When Spring Awakens - Chapter 7

More than ten minutes after arriving at Solo, the two members under Pepper’s name arrived one after another. The theoretical class started at 4:45, taught by Fu Junxue.

Fu Junxue’s explanations were detailed, vivid, and humorous. She didn’t just rely on official videos but also shared many of her past diving experiences.

Just listening to her brief descriptions made it feel immersive.

The two girls were so intrigued that they kept calling her “Teacher Junjun” left and right, asking numerous questions.

Every time she finished answering, Fu Junxue would glance over and ask, “Any questions, Icey?”

Students who signed up for classes at Solo would give themselves a nickname. Most girls used reduplicative words, but Wen Wanbing always felt it sounded awkward when people she wasn’t close to addressed her that way, so she simply used her work-related English name.

Even so, hearing Fu Junxue lazily drawl it out with a hint of a nasal tone made even her everyday English name sound strangely intimate.

Suppressing the odd sensation, Wen Wanbing calmly replied, “No, Teacher Junjun.”

For a moment, Fu Junxue’s eyes sparkled.

Whether it was because of the address or just the overhead lights reflecting in them was hard to say.

Finally came the explanation of the Frenzel technique.

“Press the tip of your tongue against the back of your upper teeth, then slide it backward along the roof of your mouth, lifting the base of your tongue.” Fu Junxue closed her red lips, tilted her chin up, and pointed to her throat. “This part force it upward and backward until you can’t lift it anymore, then relax and reset.”

She demonstrated once, deliberately walking over to their table and leaning forward at an angle facing Wen Wanbing, making the movement of her throat clearly visible.

“Next, pinch your nose and lift the base of your tongue. If your nostrils flare outward and you hear a clear ‘bo’ sound in your ears, you’ve probably succeeded.” Fu Junxue’s voice always rose at the end, making the onomatopoeia sound especially cute.

“I asked you to practice this earlier. Let’s try it now so I can check.”

The two girls still hadn’t gotten the hang of it and tried to stall, asking Fu Junxue to give them a few more days before checking.

“You need to practice this diligently in front of a mirror. Mastering the Frenzel technique will make passing AIDA two-star much easier.” After saying this, Fu Junxue leaned sideways against Wen Wanbing’s desk. “What about you, Icey?”

Wen Wanbing’s gaze shifted from Fu Junxue’s slender waist as she lifted her head and gave it a try.

Fu Junxue bent down, watching her intently.

The sensation of her eardrums bulging was more pronounced than when she practiced alone.

“Pretty good~” Fu Junxue straightened up. “A flower as a reward.”

“?”

Before Wen Wanbing could react, Fu Junxue cupped her face in her hands, smiling like a blooming flower.

“Hahaha, oh my god, Teacher Junjun, you’re such a tease!” The two girls burst into laughter, with one asking, “Can we get rewards too when we learn it? Can we take photos and post them on social media?”

“Nope.” Fu Junxue’s eyes curved into crescents. “There’s only one flower.”

“Ahhh! I should’ve taken a photo earlier!”

Amid the laughter, Wen Wanbing thought she could still hear her own heartbeat.

When the class ended, Fu Junxue was sandwiched between the two girls, who wanted to see her past diving videos and photos and ask for fitness tips.

Wen Wanbing quietly packed her notebook and pen, slipping out through the back door. Before leaving, she turned for one last glance into the classroom.

Fu Junxue’s luscious, rosy lips curved upward as she effortlessly answered questions, her every movement exuding grace and beauty.

The glance was fleeting Wen Wanbing quickly averted her gaze and walked away without looking back.

Fu Junxue’s beautiful eyes shifted slightly, lingering on the back door for a brief moment before calmly looking away. Her expression remained unchanged throughout, as if it had just been a casual glance.

Outside, rain had begun to fall at some point. The weather forecast predicted that the plum rain season would start in the coming days.

