The White Moonlight is So Scheming - Chapter 33

“Listen to Xia Xia.”

 

“Her deskmate’s mother isn’t in good health.”

 

Unclear about Shen Tinghan’s sudden mention of Ji Zhijie, Xu Li continued along the same line: “Yes, Ji Zhijie’s mother has leukemia.”

 

“Recently, Xia Xia has been getting close to this girl?”

 

Recalling how the two of them had been whispering even during the assembly on Monday, Xu Li nodded. “Yes, they’ve been spending a lot of time together lately.”

 

“Ji Zhijie is the class’s academic monitor. She has a good personality, is very filial, and is an excellent child.” Worried that Shen Tinghan might have some prejudice against Ji Zhijie, Xu Li cautiously spoke in her favor as much as possible.

 

If Chairman Shen were displeased in any way, not only Ji Zhijie but even she herself would have to pack up and leave in a hurry.

 

Shen Tinghan’s gaze dimmed instantly.

 

Shen Juexia hurriedly said, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I was just asking casually.”

 

Shen Tinghan lowered her eyes and paused for a moment before speaking. “My mom wouldn’t let me practice.”

 

“Why?” Shen Juexia didn’t understand.

 

Taotao barely managed to swallow the last bite of bitter chrysanthemum.

 

Back in her room, Shen Tinghan unrolled her yoga mat. After completing her crunches, she moved on to back exercises, then push-ups, and with her morning run earlier, she had met her workout quota for the day.

 

In the mirror, the muscles of her arms were sharply defined. Countless times during karate training, the boys she sparred with had been kicked to the ground.

 

If time could rewind and she were given another chance, she would definitely have helped Shen Juexia move the desks this afternoon.

 

The image of that expressionless face, flushed red from exertion, lingered in her mind. Shen Tinghan clenched her fists and punched the yoga mat hard, the recoil sending a dull pain through her knuckles.

 

Wait.

 

If time really did rewind, would she actually do it?

 

“All the girls, wait in the hallway. All the boys stay behind to move the desks.”

 

It was the homeroom teacher’s suggestion, an authoritative command. Pointless resistance would only make one an outcast.

 

Some people weren’t afraid of being outcasts.

 

Because of freedom and courage.

 

Shen Tinghan knew why her nickname was “The Great Demon King.” Others always thought she was invincible, fearless, confident, and strong, with no match in sight.

 

In reality, she even had to practice the violin in secret.

 

Thank you.

 

You’re very brave.

 

She really wanted to tell Shen Juexia these two things.

 

Shen Tinghan opened WeChat and clicked on “Violet.F.” Recalling the conversation she had accidentally overheard between Shen Juexia and Yao Qingyan, the empty chat box seemed to push any words a thousand miles away.

 

Why thank her?

 

What right did she have to praise her?

 

Shen Tinghan locked her phone. Leaving each other undisturbed was the best state.

 

“She thought it was a waste of time and wanted me to focus all my energy on studying.”

 

When she got home, the living room was dark.

 

Shen Tinghan turned on the light, tossed her backpack onto a chair, and, taking advantage of the empty house, hurriedly retrieved the violin from the bottom shelf of the display cabinet.

 

She locked herself in her room, savoring the moments that belonged to music. After starting high school, her parents had become obsessed with the college entrance exams, cutting off all extracurricular activities except sports, calling them a complete waste of time.

 

The irony was that in elementary school, she had been forced to practice the violin for eight hours a day. While her friends were happily playing during holidays, she had been made to play etudes over and over until she cried.

 

All because she needed to pass the special talent admissions channel for the best and most elite middle school in the city.

 

Her future seemed already set in stone.

 

She would achieve excellent results in the college entrance exams, apply to Tsinghua University’s eight-year clinical medicine program or Peking University’s physics department, continue her studies straight through to a Ph.D., and, like her mother, become an ordinary yet respected high-level intellectual.

 

The bow touched the strings.

 

Shen Tinghan inexplicably began playing an extremely sorrowful piece. The theme song from Schindler’s List. The vibrato was faster than usual, and the trembling notes carried an even deeper melancholy.

 

Shen Tinghan felt more and more like a coward.

 

She was the one who had reported it to the teacher, yet everyone misunderstood and blamed Shen Juexia. And she hadn’t clarified the truth. Even if Shen Juexia didn’t care, that didn’t mean she should take advantage of her indifference.

 

She lacked the courage to set the record straight.

 

Similarly, she lacked the courage to move desks, the courage to see justice through to the end, and even the courage to swear.

 

In contrast, Shen Juexia always seemed to have a faint glow around her silhouette. That radiance was lonely yet unrestrained, stubborn yet free.

 

And so, she really wanted to get closer to Shen Juexia, who carried that light.

