Under the light, Jiang Du was in a kind of bright coldness. She was crying. If Wei Qingyue didn't react at all, she would continue walking into the dark coldness.

Wei Qingyue's reactions were usually different from others. Seeing a girl cry, first, he didn't feel awkward or at a loss. Second, he didn't say things like 'I hate it when you girls cry,' or 'Don't cry, I don't know how to comfort people,' and so on.

He said, “People could come by on this path at any time. If you don't want to be seen, find another place to cry.”

His tone was soft and deep. Wei Qingyue looked at her earnestly.

Jiang Du, however, was overcome with shame. She thought he was mocking her. Because she was so flustered, she had no energy to notice the tone of his voice or his sincere expression. No matter how she heard it, the words seemed tinged with ridicule. Objectively speaking, Wei Qingyue did like to talk this way.

She haphazardly wiped away her tears and turned to run, but was pulled back by Wei Qingyue. “Jiang Du, what are you running for?”

“I'm fine!” Jiang Du wanted to make her voice sound more optimistic, but her tone was unsteady, carrying a fragile, trembling sob.

The light shone on the right half of her face. Her eyes flickered, and the color on her lips seemed to have been blown away by the cold wind. Jiang Du herself seemed to be temporarily reduced to only half a person. Wei Qingyue saw the faint tear stains, which made his mind go blank for a moment.

His change of subject was particularly abrupt, and he spoke quickly: “Have the person who wrote to me before continue to write to me. I know it wasn't Wang Jingjing, but you know who it is. I won't press you on who it is, but since you know, please pass this on to her for me: she can write to me about anything. I will keep this matter a secret.”

Just as he said this, some students from who-knows-which-class indeed appeared not far behind them, probably also heading to the restroom. But Wei Qingyue's words were too convoluted and abrupt. Jiang Du stared at him in astonishment. Faintly, she thought she even saw Wei Qingyue smile. He quickly concluded, “I've been waiting for her to write to me.”

At this last sentence, Jiang Du's body instantly flushed hot. She stared blankly as Wei Qingyue strode past her like a meteor. The boy brought a gust of wind with him, and the wind still carried the scent of orchids.

It was as if all the bad emotions had dissipated along with it.

Wei Qingyue was so certain. His phrasing was all declarative sentences, leaving no room for doubt. Jiang Du dazedly returned to the classroom, chilled to the bone, her chest still tightening in waves. Beside her, Wang Jingjing was working on a physics test paper, the rustling of her scratch paper audible. Jiang Du found something to say, whispering:

“It's still very cold outside.”

Wang Jingjing gave a faint “mm” and continued to solve problems. Jiang Du fell silent. She quietly took out a math test paper and lowered her head as well.

After the evening self-study session ended, Wang Jingjing ran off faster than a rabbit, as if intentionally giving her the cold shoulder. Jiang Du packed her things alone and went to the small shop at the school gate to buy letter paper.

This time, she bought the most common kind of letter paper, the type used in offices, with red lines—a type students would never buy. Jiang Du bought a stack, thinking, 'It can be used as scratch paper too.'

However, the letter remained unwritten for a long time. Jiang Du had thought she would never have such an opportunity again, but it had fallen from the sky. Yet, if she wrote it, it would be a tacit admission that the previous letters were not written by Wang Jingjing. In that case, it would be a betrayal of Wang Jingjing.

It wasn't until school let out on Saturday that Zhang Xiaoqiang asked her to stay for a bit. The students on duty cleaned the classroom with incredible speed, finishing sloppily in their rush to leave. For the past few days, Wang Jingjing had been very cold to Jiang Du. Seeing that Jiang Du was staying behind and Zhang Xiaoqiang was staying too, Wang Jingjing let out a derisive laugh, grabbed her bag of materials, and left on her own without even greeting Jiang Du.

Jiang Du watched her figure disappear at the door, her eyes dimming, looking dazed.

“Jiang Du, these notes are for you.” Zhang Xiaoqiang placed something in front of her. “This monthly exam is the qualifying round for the class placement test. Do your best. Liberal arts math is relatively easier. I compiled these notes myself; they might be useful to you.”

Jiang Du quickly picked them up and smiled gratefully at Zhang Xiaoqiang. Whenever someone was kind to her, she always felt a little at a loss, and at the same time, she would overthink how to repay them... Moreover, in that instant, she thought about what she would do if, someday in the future, the other person also got angry at her over an unintentional mistake and no longer wanted to talk to her.

Like a nebula exploding, while Jiang Du was saying, “Thank you so much,” her mind was already completely full.

“If you give me your notes, what will you use?” She hesitated awkwardly, wondering if she should try to refuse them.

Zhang Xiaoqiang smiled brightly. “It's okay, I'll make another copy. After all, I'm planning to compete. To be honest, these notes you have aren't of much use to me anymore.”

