Chapter Thirty-Two: A Young Girl’s Secret Thoughts

Cheng Xiaoyu didn’t tell Wang Ou his true thoughts; he suspected that Fu Xiyue had left her phone number not simply because he could play the guitar beautifully. He wasn’t wrong—Fu Xiyue had recognized him as the infamous Ferrari-driving, accident-prone rich kid from the internet. Still, her motives for leaving her number weren’t that weighty. Firstly, she hoped Cheng Xiaoyu would frequent her family’s shop and buy a few things. Secondly, she genuinely wanted to learn guitar. Although her family sold musical instruments, she herself didn’t play—her father had once played in a rock band, but having never made a name for himself, he opened the shop instead and didn’t want his daughter to pursue music. Fu Xiyue had always wished to learn guitar, but her father wouldn’t teach her, and before graduating high school, her studies were too demanding for her to find time. Seeing Cheng Xiaoyu’s flawless performance today, she couldn’t help but want to learn. Considering Cheng Xiaoyu was also a wealthy heir, establishing a connection could only be beneficial, so she left her number.

Upon getting into Cheng Xiaoyu’s Ferrari, Wang Ou exclaimed loudly, marveling at how wonderful it must be to be a rich kid, and fantasized about earning enough money to buy one himself someday.

Dinner that evening was on Wang Ou, who called it a master-apprentice banquet. Cheng Xiaoyu didn’t take advantage of Wang Ou, and the two chose a Hong Kong-style restaurant, casually ordered three or four dishes, and enjoyed their meal. As they left, Cheng Xiaoyu promised to send him a guitar tutorial online to start self-learning, instructing him to ask whenever he had questions. Once the holidays arrived and Cheng Xiaoyu had more free time, he’d be able to teach Wang Ou daily. Wang Ou nodded, said goodbye, and took the subway home. Cheng Xiaoyu offered to drive him, but Wang Ou insisted it wasn’t on the way, so Cheng Xiaoyu didn’t push.

By the time Cheng Xiaoyu returned home, it was already past nine. He greeted Aunt Zhou, who was practicing yoga, and went to his room, intending to search for a good guitar tutorial for Wang Ou. Just then, his phone rang again. It was another girl claiming to be Tang Wenqian.

“What are you up to?” she asked.

“Just got home. Spent the whole day shopping with my buddy—so tired!” Cheng Xiaoyu replied awkwardly, struggling with the input method and thinking he really needed a better phone.

“Buddy? Are you that close?” Tang Wenqian—in reality, Xu Qin Ning—asked. She was curious about the mysterious community of homosexuals, never having met anyone like that, and wanted to dig deeper.

Cheng Xiaoyu replied without boredom, “Oh, you’re thinking too much. We’re just friends, nothing more. Besides, I don’t think I’ll ever like him.”

“Oh? Then what kind of man do you like?”

“He needs to be strong, caring, gentle, talented, and, most importantly, good-looking.”

Xu Qin Ning began to doubt whether sending these messages was a mistake. Every time she thought of Cheng Xiaoyu’s chubby, awkward appearance, she felt a tinge of nausea, but she pressed on, “Why do you like men?”

“Why? Because I’m a girl at heart, even though I’m in a boy’s body. My soul is that of a girl.”

Xu Qin Ning’s face went pale; she felt sick but began to believe Cheng Xiaoyu might actually be gay. After drinking a few sips of water to calm her churning stomach, she picked up the phone again, “So who else knows you like men besides me?”

“Only you. Because you’re not from my school, I dared tell you. I’m afraid others wouldn’t understand. There’s nothing strange about people like me; it’s pretty common abroad. Please don’t tell anyone—if you do, I’ll deny it.”

“Don’t worry, sister. I’ll keep your secret. You can confide in me about anything.” Xu Qin Ning sent this coldly, feeling she had grasped Cheng Xiaoyu’s weakness, convinced now that he was gay—otherwise, he wouldn’t speak so deeply.

Cheng Xiaoyu, chuckling as he sent these messages, also had to invent some stories, perfecting his tragic background for maximum effect. He texted, “I trust you, sister. Even though we haven’t met, I feel like we’ve known each other forever.”

“I feel the same way. Are you alone at home, or do you have any siblings?” Xu Qin Ning wanted to test if Cheng Xiaoyu would tell the truth.

“Oh, don’t ask. I’m an illegitimate child. I have a beautiful sister whom I envy. I guess she doesn’t like me, though I don’t know why. Yes, I’m not good-looking, my grades are poor, and my piano skills can’t match hers, but I can’t choose how I look, and I’ve worked hard at school and piano. I just feel so lonely, so helpless. Despite its size, this house is filled with cold indifference.”

