Chapter 3

Back in third grade, on the day Song Mingqi transferred into my class, circumstances had forced me to tell him, “It’s not that I don’t like you.”

He took it upon himself to interpret that as “I like you,” then deployed the sentence whenever I wanted nothing to do with him.

I could never defend myself, because there were usually other people present—one or several. They might not all scold me, but they invariably felt sorry for him, taken in by his acting.

Every time I saw the way they looked at Song Mingqi, it felt as if I were swallowing tears and blood, with all my grievances lodged painfully in my throat.

Once our hazy awareness of boys and girls began to awaken, everyone started keeping a little more distance. After classmates had watched us with suggestive looks and teased us a few times, Song Mingqi mostly stopped saying that I liked him.

I had almost forgotten that miserable old history. Trust him to leap out and remind me at the worst possible moment.

At noon that day, the grade director summoned both our parents over suspicions that we were dating.

I had lost all desire to live. My heart was ashes.

Song Mingqi’s face went white, his eyes full of the realization that his plan had backfired. The trapper had trapped himself.

Dad entered the office looking prepared for a lecture. Then he saw Song Mingqi standing beside me, and his eyes nearly popped out.

For a moment, he forgot there were teachers present. He pointed at Song Mingqi in disbelief. “Dating? You? Song Mingqi?”

I spoke in despair. “What do you think?”

Dad gave my shoulder a heavy pat. “Haohao, your father hasn’t understood you well enough. I still haven’t done enough.”

Then he muttered, “I always thought my daughter was straightforward…”

I had reached the end of my patience, but I still had to endure. If I blamed everything on Song Mingqi, wouldn’t he expose the class monitor?

That would make the scene impossibly ugly.

“Uncle.”

The apology in his voice made me turn. I signaled with my eyes for Song Mingqi to keep his mouth shut.

He did not even look at me. He pursed his lips, displaying just the right measure of conflict and hesitation.

“This is a misunderstanding. You know Haohao and I have had our differences since childhood. Our elementary school teacher made us shake hands and make peace, and that was why Haohao said she liked me…”

I corrected him at once. “I said it was not that I didn’t like you.”

He glanced at me and nodded with such long-suffering resignation that goose bumps rose all over my body.

“Right. She said it wasn’t that she didn’t like me, but I misunderstood. We argued again this morning, and I only brought it up because I was angry and wanted to provoke her. It had nothing to do with dating.”

Enlightenment dawned on Dad. He nodded repeatedly. “So that’s what happened…”

Light flashed across the director’s glasses. “Then why were you arguing?”

I choked and inhaled my own saliva.

Without changing expression, Song Mingqi told the director, “She called me a foreign devil. I hate it when people call me that.”

My face reddened from coughing. At his words, I doubled over and coughed several more times while secretly pinching the flesh on his back. He sucked in half a breath, then had to smother the sound immediately.

By the time his mother arrived, the matter had more or less been “cleared up.” Under the grade director’s meaningful gaze, Song Mingqi and I escorted Dad and his mother to the school gates. Dad’s nosy eyes kept darting between us.

His mother was busy and hurried away on high heels.

Unable to stand Dad’s looks, I started squabbling with him. Song Mingqi suddenly laughed.

When we both looked over, he said to Dad, “Uncle, you really care about Haohao…”

My first thought was that Song Mingqi was about to put on his innocent act and win points with my father: Uncle, you’re so good to Haohao. If I were her, I would never argue with you.

But he said nothing more. He pressed his lips together, lowered his head, and watched the ground as he walked.

No one knew better than I did how good Song Mingqi was at acting. He could lie through his teeth without the slightest guilt.

Normally, I would have scorned him inwardly as usual. Instead, my heart gave a painful little twist.

Song Mingqi’s parents had divorced long ago. The first time his mother brought him back to China, it was to arrange things here before returning abroad to fight his father in court.

She asked for nothing except custody of him. He took her surname and was named Song Mingqi.

As a child, I did not understand divorce and never thought of Song Mingqi as particularly unfortunate. I cursed him when I wanted and fought with him when I wanted. He never talked about it either. When the subject came up, he usually responded with a quiet “Mm” or a nod.

After Dad left the school, Song Mingqi and I headed back. Seeing him so dejected, I unusually had no urge to kick him while he was down. I stole several glances at him, but did not know what to say.

We reached the teaching building just as the bell ending the lunch break rang. Students seemed to materialize in the corridors all at once, filling them with noise.

Song Mingqi raised his head and squinted against the light. Suddenly, he said, “Huh? Is the class monitor watching us?”