talk to the teachers. If you want to go home, go ahead. I’ll stay here and do some homework.” Qin Wei had been furious when she saw the grades via text. Having never been called in by a teacher in two years, she had decided to take the initiative and seek them out herself.

Ye Du didn’t want to wait for Ye Sangshu. When they appeared together, the mother-daughter dynamic felt blurry; Ye Du felt more like a product on display—a showcase of her good grades and Ye Sangshu’s successful parenting. But seeing Pupu so dejected, even though she knew Qin Wei wasn’t an aggressive parent, Ye Du couldn’t bear to leave her.

“Let’s go wait by the stairs on the covered bridge. Fewer people there.” The classroom entrance was swamped with students waiting for parents, some anxious, some hopeful, as if the conference were a life-or-death event. It was too loud for Ye Du’s taste.

Ye Du tore a few pages of scratch paper to pad the stairs for her and Pupu, set their bags down, and immediately pulled out a workbook to do problems on her lap. Pupu, still stuck in her emotions and worrying about the meeting, couldn’t focus. She watched Ye Du’s intense concentration with envy. It seemed that no matter what happened, Ye Du could always focus on the task at hand. Since I can’t study, I might as well watch Ye Du study, she thought.

Perhaps Pupu stared for too long, for it was impossible for Ye Du not to notice a gaze from so close. After finishing a calculation, Ye Du looked up. At that moment, she couldn’t find the words to describe the scene, but in a flash of inspiration, the song Lovely Woman popped into her head.

“Finished?” Pupu asked, losing the staring contest first. In Ye Du’s eyes, she saw a candid, formidable strength that she couldn’t withstand, so she had to break the moment.

Ye Du looked away, flipping a page and shaking her head. “Just a bit tired of writing.”

“Ye Du… what if I don’t get into Yunchuan Middle School’s senior high?” Pupu’s real thought was that she definitely wouldn’t.

“There’s still a whole year before the Zhongkao,” Ye Du said, looking at her again.

“I know, but look at my grades. Even I have a headache. My mom said yesterday maybe I should just go the ‘Art Specialty Student’ route.” Qin Wei had encouraged Pupu to learn music since childhood for exactly this reason—a Plan B in case academics failed. Qin Wei didn’t know whether to praise her own foresight or curse Pupu’s stubborn lack of academic growth.

“Art Specialty Student?” For Ye Du, who had no hobbies or talents outside of academics, this was a novel concept.

“It means if I get a high enough ranking in a prestigious music competition, the school’s academic requirement for me will be lower. There’s still a cutoff, but it makes getting into Yunchuan much easier.”

“So you’d have to study music and school subjects at the same time?” Ye Du processed this, realizing it wasn’t exactly a shortcut.

“Yeah, because they require both.” Pupu had thought it sounded hopeful, but when Ye Du put it that way, it sounded like an even harder path.

“That will be very exhausting for you,” Ye Du paused. “But it’s okay. For the academic side, I’ll help you stabilize your current grades. Wait… can your current grades meet the specialty student cutoff?”

“Of course! I’m not that bad, okay?” Pupu felt for the first time that Ye Du was terrible at conversation—making her happy one second and annoyed the next.

“I know, I didn’t mean it like that. I just want to confirm so I know how to plan next.”

“Plan what?” Even though she knew Ye Du wasn’t putting her down, Pupu wasn’t ready to give her a “good face” yet.

“Your study schedule,” Ye Du said, her mind already mapping out Pupu’s scores and a strategy.

“Ye Du, is there anything in your head besides studying?” Pupu felt a deep sense of wordless exasperation following her gloom and anger.

“Yes. Eating and sleeping.” Ye Du prepared to start the next problem, but Pupu pressed her hand down on the pen cap. Then, Ye Du felt her left ear suddenly being isolated from the world.

“Take a break. Didn’t you say you’re tired? Listen to some music.” Pupu pulled out her MP3 player and, after some thought, chose the song she’d been looping lately, Qi Li Xiang (Orange Jasmine). She always listened to her favorite songs on repeat until she got sick of them.

The two sat on the stairs of the fifth floor. Looking out, they could see half the campus. Within the red-brick walls, the lush emerald of midsummer occupied every corner. The lingering rain dripped along the veins of leaves, falling diagonally whenever the wind blew. Pitter-patter. Like musical notes, the melody traveled along the tangled headphone cord and into their minds.