Compete? Jiang Du was taken aback. “You're participating in a math competition?”

“Yes, because our number one is participating. You could say I'm seizing the opportunity. Even if I don't get a ranking, it's good to broaden my thinking. It's just that I started preparing a bit late.” At this, Zhang Xiaoqiang suddenly sighed. “That guy Wei Qingyue might just run off abroad one day. I have to take advantage of his presence to ask him for more advice. I'm convinced now; he's really much smarter than me.”

From that long speech, Jiang Du only heard the words 'go abroad.' A strong pang of sorrow suddenly assailed her nerves. She was perfectly clear about the source of her emotions. Thus, while suppressing it with all her might, she pretended to ask casually, “Is Wei Qingyue going abroad so soon?”

“He's not too sure himself, but he definitely won't finish high school here. Actually, he's not the only one with plans to go abroad. Our school has a few people who leave during high school every year.” Zhang Xiaoqiang knew the school's history like the back of her hand.

Jiang Du wasn't interested in these things at all. She smiled, put away the notes, and thanked Zhang Xiaoqiang again. The two left together. At the school gate, the mobile street vendors had already set up their stalls. Students were everywhere—on bikes, on foot—and the traffic was a bit chaotic.

Suddenly, an arm was thrown around her shoulder. It turned out to be Liu Xiaole, who had rushed out from nowhere. With one arm around each of them, she hugged Jiang Du and Zhang Xiaoqiang, but her face was a mask of agony. “Numb, I'm so numb, completely numb.” She had been squatting in the toilet for over twenty minutes; it would be strange if she wasn't numb.

“What's wrong with you?” Zhang Xiaoqiang asked with a laugh.

“Constipated. My butt almost froze off, and I only managed to squeeze out a tiny bit.” Liu Xiaole gestured, and Zhang Xiaoqiang laughed loudly, rushing to cover her mouth. “Aren't you gross?”

Most of the girls in the class were very lively. Jiang Du was an exception. It was her nature; she didn't like to talk much and couldn't bring herself to say just anything that came to mind. She was too fond of weighing her words.

For instance, at this moment, she was very surprised to hear Liu Xiaole joking about her own constipation.

“Hey...” Liu Xiaole suddenly grabbed both of them and shot a look forward. “Wait.”

“What is it now?” Zhang Xiaoqiang asked.

Liu Xiaole jutted her chin. “See that guy? That one, the old guy with the greasy hair who looks really creepy.”

Jiang Du saw him at a glance and froze.

Wasn't that the middle-aged man she had run into at the bookstore? She had later vaguely understood what had happened. The experience was terrible, but because of Wei Qingyue, that rainy day had been sweet.

“What about him?” Zhang Xiaoqiang looked utterly confused.

Liu Xiaole lowered her voice mysteriously. “That guy's a pervert. He's been hanging around our school lately. Last time, he dropped his pants in front of a second-year senior girl. She was scared to death. Did you know? Chen Huiming ran into something last time but didn't make a fuss. But I heard from her deskmate that when Chen Huiming was buying pen refills at the gate, this guy pressed up against her. The strange thing is, afterward, there was a sticky patch on the back of Chen Huiming's clothes, fishy and smelly, like thick snot. She threw that piece of clothing away. Don't you dare tell anyone else, I'm only telling you two.”

When Chen Huiming's deskmate told Liu Xiaole, she had said the same thing: 'I'm only telling you, don't you dare tell anyone else.'

In your school days, whenever you wanted to share a secret but couldn't keep your mouth shut and were afraid of it getting out, you would invariably add: 'I'm only telling you, so don't tell anyone else.'

But things often went contrary to one's wishes, and in the end, everyone would find out.

Jiang Du was confused by what she heard, but she would also throw away a piece of clothing if it was smeared with thick snot. Sure enough, they all started talking about how disgusting the incident was, how vile that pervert was, and reminded each other to be on high alert for this person and to stay far away if they saw him.

When she got home, both her grandma and grandpa were busy in the kitchen, which was soon filled with waves of fragrant aroma. The heating in the house was strong. Jiang Du took off her silk-padded jacket, wearing only a white sweater. She poked her head in and asked her grandpa what delicious food he had made today.

“Heh, you're in for a treat today. I made Eight Treasures Duck.” Her grandpa's hearty laughter came from the kitchen.

The dishes were served, each bowl a comforting taste of home. Jiang Du ate until her mouth was full of lingering flavor. She suddenly remembered Wei Qingyue saying he would just grab something to eat, and couldn't help but think, 'It would be great if he could come over for dinner. There's no one to take care of him.'

A walk after dinner, washing up after the walk, and reviewing her lessons after washing up—this was Jiang Du's unchangeable routine at home.

She didn't like to turn on the main light, preferring just a desk lamp. A single patch of brightness was enough; the rest, hidden in the faint dimness, felt inexplicably warm and cozy.