Wen Wanbing always kept an umbrella in the office, but today, in her rush to tail and photograph her subject, she had forgotten to pack it.

Her stomach growled with hunger, so she decided to stop by the lounge’s water bar first.

Two new girls were working at the water bar. At the moment, there were no customers, and the two young women were chatting about why they had taken up part-time jobs.

“My parents passed away early, so my aunt raised me. She has a son of her own.”

“Does she favor her own child and make you work to support yourself?!”

“No, no! My aunt and cousin have been very good to me. I just wanted to earn my own tuition and ease her burden.”

Noticing Wen Wanbing, the girl stopped mid-conversation and asked, “Hello, what would you like?”

Wen Wanbing snapped out of her thoughts. “A cup of oatmeal, please.”

Leaving the counter, she took a seat by the window where she could observe the weather outside.

The rain was still falling, though lighter now a fine, misty drizzle. Wen Wanbing weighed her options: should she take a taxi home, or walk a bit and buy an umbrella from a supermarket along the way?

As she finished the last of her oatmeal, He Xiuying called via video chat.

Wen Wanbing fished out her earbuds and answered. “Mom, what’s up?”

“Xiao Shui,” He Xiuying angled the camera toward a pile of gift boxes stacked in the corner. “Hai Ling just dropped by and left all these things. I kept saying no, but when he saw you weren’t home, he just left them here and took off. I had to watch Xingxing, so I couldn’t return them in time.”

Wen Wanbing ran a hand through her hair in frustration. “Don’t open them. I’ll mail them back to him tomorrow.”

“Alright.” He Xiuying sighed. “You, oh! Xingxing, sweetheart, don’t touch that!”

In the frame, Wen Xing crouched down, reaching for one of the toys Hai Ling had brought. The next moment, the screen spun wildly before settling on the ceiling He Xiuying must have set the phone down.

Soon, Wen Xing’s shrill, piercing cries and the sound of her slapping the table filled the call. He Xiuying’s frantic, incoherent attempts to soothe her only added to the chaotic noise, making Wen Wanbing’s eardrums throb.

“What’s wrong with Xingxing?” Wen Wanbing turned down the volume. After calling out twice with no response, she was about to hang up and call back when the phone was picked up again.

“Xingxing, look,” He Xiuying cradled Wen Xing in her arms, pointing at Wen Wanbing on the screen. “Who’s this?”

Through the phone, Wen Wanbing could just make out Wen Xing trembling all over, clutching something tightly in her hand so tightly that her small fingers were turning red from the pressure.

“Xingxing, look at me.” Wen Wanbing matched He Xiuying’s gentle rocking motions, her voice soft and coaxing. “Good girl, stop. Tell me what’s wrong?”

Wen Xing’s screams continued, though not as shrill as before. As her cries gradually quieted, she slowly unclenched her hand.

In her reddened palm lay the shark clip Fu Junxue had given her.

Only the small spherical charm and half of the ring remained attached to the clip.

“The hair clip you brought home last week, the two little stars on it were snapped off by a boy in her class, and the ring part broke too.” He Xiuying said with a frown, full of self-reproach. “I just took it off her hair and absentmindedly left it on the table, forgot to put it away. Sigh.”

“Be good, Xingxing, put it aside for now. I’ll see how to fix it when I get back.” Wen Wanbing coaxed gently. “It’s okay, Xingxing, it’s okay.”

Under continuous soothing, Wen Xing’s cries gradually quieted down. She stared at the screen, eyes wide open, sniffling with a hoarse voice: “C-clip, fix.”

Wen Wanbing promised, “Okay, we’ll fix it. It’ll be fixed.”

With a solution in place, Wen Xing wriggled out of He Xiuying’s arms, clutching the broken clip, and ran into Wen Wanbing’s room. He Xiuying, concerned, followed closely behind with the phone in hand.

Wen Xing placed the clip on the bedside table, then picked it up again and set it on Wen Wanbing’s pillow.

