The White Moonlight is So Scheming - Chapter 35

Last summer.

 

As night fell, cicadas chirped tirelessly outside the window.

 

In her sleep, Shen Tinghan felt as though she were entwined by soft vines, their leaves exuding a fragrance that haunted her dreams.

 

Her consciousness was hazy.

 

Emotions swelled infinitely within the dream.

 

Her thoughts scattered and drifted, but for once, Shen Tinghan didn’t suppress herself as she usually would. Instead, she embraced the vines with near-obsession, losing herself in them.

 

Before winter break, many classmates had proactively added each other on WeChat.

 

Shen Juexia watched as her friends list grew increasingly crowded, the unfamiliar profile pictures filling the screen both novel and unsettling.

 

For a long time before this, her WeChat contacts had only consisted of her father and grandmother.

 

She was also added to two class group chats.

 

One was “Class 3, Grade 10 [Go!]”, and the other was “Class 3, Grade 10 (Teacher-Free Edition).” The first was a barren wasteland except for the occasional announcement from the homeroom teacher, while the second was a lively mess of nonsensical chatter.

 

With the holidays, everyone seemed in high spirits, finding joy in the smallest things and laughing endlessly.

 

[warren]: Professor Einstein, you’ve arrived!

 

[Einstein]: e=mc²—what an elegant formula!

 

[Handsome Senior]: What an elegant formula.

 

[Einstein]: Who would’ve thought it came from your dad!

 

[Handsome Senior]: …

 

Shen Tinghan lingered in the hallway for a long time, adjusting her violin case and brushing the snow off her coat before quietly unlocking the door with her key.

 

Only after tucking the violin into the hallway cabinet did she dare make noise, changing her shoes and shedding her down jacket.

 

“Where were you? Why are you back so late?” Her mother, Xie Zelan, called from the living room.

 

“I was helping a classmate with homework.” Shen Tinghan disliked lying, but selectively omitting the truth shouldn’t count as a lie.

 

Xie Zelan suddenly grew wary. “Who? A boy or a girl?”

 

“A girl.” Fortunately, that much was true.

 

Xie Zelan sighed in relief but still cautioned, “Good. Don’t pick up bad habits from some of the girls in your grade. At your age, studying hard is what matters.”

 

Shen Tinghan didn’t respond. She was exhausted. She didn’t want to talk.

 

“Have your final grades come out?”

 

“Yes.” Shen Tinghan pulled the grade slip from the inner pocket of her bag and handed it to her mother with both hands. “First in the grade, fourth in the district.”

 

Xie Zelan scanned the paper from left to right, her gaze settling on one spot. “Look at this! Only 113 in physics. Did you mess up the multiple-choice or the fill-in-the-blank questions?”

 

“I miscalculated the last problem.” Shen Tinghan told the truth.

 

Xie Zelan exhaled heavily. “‘Master math and science, and you’ll fear nothing in the world.’ The worst thing is being weak in math and physics. You still need to work on physics, understand?”

 

“Understood.” Shen Tinghan didn’t know what she had been hoping for.

 

School was finally over.

 

It was only the first day, and Shen Juexia had no idea how she had made it through.

 

**[…

 

To you, I must be just a passerby. Can I assume you’ve already forgotten me?

 

I once thought you were merely an interlude in my life too. But no matter how much I try, I can never learn the main theme; humming along, only the melody of that interlude remains.

 

So, I must be tone-deaf.

 

V]**

 

The letter ended abruptly there.

 

V.

 

Whenever she thought of it, her teeth would lightly bite her lower lip, gently rubbing against it, as if lips and teeth were intimately entwined. This ambiguous letter would then successfully drift far away.

 

Shen Tinghan’s hand hovered in the air, trembling slightly. She wondered if a mind overtaken by memories could still be considered blank.

 

Countless recollections surged forth; quiet and golden, yet overwhelming in their intensity.

 

After a long while, she thought to set the letter down, only to realize she was standing in the hallway, with nothing but a windowsill bathed in sunset and dust beside her.

 

V.

 

V.

 

V.

 

Her teeth kept grazing her lips.

 

Clutching the letter, she dashed out of the dormitory building.

 

She didn’t know where she was going, only that she had to get outside even if it meant shouting a meaningless exclamation at the sky or glancing at the purple wildflowers by the roadside.

 

As she stepped through the gate, the cold twilight before her eyes happened to be purple.

 

No need to search for purple flowers. The clouds themselves had turned violet.

 

After running a few steps forward, Shen Tinghan abruptly halted.

