The car was almost at the school gate when the driver, as if just waking up, started a conversation.

“Yeah. I’m in the second year of high school now.” Thinking it would be impolite to just give a short answer, Zoe added her grade from the back seat.

“Got into Brightstar High School, huh, that’s impressive.”

“Hehe.”

What a pointless conversation. She couldn’t help but want to laugh.

“My daughter took the high school entrance exam this year, didn’t get into anything. I wanted to get her into a good school, but we don’t know any school leaders, and we don’t have the money to throw around, so she just went to some random school. I know she’s not really cut out for studying. But, this society needs people like you, and it needs kids like mine too, right? To put it bluntly, someone’s got to drive taxis, not everyone can work in an office, right?”

Even after going to college, reality might force you back to driving a taxi—no one can say if life will just circle back to where it started. That was what Alan Carter always said.

“That’s true, uncle. Your daughter will definitely do well, with a father as understanding and reasonable as you.”

The uncle laughed, “Well, I’ll take your good wishes, girl.”

The moment she got out of the car, Zoe Young suddenly felt a bit odd about the uncle’s generous speech. Maybe he’d just scolded his daughter at home that morning, then felt bad about it, but couldn’t get over his pride, so he poured his heart out to Zoe Young as a way to comfort himself.

“Still not studying? The high school entrance exam is a turning point in life, don’t you get it? Hanging around with a bunch of idiots, not doing anything serious—when you all end up sweeping the streets, let’s see if you’re still laughing then!”

Monica Zack’s tasteless, catchphrase-like lectures flashed through her mind—simple, extreme logic, but real and harsh.

Zoe Young looked back one last time at the uncle in the driver’s seat, shrugged, and felt a little sad.

At the gate, the four gold-embossed characters “Brightstar Middle School” looked steady and restrained. Zoe slung her bag over one shoulder and merged into the crowd heading to school.

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2. Arena

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The school’s main teaching building had four floors, divided into four sections, one for each grade, plus an administrative area.

When Zoe stepped onto the second floor of Area B, she suddenly remembered the politics workbook she’d brought for Ray Cindy, so she turned and headed toward Class Three.

A girl who was about to leave helped Zoe Young call out Ray Cindy’s name into the classroom, then continued her phone call. “Didn’t I tell you to stuff the uniform in my bag? Our homeroom teacher is such a freak, he’ll chop me up on the first day if I don’t have it. Did you even hear me last night? There’s less than half an hour before the flag-raising…”

“Zoe.”

Zoe Young snapped back to reality. Ray Cindy was standing at the door looking at her, expressionless, her slightly tanned face sharply defined, looking very striking in a white shirt.

“You cut your hair.” Zoe Young lowered her head to dig out the workbook from her bag.

“Yeah,” Ray Cindy twirled her just-shoulder-length hair around a finger, slowly walking to the back door of the classroom, “got tired of ponytails, wanted a change.”

“Here you go.” Zoe Young handed over the workbook.

“Thanks. Mm.”

Only then did Zoe Young notice that Ray Cindy was distracted, her attention completely focused on the back window. Feeling curious, she walked over to look inside with her.

“Who’s that?” Zoe Young asked softly.

“Who?” Ray Cindy pretended not to understand.

Zoe Young shrugged and smiled, not pressing further.

Ray Cindy then lowered her head, a bit embarrassed, and said, “Charlotte Lee.”

There were only a dozen or so people in the whole class, but Ray Cindy’s gaze was locked onto the first row by the window. There, a single girl sat alone. Zoe Young immediately knew who it was; they both understood, and Ray Cindy’s act of playing dumb just seemed petty.

Zoe Young didn’t say anything, and slowly walked to the front door to look inside.

“Hey, you…” Ray Cindy tried to stop her, but Zoe Young was already standing quietly at the open door, observing, while Ray Cindy leaned against the wall, her scrutinizing gaze now on Zoe Young.