 

That was why she had deliberately stayed behind.

 

Shen Juexia refused.

 

It was only natural that lone wolf in the wind truly needed no one.

 

So, she had to take a half-hour bus ride to Wanda Plaza to practice the violin? Wait, if it was just practice, why was she charging money?

 

Shen Juexia blurted out, “Do you need money?”

 

She rambled on for a full five minutes, her sentences practically devoid of punctuation if written down. When she finally stopped, she silently cheered in her heart, thank god.

 

Shen Tinghan listened intently.

 

“Anything else?”

 

“No,” Shen Juexia exhaled in relief, her shoulders, which had been subtly tense, finally relaxing.

 

“Thank you, I understand now.” Every word carried happiness.

 

Unconsciously, Shen Juexia had talked herself hoarse and finished an entire cup of fruit tea.

 

Hearing the empty slurping of the straw, Shen Tinghan handed over her own cup. “You can have mine if you’re still thirsty. I haven’t drunk much.”

 

Shen Juexia nearly spat out her drink.

 

For some reason, the suggestion made her unbearably flustered. Just the thought of it made her ears burn.

 

“N-no, thanks,” Shen Juexia quickly lowered her head to steady her breathing.

 

She thought of the alcohol wipes Shen Tinghan meticulously used every morning, of her perpetually neat desk and uniform, and grew even more confused.

 

Shen Tinghan pressed her lips together, nodded, and took a couple of small sips of her drink. The way she ate and drank gave the same impression. Every movement was excessively restrained, almost heartbreakingly so.

 

Feeling inexplicably guilty, Shen Juexia hurriedly added, “It’s not that I’m rejecting you, it’s my issue. No one’s ever asked me that before, so I’m not used to it.” If anything, the explanation only made things worse.

 

Shen Tinghan didn’t seem to mind. “Mm.” Her nonchalance only deepened the unease in Shen Juexia’s heart.

 

Finally, steeling herself, Shen Juexia asked the burning question.

 

“Why are you busking here?”

 

Shen Tinghan looked utterly baffled, her eyes widening.

 

Only then did Shen Juexia realize how ambiguous her phrasing had been. It sounded like she was interrogating a beggar on the street.

 

This was the 322nd time she wished she could slam her head into a wall after speaking.

 

She was beginning to realize she had a natural superpower: the ability to make any situation awkward.

 

“No, what I meant was are you short on money?” Shen Juexia’s jaw ached from clenching, unsure if she’d explained herself clearly. Seeing Shen Tinghan about to speak, she hurriedly added, “You seem to come from a well-off family, so money probably isn’t an issue. My question was unnecessary, wasn’t it? Is there another reason?”

 

Shen Tinghan waited quietly for a long moment, making sure the person beside her had finished speaking before responding.

 

“I’m saving up for violin lessons. My mother won’t give me money for them.”

 

Shen Juexia was shocked. “But you already play so well!” She couldn’t control her volume, startling an elderly man passing by.

 

“If I want to improve, I need a teacher’s guidance,” Shen Tinghan said thoughtfully.

 

“Right.” Shen Juexia felt suddenly dejected. The empty milk tea cup in her hand seemed to weigh a thousand pounds as she thought. Those were the precious 14 yuan that could have gone toward a future violin master’s lessons.

 

Shen Tinghan stood up from her seat and shouldered her violin case. “I’m going to my aunt’s house.”

 

Shen Juexia had thought they could take the bus home together.

 

“Oh, okay.” She tried not to let her disappointment show too much.

 

Shen Tinghan studied her face for a moment, then blinked. “Thank you.”

 

“Thank me?” Shen Juexia was baffled.

 

Shen Tinghan smiled. “For all your suggestions. You just saved me half a violin lesson’s worth of money.”

 

Shen Juexia clenched her fists and strode toward the front door, drawing glances from a group of girls on the other side of the hallway.

 

She marched straight into the classroom, her tall, slender frame stirring a gust of wind as she stopped beside an empty desk in the second row.

 

“What’s wrong?” The homeroom teacher, grading papers at the podium, looked up.

 

“I’m moving.” Shen Juexia gripped both sides of the desk.

 

The teacher sighed with a helpless smile. “You don’t have to. Gao Yixing will be back soon.”

 

Ignoring her, Shen Juexia flexed her arms, lifting the desk clear off the ground.

 

“Strong people should move desks, not just boys.” She shot a pointed look at the four-eyed boy cowering in the corner, who had been struggling unsuccessfully to lift a desk for ages.

 

He had been one of the voices she’d overheard earlier.

 

The boy was barely over 1.6 meters, short and scrawny, with glasses thick enough to stop bullets. Even during morning exercises, he was always clutching vocabulary cards to memorize.

