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After washing his clothes and freshening up, Zhuang Zi’ang lay in bed playing on his phone.
He opened the class group chat and saw that Xie Wen Yong, the newly appointed class monitor, had sent a message, @everyone.
It was essentially a notice that the entire grade would have a unified monthly exam next Tuesday and Wednesday, urging everyone to prepare in advance.
It was a simple announcement; the entire class knew about it.
But he had to show off his authority, demanding that everyone reply upon receiving the message.
Many people didn’t bother to reply; only a few students obediently responded with “Received.”
Xie Wen Yong was dissatisfied and sent another message.
“Why are there so few replies? Are the rest of you asleep?”
Li Huang Xuan, unable to stand it, immediately replied unceremoniously, “Don’t act like you’re in charge just because you’re class monitor. When Zhuang Zi’ang was class monitor, he didn’t make such a fuss.”
“Now I’m the class monitor, and I set the rules,” Xie Wen Yong immediately typed back.
New officials often start with a flurry of activity, and if this activity doesn’t create a strong presence, future work will be difficult to carry out.
He secretly harbored a strong desire to prove himself, to show Lin Mu Shi, all the teachers, and classmates that he was better than Zhuang Zi’ang.
Unfortunately, things didn’t go as planned. His classmates simply didn’t care.
Xie Wen Yong didn’t see the uniform “received” replies he had imagined but a barrage of sarcastic comments instead.
“It’s just a lousy class monitor position. Zhuang Zi’ang didn’t want it, so they gave it to him.”
“Exactly, he’s really gotten a big head.”
“In my heart, only Zhuang Zi’ang is the class monitor.”
“Yeah, two consecutive years of being at the top of the entire grade. Who can break that record?”
…
Xie Wen Yong gritted his teeth in anger, the flames of jealousy burning fiercely within him.
At this moment, Zhuang Zi’ang sent a nonchalant two words: Received.
School beauty Lin Mu Shi immediately followed suit: Received.
Li Huang Xuan: Received.
Zhang Ziyu: Received.
Deng Zhuoran: Received.
…
Seeing this, Xie Wen Yong finally realized clearly.
Zhuang Zi’ang’s position in the hearts of his classmates was something he could never shake.
The more this happened, the more Xie Wen Yong felt dissatisfied.
He was even more eager to prove himself.
On Zhuang Zi’ang’s side, he had no such petty schemes.
His “received” reply was genuinely meant to help, to support Xie Wen Yong in his role, and to help him establish some authority.
After sending the message, he put down his phone, read a magazine for a bit, and then went to sleep, filled with anticipation for his library date with Xiao Yudie the next day.
Early the next morning, a notification sound jolted Zhuang Zi’ang awake from his dreams.
He picked up his phone from the bedside and, sure enough, saw a message from Little Butterfly.
“Lazy pig, hurry up! I’ve bought you breakfast.”
Zhuang Zi’ang immediately sprang up, all sleepiness gone.
Did she only play on her phone during the day?
And what about yesterday’s kiss? Did she really not remember at all?
After taking a shower and changing into clean clothes, he felt refreshed.
He went out, grabbed a shared bike, and rode to the library.
Under the poplar trees in front of the library, he saw a girl in a white shirt and blue skirt hopping on the red tiles, playing hopscotch.
Her steps were light, as if flowers were blooming beneath her feet.
The morning sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on her.
She looked as beautiful as a fairy who had fallen into the mortal realm.
“Xiao Yudie!” Zhuang Zi’ang was entranced.
“You’re so slow! The breakfast I bought is almost cold,” Su Yudie pouted in complaint.
“I’m sorry! I’ll be quicker next time,” Zhuang Zi’ang quickly apologized.
Whenever he met Xiao Yudie, he always looked forward to the next time, and the time after that, and the time after that.
Ideally, they would be together every day.
Since food wasn’t allowed in the library, the two of them sat on the steps nearby, sharing breakfast.
