Hopeless Romance (GL) - Chapter 48

Chapter 48

The winter break was short, a dozen days flickering by in an instant. When Ye Du returned to school, she realized there were only four months left until the College Entrance Examination (Gaokao). The internal storm she had weathered hadn’t caused any outward change; everything remained as it was—lectures and reviews in class, practice problems after class. Everyone was striving to keep up with the rhythm. Sometimes, Ye Du couldn’t help but feel a premature sense of loss; every day spent studying meant one day fewer in this life. She thought of her middle school friends—Jiang Xinwan, Wang Zhu, Shang Ruixi, and Qin Zibei. Although the moments they shared were still rooted in her heart, the reality was that she rarely contacted them anymore. High school graduation would likely be the same. The years spent fighting together were precious, but people are inevitably carried away by their own choices, scattered by the tides of life.

During the final month, the teachers stopped lecturing during evening self-study, leaving the time for students to fill their own gaps. Xu Jian, perhaps having been “well-behaved” for too long, couldn’t adapt to the quiet. During an English self-study session, she pulled Ye Du out of the classroom. “Come to think of it, we haven’t cut class together in a long time.” Xu Jian’s last memory of skipping class dated back to their first year; she sighed at how much time had passed.

Even though Ye Du felt she was being a wet blanket, she said it anyway: “Yeah, and there won’t be many chances left.” Xu Jian had already been recommended for admission to University A, but she insisted that staying home was boring and since graduation was near, she might as well stay at school.

“Have some confidence, maybe you’ll get in too,” Xu Jian said. She truly liked Ye Du as a friend. If Ye Du ever asked her to write in a graduation yearbook, she would write: You are as steady as a tree, with a resilient life force gripping the earth. But it is not your sole duty to provide shelter; there is nothing wrong with standing between heaven and earth and simply loving yourself.

“And yet here you are, dragging me out to skip class and hindering my chances,” Ye Du teased, struggling to read a fashion magazine Xu Jian had bought under the dim glow of the campus streetlights.

“Careful, you’ll go blind.” Xu Jian pulled the magazine away and tucked it aside, her expression turning serious as if she had a major secret to share. Seeing her hesitate, Ye Du beat her to it: “Are you going to talk about Teacher Meng?” Xu Jian, caught off guard, felt a wave of relief rather than surprise. She had wanted to bring it up but didn’t know how; now that Ye Du had said it, the burden was lifted.

“How much… do you know?”

“To be precise, how much have I guessed.” Ye Du paused to gauge Xu Jian’s reaction. The usually cheerful Xu Jian was uncharacteristically nervous. “I guess… that you and Teacher Meng are dating.” Ye Du whispered the last few words. Even though no one was around, she still felt a sense of caution. Xu Jian was happy that Ye Du had said the words for her, yet she found herself incredibly shy and overwhelmed. Over the past few months, her interaction with Meng Qing hadn’t changed much from before they confirmed their relationship. They rarely even had the chance to eat alone. Except for weekends when they went to the city library—Xu Jian doing homework, Meng Qing preparing lessons or reading—Meng Qing would drop Xu Jian off near the school before heading home. Both knew this relationship could never be made public; though never spoken aloud, they tacitly kept their distance at school. Perhaps because they had to love so carefully, Xu Jian tasted more sweetness in it. She believed that because they cherished it, they treated it with such gravity, restraining their feelings so they could eventually reach a better place together.

“So now that you’ve been recommended for admission, you don’t have that burden anymore?” Ye Du didn’t fully understand, but she figured that as a teacher, Meng Qing would have worried about Xu Jian’s studies in addition to the identity gap.