 

Shen Juexia carried the desk out of the classroom. Though thin and not particularly strong, she strained to hide how much effort it took, the desk teetering precariously in her grip.

 

The girls chatting animatedly in the hallway fell silent, their attention completely captured by the first-year girl hauling the desk.

 

Among them was Shen Tinghan.

 

She hadn’t been speaking anyway, listening as Yang Ke complained about the ridiculous ending of a drama. Now, she was even quieter.

 

No matter when or where she looked, Shen Juexia’s peripheral vision always caught Shen Tinghan’s face and those peach-blossom eyes behind glasses that revealed nothing of her emotions.

 

Two boys poked their heads out of the classroom, wrinkling their noses at Shen Juexia’s retreating figure.

 

“Is she that desperate to be a guy?”

 

“Did you see her hair? What girl keeps it that short?”

 

“Damn, watch out or she’ll steal your girlfriend.”

 

“Oh, that I was just talking nonsense.” Shen Juexia’s ears burned, and she quickly lowered her head.

 

Before leaving, Shen Tinghan waved. Watching her in the sunlight, Shen Juexia felt her heart beat warmly; warmer even than the bright sun overhead.

 

The girls exchanged glances, giggling and whispering among themselves.

 

Zhong Xiaoxiao stuck out her tongue at the boys. “So, what if I’m a girl? I’m still cooler-looking than all of you.”

 

“Seems like she really does prefer girls.”

 

Shen Tinghan suddenly stepped forward, cutting everyone off. “Move the desks if you’re going to, otherwise get out and prepare your class materials.” Her righteous and sharp voice was like a sword, piercing through all the unfriendly tension in the air.

 

Everyone obediently shut up. The boys who had been loitering and gossiping at the door slunk back to their seats and began moving the desks.

 

It was only at times like these that everyone remembered why the class president was nicknamed the “Great Demon King.” It was just because she was usually so easygoing and quiet, her tone too gentle and soft, that people forgot how terrifying she could be when she got serious.

 

The first group of boys who had gone to move desks to the lecture hall returned. Sports committee member Gao Yixing had rolled his sleeves up even higher, his triceps bulging noticeably, drawing more than a few glances from the girls.

 

Shen Tinghan nodded. “Good work. Need any help?”

 

“No need!” Gao Yixing was full of energy. There really wasn’t any need for help now. The classroom was almost completely cleared out.

 

Finally, Shen Juexia returned, moving slowly but having completed the task nonetheless.

 

Shen Tinghan watched Shen Juexia’s triumphant return, noticing the flush on her pale, petite face, the frown she couldn’t suppress, and the faint unsteadiness in her steps.

 

Shen Juexia was so thin, and the desks and chairs weren’t light. Of course, it had been difficult for her.

 

Four-Eyes, hugging a chair and staggering along, deliberately muttered as he passed the class president, “She wasn’t exactly fast either. Why pretend to be something you’re not?”

 

The weight on her heart grew heavier.

 

“Faster than you,” Shen Tinghan replied with just three words.

 

Four-Eyes, having failed to get a rise out of her, trudged off with all his might toward the stairs leading to the second floor.

 

Shen Juexia walked straight past Shen Tinghan without a glance. “It’s fine. No need to stand up for me.”

 

Sun Zhizhi and Yang Ke exchanged a look, then linked arms with Shen Tinghan.

 

Shen Tinghan remained motionless. “Okay.”

 

The last rays of the sunset streamed through the window.

 

Lightly falling on the girl’s face.

 

She hadn’t slept well all week, but this stolen afternoon was Shen Juexia’s first good rest in days.

 

Her long lashes fluttered as she hugged the blanket tightly, rubbing her cheek against it greedily again and again, until the longing in her heart was completely filled by the familiar scent. Only then did she get out of bed, satisfied.

 

Smoothing out the blanket and tidying the bed, Shen Juexia put on her shoes, turned off the air conditioner, and carefully returned to her room, the exhaustion in her eyes somewhat eased.

 

Having gathered her thoughts, she sat down at the desk.

 

Shen Juexia unplugged her phone from the charger and opened WeChat.

 

“Ji Zhijie, what are you up to?”

 

Accompanying the message was a sticker of a little bunny popping up with a heart above its head.

 

Ji Zhijie, sitting on a plastic stool beside a hospital bed, was in the middle of peeling an apple when she heard the special notification tone from her phone. Her fingers paused, and the corners of her lips lifted unconsciously.

 

Ji Wan, half-reclining on the bed, asked curiously, “What’s got you so happy? Who’s messaging you?”

 

Handing the peeled apple to Ji Wan, Ji Zhijie pinched her slightly warm earlobe and said softly, “It’s that girl… the one who paid for our surgery today.”