Hopeless Romance (GL) - Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Once the direct admission list was finalized, all the selected students moved to the Senior High campus for “bridging courses.” Life at this stage was exceptionally relaxed; no specific teachers were assigned to the direct admission classes. Instead, teachers were temporarily pulled from the tenth-grade pool. Consequently, they rarely focused on rote knowledge, choosing instead to emphasize “holistic education.” Ye Du never quite grasped what “holistic education” actually meant—it was just something she frequently heard the principal mention during morning assemblies—but when Du Jian, the Chinese teacher for the bridging class, brought up the concept, Ye Du, finally free from the pressure of exams, felt a flicker of interest.

This was the first time Ye Du had ever had a Chinese class outdoors. According to Du Jian, he had lobbied the principal for days to get approval. The class was small—about forty students split into two groups—but today they were combined. Ye Du walked at the very end of the line. Naturally quiet, she hadn’t quite adjusted to life outside Class 10. Though a few former classmates had been admitted alongside her, their relationship remained as distant as it had been before. When they finally reached the park, Ye Du felt as if she were on a spring outing, save for the school uniform. Du Jian instructed them to leave their textbooks behind, handing each student a sheet of paper printed with Wang Xizhi’s Lantingji Xu (Preface to the Poems Collected from the Orchid Pavilion). Reading the line, “On this day, the sky is bright and the air is clear; a gentle breeze blows softly,” Ye Du realized this teaching style required a constant eye on the weather. Fortunately, today lived up to the text.

Per Du Jian’s instructions, the students sat in a circle with him in the center as he recounted the stories behind the masterpiece. This was a sharp departure from Zhang Jianwei’s style. Ye Du remembered how Ms. Zhang would circle key vocabulary, explain their grammar in detail, and lead a group translation. Du Jian, however, spoke like a friend sharing insights. All the key terms were already annotated on the paper he provided. By the time he finished, Ye Du felt as if Wang Xizhi were a distant friend she had simply never met.

Yet, some things remained the same: the students were still quiet. When Du Jian asked for a volunteer to read the text aloud, the chirping of birds only served to highlight the awkward silence. Looking at Du Jian, Ye Du thought of a book she read as a child, The Mysterious Female Teacher. The teacher in the book, Mi’er, was a fairy who took students to learn in nature. Ye Du couldn’t help but wonder if Du Jian also possessed some hidden magical ability.

Beyond the relaxed classes, the biggest perk of the bridging program was that students could actually attend PE according to the schedule. Back in Class 10, many would skip PE to stay inside and do homework, which once infuriated the coach so much he made the class monitor drag everyone down to run five laps as punishment. That had been the most “action-packed” PE lesson in Ye Du’s memory.

Sudden freedom was unsettling. Within two days of “relaxing,” Ye Du had already found a pile of things to do.

In her bag sat a sheet of staff paper Chen Pupu had given her. During a lunch break when neither could sleep, Pupu had been struck by a whim to teach Ye Du how to read music. While Ye Du didn’t believe she had any musical talent, she viewed music theory as just another form of knowledge—and more knowledge was always better. Pupu had spent half the break explaining the basics, like the clefs and the meaning of the five lines. It was obvious Ye Du wasn’t quite getting it; though she nodded with a look of firm determination, she would stumble the moment Pupu drew a new staff to test her. Pupu didn’t feel discouraged; in fact, she felt a quiet joy. Despite how brilliant Ye Du was, she still needed Pupu for something. If Pupu knew that Ye Du had been carrying that piece of paper with her ever since, she would likely be even happier.

In the bridging class, Ye Du found herself thinking of Chen Pupu constantly—whenever she got water, opened her notebook, or passed the Yifu Building. It was a natural habit. Glancing at the digital clock above the podium, she realized the Zhongkao was less than a month away. She had been gone from Class 10 for two weeks. She remembered when she was packing her things to move, Jiang Xinwan had gifted her a notebook. Xinwan probably didn’t know the specific significance of a notebook; she just felt that since they wouldn’t see each other every day, she had to give something. Besides, Xinwan wasn’t entirely confident about her own chances of getting back into Yunchuan for high school, nor about the permanence of many things in her life.

Chen Pupu, on the other hand, hadn’t given her a gift. Despite sitting right in front of her, Pupu hadn’t even looked at her when she left. It had been quite a while since they had seen each other. The Senior High section was far from the Junior High section; if one walked too slowly, a ten-minute break wasn’t enough for a round trip. The bridging class dismissed at 5:00 PM, and Ye Du couldn’t find a good excuse to linger until the ninth graders finished their evening self-study. Furthermore, before they moved, Ms. Zhang had explicitly warned the direct-admission students not to return to their old classrooms. Mindset was crucial before the exam, and the relaxed aura of the “safe” students might negatively affect those still in the heat of battle.

