The White Moonlight is So Scheming - Chapter 45

After getting into the car, Shen Tinghan let go of Shen Juexia’s hand.

Her amber eyes were filled with complex emotions.

Fingers curled slightly at her side as Shen Tinghan said softly, “Don’t do things like this again.”

Eyes flickering, Shen Juexia wound the ends of her hair around her fingertips over and over until she grew bored, then turned to look at her. “Are you angry, Sister? Because of my earlier tantrum?”

“If you don’t want me to go to the hospital.”

“I won’t go.”

Brows furrowed, Shen Tinghan’s gaze held both heartache and helplessness. “So, don’t do things that make you unhappy.”

The pendulum swinging back and forth in her heart suddenly came to a halt.

Back in England, Shen Juexia had often complained about not having enough exams. After coming to China, she learned the meaning of “too much of a good thing.”

Not only were there daily quizzes during morning self-study, but there were also two grade-wide practice tests every week, along with monthly exams.

After Qingming Festival, Third High School held its first monthly exam.

It was then that Shen Juexia discovered another utterly absurd fact: exam seating was arranged by academic ranking. The top 40 students were assigned to the first exam hall, those ranked 40 to 80 went to the second, and so on while the lowest-ranked students were grouped into the last exam hall.

Of course, the last exam hall also included students who had missed the previous exam, such as Shen Juexia herself. Since her scores hadn’t been recorded in the system, she was placed at seat 36 in Exam Hall 14, dead last in the entire grade.

Her experience in Exam Hall 14 was something Shen Juexia would never forget.

As soon as the test papers were handed out, the girl in front of her pulled out two dice, shaking them to fill in the multiple-choice answers. Once she finished, she started doodling stick figures on her scratch paper.

Midway through the exam, a crumpled ball of paper suddenly flew over from the diagonal front. Unfolding it, Shen Juexia found “ACADD” scribbled inside. No question numbers, no indication of which five answers they corresponded to.

The next day, during the English listening test, a guy next to her suddenly yelled, “So damn loud!” before covering his ears and going back to sleep with a resentful expression.

The most outrageous moment came during the Chinese exam when the guy in front turned around and asked, “What’s the answer to question 16?”

Not wanting to be an accomplice to cheating, Shen Juexia kept her head down and ignored him. Besides, question 16 tested classical Chinese function words. She wasn’t even sure of the answer herself.

A girl nearby scoffed, “Xu He, have some shame. Asking an American about Chinese?”

Shen Juexia couldn’t hold back. “I’m not American.”

The girl refused to believe her. “But don’t you speak English?”

“See, you don’t get it,” Xu He seized the chance to mock her back. “England speaks English. America speaks American.”

Shen Juexia wanted to throw her pen at their faces.

The invigilator at the podium, buried under a stack of papers, seemed to have given up entirely perhaps accepting that a special exam hall required special treatment.

For three days, Shen Juexia sat by the window in the last row, with noise on her left and a marketplace-level commotion on her right. Every question she answered felt like torture.

Fortunately, the results turned out well.

Aside from Chinese and Politics, she scored above 100 in all other subjects, even ranking in the top ten for Math in her class.

Expecting to be at the bottom again, Shen Juexia was surprised to find she had surpassed the class average in nearly every subject. Her hard work had paid off, and she couldn’t help but hum happily on her way to and from school.

When she saw her ranking on the bulletin board, disbelief washed over her: she had placed 22nd in her class and 106th in the entire grade.

“Shen Juexia” was positioned right in the middle of that long list of grades neither too high nor too low, embodying the perfect balance of the golden mean in Chinese culture.

The classmates who had gathered to check the results were stunned by the transfer student’s rapid progress.

After all, everyone knew that during the final exams last semester, even though the homeroom teacher had kept the scores under wraps, it was obvious that the transfer student had undoubtedly ranked at the bottom of the class.

Only Shen Juexia herself knew that during the winter break, while everyone else was out having fun, she had locked her phone in a drawer most of the time.

Only Shen Juexia herself knew that over the past month, she had sometimes zoned out while reviewing the newly learned material in her head. And since no one wanted to hang out with her, studying became the only companion that never tired of her.

Four-Eyes, as usual, scrutinized the grade list up and down several times with a critical gaze. This time, his name was right next to Shen Juexia’s, with a total score only three points higher than hers and his math score was even ten points lower.

