No matter how you looked at it, she couldn’t possibly be the kind of child from an improper family that people might guess. But, wasn’t she a bit too proper? Andrew Lane's mother let out a long sigh. She had just finished her wild speculations when she heard the host say, “Let’s give another round of applause to congratulate the first prize winners!” The sound of applause crackled through the air, and the host, smiling broadly again, guided the last two special prize winners onto the stage. Zoe Young stood there calmly, a smile on her face—a reserved smile that shouldn’t appear on a child’s face, not very bright, at least not as radiant as when she was hugging the balloon backstage.

From the moment Zoe Young took the grand trophy from the hands of an elderly man, Andrew Lane's father had been pressing the shutter nonstop. The other parents watching also took quite a liking to her, so the flashes went off in a frenzy, no less than before. Andrew Lane's mother looked down and saw her son grinning even more brightly than the prize-winning Zoe Young, his row of little white teeth gleaming under the flashes.

When Andrew Lane turned around, he happened to see the boy who had been talking to Zoe Young backstage. He was also holding a camera, pressing the shutter, most of his face hidden behind it, but you could still see the slight upward curve at the corner of his mouth.

The little spark in Andrew Lane that had been doused by Zoe Young's smile flared up again, and he suddenly shouted, “Dad, quick, take more pictures!”

Andrew Lane's father was both amused and exasperated: “Silly boy, how much harder can I press the shutter?” In short... in short... Andrew Lane kept thinking “in short” in his mind for a long time but couldn’t come up with anything, so he could only turn his head again to look at the boy who was much taller than him—he was even carrying a violin on his back—well, I, Andrew Lane, can play the piano too! Little Andrew Lane had never really thought about where all his messy anger came from, but it made him feel like a fluffed-up Scottish Fold cat. Maybe it was just a child’s possessiveness, maybe it was the boy’s aura that made him feel a vague sense of inferiority...

Maybe it was because Zoe Young called him Alan Carter. Not Alan Carter哥哥, just Alan Carter. No matter how many maybes, none of them mattered; in the end, it all burst out as one sentence: “Zoe Young, look over here, hold up your certificate, and smile!”

Many parents around them laughed kindly, and Andrew Lane's parents were stunned by their son, covering his mouth in amusement after a couple of seconds. On stage, Zoe Young finally stopped wearing that dreamy, faint smile. She looked over and gave Andrew Lane a “I despise you” look. Then, she really did hold up her certificate, looked at Andrew Lane's father’s camera, her eyes crinkling as she smiled, her lips curving up, radiant as two new moons shining over three thousand peach blossoms, dazzling in their brilliance.

Zoe Young politely declined Andrew Lane's mother’s invitation to eat together. She packed the trophy, certificate, and that big box of calcium supplement oral liquid provided by Kanghua Pharmaceuticals into the big bag given to her by the staff, carrying it in her right hand, holding the bright red balloon in her left, and then left with her uncle, who was waiting at the main entrance of the Children’s Palace.

Turning to wave goodbye to Andrew Lane's family, Zoe Young looked down at her shoes, walking slowly, as if with every step, a flower would bloom beneath her feet.

After getting home, she carefully hung the red balloon on the window latch and gently stroked it twice. The hydrogen balloon bounced up and down, the thin string trailing behind it like the long tail of a little mouse. Zoe Young sat on her bed, quietly savoring the flashes, the applause, and the moment when Grandpa Green, who presented her with the award, finally broke into a gentle smile, handed her the certificate and trophy, and patted her head, saying, “Keep it up, little girl with a wild imagination.”

She replayed this scene over and over in her mind, a bittersweet feeling in her heart.

On Monday morning, when she went to school, her classmates’ attitudes toward her hadn’t changed much, but Zoe Young herself knew that she was no longer just a blurry drop of water.