Su Yudie had bought some steamed buns and shumai, paired with hot milk.
When it comes to eating, what matters isn’t what you eat, but who you eat it with.
Being with someone you like, even simple fare, can taste like a delicacy.
“Wow, Zhuang Zi’ang, this shumai is so delicious! You should try it,” Su Yudie exclaimed.
“No way! You’ve already bitten into it.”
“That’s okay; this side hasn’t been bitten yet.”
“Alright then!”
…
Anyone watching would think they were a loving couple.
Ah, the plight of the single dog.
After finishing their meal, the two finally entered the library.
It was the weekend, so there were more people in the library. Zhuang Zi’ang asked Su Yudie to find a seat first while he went to look for books.
He still hadn’t finished Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils, so he wanted to continue reading it.
He also needed to get some annotated joke books and children’s storybooks for Xiao Yudie.
After getting the books, he went to the reading area and searched for a long time before finally finding Su Yudie in a corner.
“Why did you choose such a secluded spot?” Zhuang Zi’ang thought it was too far away.
“Let me tell you, I just experienced something terrifying,” Su Yudie said mysteriously.
Zhuang Zi’ang was taken aback. With so many people in the library, what kind of terrifying thing could have happened?
Seeing his disbelief, Su Yudie quickly said, “I clearly saw many empty seats, but when I went to sit down, someone next to me told me that the seat was occupied!”
“That’s it?” Zhuang Zi’ang tried to suppress his laughter.
“Isn’t that scary? I saw empty seats, but they could see someone there,” Su Yudie said seriously.
Zhuang Zi’ang couldn’t tell if she was teasing him or genuinely that naive.
He handed her the joke book, “Alright, let’s read!”
Su Yudie, like a child, took the book and read it with relish.
The “scary story” was immediately forgotten.
Her laugh threshold was incredibly low, but worried about disturbing others, she frequently covered her mouth to prevent herself from laughing out loud, her little face turning red with suppressed giggles.
Zhuang Zi’ang occasionally glanced at her, fearing she might suddenly burst into laughter and blow a snot bubble.
The phonetic children’s books were not very lengthy, and Su Yudie quickly finished reading two of them before getting up to exchange for more.
Zhuang Zi’ang was immersed in the world of martial arts, deeply engrossed in the conflict between the Song and Liao dynasties, so he didn’t pay much attention to her.
Time flowed quietly by, like sand slipping through fingers.
People came and went around them, each carrying their own joys and sorrows.
After an unknown period, Zhuang Zi’ang pulled his thoughts back from the Yanmen Pass and glanced at the girl beside him.
This time, she wasn’t reading a joke book; instead, she was intently focused on a book titled Nan Jing (The Classic of Difficult Issues).
That was one of the four classic texts of Traditional Chinese Medicine, said to be authored by Bian Que.
The content included theories like the Five Elements, the Eight Extraordinary Vessels, the Mingmen theory, and the Zangxiang system, all of which were quite obscure and difficult to understand.
Zhuang Zi’ang was somewhat surprised.
The girl who had just been reading phonetic children’s books and laughing like a fool was now engrossed in such an esoteric ancient text. The contrast was striking.
“What’s up with you? Why are you reading medical books?” Zhuang Zi’ang asked in a low voice.
“I’m just taking a look, out of curiosity,” Su Yudie casually explained.
“Is someone in your family sick?”
“No, not at all!”
Seeing that Su Yudie was reluctant to answer, Zhuang Zi’ang decided not to press further.
After all, illness in the family isn’t something most people like to discuss extensively.
He thought again; he himself was terminally ill; why should he worry about others?
In the Zhuangzi’s Qi Wu Lun (On the Equality of Things), it says, “Things are born as they die and die as they are born.”
Everything in the world is constantly being born and growing and constantly dying and disappearing.
When a person dies, does everything truly vanish?