To Sweep Across Like Wildfire - Chapter 6

Chapter 6

In universities, lectures are typically long, consisting of two sessions back-to-back. When the bell rang for the second session, Professor Yan announced the end of class.

The students gathered their things and bid the professor farewell. Those with subsequent classes hurried out to their next locations.

Meng Chi didn’t have much to pack; even the pen and scratch paper were borrowed from a classmate. She pulled her phone from the desk drawer and discovered several WeChat messages from her class advisor.

Twenty minutes ago, the advisor had asked: “Are you there?”

Ten minutes ago, another message: “Come to the Fine Arts office if you have time.”

Meng Chi replied quickly: “Sorry, teacher, I was in class and didn’t check my phone. Are you still in the office?”

The advisor: “I completely forgot you still had classes in the Economics department. I’m still here, come straight over.”

Meng Chi typed rapidly: “On my way.”

The classmate next to her, while packing her bag, asked, “Do you have more classes later?”

“No,” Meng Chi said. “How about you?”

Meng Chi didn’t have many close acquaintances in the Economics department; she usually spent her study time at the Fine Arts building.

“I have an elective,” the classmate said. “Are you heading to the library later?”

Meng Chi often ran into her at the library. Over time, they had become frequent study partners, making her Meng Chi’s closest peer in the Economics department.

“Probably not,” Meng Chi said. “The class advisor wants to see me.”

“Alright.” The classmate pushed up her glasses. “I was thinking of sneaking off to the library to read, but never mind. I’ll just read during my lecture from the back row.”

Her gaze drifted across Meng Chi’s scratch paper. She stopped when she saw the drawing, stroking her chin. “The lines in this sketch… they’re so sexy.”

She nodded as she spoke, confirming her thought. “Truly, very sexy.”

This classmate was a dedicated scholar who rarely noticed anything outside of her studies. But today was strange; Meng Chi’s doodle had actually captured her attention for several seconds.

Meng Chi was first surprised, and then a profound sense of shame washed over her, as if someone had glimpsed the most secret corner of her heart. She casually covered the paper and said, “Just a random doodle.”

…

Ten minutes later.

The class advisor for Fine Arts Class 01 sat before a monitor, looking intensely at the screen. Standing behind her were three or four other faculty members, all staring with equal focus, occasionally stroking their chins in deep thought. They looked as if they were analyzing the latest masterpiece from a top-tier artist.

Meng Chi arrived at the office and knocked. Seeing how concentrated the teachers were, she hesitated before stepping inside. She walked behind them and glanced up at the screen.

She heard a “ding.” The class advisor, looking tense, gripped the mouse and clicked a small blue square. Most of the blue squares had vanished, leaving blank spaces and numbered boxes like 1, 2, and 3. Only a few blue squares remained.

Meng Chi had seen her grandmother play this before. It was a vintage computer game called Minesweeper.

The advisor moved the mouse back and forth, hesitating to click.

Meng Chi glanced at the mine counter in the corner: only two left. No wonder she was so hesitant.

“Teacher Chen, listen to me, I’m a professional,” an old professor chimed in. “There’s definitely a mine in the top-left corner. Pick one in the middle.”

The advisor didn’t look back. “Old Tian, stop talking nonsense. I listened to you last time and blew up on the first click. You’ve been playing for half an hour and the explosions haven’t stopped—bang, bang, bang—it sounds like New Year’s Eve in this office. If the mines were real, the demolition team wouldn’t need a month to tear down the Gewu Building; we could just send you over there to blow the whole thing sky-high in half a day.”

Teacher Tian sighed. “You ignore the words of your elders at your own peril. You young people are too restless. No… sophisticated!”

A teacher standing next to him laughed. “Oh, Old Tian, stop showing off with that broken English of yours!”

As the teachers bickered over where the mines might be, the advisor rubbed her temples. “Can you all stop causing a mess? And can we not click the top-left? Even Old Tian knows there’s a mine there…”

“Try the upper-right diagonal.”

The advisor instinctively started to argue, then realized the voice sounded familiar. She turned around to see her class monitor.

The monitor looked down, scribbled a few notes on a piece of paper, and handed it to her. “This is the mathematical logic behind the mine distribution. Without these patterns, a game can’t be generated. The paper shows where I believe the mines are located.”

“…”

Shortly after, the advisor clicked a few times. A white light flashed on the screen—a successful clear.

The surrounding teachers silently dispersed.