After finishing the test paper, it was already very late, but she didn't feel sleepy at all.

Jiang Du saw the moon through the window. It was so bright and pure, so cold. She wondered if she was the only one who saw such a beautiful moon. She tiptoed to the living room, gently rummaged through a drawer, and looked for her grandpa's old-fashioned camera, wanting to capture this beautiful moon.

But the resulting photo, due to both the camera and her lack of skill, was a far cry from the moon she saw. 'Forget it,' she thought silently, putting the camera down again. She really wanted to tell everyone to look up at the sky, to see how beautiful the moon was tonight.

The moon, the moon, the moon shines on foreign lands too, doesn't it? At this moment, the moon was shining silently on the osmanthus tree outside the window.

She looked at the moon and thought, 'I can write a letter that will never be sent, without hurting anyone.' This idea instantly comforted her, as soothing as a spring breeze.

With paper and pen ready, Jiang Du sat quietly by the window, looking up at the moon from time to time.

“Greetings,

It's been a long time since I've written to you. It's not that I didn't want to, but that I couldn't.

But I'm glad that I've finally found a way to reconcile things. Why must a letter be sent? Why must I let you know? Am I being too pragmatic?

I can also finally be a little more frank.

I don't want to talk about the bad things that happen in life. In my opinion, confiding in others about bad things is a burden to them. My own unhappiness will also make others unhappy. But I can write it in a letter, right? Because I know I will continue to be this honest in the future, because you won't see it.

I've been misunderstood by a good friend, and I don't know how to explain. I don't want to lose her, but if she's unwilling to be as close as we were before, I suppose there's nothing I can do. I'm probably not as free-spirited as you, alone, as if you don't need anyone. I once wondered if you ever feel lonely, but then I worried it was just my own wishful thinking. Perhaps some people are born to enjoy solitude and don't see it as a problem. I can't. I'm actually very afraid of being alone. When I was little, there was a time when my grandma was sick and hospitalized. My grandpa took care of her, rushing back and forth. No one checked and signed my homework, so the teacher criticized me and eventually called my grandpa to the office. The teacher said an old man couldn't manage a child's education and that the child's academic problems should be handled by her parents.

Back then, my grandpa, who was such a forthright and cheerful person, could only force an awkward smile as the teacher spoke, like a schoolchild being reprimanded. He kept apologizing to the teacher. But even then, my grandpa didn't say that I didn't have parents to look after me. He only said that he would definitely cooperate with the teacher and pay more attention to my studies in the future.

I was in elementary school then. To adults, I was just a child, but I was heartbroken, perhaps even more heartbroken than an adult would be. For a long time, I kept thinking that if my grandpa and grandma were gone one day, I wouldn't want to live anymore. Of course, as I grew up, I realized this kind of thinking was too pessimistic and unacceptable. It would also be letting down my grandparents who worked so hard to raise me for so long. They raised me to love life and this world, not to die.

So, I really cherish my relationships with anyone who is good to me. I always hope that when we become good friends, we can stay that way forever. But now there's a problem, and I have no idea what to do. Will time heal things, or will it make us drift further apart? I don't know, and I'm very lost.

I understand that I'm not asking you for an answer. Just writing it down makes me feel better.

Actually, I haven't been able to be truly happy for a while now. The sixth day of the month, I think, was probably the happiest day of my high school life. You've mentioned going abroad a few times, and each time, I could feel the anticipation and excitement in your voice. For someone with great ambitions, this is only natural, so I can understand, especially since you're so outstanding. I only hope that Mei Zhong still holds some good memories for you—the teachers, the classmates, even every blade of grass and every tree at Mei Zhong.

It's past eleven now. The residential complex is silent. Across the way, a few scattered homes still have their lights on. I wonder if they also have high school students who need to study, or maybe they're just engrossed in TV and have forgotten to sleep. It's really so quiet. The moon outside is huge, and its bright white light bathes everything in a silvery glow. Moonlight is magical. The thought that people everywhere can be touched by moonlight is somehow very comforting. It's a distant, single commonality—to be illuminated by the same moonlight. After you go abroad, if you occasionally think of your hometown, you can look at the moon, because the moon that shines on you also shines on the people here.

Oh, right, Zhang Xiaoqiang gave me a set of math notes today. She's really nice. I'm so envious that she can ask you for help with math anytime. You're old classmates. If we had known each other for that long, I think you would be willing to share some study tips with me too. Zhang Xiaoqiang said you're not a petty person and don't mind sharing your study methods with others; it's just that you're quite direct and would call her stupid. If I were to ask you for help, you would probably think I'm a super big idiot, because in our eyes, Zhang Xiaoqiang is already a very, very brilliant top student.

Unconsciously, I've filled the page with nonsense. It's late, and I should rest now. I wish you all the best.”