“Yeah, but the downside is my mom keeps telling me to go home. If I go back, I won’t see her. I guess life just has so many problems; you think you’ve solved one, only to find it leads to another.” Xu Jian remembered when she excitedly told Meng Qing about her admission; Meng Qing was happy for her but told her: This isn’t the end of life; there are many more problems and a long road ahead. Xu Jian thought Meng Qing was being too pessimistic—life couldn’t be that hard. Meng Qing thought Xu Jian was immature but couldn’t criticize her; after all, Xu Jian was still a minor who hadn’t truly faced life yet. Naivety was her current right. In reality, the more impulsive and foolish one had always been Meng Qing herself.

“Xu Jian, you are so brave,” Ye Du said. She thought of her own feelings for Chen Pupu; the difficulties weren’t necessarily greater than what Xu Jian and Meng Qing faced. She wanted to ask how Xu Jian made such a decision, but then realized some temperaments are innate. Some people are just brave, while others are destined to hesitate. That hesitation leads to different destinies. In the end, all she could do was sigh in admiration.

Contrary to Ye Du’s view, Xu Jian felt she was incredibly cowardly. It was precisely because she lacked the courage to fight her own feelings that she couldn’t help but tell Meng Qing. But she never regretted it; the girl she truly loved was worth being cherished like that. “Have you never thought about telling Chen Pupu?” Xu Jian asked. The problems between her and Meng Qing couldn’t be solved by talking, so she set them aside.

Of course she had thought about it—countless times. When she saw Chen Pupu, when she didn’t, in moments of weakness, and in moments of pride. Ye Du wanted to tell Chen Pupu she liked her and ask her to be part of her life. But years of growing up had taught Ye Du one vital thing: emotional control. Even when her heart was in a tumultuous storm, her surface remained calm. “Maybe later. Now isn’t the right time. Even if she liked me back, I wouldn’t dare be with her.” Current Ye Du couldn’t even take care of herself, let alone face her mother. She couldn’t even imagine a scenario where they were openly in love.

“But some things… can’t wait.” Xu Jian spoke from the heart. That was the very reason she had stood before Meng Qing on that certain afternoon. Ye Du didn’t reply, simply staring out at the campus in the dark. The night was silent; students from other grades had long gone home. The lit classrooms were quiet. Ye Du looked into the endless night, as if she could see herself many years into the future.

The Gaokao ended abruptly, at least in Ye Du’s eyes. Two days, four exams, and twelve years of schooling were handed over just like that. The examination hall was like a massive vessel, holding all the late nights and the moments of inspiration. As people came and went, Ye Du walked slowly, standing behind the crowd, feeling a sense of melancholy and loss. The Class 1 “Teacher Appreciation Banquet” was lively. Without the pressure of study, the students finally revealed their childish sides, chatting and sharing fervently as if to say everything they hadn’t said in three years. Lin Meixin brought a camera, saying he wanted to take a photo with every classmate and teacher. Gu Nancheng called him “sentimental,” but Lin Meixin didn’t care. As Cui Tong had said: After this parting, there’s no more ‘starting a new term’ together. The spaces that belonged to us will be occupied by new people with new stories, and these memories will only be remembered by us. Because of this, Lin Meixin wanted to capture these lovely faces—souvenirs of youth.

Despite his verbal disdain, Gu Nancheng shamelessly asked Lin Meixin to take a photo of him and Ye Du. Standing together, Gu Nancheng felt incredibly awkward; he didn’t know where to put his hands and worried his expression was too stiff. Before Lin Meixin shouted “1, 2, 3,” he couldn’t help but turn his head to look at the girl he had liked for two years. She was smiling faintly, looking exactly like the version of her he first fell for—steady and quiet. “Gu Nancheng, why are you moving?” Lin Meixin had been about to press the shutter when Gu Nancheng turned, nearly blurring the shot.

Ye Du turned to look at Gu Nancheng upon hearing this, only to find him looking back at her, ignoring Lin Meixin. The quiet atmosphere felt strange, so she spoke first: “Happy graduation, you two.” Gu Nancheng remained silent. Just as Ye Du was about to return to her seat, he asked in an uncertain tone, “Ye Du, can I give you a hug? Just as friends.” For some reason, it sounded like a plea. Ye Du suddenly understood him; her situation was much like his. If she spoke up like he did, would her relationship with Chen Pupu fall into this same awkward state? Thinking of this, Ye Du nodded.