Charlotte Lee had her head lowered so deeply over her lap, not the desk, that Zoe Young couldn’t see her face at all. Back in first year, Zoe Young and Ray Cindy were in Class One, and she was in Class Two. After a whole year as next-door neighbors, Zoe Young couldn’t recall ever running into her at Brightstar High School.

Charlotte Lee was wearing a light pink T-shirt, with a white Nike jacket over it. Her straight, long hair shone softly in the morning light. Sensing someone staring, she looked up and met Zoe Young’s gaze.

After four years, Charlotte Lee had changed a lot. Still as beautiful as ever, with a peach-blossom face, but the childish arrogance that used to show in her brows was now gone. Charlotte Lee didn’t avoid Zoe Young’s gaze, but smiled openly, and Zoe Young smiled back.

“She’s really pretty,” Zoe Young said. “Here you go, I’m off.”

“She’s switched to liberal arts, caused quite a stir at school,” Ray Cindy said flatly. “She’ll definitely be top of the grade in liberal arts.”

“Are we still going home together tonight?” Zoe Young didn’t respond to that, nor did she look back.

At the stairwell, she couldn’t help glancing back at the Class Three sign, and saw Ray Cindy leaning against the wall, lost in thought.

“She’ll definitely be top of the grade.” In that sentence, there was neither admiration nor blessing.

Zoe Young had thought more than once that Mia Waters was right.

As she went upstairs, Zoe Young suddenly felt a bit anxious for no reason. She hurried up, taking the steps two or three at a time, slipped, and almost fell flat on her face, only managing to grab the railing in time. A boy nearby started laughing heartlessly. Zoe Young paused, looked at the boy laughing so freely—thin, in a plain school uniform, with a pale, not handsome face. His laughter was innocent, like a middle schooler’s.

“Sorry.” The boy awkwardly bowed a little to Zoe Young.

“It’s fine… um, good morning.” Zoe Young smiled. Her gloomy mood since morning had brightened a lot thanks to that near-fall and the boy’s unrestrained laughter. The rush of adrenaline from almost falling even made her feel lucky to have escaped disaster.

“Good morning.” The boy nodded so hard it was almost audible. “Actually, I know you. You’re Zoe Young.”

“Yeah, that’s me. And you are?”

“I’m your deskmate. My name’s Ian Clark. You weren’t here when they assigned seats, so we got put together.”

“Ian Clark? 彦一?” Zoe Young found it funny, thinking of Aida Yanichi from Slam Dunk, the boy always eager to gather intel. Then she felt a bit sad, because that Yanichi was a character who never got to play.

“Yeah, just call me Yanichi.”

There were only a dozen or so girls in Class Seven. Zoe Young’s seat was in the third row from the back by the window. The window faced the road, and Zoe was a bit envious of the classes whose windows looked out onto the sports field. Her seat faced a giant Lancôme perfume poster on the Lotus Shopping Center.

“Here’s our class schedule. After the seats were assigned, I copied it from the blackboard. We have to relearn modern Chinese history in history, geography starts from world maps and world geography, politics continues with the philosophy section from second year, and the economics part from first year will be made up during the holiday classes. As for math, Chinese, and English, everything’s normal.

That’s what they said at the meeting. By the way, why weren’t you there? Everyone was really interested in the seat assignments.”

Yanichi’s eyes widened.

He was a very enthusiastic deskmate, and seemed to study hard too. Zoe Young looked at the history book in his hand, with all the key points highlighted in different colors, and smiled, “Homemade color pages?”

Yanichi scratched his head, embarrassed. “No, I just like making it look like this. It’s more my style.”

Zoe opened hers—it was spotless, like it had just come from the store.

“I never took history, geography, or politics in first year. Anyway, the school doesn’t count those three subjects in the rankings.”

Zoe Young shrugged, “Good thing I switched to liberal arts, now I can start over.”

“So why did you switch to liberal arts? You were so good at science…”

“By the way, do we still have flag-raising today?” Zoe suddenly asked.

“Of course. Seven forty, I think. Ten minutes to go. I’m going to look over history first, what about you?”