Hopeless Romance (GL) - Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Back at her seat, Ye Du’s head throbbed at the sight of two math periods and two physics periods scheduled back-to-back. Although students hadn’t officially declared their tracks yet, Class 1—with the math teacher Li Jiangang as their headteacher—was already tacitly understood to be a science-stream class. Subjects like history and politics were essentially treated as study halls for science problems. Trusting the learning capacity of the Base Class students, the teachers of those humanities subjects would simply highlight key points in a frenzy as finals approached; after marking nearly every page in the book, they would leave the students to frantically memorize the material.

Even though Ye Du felt her middle school foundation was solid, it proved insufficient here. There were simply too many brilliant minds. Li Jiangang rarely lectured; instead, he spent most of his time tossing out difficult problems, pointing out the core concepts and critical steps, and leaving the rest for the students to solve themselves. Often, while Ye Du was still analyzing the prompt, others had already finished. She quickly realized that this rapid-fire cognitive ability was something no amount of tutoring could manufacture. It was an instinct—for them, solving these problems was as natural as eating or dressing, only slightly more complex than daily chores.

Xu Jian was one of those people. She was an out-of-town student who had entered Yunchuan Middle School with a near-perfect score on her entrance exams, securing a three-year scholarship. Rumor had it this was why she chose Yunchuan over the prestigious No. 1 High School. In truth, Xu Jian hadn’t really wanted to leave her hometown of Yongxing, where her family and friends were. However, her mother and uncle insisted she go to the provincial capital for the superior educational resources. Thus, Xu Jian began her life as a solo student in Yunchuan.

Not one to be shy or struggle with new environments, Xu Jian’s only worry was that her mother, Chen Qinghe, would be bored back in Yongxing. When she was home, Xu Jian could at least play video games with her. Chen Qinghe was a doctor with a heavy, irregular workload, so Xu Jian had spent most of her childhood in the hospital or at her uncle’s house. Her uncle had two sons, and Xu Jian grew up running wild with them—catching bees, picking peaches, and watching woodpeckers. Chen Qinghe often joked that she had basically raised a son, to which Xu Jian’s attitude was: “That’s a good thing; having me allowed Ms. Chen to experience having both a daughter and a son in one go.”

On the day she left for Yunchuan, Chen Qinghe was tied up in surgery and couldn’t see her off. Ultimately, it was her uncle Chen Qingwen and her two cousins who took her to the station. Standing at the ticket gate, Xu Jian listened to her uncle repeat the same advice he’d given in the car—mostly about eating well and staying warm. Before Xu Jian could respond, her eldest cousin, Chen Dongliu, spoke up: “Dad, if you’re this worried, just don’t let her go. She’s so young to be studying in another city alone. I’m already missing her.” Having grown up together, the parting was hard to stomach.

“Then you come and stay with me,” Xu Jian said, glancing back to see if the gate had opened.

“As if he could get into Yunchuan,” Chen Qingwen teased. Thanks to good genes, Xu Jian had always been bright and found school easy. Chen Qingwen, a math teacher himself, was obsessed with cultivating talent; since his own sons were “underachievers,” he had placed all his hopes on Xu Jian. It seemed his years of guidance had paid off.

Though he was used to hearing this, Chen Dongliu shot his father a defiant look and said, “When I get into a university in Yunchuan, I’ll come keep you company.” He was two years older than Xu Jian and was nearing his own college entrance exams.

“Oh, what’s the big deal? Jianjian will definitely come back for holidays,” Chen Xichuan added, unable to understand why his brother was being so dramatic. He actually envied her—being sent away to study meant freedom from parents.

“Don’t call me that,” Xu Jian frowned, pointing at Chen Xichuan to shut him up. She was used to being called by her full name; she didn’t know what had possessed her cousin to give her such a nickname, which sounded oddly like an insult to her ears.

After chatting a while longer, Xu Jian looked toward the entrance one last time, but Chen Qinghe never appeared. Hearing the staff announce “five minutes until boarding ends,” Xu Jian took her suitcases and prepared to join the queue. As she was pushed through the gate, she looked back to see Chen Qingwen still standing there, watching her. She gave one last smiling wave and headed for the platform.

This wasn’t Xu Jian’s first time traveling alone. Her earliest memory of a solo trip was when her father, Xu Zhen, had first asked her mother for a divorce. At the time, Chen Qinghe was swamped with surgeries and professional evaluations; she had no time to deal with it. Xu Zhen, furious, had retreated to his hometown. Xu Jian, terrified of having to choose, didn’t want the divorce. Even though her mother was always at the hospital and her father was often trapped in business meetings, she felt a home was better than no home. When she had run to the hospital to find her mother, Chen Qinghe had just stepped out of a major surgery, drenched in sweat. Hearing her daughter seriously ask if they could stay together caused her brain to momentarily stall.

Chen Qinghe didn’t know how to explain it; she wasn’t the one who had asked for the divorce. When Xu Zhen had delivered the papers to the hospital, he had said a lot, but she had been too busy recording patient files to listen. She guessed he was accusing her of failing as a wife and mother—of choosing work over family. She didn’t even bother to argue. When she had first gotten pregnant, she had considered an abortion. She had just been promoted and her position was unstable; maternity leave would have damaged her career. But Xu Zhen’s mother had been desperate for a grandchild for years. They had been pressured to marry, then pressured for a child. After five years of marriage, Xu Zhen felt he owed his parents a grandchild; when she finally conceived, he wouldn’t let her end the pregnancy, even enlisting her own family to persuade her.