As soon as the thought occurred to him, Gu Nancheng felt he was being intrusive. He had been raised with the idea of “propriety between genders,” and they weren’t innocent children anymore; his feelings for her were blatantly romantic. Yet he also knew that missing this chance would be a lifelong regret. Even though the hug was fleeting and lacked physical closeness—Ye Du didn’t even take a step forward—it was enough for him.

As Ye Du walked away, Lin Meixin finished texting Cui Tong. Class 12 was also having their banquet. Cui Tong said their class’s party was like a corporate gala because there were so many talented people and their teacher loved a spectacle. He wanted every student to perform. By the end, they had everything from singing and dancing to traditional instruments and calligraphy. Lin Meixin was envious—wasn’t it great to watch a show while eating? He had always wanted to see the Spring Festival Gala in person; since that wasn’t happening soon, he felt Class 12’s banquet was a close second. Missing Cui Tong, he desperately wanted to “defect.” He looked around and decided to drag Ye Du along; she was close with Pupu, so she wouldn’t be bored, and it would save him from being awkward alone.

“Ye Du, let’s go over to Cui Tong’s side.” Lin Meixin sat in the empty seat next to her. Ye Du looked at Xu Jian, who was sitting at the teachers’ table next to Luo Ran. Seeing Ye Du hesitate, Lin Meixin was about to push further when she said, “I’ll go tell Xu Jian.” Cui Tong hadn’t told Lin Meixin about the history between Pupu and Ye Du, so he didn’t realize that for Ye Du, anything involving Chen Pupu required no persuasion.

Seeing the distance between Xu Jian and Meng Qing’s seats, Ye Du felt a strange pang of sadness. Everyone had graduated; the pressure of the teacher-student relationship was technically gone, yet they still had to be careful. They simply liked each other, yet it felt like they were doing something shameful. Catching a moment when Xu Jian wasn’t talking, Ye Du pulled her aside. After hearing the plan, Xu Jian gave a meaningful smile, making Ye Du feel her earlier sympathy had been wasted.

“Remember to come to Yongxing to visit, or I’ll show you what’s what once we’re at University R,” Xu Jian said. When they first became friends, Xu Jian had invited Ye Du to her hometown. Ye Du always said “next time,” yet graduation had arrived and she still hadn’t gone.

“Okay. You’re so sure I’ll make it into University R?” University R was Xu Jian’s choice for her recommendation. Because of her high scores, she chose the top-tier Law major. While not the very best in the country, it was prestigious. If Ye Du performed normally, getting into a standard major there wouldn’t be a problem.

“Birds of a feather flock together.” This was the first time Ye Du saw a matching ambition in Xu Jian. Xu Jian spoke with a hint of pride, even disdain, but her voice was low and her tone wasn’t offensive.

Ye Du smiled. “Then it’s truly my honor.” With that, she and Lin Meixin left the hotel. The two hotels weren’t far apart, so they decided to walk to digest their dinner.

“Did you estimate your score?” Lin Meixin started.

“No. It’s not necessarily accurate anyway, so I’ll just wait for the results in peace.” The main reason was that Ye Du forgot her answers the moment she left the hall—she wasn’t sure if it was intentional or just poor memory.

“Tell me… what should I do about Cui Tong?” Although Ye Du didn’t see the link between the two questions, she began to think seriously.

“Don’t think too much. The results aren’t out; you might not be far apart.” Ye Du added after a moment, “Besides, being close doesn’t guarantee you’ll stay together, and being far doesn’t mean you’ll drift apart. It depends on how you treat and maintain the relationship.” Like Song Yu and Ye Sangshu—even living face-to-face every day, they ended up never speaking again.