His thick glasses were undoubtedly earned through hard study, but no matter how many times he copied notes, his grades remained stubbornly mediocre.

“Cheating in the last exam hall doesn’t even get monitored by teachers,” Four-Eyes grumbled, slamming his workbook onto the desk.

Everyone around knew exactly who he was throwing shade at.

Gao Yixing, still nursing a grudge over the tampon incident, saw Shen Juexia as a thorn in his side. This time, he had scored even lower than the foreign transfer student, and his pride couldn’t take it.

“Guess rolling dice can lead to a miracle performance. Gamblers get lucky! Next time I’ll bring dice too.”

Yang Ke pursed her lips. “You’d be better off solving a few more problems. What does it matter to you how others score?”

Four-Eyes flushed red, then pale, unwilling to back down. “Scores should be earned fairly and honestly, that’s all.”

Shen Juexia deliberately took a detour, passing by Four-Eyes’ seat.

“Then you can go take the exam in the last hall too.”

The transfer student was famously quiet, so when her clear voice rang out, it instantly grabbed everyone’s attention.

Four-Eyes scoffed, struggling to retort before finally spitting out, “I wouldn’t want to take exams with those losers.”

Yang Ke and Guan Yizhe, who had been watching the whole scene, silently clapped in approval.

Shen Tinghan never bothered to check the grade list on the bulletin board.

This time was no different. From the moment Yang Ke pinned it up, she had remained seated, absorbed in her book, as if none of the numbers above concerned her. Her black-framed glasses seemingly justified.

Logically speaking, a beggar wouldn’t compare themselves to a millionaire, only to another beggar who managed to scrounge up more coins.

Yet Shen Juexia still memorized Shen Tinghan’s scores.

Unsurprisingly, the top spot in the class and the entire grade still belonged to Shen Tinghan.

Her humanities scores were terrifyingly high. English, history, and geography all near perfect. Her science scores weren’t as dazzling but still consistently ranked within the top five in the class.

Was this the legendary all-rounder?

No, a nonagon because there were nine subjects in total. No, a decagon because her physical education was flawless too. No, an undecagon because her violin skills were practically perfect.

During the long break, the quiet companionship between Shen Tinghan and her book was inevitably interrupted as wave after wave of classmates came to ask her questions. She would set her book aside calmly and patiently explain.

Shen Juexia also had many questions she didn’t understand.

She remembered the last time she had asked Shen Tinghan for help. It was on that snowy night last year, sitting on the bus, under the scrutinizing gaze of every passenger.

Shen Juexia preferred to solve problems on her own, paying extra attention to the teacher’s explanations in class or using problem-solving apps.

It wasn’t that she disliked listening to Shen Tinghan explain things.

She liked it.

Who wouldn’t love that voice, flowing like a springtime brook?

But it was precisely because of this fondness that she despised herself because this affection felt like drifting with the current, making her feel utterly wretched.

Lost in thought, she only snapped back to reality when Liu Qian’s voice reached her ears: “Big Potato wants to see you in the office.”

Shen Juexia didn’t feel like studying for the moment.

She often found herself in a daze, like now.

It seemed like she was doing well, yet somehow not well enough.

She felt like she was trying hard, yet achieving nothing.

Yesterday, her homeroom teacher had showered her with praise, but today she was staring blankly at the force analysis diagram of a physics problem.

Maybe she deserved a break?

After a ten-minute internal struggle, Shen Juexia finally put down her pen, unlocked the small drawer, and pulled out her phone. She indulged in scrolling through Bilibili, picking up a few new internet memes, then skimmed through the flood of unread messages in the class group chat.

She was starting to understand their humor a little better.

[Failed Art Student: I’ll prove the Shen Man Conjecture tomorrow.]

[Binary: Damn, bro, you’re amazing.]

[Einstein: Old driver, take me with you.]

[Granny Liu’s Durian Milk: If you can’t prove it, eat shit. I’ll leave you a fresh batch tomorrow.]

[Failed Art Student: Why don’t you just fly to the moon?]

For example, “old driver” didn’t literally mean someone who drove a vehicle—it was a playful term for someone skilled in a particular field.

The weather was gradually warming up. Her hands no longer felt like ice pops, and her mood had improved enough that she only needed to take her medication every other day.

