Mud beads

After 902, no one in the class mentioned what happened that night again.

Song Keyi still propped her phone up next to her water glass and filmed her hand gesture dance, and Xu Jiayan and the others still made bets, with the loser having to do something shameless. Yu Zhu arrived at school the next day with her school uniform clean, but a bruise remained on her knee.

Someone saw this and laughed.

Once you've laughed it off, it's over.

They didn't stop teasing her, they just changed their methods.

On the way to the cafeteria, the boys were fooling around, and someone deliberately pushed someone into her. The boys who bumped into her would immediately dodge away in disgust and dramatically yell at the person who pushed them.

She helps others pick up books that have fallen on the ground, but instead of thanking them, the other person angrily says, "What are you doing?" and then picks up the book and shakes it heavily.

Every now and then, someone in the class would treat others to milk tea. Takeout bags piled up next to the podium. Song Keyi, holding the receipts, handed them out: "He Xu, you're a grown man, drinking full-sugar taro paste? Hey, who's this sugar-free pistachio jasmine coconut?"

The whole class has it.

Yu Zhu sat in the last row writing her homework.

She heard the sound of the straw piercing the seal, a soft "pop," a soft "pop." The milk tea was sweet, and the cool air mixed with the scent of ice wafted over. Someone asked, "Isn't one cup missing?"

Song Keyi looked at the receipt: "No, I ordered according to the number of people."

The girl next to him laughed and said, "Oh."

Yu Zhu circled the conditions of a word problem again.

Before school ended, the sanitation monitor passed by her desk carrying her schoolbag: "Yu Zhu, you're the last one to leave. Why don't you change the ink cartridge in the printer tonight?"

Yu Zhu nodded.

The next day, someone said, "Why don't you take out the trash while you're at it?"

On the third day, "Who spilled milk tea on the floor? It's sticky. Yu Zhu, wipe it up tonight."

The name of the student on duty changes every day, but the person on duty is always Yu Zhu.

She never pushes it.

Pushing it will only cause more trouble.

She also started to dislike trouble.

But learning is different. Teacher Zhao said there are no shortcuts to learning. Yuejian Tetsu said he couldn't write, and he couldn't copy either. She put these two sentences together and nailed them to her mind.

She would copy an English word ten times, and if she didn't recognize it the next time, she would copy it twenty times, and if she still didn't recognize it, she would copy it fifty times. She would organize her math mistakes in a fixed notebook, writing the question in pen and the answer in pencil, erasing it every two days and then answering it again. Aunt Wang bought her stacks of A4 paper, which she copied very densely, using both sides, but the paper still went through very quickly.

If she couldn't memorize her Chinese texts during the day, she would stand in the bathroom at night and practice in front of the mirror. The face in the mirror was dark and thin, with large eyes and dry lips. If she misremembered a sentence, she would pinch her palm.

Before bed, she would lie in bed reading novels on her phone. She read novels by Su Tong, Liu Meili, Kafka, as well as Jiang Nan, Mo Xiang, and all sorts of online novels. She read slowly, often scrolling up a page and then pulling back. She often read until late at night, her phone getting hot, and her face getting hot too.

The next morning during reading time, her eyelids felt heavy. She went to the restroom to wash her face with cold water, which dripped down her chin and into her school uniform collar. When she returned to the classroom, Song Keyi glanced at her and asked, "Why is your face so dry?"

Yu Zhu didn't speak.

She searched on her phone that night.

What to do about dry face?

Many pictures popped up on Xiaohongshu (Little Red Book). Toner, lotion, face cream, sunscreen. She couldn't recognize the brands, only remembered the order. Aunt Wang had bought her skincare products, which sat on her dressing table, but she hadn't used them much. That night, she unscrewed the cap and poured a little into her palm. The lotion had a faint fragrance; when applied to her face, it felt cool and smooth, unlike anything she'd ever used.

She then searched for color matching tips and how to tie a low ponytail without looking tacky.

These things were much simpler than studying, but the next day, she simply gathered her hair up as usual.

Moth

There are more and more quizzes.

The first time, she climbed from second to last to fifth from last. The boy she surpassed was named Deng Xiao, who usually had a loud voice, but that day he didn't say a word for the entire class. Xu Jiayan tapped him on the head with a test paper.