“Ye Du, I didn’t expect this—do you have a lot of experience in this area?” Lin Meixin and Cui Tong had agreed to go to City C, choosing schools near each other to sustain their relationship. But he was always worried about Cui Tong’s academic scores, fearing she’d underperform on the Gaokao. He didn’t dare tell her for fear of affecting her mood. Hearing Ye Du, he felt he understood now. Life has no absolute settings, and love isn’t a computer program where specific steps yield specific results. Rather than worrying about the intangible, it was better to love the present. After all, who can explore every possible outcome?

Ye Du responded with a roll of her eyes. If she had “experience,” it was only in the profound art of unrequited love. Her words weren’t just for Lin Meixin; they were for herself.

When they arrived at the Class 12 banquet, the performances were in the second half. Chen Pupu and Cao Yijing weren’t joining in; the exam had nearly killed them, and they had no energy left to roll around on stage or sing. Seeing Ye Du sit down beside her, Chen Pupu lit up instantly. “How did you get here?” Ye Du tilted her chin toward where Cui Tong was sitting. Chen Pupu followed her gaze and understood immediately.

“Your class finished so early?” Chen Pupu looked at their own half-finished program and predicted the food would be cold by the end.

“No, Lin Meixin and I left early.” Sitting in another class’s banquet, Ye Du felt a bit out of place.

“Are you full?” Chen Pupu stood up to get Ye Du some rice and food. Though she hadn’t paid attention to the show, the meal was good; there were several dishes she liked. Ye Du laughed and pulled her back down, whispering in her ear, “This is embarrassing! I’m not here to scrounge for food.” The remaining thought—I just wanted to see you—stayed in her heart. Chen Pupu was frozen by the sudden intimacy; the short sentence made her ears turn red and her heart feel fuzzy. She decided to ignore Ye Du.

After a while, Ye Du realized Pupu was either focused on the show or purely ignoring her. She tentatively picked up Pupu’s bowl to grab some food, but felt shy halfway. She nudged Pupu’s arm with her elbow and asked, “Pupu, which one is good?” Pupu turned around uncomfortably and asked crossly, “Oh, you’re hungry now?” Ye Du shook her head; she had eaten plenty earlier, and the short walk hadn’t digested much.

“Then why are you eating?”

“You’re ignoring me. Was it because I refused food earlier and made you mad?” Ye Du sat there, unsure whether to put the bowl down or keep holding it.

Chen Pupu couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “Ye Du, you’re so stupid.” Seeing her smile, Ye Du put the bowl down and relaxed, thinking: Facing Chen Pupu, aren’t I always stupid? Pupu wasn’t a math problem; there were no formulas or theorems to solve this confusion. Ye Du could only keep moving closer and keep searching.

“By the way, let’s go to the beach. You promised me back in middle school.” Before the results came out, Pupu felt she still had her life, so she wanted to play to her heart’s content.

Ye Du agreed readily. With Meng Qing’s recommendation, she had submitted articles and earned decent fees, plus she had the math competition prize money. Most importantly, there were no tutoring centers offering “transition classes” for college-bound students. Ye Sangshu couldn’t use that as an excuse to keep her in Yunchuan. At the thought, Ye Du felt as if she were already standing by the sea—free and happy.

Discussing the graduation trip, Ye Du realized there were many parts of Chen Pupu she didn’t know. For instance, Pupu had traveled to many places, was great at itinerary planning, and knew how to avoid travel pitfalls. She was also savvy with the internet, booking hotels and selecting restaurants easily and cheaply. In contrast, Ye Du felt a sense of inadequacy. Aside from studying, she found it hard to find a second advantage. Although these skills could be learned and her lack of them wasn’t purely her fault, Ye Du felt like a seedling struggling to break through the soil. To truly stand as an equal before Chen Pupu, she still had a long way to go.