The advisor, Chen Hua, quickly closed the game and picked up some photocopies. She turned to the young woman and cleared her throat, gesturing for her to sit. Ignoring the Minesweeper incident entirely, she said, “We’re going to Xiling Academy of Fine Arts for a sketching trip next week. I’ve already briefed the other committee members, but as the class monitor, you have more responsibilities. That’s why I asked you to come. Here is the schedule; take a look.”

Meng Chi nodded, took the papers, and began reading carefully.

Chen Hua leaned back in her chair, fingers interlaced over her lap, waiting patiently.

Two years ago, Meng Chi had been admitted to Beiyuan University with the highest professional score and the third-highest academic score for science students in North City.

Chen Hua had been an advisor for many years. She had noticed Meng Chi shortly after enrollment—she was calm, steady, and handled herself with a poise rare for a freshman. She was perfect for the role of class monitor.

Though Chen Hua favored her, she didn’t want the class to be a dictatorship, so she let the students elect a temporary monitor first. Surprisingly, almost everyone chose Meng Chi.

When asked why, the students all gave the same answer: “Because of her face.”

Later, students even ran a “beauty poll” on the campus forums, where Meng Chi won by a landslide to become the “Campus Belle.” However, the school ordered the thread to be deleted shortly after.

Chen Hua glanced at the forums occasionally to keep up with the youth. So, she knew a bit about this.

When Meng Chi finished reading and looked up, Chen Hua sat forward. “Any questions?”

“No,” Meng Chi said. “The document is very detailed.”

Chen Hua: “I’ll be traveling with the bus, but I won’t stay long. If you run into problems, contact the faculty there directly.”

“Understood, Teacher.”

Chen Hua trusted Meng Chi implicitly. Meng Chi was serious about everything—just like with the Minesweeper game; while most people played for a bit of fun, she treated it like a formal task.

As they finished up, Old Tian called out from nearby, “Meng Chi, come here for a moment.”

“What is it?” Chen Hua asked.

“Nothing much, just about her painting,” Teacher Tian said.

Teacher Tian was a renowned artist in China who had held exhibitions in almost every major city. He had reached retirement age five years ago but was invited back by the academy.

He pulled Meng Chi’s sketch from a stack of drawings. His hands were aged but strong as he traced the lines in the air. “Meng Chi, look here. Your lines are too formulaic. How do you usually paint? Why is it so stiff? To be honest, your work is the one I’m least satisfied with in the whole class. You can clearly do better—why are you restricting yourself?”

His other hand waved excitedly. “Don’t be rigid! Your thinking needs to be flexible. Look at me, at my age, I’m still trying to learn SAI and drawing tablets to keep up with the younger generation. You are the younger generation, yet you carry yourself like a pool of stagnant water. This won’t do, do you understand?”

Chen Hua peeked out from behind her monitor and smiled. “Teacher Tian, don’t hold her to the standard of a professional artist yet. She’s still a student.”

“I’m just anxious for her!” Old Tian exclaimed.

“Stay calm, Teacher Tian,” the other teachers chimed in. They worried Meng Chi would be discouraged and offered comfort: “Your Teacher Tian doesn’t mean anything by it; he just gets impatient sometimes.”

Though Meng Chi had been criticized by him before, it had never been this direct or harsh. Her face paled slightly at first. But with the intervention of her advisor and the comfort of the other teachers, she quickly recovered. She turned to the staff and said, “Thank you, teachers.”

She lowered her head and added, “But I do indeed have some issues.”

Old Tian calmed down a bit but didn’t change his tone, pointing firmly at her drawing. “Significant issues.”

…

On the way back to her dorm, Meng Chi kept thinking about what Teacher Tian had said. His words were blunt and left her feeling a bit defeated, but she refused to let her emotions trap her. She quickly composed herself and began thinking about how to fix the “lack of flexibility” in her work.

A while later, she stepped into Room 301. She greeted her roommates distractedly, washed up, and climbed into bed. Seeing her like this, her roommates went quiet and shared looks. No one asked where she had been last night.

Meng Chi knew what they were thinking. They likely assumed she was heartbroken over her breakup and had gone out to drown her sorrows.

She wanted to explain, but she didn’t know how. Could she say she had spent the night in a hotel with a stranger?

Before falling asleep, Meng Chi looked at the drawing she had made in class.

Her dreams were filled with the events of last night—that woman lying on the bed, crumpling the white sheets into wrinkles.