“Oh dear, this little one is afraid you’ll forget.” He Xiuying’s smile quickly faded as she lowered her voice. “Can it really be fixed? Maybe we should just buy a new one.”

To repay Fu Junxue in the future, Wen Wanbing had searched online for the same clip the day she received it.

It was nowhere to be found.

Wen Wanbing didn’t respond, instead changing the subject. “Did Xingxing have any outbursts at school today?”

“No, the teacher noticed early and convinced her the stars were still there. I was going to tell you when you got back.” He Xiuying suddenly remembered something. “Oh, today her homeroom teacher said if Xingxing falls too far below the passing line in the final exams, they recommend holding her back a year. Otherwise, she’ll fall further behind. They told us to mentally prepare for it.”

Wen Wanbing gazed out the glass window at the rain-drenched darkness, devoid of streetlights, and closed her eyes briefly. “Got it. I’m heading back soon, let’s talk later.”

“Alright, alright.” He Xiuying urged, “Be careful on your way.”

After ending the video call, the faint trace of a smile on Wen Wanbing’s face vanished. She took off her headphones, walked to the entrance, and took a deep breath. A soft cough made her turn, and she met Fu Junxue’s deep, penetrating eyes her breath caught in her throat.

“I thought you’d left.” Fu Junxue curved her lips. “You slipped away so fast.”

“I was about to.” Wen Wanbing tucked her phone into her bag and glanced at the hazy rain outside.

Fu Junxue understood. “No umbrella?”

Wen Wanbing pressed her lips together and gave a quiet “Mm.”

“Come on, I’ll take you.” Fu Junxue walked to the corridor outside, then paused and looked back at Wen Wanbing, who hadn’t moved. “If you catch a cold from the rain, you won’t be able to learn diving.”

After a brief hesitation, Wen Wanbing followed. “Thank you.”

Fu Junxue glanced at her. “You really do hate inconveniencing people.”

Exposed, Wen Wanbing chose silence.

The corridor led to the parking lot. To shield from sun and rain, the surface lot had an overhead canopy, so they stayed dry the whole way.

As they neared the parking spot, Wen Wanbing said, “Just drop me at the subway station, thanks.”

“Just the subway station?” Fu Junxue frowned. “What if it’s still raining when you get out? You’ll walk home soaked?”

“The subway station has umbrella rentals,” Wen Wanbing replied.

Fu Junxue countered logically, “What if they’re all taken?”

Wen Wanbing’s lips parted, dead serious: “Don’t jinx it.”

Fu Junxue let out an almost breathless chuckle and said nothing more.

When they reached the car, Wen Wanbing instinctively reached for the rear door, only to hear Fu Junxue say, “Sit in the front. There are things in the back.”

Through the slightly opened door, she could see several silicone mermaid tails piled on the backseat.

Wen Wanbing took the passenger seat, her gaze settling on the black cat-shaped incense holder on the dashboard.

It looked strikingly similar to the Bombay cat in Fu Junxue’s WeChat profile picture. The cat’s eyes were made of two emeralds, exuding a faint luster, a quiet yet opulent elegance.

“Where did you buy the shark clip you gave to Xingxing?” Wen Wanbing asked. “Could you share the shop link with me?”

“Afraid not,” Fu Junxue added. “That was something I made for fun. It’s not for sale.”

A flicker of surprise crossed Wen Wanbing’s face, impressed by Fu Junxue’s craftsmanship. She sighed, no wonder she couldn’t find it online.

Noticing Wen Wanbing’s dejected expression from the corner of her eye, Fu Junxue asked, “What’s wrong?”

“The old one broke,” Wen Wanbing explained. “The stars and planetary rings were damaged by one of Xingxing’s classmates. She loved it so much, so I wanted to buy her another one.”

“I see,” Fu Junxue said. “I’ll need to check if I still have the materials first, then see if I can solder new ones on.”