 

Strangely enough, though the path ahead was crowded with people and bicycles, her gaze pierced through them all, landing on a familiar figure.

 

The person stood with their head lowered, staring absently at the ground, wrapped in an air of melancholy and solitude. Just like the countless glimpses of their profile she had caught before.

 

Shen Tinghan thought she was dreaming.

 

But she hadn’t dared to dream in a long time.

 

Curly brown short hair, a tall and straight nose, eyelashes momentarily veiling their eyes beneath a downward gaze. But the moment those eyes lifted, it was like sunlight breaking through the surface of a lake.

 

Not a dream.

 

So, Shen Tinghan mustered all her strength and shouted that letter, then sprinted forward like a gazelle.

 

Sprinted forward.

 

Leaping over the gravel on the road, vaulting across the ravines of time.

 

“V—”

 

Winter days were short, and by the time she left the school gates, the streetlights were sparse. She had never been dismissed this late before, walking alone under the unfamiliar night sky. The journey home had never felt so long.

 

Her shoes tapped against the frozen pavement, the cold seeping through her uniform pants. With every deep breath, she could see faint white mist.

 

The streetlights grew brighter as the sky darkened, her shadow stretching and shrinking like a reel of dimly lit film.

 

Just as she reached her doorstep, Shen Juexia heard unfamiliar feminine laughter from inside. Without even entering, she could guess what was happening.

 

The door opened, and through the clear entryway, she saw her father cozied up on the sofa with a heavily made-up stranger.

 

Shen Juexia kept her expression cold as she changed her shoes. “I’m home.”

 

“This is your daughter? She looks like a little foreigner,” the woman said, her face full of disbelief.

 

Shen Dingguo clicked his tongue. “My ex-wife was a Brit. Did that little brain of yours forget again?”

 

A Brit?

 

Is that how you talk about Mom?

 

Rage surged up her throat. Shen Juexia wanted to scream, but she forced it down. Years of experience had taught her that arguing with her father was pointless.

 

“Oh—” The woman tilted her chin up, smirking. “She must’ve been gorgeous, then. Your daughter probably takes after her, so pretty.”

 

Then she stared directly at Shen Juexia.

 

Shen Juexia hated that gaze. She didn’t even bother greeting her, turning away to put on her headphones, pretending to be lost in music.

 

“Not as pretty as you,” Shen Dingguo said, lifting the woman’s chin.

 

Disgusting.

 

Shen Juexia strode straight to her room.

 

Behind her, the annoying woman giggled incessantly. “Your daughter’s so interesting. At first glance, she looks like a handsome young man. Could she be ‘one of those’?”

 

Shen Juexia slammed the door shut.

 

Xie Zelan rose from the couch, grabbing her coat and scarf: “There’s an issue at the lab I need to check on. Your father won’t be back until ten, so make sure Taotao eats his dinner and gets to bed afterward.”

 

“Okay.” Shen Tinghan had originally planned to retreat to her room to finish the last few pages of The Moon and Sixpence.

 

Her younger brother Taotao was sitting at the dining table, eating. When he saw his sister come home, he waved his spoon excitedly, sending rice flying everywhere.

 

Xie Zelan rushed over, pulling out a tissue to wipe his mouth. “Oh, look at this mess!”

 

Later that evening, Shen Tinghan received a letter.

 

It was delivered by a student assistant from the campus center.

 

The summer heat was sweltering, and seeing the beads of sweat at the assistant’s temples, Shen Tinghan felt a little guilty and handed her a pork floss pastry.

 

The assistant craned her neck to look, then tore open the packaging.

 

“Don’t tell me it’s a love letter?”

 

“Impossible.”

 

The assistant made a face. “Well, you’ve gotten dozens already. What’s one more?” She took a bite, devouring half the pastry in one go.

 

“Stop exaggerating. That’s not true.”

 

“Mm-hmm, I know everything.”

 

After seeing off the grinning assistant, Shen Tinghan carried the letter into the dormitory.

 

She was puzzled why she hadn’t received a pickup notification, but when she checked the information column, she realized the issue. The recipient’s phone number had been written incorrectly, one digit off.

 

A wrong number meant no notification, no way of even knowing a letter had arrived.

 

Such misaddressed mail usually got buried under piles of packages, untouched for months before being returned to sender.

 

Luckily, today’s shift was staffed by someone familiar, who noticed it while sorting through the EMS mail. Otherwise, like so many other beautiful mistakes, it would have quietly vanished into some forgotten corner.

