Part 129

Has it all just been his own illusion, all those happy memories and nostalgia from childhood to now? In the eyes of the person across from him, he doesn’t matter at all; it’s just that he’s always been too self-satisfied.

Andrew Lane himself hadn’t even noticed that something inside him was quietly changing. On a snowy day, he once lay peacefully on the ground, listening to the steady breathing of the girl beside him, and said firmly, “Mm.”

Back then, Andrew Lane admitted his feelings easily. He didn’t even need Zoe Young to return the same affection; he could still feel happy. Liking someone was just a feeling, without any other meaning.

But now, the words “I like you” had become so difficult to say. He had to guess at the other person’s feelings, weigh his own worth. He started to want to possess.

Andrew Lane felt his own complaints were really unmanly, a bit embarrassing. The bell before class saved him, so he hurriedly turned and ran toward the stairwell.

What would she do? Dislike him, laugh at his childishness, or not care at all, leaning against the door, lost in thought as always, her obsessions born of persistence, daydreaming for the sake of all beings?

It’s always the same result. No matter how nervous or expectant he was before, the outcome was always the same. Those carefully prepared surprises and deliberately provoked battles were all boring one-man shows. In his venue, the only audience member sat in the VIP seat, already curled up and fast asleep.

Zoe Young still hadn’t figured out what was happening in front of her when Andrew Lane had already run off, wearing that dark gray cashmere vest she once praised over his blue shirt, not wearing his school uniform, so it couldn’t be blown up by the wind like last time. He looked like a bird with its head drooping and wings broken.

Didn’t she just say “okay”?

“If you don’t want to go, just say so. Don’t force yourself.”

Zoe Young really didn’t have any particular preference. It was all the same to her who she was paired with. If possible, not going to the science museum and skipping class for an afternoon to go home and sleep would be her perfect choice. However, the boy in front of her blushed nervously and said, “I want to go to the science museum with you.” — How could she hesitate? She agreed almost without thinking, afraid to dampen his enthusiasm.

She rarely wronged herself. Ever since she realized long ago that going to great lengths to please others or fate was not worth it, she knew the person she should truly treat well and cherish was herself. She never forced herself to do things she didn’t want to do, and when she said “no,” she was decisive, directly blocking out the other person’s reaction.

There was no more math olympiad in her world.

She owed nothing to anyone, nor did she try to please anyone.

Yet, the Andrew Lane in front of her always acted completely differently toward her than toward others. Such a dazzling person, yet always so aggrieved in front of her, like a bullied child, and often ended up unlucky. Her indifference and understanding, in his eyes, became proof of being hurt. Faced with his overwhelming guilt and desire to make amends, she couldn’t bear to refuse—who was compensating whom was unclear. In short, if accepting his “atonement” and pretending that life was gradually filling with sunshine could make him feel better, then once she was “healed” in his eyes, they could each return to their own paths, quietly drifting further apart.

Had she done anything wrong?

Michael hunched over like a tuberculosis patient, walked away shaking her head.

Hopeless, and not just one, but two.

Andrew Lane spent the entire physics class staring out the window, not really thinking about anything. His mind was a mess, his spirit relaxed, the only tense part was his left hand—gripping his phone tightly, always feeling like it had just vibrated, but when he glanced down, there was nothing.

Should he send a message to apologize to her?

No. Absolutely not.

Then, should he send a message blaming her for being distracted, to get her attention?

No, doing that would really be unmanly.

Damn it! Andrew Lane cursed fiercely in his heart. Outside on the playground, two girls were chasing each other, their laughter a bit too sweet. For a moment, it seemed like the sky frowned.

In the best years of their lives, they studied math, Chinese, physics, and chemistry, but there was never a class called “The Art of Love.”

Zoe Young slept through the entire politics class. She was interrupted once—Ian’s elbow was really something. Following Ian’s pointing, she glanced at question 32 in the workbook. As soon as the person in front sat down, she stood up and said, “The answer to question 32 is D. This example mainly demonstrates subjective initiative, so you should choose the principle about following rules and exercising subjective initiative.”

Then she sat down, propped her head on her left hand, lowered her head as if she was looking at something, and continued to doze.

When class ended, Ian’s elbow struck again. Zoe Young jerked her head up. The politics teacher was talking to Michael in the back row, looking extremely cold.

Then she turned her head and said to Zoe Young, “Awake?”

Zoe Young smiled. Looks like she’d been caught long ago. “Yeah, got scared awake.”

“Oh, Zoe Young can get scared?” the politics teacher said sarcastically. “Next class should be PE for your class, right? Come to my office, I want to talk to both of you.”

Michael turned and winked at Zoe Young: “What an honor, being called in for a talk with the top student.”

They were called in alone, but the door was open, so the person waiting outside could hear everything clearly.

The politics teacher’s talk with Michael focused mainly on how hard her father had worked to get her into Brightstar High School, and that she shouldn’t let him down.

The conversation with Zoe Young was much longer—not in words, but in the way the politics teacher slowly opened a box of black tea, took out a teabag, filled a cup with hot water, and dangled the teabag up and down in the water...

Zoe Young waited, and before she knew it, yawned right in front of the politics teacher.

She suddenly realized she was starting to get bold. She knew this yawn would get her in trouble, but she no longer avoided trouble so much.

“I know all about your family situation.”

Her situation. Zoe Young was used to this kind of opening, listening with a relaxed expression.

“Kids like you often turn out to be the most successful, and have a lot of ideas.

“Which also makes you hard to manage.

“I don’t know if you have some issue with my class, or if it’s just not worth your attention? Out of all your subjects, politics is your lowest score. I know students like you often use this as a way to vent dissatisfaction. I’d rather we be honest with each other.”

Zoe Young smiled: “Teacher, you’re overthinking it. I just haven’t found the right study method yet. I’ll work hard.”

The politics teacher was still lost in her own thoughts: “Maybe you think being number one at Brightstar High School means Peking or Tsinghua University is no problem. Of course, this was just one exam. I can’t guarantee you’ll always stay at this level. After all, I’ve seen too many students like you who just want to show off for a while.”

The teabag floated up and down, the teacher’s fingers twirling the string.

“But don’t you want to know what makes you different from Charlotte Lee and Ray Cindy in Class 3?”

Zoe Young looked out at the vast gray outside the window, suddenly feeling something stirring inside her.

She smiled at her and said, “Teacher, I’m not interested in knowing that.”

The politics teacher’s expression changed slightly. She stopped fiddling with the teabag and looked back at Zoe Young.

“Teacher, you’re right. My first place was just a stroke of luck, and because I worked hard for a while.

There’s definitely a difference between me and Charlotte Lee and Ray Cindy. Maybe they’re smarter than me, maybe they’re more motivated. But I really have no interest in knowing—besides, are you sure you really know what makes us different?”

The politics teacher was stunned. Zoe Young heard Michael’s arrogant laughter outside the door.

“You can go back. I understand now, my actions were unnecessary.”

Her tone was still gentle, but there was a chill to it—Zoe Young knew the politics teacher would probably always hold a grudge against her character from now on. If it were Michael arguing with the teacher, an apology would be enough for forgiveness, because Michael was naturally careless and her grades weren’t good. But if the same thing happened to Zoe Young, even a small mistake would be a heavy blow to the teacher’s dignity, and all faults would be blamed on Zoe Young’s character—talented but lacking virtue, and it would never be forgiven or forgotten.

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