Hopeless Romance (GL) - Chapter 40

Chapter 40

On the day final grades were released, Xu Jian rushed from her dorm to the Chinese language department office early in the morning. Although Chen Qinghe wouldn’t criticize her for skipping class and she wasn’t afraid of Li Jiangang making life difficult for her, Xu Jian had a lingering obsession. She felt that if she didn’t rank second in the grade for Chinese, her life would somehow become unbearable. She had even asked Ye Du to analyze whether Meng Qing was actually scary, though Ye Du’s dismissive attitude offered no constructive insight.

“Xu Jian, looking for Mr. Meng again?” It was Mr. Qian, the teacher and headmaster of Class 7. Xu Jian had heard of his teaching style—he took the “language” in “Chinese Language” literally, treating “speech” as an active verb. He loved making students read aloud in class, sometimes in relay groups, leaving everyone parched by the end of the lesson.

“Yeah, I’m just concerned about my grades,” Xu Jian replied, hiding her breakfast behind her back, feeling a strange sense of guilt being caught there.

“Mr. Meng usually arrives right on the dot. Wait a bit longer,” he said, heading out, likely to supervise morning self-study.

“Okay, goodbye.” Xu Jian touched the cup of soy milk; fortunately, it was still lukewarm. Despite being a frequent visitor, this was the first time she was alone here. She wandered over to Meng Qing’s desk, curious about what was on it. Not daring to touch anything, she kept tilting her head at awkward angles to see more. Just as she was trying to read the title of a novel, Meng Qing’s voice sounded so close that Xu Jian felt she might brush against her face if she turned around.

“Are you exercising your neck here?” Meng Qing was curious about what Xu Jian was peering at. She tried to mimic the distorted posture but realized her age made her less flexible than the youngster, so she gave up.

Xu Jian plopped down into Meng Qing’s office chair. Her first thought was how much more comfortable it was than the classroom chairs. Looking up at Meng Qing, who wore a blue shirt under a black down jacket, she looked cold and sharp, though her half-awake eyes lacked their usual edge, making her look almost “fluffy.”

“Teacher, I just came to check my grades,” Xu Jian stammered, scrambling out of the chair.

“So impatient. Afraid I’ll report you to Li Jiangang?” As she said it, Meng Qing realized she had slipped into calling him “Li Jiangang”—she blamed Xu Jian for constantly using the nickname in her ear.

“No, you’re not that kind of person.”

“I’ll have Yao Xingzi notify the class when the grades are out.” Meng Qing was politely dismissing her. While a good rapport between teacher and student was fine, there had to be boundaries.

“I’m going back to class then.” Xu Jian reached the door, then remembered: “Breakfast is on the desk opposite yours,” she blurted out before running away.

It had taken Xu Jian a long time to accept that her feelings for Meng Qing transcended a typical student-teacher relationship. Sometimes she felt it was destiny—meeting Meng Qing on her very first day in Yunchuan, only for her to end up as her teacher. But other times, she reminded herself that in a school this big, with 15 classes in the tenth grade, everyone had a connection to Meng Qing. Her “destiny” was likely just wishful thinking. Yet, some things—like love at first sight—cannot be controlled.

Meng Qing touched the soy milk and fried dough sticks; they were already getting cold. Eating a cold breakfast in winter felt somewhat bleak. As she tossed the bag into the trash, she couldn’t help but wonder how long Xu Jian had been waiting. Xu Jian had run off too fast for Meng Qing to tell her that, regardless of whether she and Ye Du took the top spots, she had no intention of reporting her for skipping class.

…

“Ye Du, why are you doing problems again?” Xu Jian asked as she returned to the classroom.

“Xu Jian, why are you wandering around again?” Ye Du replied without looking up. After finishing the problem, she turned and said, “I have to. I can’t let you leave me in the dust. I lack talent, so I make up for it with hard work.”

“Stop it, don’t mock me. I’m relying on your Chinese grades to save my life.” Since the student in front of Ye Du wasn’t back yet, Xu Jian sat in their seat.

Gu Nancheng, the class monitor sitting nearby, couldn’t take it anymore: “You two top students, have some mercy. Keep it down.”

“When did I agree to be your ‘big brother’? You’re just like Lin Meixin—clueless.” Though Xu Jian knew she acted like a tomboy, she didn’t appreciate the label.

As the saying goes, speak of the devil. Lin Meixin walked in bouncing a basketball. “Xu Jian, that’s a personal attack.” Looking at his expression, Xu Jian felt as if her own head was the basketball being bounced.