Xu Qin Ning was stunned by this reply—not only had Cheng Xiaoyu shared his real situation without reservation, but his monologue about family struck a chord with her. She often felt that if it weren’t for Su Yuxi’s constant presence and comfort, she would have collapsed long ago living alone in such a family.

At this moment, she found the chubby boy somewhat pitiful. She knew Su Yuxi’s cool demeanor toward those she disliked could easily be misunderstood by a sensitive person like him, but she couldn’t comfort him as Su Yuxi’s best friend. She replied with empathy, “At least your family is normal. My father has so many women he’d need a notebook to keep track, and as for siblings, I haven’t even met them all yet. Still, I’ve survived. Emotions must be tightly controlled; indulging in self-pity only leads to greater despair.”

Seeing such a long reply, Cheng Xiaoyu thought this girl must have a good heart. But confessing now that he was joking would be even worse, so he replied, “I’ve read countless maxims since childhood—I understand all these principles, but I still can’t live my life well.”

Xu Qin Ning received the message and lay dazed for a while, realizing she was the same. She sent a string of ellipses to Cheng Xiaoyu, then lay on her bed and picked up “The Hunchback of Notre-Dame.” The lines of text were clear, but her mind drifted among the clouds outside the window.

Her home was an immense clan, yet she felt alone within it. Her mother, who died in childbirth, never had a chance to show her any maternal love, and her father could give her anything—except affection and care. What she couldn’t accept was that her father remarried her aunt three days after her mother passed.

By now, Xu Qin Ning had lost all interest in teasing Cheng Xiaoyu and felt genuine pity for him. She didn’t know, however, that Cheng Xiaoyu was busy looking at photos Wang Ou had sent from the New Year’s performance, many of which featured her. He clicked his tongue as he admired her in a royal blue evening gown, the pale skin at her chest gleaming, a diamond necklace sinking deep into her neckline, her features exquisite, her complexion flawless. Such a beauty, afflicted by madness—what a pity, Cheng Xiaoyu thought.

If Xu Qin Ning knew what Cheng Xiaoyu felt right now, perhaps our story would already be over—the male lead tormented to death by the second female lead, a bizarre ending indeed. But fortunately, this is a normal story, and the plot has only just begun (dear readers, feel free to bookmark).

The rest of the holiday was uneventful. Cheng Xiaoyu reviewed his coursework in the mornings, drove to Fudan University to practice piano in the afternoons, and played basketball with Wang Ou, though his body was sorely out of shape; after fifteen minutes, he had to sit and rest. He felt disheartened, resolving that he must lose weight after getting into university—otherwise, even dating would be a burden.

Ji Yun Yun invited Cheng Xiaoyu by text to join some friends for an outdoor barbecue, but Cheng Xiaoyu declined—he had always been wary of literary girls, and besides, he couldn’t pursue Mr. Ji’s niece. On the last day of the holiday, Ji Yun Yun invited Cheng Xiaoyu out for dinner alone to repay him, but he excused himself, saying they’d talk once school started, and they didn’t contact each other again.

On Monday, Cheng Xiaoyu drove himself to school—not that he’d drive into the campus, but he skillfully parked at Fudan University’s north gate, where parking spots were plentiful in the morning, choosing one near the security booth. He then shouldered his backpack and exited through the north gate, crossed the alley, and entered the south gate of Fudan High School—it wasn’t far, and this way, after practicing piano in the afternoon, he could drive straight home, much more convenient than parking at Zhongjin Tower.

Inside the classroom, Cheng Xiaoyu sat down and noticed two paper bags at his feet. Upon inspection, they contained the items he’d bought for Xia Shamo the other day. He looked up at Xia Shamo, who had already removed the hair extensions she’d worn for several months. Luckily, the straightening effect remained and she looked neat and pleasant, not messy as before. Cheng Xiaoyu couldn’t approach Xia Shamo to talk, given the number of classmates present, so he settled in for the lesson.

The aftermath of the New Year’s performance had yet to pass. Class monitor Li Liwei stood at the podium during morning self-study, announcing that he would honor his lost bet and run around the field at noon, requesting only to be allowed to keep his underwear for dignity. The class erupted in applause—this gesture immediately restored the dignity Li Liwei was about to lose as class monitor.

Cheng Xiaoyu was a bit surprised; he had long since stopped caring about the matter and said, “It’s not necessary—it was just a harmless joke among classmates.”

Li Liwei’s decision was the result of careful thought. Based on his recent observations, Cheng Xiaoyu wasn’t petty, so he dared take the risk—if Cheng Xiaoyu had insisted on total nudity, Li Liwei would have been in a tight spot. But he’d gambled correctly. Li Liwei smiled and said, “A gentleman’s word is his bond. I’m grateful to keep my underwear; if I don’t run, I’m not fit to be class monitor.” Seeing Li Liwei’s resolve, Cheng Xiaoyu agreed to let him keep his underwear.