Before the flag-raising ceremony ended, the student on duty summarized last week’s discipline and hygiene evaluations, and then the director announced two things: First, the first-grade students’ uniforms had arrived, and each class should send someone to the second-floor logistics office at noon to collect them. Second, congratulations to Zoe Young for winning the provincial “Story King” title. The sudden attention from all around made Zoe Young not know what to do with her hands and feet. Flustered, sweetly flustered. She saw Andrew Lane's bright smile, so she looked up and smiled back at him. Then she heard Emily Xavier, standing behind her, say in a not-too-loud, not-too-soft voice, “I saw it.” Zoe Young was startled and forgot the rules, turning around to ask, “What?” Emily Xavier replied expressionlessly, “Your mom gave the teacher a gift. I saw it. That’s why Mr. Hughes let you lead everyone in reading the text.” “You’re lying.”

“Tch, go home and ask your mom.” Zoe Young turned her head back. This conversation, drowned out by applause, left her stunned. Giving gifts—being praised—leading the reading—getting the chance to tell stories...

She thought everything was earned by her own efforts. She thought it was God who blew a breath and sent her to the highest stage.

In fact, what sent her soaring was not a natural wind at all. Zoe Young looked blankly at Andrew Lane's smiling face, her mind a complete blank.

------------

16. You Are Not a Fish

Fastest updates of the latest chapters of Hello, Old Times!

“Zoe Young, your mom gave the teacher a gift.” This sentence was like a needle, popping all the pink bubbles that had finally gathered around her. Actually, she had heard classmates gossiping before, about backgrounds, about giving gifts. The kids would secretly express their disdain and contempt, but then go home and beg their own parents to make an effort too, to “communicate” with the teachers and “build good relationships” like other parents—so more and more parents came to school every day to talk to teachers about their children’s education and performance. Zoe Young only had a vague impression of this phenomenon. She knew such underlying relationships existed, but had never thought to ask her mom to do anything about it.

Even not long ago, when Zoe Young was still a little fish swimming alone at the bottom, she had instinctively developed the “Ah Q spirit of self-consolation.” Whenever the teacher ignored her efforts during eye exercises or cleaning, she would tell herself that the reason the teacher praised those classmates who didn’t seem to do anything outstanding was because their parents had given gifts to the teacher.

Maybe it was just because thinking this way made her feel less sad. She had never, like Emily Xavier, run up to others with a look of disgust and said, “The teacher only praises you because your parents pulled strings”—but her silence, her seemingly aloof and lonely detachment from the crowd, didn’t mean she had never secretly thought this way.

But at this moment, everything was turned upside down. When her mind went blank, Zoe Young felt a bit of hatred toward Emily Xavier. No matter whether what she said was true or not. Even if everything Emily Xavier said was true, she still resented her. Just because, on the beautiful, hard-won ice cream of Zoe Young's happiness, she had poured a huge splash of soy sauce. Leaving Zoe Young staring at the ice cream box, unable to move, unable to decide. The sweetness had lost its flavor.

On Sunday, after celebrating with Duke Bunny and the others, Zoe Young had even imagined how the teacher would praise her, how her classmates would congratulate her, and even pictured herself walking through the school no longer feeling like a timid guest. Now she was the host, able to move between the classroom and the teacher’s office with the same sense of ownership as Swallow and the others. Maybe, the teacher would even let her be a class officer...

She lay on her little bed, her mind filled with all sorts of clichéd but warm and real dreams. Now, only a pungent, strange taste remained. In the first Chinese class, Mr. Hughes spent a full fifteen minutes praising Zoe Young. The envious looks from everyone were like waves, almost drowning her. The moment she had dreamed of finally arrived, but she suddenly found it tasteless. Zoe Young became the class study monitor. Since Swallow was promoted to squad leader, Emily Xavier became class monitor, and the former study monitor became vice class monitor, the vacancy was just filled by Zoe Young. A study monitor who had never scored 100 in pinyin, but who cared? She took the brand new white armband with red stripes from Mr. Hughes, feeling overwhelmed with guilt and shame. Facing everyone’s envious looks and Mr. Hughes's loving, appreciative gaze, her face burned with embarrassment.

Emily Xavier didn’t spread the matter around. After all, she knew Mr. Hughes would be angry if she heard. Children’s logic is always full of double standards. The one who should really be blamed—the one who took the bribe—remained pure and flawless in their hearts, so Mr. Hughes was not at fault—why not?—just not at fault.