Qingteng's Mind - Middle School Era

Chapter 1407 Dusk
“Anan:
Hello, it's me again, Ling Mengchu..."

Anan?

Ke Mengnan was slightly taken aback. Last time she wrote "Ke Mengnan" properly, but this time she's calling her "A-Nan" directly?

Who gave him permission to be called "Ling Mengchu"?
Could it be that "she" said it?
He continued reading.

"...Although your reply reads like a homeroom teacher's comment, I'm still very happy..."

The homeroom teacher's comments? He frowned, recalling what he had written last time—it did seem a bit too formal.

"...The idea of ​​writing the letter was actually my own, it has nothing to do with Xiaolingzi (the girl sitting by the window), don't misunderstand..."

He was stunned.

Was the last letter Ling Mengchu's idea her own, not He Shiling's?!

The letter that had puzzled and troubled him for so long was written by a girl named Ling Mengchu from beginning to end.
She didn't know!
"...If you'd like, we can continue corresponding and encourage each other in our studies, what do you say?"

Ke Mengnan stood there, frozen, holding the letter.

So... all his previous agonizing, hesitant, and speculative thoughts were just needless worry? All those pieces of advice he wrote about "prioritizing studies" were actually addressed to... a girl who had absolutely no connection to him?

No, it's not that they're completely unrelated.

They went home together, were very close, and were even classmates; Ling Mengchu called her "Little Lingzi."

Ke Mengnan's gaze was fixed on the three words "Xiao Lingzi".

So, she was unaware of it. No wonder her gaze towards him was always tinged with a faint smile; she still didn't see him!

However, this letter is still signed by two names: He Shiling and Ling Mengchu.

What is this operation?
Did she know about this reply? Or was it just another one of Ling Mengchu's actions?
He stared at the two lines of text, dumbfounded.

The school bell rang in the distance, and the noise in the corridor instantly disappeared. But in Ke Mengnan's world, all that remained at that moment was this pale blue letter and the words on it that made him both laugh and cry.

What should he do?
Reply? Or not?

To whom should I reply? How should I reply?
This is much harder than all the challenging questions.

As the sun began to set, the classroom was empty except for Ke Mengnan, who was still sitting at her desk with a blank sheet of paper in front of her.

He picked up the pen, then put it down. He picked it up again, then put it down again.

Finally, he sighed and looked out the window.

The sunset was in full bloom, painting the entire sky a warm orange-red. People were playing ball on the playground, their laughter faintly drifting through the air.

He remembered the girl he had met by chance on the bus, her gentle smile, and the thread-bound Song Dynasty poetry book that had fallen into the lake.

He also recalled the letter that had caught him off guard.

Perhaps, the answers to some questions are not in the letter, but in our next meeting.

Perhaps some misunderstandings can only be resolved face-to-face.

He picked up his pen again and wrote on the blank paper:
"Hello, Ling Mengchu."

After a pause, he added a parenthesis at the end: (and classmate He Shiling).

After writing those words, he couldn't help but laugh.

How should I write this letter?

Outside the window, the setting sun is slowly sinking below the horizon, while the answer is still drifting in the wind.

The May breeze blew in through the window, carrying the unique, slightly intoxicating temperature of early summer.

As Lin Xiaoyao came downstairs, she was still muttering, "What is Xiaonan dawdling about? We asked him to come with us, but he insisted that we come down first."

He looked at Zheng Yifan next to him, only to find that the man had an expression that said, "I know everything, but I won't say anything."

Zheng Yifan walked forward with his hands in his pockets, swaying slightly, without turning his head: "He told us to go first, so let's go first."

"But--"

"Don't ask too many questions." Zheng Yifan glanced at him, his gaze as if he were looking at a fool who knew the answer but was pretending not to. Lin Xiaoyao really wanted to argue.

Is he the kind of person who likes to pry? He was just being concerned! But the words stuck in his throat.

Forget it, there's no point in trying to reason with this person.

After walking a few steps, he asked again, "Should we leave some food for him?"

"Whatever you want."

Should I stay or leave?

Lin Xiaoyao watched Zheng Yifan's retreating figure, shook her head, sighed, and followed him.

Being a person is so hard.

Ever since Zheng Yifan transferred back to their school, both of them have seemed a bit off. One's acting mysteriously, and the other doesn't seem to care about anything. Nobody knows what they're up to.

He looked up at the sky—a deep, clear blue, with a few clouds drifting lazily by.

It's already May, and the college entrance exam is just over thirty days away. He should focus on his studies and not bother arguing with them.

Thinking this, Lin Xiaoyao quickened her pace, strode past Zheng Yifan, and headed towards the cafeteria.

The food in the cafeteria is much more satisfying than all those messy thoughts.

In the classroom of Class 11, Grade 12 at Yunling Middle School, it was so quiet that only the scratching sound of pens slicing across paper could be heard.

Ouyang Moxuan shook his hand as he wrote furiously, and his gaze inadvertently drifted to his left and back. Lin Yijie was staring out the window, motionless.

Is this a way to relax during a busy period?
Ouyang Moxuan nodded thoughtfully. Ah Jie really knew how to balance work and rest; he should learn from Ah Jie.

So he turned his head and looked out the same window.

Outside the window is a clear blue sky, with a few wispy clouds drifting by like cotton candy that someone has casually torn apart.

"What are you looking at?" Luo Jun nudged his arm. "What are you daydreaming about?"

"Who's spacing out?" Ouyang Moxuan immediately looked away and said seriously, "I call this rest, relaxation, and a balance between work and rest, understand?"

Luo Jun laughed: "Just spacing out, why are you talking about it so elegantly? What? Are you starting to act like a humanities student, all high and mighty?"

"I can't be bothered with you." Ouyang Moxuan glared at him, turned his head away, but couldn't help but smile slightly.

The clouds outside the window are still there, drifting leisurely, as if there are no answers, or as if all the answers are in the wind.

The style of the liberal arts class is completely different.

It was completely quiet. So quiet that the ticking of the clock on the back wall could be clearly heard by everyone.

The girls in the front row were all reading and doing their homework diligently. Occasionally, someone would look up to think, then quickly look down again. The boys in the back row were also quiet, each engrossed in their workbooks.

Wen Qingxuan, sitting by the window, was repeatedly studying the past years' math exam questions.

Sunlight streamed in through the window, casting a bright patch of light on the open pages of his book. His pen moved across the paper, unfolding neat lines of solution steps.

His deskmate leaned closer, pushed the notebook in front of him, and pointed to one of the questions with his finger.

Wen Qingxuan glanced at it, thought for a moment, and then began to explain it to him in a low voice. His voice was very soft, so soft that only the two of them could hear it, as if afraid of disturbing the tranquility of the room.

My deskmate nodded repeatedly, and two minutes later, with a satisfied smile, he pulled the notebook back and continued to solve the problem following the same line of thought.

Wen Qingxuan withdrew his gaze and looked back at the problem he hadn't finished solving.

The bell rang, signaling the end of get out of class.

Wen Qingxuan's pen hadn't stopped. There was still a little bit left in the last question, and he wanted to finish it before taking a break.

"Class monitor, someone's looking for you!"

Someone is shouting outside in the corridor.

When the third call came, Wen Qingxuan finally put down his pen, got up, and walked towards the back door of the classroom.

Who is looking for him?