“Brother Xin, I didn’t mean it like that.” Xu Jian immediately stood up to return the seat to its owner.

“It’s fine, I’m magnanimous.” Lin Meixin tucked his long legs under the desk and gave her a bright, goofy grin.

“Go back to your seat. Li Jiangang is coming,” Ye Du said, checking her digital watch—the one Xu Jian teased her about, vowing to teach her how to read an analog clock one day.

“The semester ends today. Next term you’ll be choosing your tracks (Science or Liberal Arts). Some of you won’t be in the same class anymore. Treasure these last days,” Li Jiangang said with a rare touch of warmth. “The placement exam is crucial. Only the top 20 get to choose freely; everyone else is assigned based on scores. Choose based on your strengths, not blindly.”

Ye Du was set on the Liberal Arts track. Science was a struggle for her. Often, she found it faster to look for her name from the bottom of the science rankings. If it weren’t for her high scores in English and Chinese, her overall rank would be dire. Moreover, Chen Pupu would likely choose Liberal Arts, and if Pupu struggled, Ye Du wanted to be there to help.

With that thought, Ye Du decided to do two more chemistry problems.

Throughout the winter break, Ye Du was consumed by tutoring and exercise books. Her mother, Ye Sangshu, began to worry if her grades were failing, having never seen her work this hard.

“Ye Du, take a break. You’ll ruin your eyes,” Ye Sangshu said from the doorway. In that moment, she saw herself in her daughter—stubborn and unyielding. Yet, she realized she didn’t truly know Ye Du. Their relationship was a blur of high expectations and the lingering shame of abandonment. Neither knew how to love themselves, let alone each other.

“Okay, after this page,” Ye Du replied, only half-turning. She could feel her mother’s presence but didn’t want to look into her eyes. Their relationship was a vague, uncomfortable thing that couldn’t be looked at directly.

…

When she learned the “placement exam” was actually the final exam of the next semester, Ye Du felt like she might vomit thinking about the pile of workbooks she’d finished over the break.

“Do you have to choose Liberal Arts?” Xu Jian asked. She knew how hard Ye Du had worked and felt it was unnecessary.

Ye Du felt like a bow drawn to its limit, only to find the arrow missing. “Yes. I’m better suited for it.”

Xu Jian disagreed. Ye Du often lost points on basic science facts but could solve the hardest problems. It wasn’t about suitability; it was about preference. “If all else fails, just stay in Class 1 with me.”

Ye Du looked at Xu Jian leaning on the railing. “I want to go to the Liberal Arts track because the girl I like will be there,” she said suddenly.

Xu Jian was stunned. Not out of judgment, but out of a sudden sense of kinship.

“Do you think I’m weird? A girl liking a girl?” Ye Du asked, still looking at the crowd heading to the cafeteria.

For a moment, Xu Jian wanted to share her own secret. But she couldn’t involve Meng Qing in this. “No. I think whoever you like must be very lucky.”

“You’re making a huge sacrifice,” Xu Jian added. “My mom says these choices don’t seem like much now, but they shape everything later.”

“But you can only judge a decision after you’ve made it,” Ye Du replied with a stubborn determination.

“Fine. As long as you can live with the consequences,” Xu Jian said, mostly to herself. “But now, I’m starving.”

“Let’s go.” Before Ye Du could finish, Xu Jian was sprinting toward the cafeteria.

On their way back, they ran into Chen Pupu, accompanied by Cui Tong and Cao Yijing.

“Hey, Ye Du!” Chen Pupu waved enthusiastically.

“Just finished eating?” Pupu asked, noticing them coming from the cafeteria. Ye Du reflexively took the heavy bag of snacks Pupu was carrying.

“Snacks for later. We’re watching a movie in class,” Pupu explained. Their teacher, Ma Ping, was a boxer who used movies to bribe the class so he could attend matches.

Xu Jian and Ye Du exchanged envious glances. After walking Pupu back to Class 12, Xu Jian finally asked the question burning in her mind.

“Is it her? The girl from just now?”

Ye Du hesitated, then nodded sheepishly. “Is it that obvious?”

“Not really. Only because you told me,” Xu Jian reassured her. “I won’t tell anyone.”

The moment the secret left Ye Du’s lips, she felt a pang of regret. It wasn’t a lack of trust in Xu Jian; it was the realization that by voicing her love for Chen Pupu, she could no longer control it. It was growing, becoming a weight she could no longer carry alone, a truth she could no longer hide from herself.