Ye Du looked at the English notes, math formulas, and Chinese reading strategies she had compiled. She wondered how to deliver them without being a distraction. These were carefully summarized “shortcuts,” perfect for someone like Chen Pupu who needed to secure basic points in a short amount of time. The notebook Jiang Xinwan gave her wasn’t filled with academic notes, but rather song lyrics. Ye Du estimated she had listened to more music in the past two weeks than in the past two years. She especially liked the song Under a Vast Sky; she’d find herself humming it while walking, feeling rather cool.

Walking back from the restroom, Ye Du spotted a familiar figure standing at the classroom door. It was a silhouette she had seen countless times, one she could trace from memory with her eyes closed.

“What are you doing here?” Ye Du asked, lightly poking Pupu’s shoulder.

Pupu poked her head out from the doorway and huffed, “If I didn’t come, you’d probably have forgotten you even had a friend like me.” Pupu truly hadn’t expected that Ye Du wouldn’t visit them once after moving. Though their studies were intense, the three of them had found time to “curse” Ye Du for her absence; Pupu wondered if Ye Du had felt her ears burning.

“Ms. Zhang told us not to go back and disturb you guys. I’ve missed you all a lot.” Ye Du meant it. The days of eating, joking, and studying together were precious memories. Even though she still ate and studied now, it didn’t feel the same.

“Since when did you become so obedient to teachers?” Pupu was genuinely annoyed. No visits was one thing, but Ye Du hadn’t even called.

“I feel like I’ve always been fairly…” Ye Du trailed off, realizing “obedient” wasn’t a word she could easily apply to herself. Though she followed the rules and respected teachers, she wasn’t necessarily compliant.

“Anyway, I have to get back soon. My competition results are out.” Pupu couldn’t wait for Ye Du to ask; she had to share the news herself.

“I’ll walk you back to your class. I’m not in a hurry,” Ye Du said, grabbing Pupu’s wrist and heading toward the Junior High section.

“The point is the result! Is it good or bad?” Pupu teased, thinking Ye Du had grown a bit slow since moving.

“It has to be a good result.” After all, before Pupu’s competition, Ye Du had gone to a temple to pray. Though she believed in Pupu’s ability, she wanted to ask for that extra bit of protection.

“Yes! First prize!” Pupu had been ecstatic when she got the notice. Her mother, Qin Wei, had rewarded her with a new MP3 player, though she barely had time to use it with her current workload.

Ye Du was thrilled. The thing she had hoped for most was finally coming to fruition. She felt a newfound sense of hope for the world. It wasn’t until they reached Pupu’s classroom that Ye Du realized she had forgotten to bring the study materials.

“Pupu, can I come find you during the long break tomorrow?”

“Why wouldn’t you be able to?” Pupu found the question funny. If Ye Du wanted to come, Pupu would be there waiting. For Pupu, there was no need for a question mark.

“Okay. Go on to class. Bye-bye.”

“Mhm, see you tomorrow. Bring Xinwan and Wang Zhu along too.”

The next day, when Ye Du arrived with the “warmth,” she brought extra snacks to keep Jiang Xinwan and Wang Zhu quiet. Just as she expected, when the two received the photocopied notes, they would have likely unleashed a barrage of mock-complaints if Ye Du hadn’t shoved a bag of treats in front of them first.

“Pupu, are we just riding on your coattails here?” Jiang Xinwan sighed dramatically.

“What do you mean ‘riding coattails’? If my grades weren’t so bad, Ye Du wouldn’t have had to work so hard on these. I’d rather not need them!” Though Pupu was often teased about Ye Du’s favoritism, she knew Ye Du had spent a lot of time organizing these materials—things Ye Du herself certainly didn’t need for her own level of work.

“Ye Du, what’s the bridging class like? Gao Fengyuan says it’s super fun,” Wang Zhu said, her envy clear. She regretted not working harder during the first mock exam; maybe she could have squeezed into the top hundred.

“It’s just like he said. But I’m a bit bored by myself. I just do homework and preview tenth-grade content.” Seeing the relaxed atmosphere of the bridging class, Ye Sangshu had immediately hired new tutors for Ye Du. Since school dismissed early, she went to tutoring before heading home for dinner.

“Great. Now I feel even more pressured. Can you stop being so hardworking for once?” Wang Zhu joked, trying to forget Ye Du’s answer. How can someone love studying this much?

“Student Wang Zhu, how can we block the path of Ye Du’s progress?” Jiang Xinwan slung an arm around Ye Du’s shoulder. “Just don’t forget me when you become the top scholar in the future.” One had to cultivate these connections early, after all.

Ye Du touched Jiang Xinwan’s forehead with the back of her hand and smiled. “Wake up.”

Standing at the door of Class 10, listening to the familiar banter, Ye Du felt that this noisy, chaotic scene was the most complete version of friendship in her memory.