Zoe Young didn’t know why she had to be a good student. For her, it was never a question worth considering; it was a principle, flowing in her blood. Fish never wonder why they swim upstream, do they?

On an early summer afternoon, even the silence felt warm, as if time had flowed backward by ten years.

A long time passed before Benny slowly said, “Maybe... maybe it’s because I hate my family!”

Only then did Zoe Young remember the question she should have asked from the start: “Does your dad still hit you? Where is your home?

Are you doing okay?”

Benny’s alcoholic adoptive father, when he was in fifth grade, dove headfirst from the construction site’s lift into a pool of cement.

At the funeral, even Benny himself couldn’t imagine that he would cry.

Even more unexpected, his mysterious biological parents actually showed up. It was like a dream—when he was still dazed, he suddenly had a new name and a new family. The old neighbors all gossiped behind his back about how lucky this kid was, as if his ancestors’ graves were smoking with fortune—everyone forgot that these things were originally his, he was just returning to his own family’s grave.

The only thing of value at home was a shoebox full of money in the drawer. When Benny showed up in front of his biological parents with his backpack and the box, the wounds on his face from his adoptive father still hadn’t healed.

In that chaotic elementary school, Benny had already learned how to protect himself with his fists. Even casually blurting out a “damn” would startle his brother, who was two years older. If he made noise while drinking soup, his brother would laugh at him. When Benny raised his fist, ready to swing at his biological brother, they had their first official family meeting.

Benny insisted on not changing his household registration. His parents, who had moved back from a coastal city to the provincial capital, wanted to send him to the Normal University Affiliated High School, but he fiercely resisted. His brother would only sneer and call him ungrateful.

“Zoe, why did you come back to No. 13 Middle School?”

“I think my reason is different from yours.”

No. 13 Middle School was a stopover for Zoe Young, but it was where Benny felt he belonged.

“First they used me to pay off emotional debts, then they brought me back to turn me into a good kid, as if I’m so dirty, so terrible. Why should I listen to them? Why should I obediently become someone like my brother?”

Even as Benny said these things, he wasn’t agitated at all. Inside this seemingly fragile boy was a strong, resilient force that let him endure his adoptive father’s beatings and also allowed him to firmly resist his biological parents’ attempts to change him.

“Benny, you can’t be like this forever.”

“Then what should I be like?” Benny smiled. “Zoe, what kind of person do you want to become in the future?”

“A strong person, an excellent, strong person, so I can give my mom a good life,” she thought for a moment, then added, “and let everyone I care about have a good life.”

Especially you.

Benny nodded. “That’s good. That sounds like the kind of dream you should have.”

“What about you?” Zoe Young pressed.

“Me?” Benny laughed. “The same as you!”

Zoe kept going: “So, why don’t you work hard with me? We could—”

“Zoe,” Benny interrupted her, “it’s not only by getting into a good high school or a good university that you can protect the people you love. See, I was able to protect you just now, but that boy who almost got beaten up couldn’t. Besides...”

“Besides what?”

In Zoe Young’s eyes, Benny had already blurred into a golden silhouette, so close yet out of reach.

“Besides, there are very few people I want to protect.”

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13. The Prelude to a Farewell Song

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When Zoe Young stepped into the classroom, she smelled that pungent scent of peracetic acid again. She held her breath, rushed in to quickly grab her workbook and pencil case, then struggled out, gasping for air at the door.

In the winter of ninth grade, SARS was like a widely spread ghost story, making everyone suspicious and paranoid. Zoe Young, however, wasn’t afraid at all; she even secretly thanked this sudden epidemic.

Because of SARS, there were no more extra classes. The Saturday A, B, C, D sprint classes had all been canceled, and school ended promptly at five every evening. The long-lost weekends were hers again, and she was so happy she could hardly put it into words.

Many parents were still anxious that the cancellation of all the extra classes would affect their children’s high school entrance exams the following June, but Zoe Young felt at ease—if the sky falls, everyone dies. Besides, for students like her, Mia Waters, Michelle Cindy, and Sean Sherman, who were good at self-study, having more time to themselves might not be a bad thing.

The study group at the library still met every Saturday and Sunday afternoon without fail. The relationship between Mia Waters and Michelle Cindy was no longer so cold; changes in appearance and grades had made Michelle Cindy more and more confident, and she was talking more, too.

Zoe Young was happy to see this, though deep down she always felt a bit regretful—she was no longer the girl who buried her head in “Seventeen Doesn’t Cry” and would give herself a clattering stick.

Zoe Young told herself this was a rather petty regret. She just couldn’t let go of the timid, odd, pitiable Michelle Cindy. But for Michelle Cindy herself, this was a good thing—she had no obligation to give up the chance to become excellent just for the sake of Zoe Young’s so-called pure affection.

Occasionally, she would run into Benny in the hallway. They would exchange a smile, pretending not to know each other. Zoe Young knew that she and Benny hadn’t changed, and as long as she remembered that, it was enough.

Only Sean Sherman had broken out in acne all over her face. Mia Waters’s acne had gradually disappeared. Zoe Young privately asked Mia Waters if there was any medicine for acne—she wanted to anonymously slip it into Sean Sherman’s desk. The older Zoe Young didn’t dress up much, but she knew that a girl’s appearance was always important.

Mia Waters shrugged. “I didn’t do anything special, it just went away on its own. I guess maybe I finished puberty?”

“Huh?” Zoe Young was surprised. “You’ve already finished puberty?”

Mia Waters blushed and kicked at her, while Zoe Young dodged and laughed.

Sean Sherman was really under too much pressure. Zoe Young worried that she might be crushed by it.

Worrying too much about others only brings trouble on yourself. At the start of December, she came down with a high fever. After a night’s rest, she found a small, crystal-clear, half-transparent bump on her earlobe—it itched.

Her mother’s face darkened. “Zoe, you have chickenpox.”

She took half a month off. Mia Waters called every night, and every two or three days would bring her the worksheets handed out in class, along with his own neatly organized answer keys. Zoe Young knew Mia Waters was always lazy, so for him to do this much was really hard for him.

“Thank you,” she said on the phone.

“No need to thank me. It’s not all my work—the worksheets were organized by your deskmate, and half the answers are mine, the other half are copied from Michelle Cindy.”

Zoe Young felt a little choked up. She scratched her head—she hadn’t washed her hair in a week, and the greasy smell made her dizzy, not to mention the chickenpox all over her scalp, not yet scabbed, itching like crazy.

“Thank you, guys,” she said softly.

“Oh, come on, cut it out. Just get well and come back to school for the exams! The first mock exam is about to start.”

“When did you get so motivated?”

“I don’t care, but you do!”

Zoe Young said gloomily, “Okay, I’ll get better as soon as I can.”

“I’ve always wanted to say, you’re something else—getting chickenpox in ninth grade, are you a late bloomer?”

“This isn’t chickenpox!” Zoe Young snapped, blurting it out before she realized—if it’s not chickenpox, what is it?

On the other end of the line, Mia Waters burst out laughing.

“Right, right, it’s not chickenpox, not chickenpox—you’ve just got a face full of acne!”

During the first mock exam, Zoe Young was quarantined in the mailroom, surrounded on three sides by glass walls. Her test papers were delivered by the teacher, and collected after the bell. For the English listening section, she had to stand outside the exam room, struggling to follow along with the loudspeaker, and even filled in the wrong row on her answer sheet.