Shen Juexia refreshed her WeChat interface repeatedly, but no red notification bubbles appeared. Only when she wasn’t feeling irritable did the empty chat list reveal its loneliness.

Lately, her father had been visiting Aunt Lan more frequently, leaving her alone within the crumbling walls of their home.

Even prisoners in the Bastille got yard time.

Shen Juexia grabbed a pair of jeans and threw on her jacket. Her only thin outerwear, a dull, gender-neutral gray without any patterns.

She first wandered along the artificial river near her neighborhood. An old man walked leisurely with his Pekingese-Bichon mix, a fishing uncle sat motionless for what felt like hours, and childhood friends laughed and played on the grass.

It was comfortably warm and comfortably boring.

When she didn’t know where else to go, Shen Juexia would head to Wanda Plaza.

She rarely encountered anything lucky.

She often thought of herself as a pitiful, unlucky wretch.

But with Shen Tinghan, she was absurdly fortunate: not only did they live close by, but Tinghan was also her group leader during fitness tests, and even when she trekked all the way to the west side of the city, she’d run into her playing the violin.

Beside the bronze statue of Zu Chongzhi, the violinist was performing again, the melody so vivid it sent her imagination soaring.

Shen Juexia loved this piece and even knew its name, Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso.

Passersby dropped money into the small jar beside her, and many trendy youngsters scanned QR codes to show support. Shen Juexia rubbed the five-yuan bill in her pocket, its edges softened by sweat, but in the end, she didn’t take it out.

It wasn’t like she had money to spare anyway.

Besides, music was priceless.

Shen Tinghan noticed Shen Juexia’s tall, motionless figure and curled the right corner of her lips into a warm smile.

Shen Juexia caught the subtle shift in that smile, her heartbeat skipping half a beat, her ears tingling with warmth.

The class president’s smile was nothing out of the ordinary. Her lips always curved to the exact same degree. But today, for the first time, she only smiled on one side, breaking that perfect symmetry, which somehow made her look playful and adorable.

One piece after another, Shen Tinghan’s bowing grew more passionate, her performance becoming increasingly theatrical.

Shen Juexia stood quietly, admiring the violinist beside the statue. Time seemed to stand still, the long, lingering notes of the violin demanding her full attention and respect.

Finally, the performance came to an end.

The violinist unhurriedly packed away her instrument, then carefully collected her hard-earned scattered earnings before walking toward Xia Yi—her most devoted fan, who had stood there from start to finish.

Shen Juexia’s soul, which had been floating somewhere in the clouds, suddenly snapped back to earth. As the distant figure drew closer, her nerves kicked in.

Shen Tinghan stopped in front of her and looked up into her eyes. “You came again.”

Oh no. She hadn’t prepared anything to say.

Shen Juexia struggled to breathe. “The weather’s really nice today.” She brushed her bangs aside once, then because doing it just once felt awkward she did it again.

“It really is. The temperature’s just right.”

What now?

Shen Juexia’s mind raced.

Noticing her flustered expression, Shen Tinghan asked softly, “What did you want to ask me?” The sunlight made the sweet cherry scent on her even more intoxicating.

Oh no. Even her words smelled like cherries.

“Do you like eating cherries?” The question tumbled out before Shen Juexia could stop herself.

Murphy’s Law states that if something awkward can happen, it will.

Shen Tinghan blinked in confusion. “What?”

Taking an ice cream from a staff member, Shen Juexia handed the strawberry-vanilla one to Shen Tinghan with a bright smile. “Sis, yours is the fox. Mine’s the bunny.”

Curious, Shen Tinghan glanced at the ice cream in Shen Juexia’s hand and asked softly, “Can we switch? I want the flavor you have.”

“Huh? But you said you wanted—”

“May I?”

Pursing her lips, Shen Juexia handed over her ice cream. “Fine. Who told me to spoil you the most?”

“Take a bite first.”

“Why?”

Eyes glinting with mischief, Shen Tinghan arched a brow. “Last time I took the first sip of your milk tea, I had to coax you for half an hour.”

“I was just a kid back then…”

The tips of Shen Juexia’s ears turned redder than the peach-flavored ice cream in her hand. She took a bite from the cone’s tip before passing it to Shen Tinghan.