When noon came, everyone went to watch Li Liwei run laps on the field. Cheng Xiaoyu handed his meal card to Wang Ou and asked him to help get lunch. Once the classroom emptied, Cheng Xiaoyu carried the two bags over to Xia Shamo’s desk.

Xia Shamo seemed to expect him; her tin lunchbox wasn’t yet on the desk.

Cheng Xiaoyu first took out the neatly folded qipao from the paper bag and asked, “Which aunt gave you this? Are you modeling for someone else again? Why return it to me?”

Xia Shamo looked stunned, pushed up her glasses, and softly replied, “Oh,” then reached out to put the qipao in her drawer.

Cheng Xiaoyu couldn’t help but gaze at her. Though Xia Shamo wasn’t as stunning as that day, her straightened hair hung smoothly on either side of her face, her bangs tucked behind her ear. Even the plain black-rimmed glasses couldn’t hide her flawless beauty.

Xia Shamo was unsettled by Cheng Xiaoyu’s unabashed stare. With a tremor in her voice, she asked, “Is there anything else?” lowering her head, not daring to meet his gaze.

Cheng Xiaoyu noticed her hands twisting under the desk, saw her lowered brows and long, dense eyelashes like a curtain, her petite, fair nose glowing, and her cherry lips perfectly nestled in a field of dazzling white—she was breathtaking. Suppressing his inner affection, he said, “Hey, don’t forget the one who helped you. Are you trying to distance yourself now?”

Xia Shamo grew flustered, raising her head and waving her hands, “No, it’s not like that! Why would you think so?”

Cheng Xiaoyu put the paper bag on her desk, “Oh, so you’ll accept an expensive qipao from a stranger, but reject the things I give you?”

A pure girl like Xia Shamo was no match for a sly old hand like Cheng Xiaoyu; she was quickly cornered and could only reply, “I’ll return the qipao when I have time.”

Cheng Xiaoyu took out the contact lenses, “They’re made for you—if you give them back, how could I use them?” He waved the white stockings in front of her eyes, then put them back in the bag with a grin, “These I’ll keep—if I auction them online, I could fetch a good price.”

Xia Shamo’s face flushed crimson, and she snatched the stockings away.

Next, Cheng Xiaoyu took out the box containing the crystal shoes, “Don’t you like them?”

Xia Shamo shook her head, then nodded.

Cheng Xiaoyu, adopting a sorrowful tone, said, “This is the first time I’ve given a girl a gift, but I was cruelly rejected. I know I’m not handsome, my grades aren’t good, and I have no special talents. You despise me, Xia Shamo? Is it embarrassing to accept my gifts?”

Xia Shamo stood up, just a bit shorter than Cheng Xiaoyu, her eyes reddened, the corners moist—he wondered if he’d gone too far. For the first time, Xia Shamo raised her voice, “I really like what you gave me, but I checked the price—such expensive gifts, how can I repay you? What could I give in return?”

Cheng Xiaoyu smiled, “If I have ten yuan and give you one, and you have one yuan and give it all to me, which gesture holds more meaning? I thought you were different; don’t judge friendship by worldly standards. Does friendship have anything to do with money? If someday I’m destitute, I trust you’d take me in.”

Xia Shamo wiped away her tears, took the shoe box from Cheng Xiaoyu’s hand, smiling through her tears, “I really didn’t want to give it back.”

“My taste is impeccable. I’m off to eat—don’t leave these things under my desk when I return.” Cheng Xiaoyu turned to leave.

But Xia Shamo tugged at his sleeve, taking from her drawer a glass jar filled with colorful stars and paper cranes, all handmade by her, and handed it to Cheng Xiaoyu.

He feigned surprise, “Is this for me?” and took the jar.

Xia Shamo nodded, “Don’t look down on it. I wish you academic success and admission to your ideal university in the new year.” For senior students, there’s no better blessing.

Cheng Xiaoyu felt immense compassion for this delicate, sensitive girl. Her stubborn pride was invisible to others; his fondness for her was like that of an elder for a younger one, a benevolent desire to protect, hoping she wouldn’t be defeated by harsh reality, hoping she could shine brilliantly in a worldly world.

Cheng Xiaoyu put the jar in his desk and declared, “If in ten or twenty years, you still know me and there’s a star or crane missing from this jar, I’ll put up the biggest billboard in World Trade Plaza saying, ‘Sorry, Xia Shamo, I betrayed your trust,’ and shout ‘I’m sorry’ ten thousand times below.”

Xia Shamo, eyes red, reached out to pinky swear with him.

Cheng Xiaoyu did the same.

How childish these words and actions seemed, Cheng Xiaoyu thought. Yet youth was so wonderful—making silly promises, running towards dreams, bravely pursuing things that might leave one battered and bruised, never afraid.