After the birth, Chen Qinghe felt life spiral out of her control. Xu Zhen only stayed one night in the maternity ward; in the following days, he was always “busy” elsewhere. The grandmother who had begged for the child only visited two or three times. It was Xu Jian’s maternal grandmother who, pained by her daughter’s surgical recovery and lack of sleep, stayed to care for both mother and child. When Chen Qinghe returned to work, she faced both fierce professional competition and a mischievous daughter. Xu Jian’s reputation in kindergarten wasn’t great; she was the ringleader for digging in the dirt and climbing trees, and she never stayed quiet during naps. Chen Qinghe couldn’t even find time to go to the school to be scolded by the teachers.

Often, Chen Qinghe wondered: Xu Zhen was busy, and she was busy, so why was she the only one being blamed? From the day Xu Jian was born until her return to work, she had been the primary caregiver. She was the one who watched the wrinkled infant grow. When Xu Zhen occasionally had free time to play with the child, he would become helpless the moment Xu Jian cried, leaving Chen Qinghe to clean up the mess. She did all the work while he reaped the reward of being called a “father” just for playing with her. It was laughable.

“Come here, baby,” Chen Qinghe said, snapping out of the memory and pulling Xu Jian into a hug. “It was Dad who asked for the divorce, so you have to tell him your thoughts.” Honestly, though she wasn’t satisfied with him, she hadn’t planned on a divorce. Aside from being useless at home, Xu Zhen wasn’t a “bad” man—and since most men were like that, it didn’t seem like a unique flaw. He made money for the family and didn’t cheat. If she were the one to ask for the divorce, her own mother would have scolded her for being “educated but stupid.”

“What about Mom? Does Mom want to separate from Dad?” Xu Jian, then only in fourth grade, had asked in a tiny voice.

That question stumped Chen Qinghe. She couldn’t see her own heart. Her true desires were buried under social expectations and family opinions. With Xu Jian to think about, she couldn’t be purely selfish. But knowing Xu Jian had come all this way because she wanted them to stay together, Chen Qinghe answered: “Mom doesn’t want to.”

Unable to buy a train ticket, young Xu Jian had taken a long-distance bus to find her father. Though she worried about kidnappers and felt carsick, the journey was short. She called Xu Zhen when she arrived; he thought it was a prank. She stayed at her grandmother’s house for a few days, struggling with how to ask him not to leave. She wasn’t as close to him as she was to her mother; in her limited life, he had been a background character.

She finally spoke up at the dinner table—one of the few times they sat together. Xu Zhen spent a long time explaining the “necessity and urgency” of the divorce. Not understanding much, Xu Jian didn’t really listen. She just realized it was happening. Her sadness, the 28-yuan bus ticket, and the two-hour bumpy ride had changed nothing. Soon after, Chen Qinghe found time to process the paperwork. Because of her stable job and history of caregiving, she won custody of Xu Jian.

When Chen Qinghe received a text from Xu Jian (now at high school), she was taking a nap during a break at work. By the time she woke up to call back, Xu Jian’s phone was already in the hands of the school dorm supervisor.

Despite it being her first time living on campus, Xu Jian adapted quickly. She managed her own life and studies, and aside from occasional homesickness, everything was fine. She had a great personality; she didn’t look down on others because of her top grades, nor did she act entitled because she was the “teacher’s pet.” Instead, she was like any other teenager—loving novels and video games, especially while doing homework. She was simply very smart.

Ye Du and Xu Jian truly met at the mid-term award ceremony. Xu Jian was ranked first in the entire grade. Ye Du was outside the top five overall but ranked first in both English and Chinese. Both were invited to the stage to share their study methods.

“Your speech is really well-written,” Xu Jian said, sitting down next to Ye Du while the latter was rehearsing her notes backstage.

“Thanks, but you haven’t even heard it yet,” Ye Du replied, assuming it was just a polite pleasantry.

“True, but I’ve read your essays. Besides, Teacher Meng was just praising you to me.” Xu Jian’s casual attitude made Ye Du feel like they were already old friends.

“You’re impressive too—first in the grade.” Even though Xu Jian was far ahead of her, Ye Du felt no resentment; being so excellent without being unlikeable was a talent in itself.

“Why do I feel like you’re so uncomfortable talking to me?” Xu Jian had previously admired Ye Du’s sense of boundaries, but up close, she found it a bit stifling.

“Am I? Maybe it’s just because we don’t know each other well yet.” Ye Du always found it hard to accept things that were too direct.

“Then let’s consider today our formal introduction,” Xu Jian said, extending her hand.

Ye Du often felt lucky. Despite her introverted nature, she always seemed to meet kind-hearted friends. Jiang Xinwan had been like that, and now Xu Jian was too. Looking at Xu Jian sitting a few rows away in class, Ye Du felt relieved that she finally had a friend in her new environment.