Andrew Lane's father, however, did not respond to her plea for help. He gently patted his son's head and said, "Grandma Grandma Carter from Dad's work is critically ill. Let's go to the hospital to see her. When you were little, you stayed at Grandma Carter's house for a while. She always cared for you. Come with us to visit her."

Andrew Lane nodded. "Are we going back to school afterward?" "No, we're not. I already asked for leave from your Mr. Zack." "Then I'll go to the classroom to get my bag."

"Go ahead." Andrew Lane ran into the teaching building, relieved, disappearing in a flash, his breath turning to white mist like a little train. Andrew Lane's mother glanced reproachfully at her husband. "Andy is getting more and more slippery. If you don't catch him off guard with a question, he'll definitely make up an excuse for you later."

Andrew Lane's father laughed and touched his nose—every time his wife spoke in this tone, he would react this way, and at first glance, he even looked a bit like a high school student.

"What do you want me to ask him?" "Ask..." Andrew Lane's mother paused and sighed.

She really didn't know how to bring it up—otherwise, she wouldn't have signaled her husband to speak just now. The name Zoe Young had disappeared from memory for a long time. Four years ago, her son's little playmate, a childish friendship they had "strategically" ended. Whenever Andrew Lane's mother later saw Andrew Lane playing happily and growing up strong with other children, she always felt relieved. They had solved a not-so-small problem in the most direct yet tactful way. Andrew Lane's mother thought her husband was right: children's so-called friendships are easily cut off—they had insisted on picking up and dropping off Andrew Lane for a whole year, but actually, from the first week, Andrew Lane never mentioned Zoe Young's name again.

She had overcomplicated the problem. Everything had gone so smoothly it was hard to believe. Until just now, when they came to the back playground under Mr. Zack's guidance, the playground was full of children in bright winter clothes running and chasing each other. After searching for a while, they found their son near the wall—talking to a little girl, impatiently unwrapping a package, playing with a glass apple in his hands, and when he spoke, his eyes and brows were lively, his expression especially animated, almost to the point of being capricious. It was a state he never showed when with other children—when with others, Andrew Lane always seemed like a little adult, but holding the apple, he just looked like a mischievous child. And very mischievous. Andrew Lane's mother stood aside, a bit dazed by the scene. That expression was familiar, but she hadn't seen it in a long time. Every little thing about her son was a big deal. So when Andrew Lane's mother walked around and saw the girl's somewhat familiar profile, she felt tricked, both amused and exasperated. So they had never really lost touch. Her precious son had actually kept this from her for over four years.

Andrew Lane's mother muttered to herself, "What will happen when he grows up," not realizing her anger and dissatisfaction weren't just because her son had lied.

When Andrew Lane came downstairs with his bag, Andrew Lane's mother moved her lips but swallowed her words. But the doubt stuck in her throat, and as they closed the car door, with the engine sputtering, she hesitantly asked, "Andy, didn't you say you and Zoe... you and Zoe didn't play together anymore?"

She couldn't remember if it was the end of first or second grade, but she suddenly recalled that little girl who told stories like a grown-up, so she had tentatively asked Andrew Lane if he still played with Zoe, if he often saw her at school, and so on.

Andrew Lane's reaction was perfectly normal, very casual, and even, like a precocious little old man, he said with a world-weary tone, "That was ages ago. We haven't played together for a long time. I don't even see her."

The tone was so final, it was hard to doubt. Now, thinking back, Andrew Lane's mother felt more and more chilled. Sitting alone in the back seat, Andrew Lane never expected that his mother was asking about Zoe, not the apple.

He didn't know his mother had already firmly decided that Zoe Young, and the apple she gave, were equally dangerous, as if Andrew Lane was the foolish Snow White, and the witch had come to the door with a poisonously purple apple.

Besides, this Snow White Andrew Lane couldn't tell right from wrong and was a little liar. Andrew Lane relaxed all at once and said with a grin, "Zoe? We really didn't play together before, but now we're good again!"

"Good again." The final "again" was light and rising, full of unpretentious, undisguised joy. Andrew Lane's mother was left speechless. All her careful considerations became transparent under Andrew Lane's answer—indeed, they had never explicitly said, at least not as clearly as Charles Johnson or Charlotte Lee's parents, that he couldn't play with Zoe. So with Andrew Lane's explanation, she had nothing to say.

Andrew Lane pressed on: "Besides, just because things weren't good before doesn't mean they can't start over!" This "over" was even more cheerful than before, almost flying up to the sky. Andrew Lane's mother took a deep breath. "If your mom and that Zoe Young both fell into the river, who would you save?" The always-silent Andrew Lane's father burst out laughing and hit the brakes. All three lurched forward, and sitting in the back without a seatbelt, Andrew Lane almost flew into the front seat. He struggled to sit up, looked seriously at his mother, and said, "Mom, you're so childish." Andrew Lane's father laughed as he started the car again. Andrew Lane sat in the car, fogging up the window with his breath, while on the other side, Zoe Young was suffering in a strange atmosphere.

The group of girls from Class One who had just been pointing at Zoe Young and whispering, after the bell rang, all went back to the teaching building for class. Just a moment ago, Charlotte Lee had been gossiping and laughing with everyone, but at some point, she had circled behind Zoe and said in a complicated tone, "My mom told me to stay away from you."

Zoe Young didn't stop walking, just smiled slightly. "So you should listen to your mom."

Charlotte Lee was stunned for a moment, took two seconds to understand what Zoe Young meant. Unwilling, she caught up and continued, "My mom says you're not from a proper family."

Zoe Young still didn't stop. "Your mom is so childish." This time, Charlotte Lee didn't need to think about what it meant. She screamed, rushed up, and yanked off Zoe Young's hat. The light gray knitted hat was stretched out of shape in her hand. Zoe Young stood still, watching with the crowd drawn by the commotion as Charlotte Lee vented her anger on the hat.

"Cece, what's wrong?" A brave girl rushed over to stop Charlotte Lee. "She insulted my mom!" Charlotte Lee jabbed her finger at Zoe Young, then threw the hat on the ground and stomped on it, glancing up now and then to see Zoe's reaction. Zoe Young just kept smiling, as if she had no other expression. "So you pulled my hat, now we're even." Charlotte Lee froze, her foot still on the hat, but since the snow on her shoe was clean, the hat wasn't dirty at all.

"What did you say?" "I said we're even. But my hat, I don't want it anymore. As for your mom... do as you like." She turned and walked away, hands behind her back, a few strands of hair standing up from the static of the hat. She left behind a crowd of dumbfounded onlookers. The smile on Zoe Young's face didn't fade even when she was alone in the washroom. She looked at her own fake smile in the mirror painted with the school motto in red paint. She tried a few times, but couldn't drop the corners of her mouth, as if the smile had become a permanent side effect. Do you all still think I'm that Zoe Young? She imagined herself in a black bodysuit and a big cape, stomping those self-righteous saints underfoot, even giving a villainous laugh or two. Then she scared herself. Zoe Young felt a strange sensation in her chest—panic, fear, excitement... her fingers touching the soul beating inside her.

For the first time, Zoe Young pretended not to care. She suppressed the anger that surged up when she heard "not from a proper family," forcing a smile onto her face.

Being the villain was actually more fun than defeating the villain.

Zoe Young stroked the fake face in the mirror—the corners of her mouth lifted so high even her index finger couldn't press them down. Until she heard a burst of loud laughter and screams from the classroom.

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10. The Swallow Before the Old Wang and Xie Halls

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Zoe Young walked back to the classroom door. The earlier screams and laughter had already died down. Inside, the homeroom teacher's roar drowned out everything else.