Wen Wanbing’s eyes brightened with gratitude. “Thank you, I really appreciate it. Just let me know the cost of the materials and labor, and I’ll transfer the money to you.”

At a red light, Fu Junxue cast a sidelong glance at Wen Wanbing. She was someone who never hesitated to give, and as a result, she had encountered all kinds of recipients.

For someone like Wen Wanbing, accepting help from others came with a sense of pressure.

“I stocked up on those materials ages ago can’t remember how much they cost. Besides, handmade items are hard to price.”

Fu Junxue turned her attention back to the road ahead. The streetlights reflected in her eyes, bright and mischievous. “If you feel bad about it, how about treating me to a meal instead? And if one meal isn’t enough, I wouldn’t mind a second or third.”

Wen Wanbing thought for a moment before agreeing. “Just let me know when you’re free, and I’ll make arrangements.”

Fu Junxue accepted cheerfully. “Sounds good.”

When they arrived at the subway station, Fu Junxue pulled over and retrieved an umbrella from the storage compartment, handing it back. “Here.”

Wen Wanbing looked up but didn’t take it. “Don’t you need it?”

“Nope, I won’t get wet.” Fu Junxue nudged it toward her again.

“Thank you,” Wen Wanbing said as she took the umbrella, then added, “And thank you for the ride.”

“Don’t mention it. It was on my way anyway.” Fu Junxue’s reply eased the weight of obligation to its lightest.

Wen Wanbing unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to check the rear side of the car through the window.

“Bye!” Fu Junxue bid her farewell.

Wen Wanbing didn’t respond. After confirming there were no pedestrians behind her, she pushed the door open.

The sound of rain, fine and dense, poured in through the open door.

Fu Junxue’s voice mingled with the soft patter, slightly muffled, as she called her name with a sticky sweetness: “Wen Wanbing.”

Pausing mid-motion with the umbrella, Wen Wanbing turned back to look at her.

“My curiosity is acting up again,” Fu Junxue said with a smile. “Do you not like saying goodbye to people?”

Wen Wanbing froze. “Why do you ask?”

“Because, you never say goodbye to me,” Fu Junxue replied, her reasoning straightforward and simple.

Wen Wanbing countered calmly, “Including this time, we’ve only parted ways four times.”

Fu Junxue’s smile deepened, her tone laced with playful implication. “You remember so clearly.”

“…” Wen Wanbing gripped the door handle, ready to exit the car.

“But you’re someone with impeccable manners and upbringing,” Fu Junxue began counting on her fingers, listing examples. “Always so quick with your ‘thank yous’ and ‘sorrys.'”

Though the words were complimentary, they carried a teasing lilt when spoken by her.

Wen Wanbing pressed her lips together briefly before admitting, “Yes, I don’t like saying goodbye to people. Sorry, that was impolite.”

Her voice faltered mid-sentence, how fitting the timing was.

Fu Junxue let out a soft, breathy laugh.

Wen Wanbing expected her to ask why, but she didn’t. And for that, Wen Wanbing was grateful.

Stepping under the umbrella, she turned to close the door and caught sight of Fu Junxue reclining against the seat, her eyes shimmering with the hazy glow of streetlights diffused through the rain. A delicate, ethereal beauty seemed to spill forth with her widening smile.

Then came her voice, clear and refreshing as a mountain spring: “If you don’t like it, then don’t say it. I just wanted to confirm that way, next time, I won’t say it to you either.”

Standing in the rain, Wen Wanbing’s lashes fluttered. For a fleeting moment, she felt as though she were seeing that mermaid again, gliding gracefully through the diving pool, lost in an illusion.

It was as if they were submerged in an endless ocean, surrounded by swirling undercurrents.

Wrapped in the mermaid’s enchanting melody, she was briefly swept away, drowning in the sensation.

“Let me think, if not goodbye, then what should we say instead? Hmm. Little Icey, remember to bring all your gear tomorrow. Did you hear your teacher?”

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