 

Turning it over, the envelope was blank except for a single letter in the center, outlined in gray marker.

 

That was…

 

Shen Tinghan’s footsteps suddenly halted by the stairwell.

 

It was peak post-class hours, and students streamed back into the dorm, chatting and laughing as they passed her, time rushing past like light and shadow, leaving her standing there, dazed.

 

Just one letter.

 

The gray-blue hue resembled her eyes. The surface of a lake on an overcast day, the well water under clear skies.

 

That letter.

 

One glance, and restless little rabbits seemed to leap in her chest, her heartbeat quickening, her breath growing warmer, until her cheeks burned like the warmest evening glow.

 

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen that letter.

 

In English class, she saw countless identical letters every day, but none of them were the real “V.”

 

Shen Tinghan knew V.

 

How could she ever forget V?

 

Which was why she found it even harder to believe. How could this letter have gotten her phone number wrong by a single digit?

 

If they’d forgotten her, this letter shouldn’t exist. If they hadn’t, then the number they’d memorized by heart shouldn’t be wrong, not even after decades. No, not even after a hundred years.

 

Unless it was deliberate.

 

The sender had never intended for this letter to reach its intended recipient.

 

Frantic, Shen Tinghan tore open the envelope and pulled out a yellowed sheet of kraft paper.

 

At the top of the letter was another single letter.

 

**[W:

 

This is the 46th letter I’ve tried writing to you. I know you’ll never receive it, but I wanted to write it anyway.

 

I have nothing else to do, so why not? Studies haven’t been too busy, and I’m a genius. You said so yourself.
**

 

It’s all because my memory is too good, which is why I clearly remember. We don’t have a single photo together, not one. If my memory were worse, I could at least rummage through the old house, and even if I didn’t find anything, I’d probably just assume they were lost in some forgotten corner.

 

But it’s fine. God favored you, not me. Standing next to you, I must have looked like a wilted eggplant.

 

……

 

The handwriting is still familiar, though after all these years, I can no longer find a single typo.

 

And that familiar, stilted translation-style phrasing.

 

So familiar. Everything feels so familiar.

 

……

 

I often worry about you.

 

But when I hear that you’re doing well even better than before I can’t help but feel that fate is too unfair.

 

……

 

Reading on, the stories of youth resurface.

 

Reading on, Shen Tinghan finally remembers how much he misses those days, misses dear Classmate V.

 

So, do you still hate me?

 

Shen Tinghan silently stepped forward, crouched down, and picked up the grains of rice scattered on the floor one by one.

 

“A child about to start elementary school next year, and still so messy! What are you going to do when you go to school?”

 

Taotao had been giggling, but the sudden scolding nearly made him burst into tears.

 

Xie Zelan walked toward the entryway, shooting a stern look back. “Cry, cry, cry! what kind of boy cries so easily?”

 

Shen Tinghan threw his little brother a sympathetic glance.

 

Click. The door closed.

 

At first, Shen Juexia would always click on the messages, the high-spirited emotions traveling through the internet, making her lips curl unconsciously.

 

She wondered if she should join the conversation, but her typing was slow, and she was afraid of making typos and becoming a laughingstock. By the time she hesitated, the screen would already be flooded with a dozen new messages.

 

If only she could type in English.

 

But soon she realized that, more often than not, she couldn’t even understand what her classmates were saying.

 

[32nd of 32: [web link]]

 

[32nd of 32: The wise Mr. Toad_]

 

[warren: Does saying this word grant +1s?]

 

[ht: This one’s even more heavyweight.]

 

[Eggplant King: Can saying this word change China?]

 

[Shi Meng: Hahahaha]

 

[Domestic 007: Careful, this group might get nuked.]

 

Holding her breath, she gently placed it in her mouth.

 

It was just the simplest of ingredients, yet it carried a light, sweet creaminess. Completely different from the unpalatable taste she had imagined.

 

Turning to Ji Zhijie, she met her slightly questioning gaze. Shen Juexia’s lashes fluttered as she reluctantly admitted, “Fine, I concede. You win.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Hmph! Your cooking is better than mine, okay?”

 

The expected reaction didn’t come. Ji Zhijie frowned, as if trying to decipher Shen Juexia’s strange train of thought.

 

Unable to resist, she picked up another piece of tamagoyaki.

 

As she chewed, she noticed from the corner of her eye that the other girl was still staring at her.

 

The little rabbit set down her chopsticks and pouted. “Why are you staring at me? Don’t tell me you want me to custom-make a trophy for you?”