"Brother Xiao, even charity students can surpass you, don't you have any respect for Class 3, Grade 7?"

Deng Xiao cursed and told him to get lost.

The second time, Yu Zhu ranked ninth from the bottom.

Song Keyi rested her chin on her hand, smiling sweetly: "Those of you who have been surpassed by Yu Zhu, why don't you go to 902 for some remedial lessons?"

The third time, the fourth time.

Yu Zhu only moved up a few places in each exam. But there were only so many people in the class, so every time she moved up a little, there was one more person below her. At first, everyone laughed at those she surpassed, but as more and more people were surpassed, the laughter gradually disappeared.

Yu Zhu registered on Xiaohongshu and Douyin, but didn't follow anyone. She knew what Yue Jianche's Douyin account was because all the girls in her class knew it, and she could always hear them discussing it.

Echigo Koji's WeChat Moments only contained a handful of posts, spanning five years. The only photo of him was a group picture from a school party, featuring him, Yui Hime, Song Saka, and the pretty girl who was always with them. The four of them were in a row, arms around each other's shoulders.

Yu Zhu doesn't often browse these social networking sites. Firstly, because she doesn't have a social life, and secondly, because looking at them for too long makes her feel uneasy.

Back in the mountains, when she woke up, all she could think about was whether the chickens had been fed, the sheepfold was cleaned, and there was still water in the pot. After arriving at Yue's house, she thought about her class schedule, the subway, her locker, and English vocabulary. Now, at night with the lights off and her phone screen reflecting her face, she thinks about other things.

Why was Yu Zhaozu allowed to go to school?

Why is it that Yu Laidi never sends anything home to her?

Why could Yu Dahai still smile after taking the money?

Why is it that Song Keyi and the others have everything, yet they still find her an eyesore?

Why did her face stay flushed for so long after Toru Echizen said something interesting?

The more she learned, the more insecure she became. She used to think that not going hungry was good, being able to eat candy was good, and that Yue Jianche bringing her out of poverty was good. Now she saw more; the good things shone brightly, and the bad things were clearer. The world was vast and beautiful, yet all the beautiful things seemed irrelevant to her.

Sometimes she felt hatred. She learned this feeling from novels.

Her hatred was faint, like a newly grown thin layer of thorns. Touch it, and you'll feel the pain first.

The Chinese teacher's surname is Wei. He is in his forties, has short, curly hair, and likes to walk around the classroom while lecturing.

One day after class, she called Yu Zhu to her office.

"Your Chinese has improved a lot," said Teacher Wei. "In this mock exam, you ranked fourth in the class in Chinese. But your composition score was second in the grade."

Yu Zhu stood by the table, her fingers touching the seam of her trousers.

Teacher Wei placed a registration form on the table: "There's a writing competition in the city, you can give it a try."

When Yu Zhu got home that night, she lay in bed and thought for a long time.

During the midterm exam, she wrote about "Minecraft." She wrote about the Qinling Mountains and rain on a draft paper, but crossed it out halfway through. She was afraid the teacher would think it was unsophisticated, and afraid others would see that she came from the mud.

This time, she wrote "Minecraft" again.

She wrote about the smell of the pigsty after the rain, the yellow water beside the chicken coop, and the small bed with shallow puddles in the woodshed. She wrote about how winter rubber boots were as hard as stones, and how socks wouldn't dry for ages once you put your feet in. She wrote about Liu Guizhen sitting on the doorstep, holding half a broom. She wrote about Yu Dahai squatting in the main room smoking, ash falling onto his trousers. She wrote about Yu Zhaozu eating egg noodles, with scallions floating on the soup.

She stopped writing halfway through.

Then they changed Liu Guizhen to be deaf and mute, and wrote Yu Dahai as disabled.

Liu Guizhen had a loud voice; when she cursed, half the village could hear her. Yu Dahai, though physically strong, could still chase after her and beat her when drunk. But now she knew that even hardship had its rules. One had to be clean, respectable, and able to be read aloud by the teacher on the podium.

The competition results came out very quickly.

Gold Award.

Ms. Wei brought the printed essays into the classroom. Her lipstick was dark today, and her eyes shone as she stood on the podium.

"Yu Zhu's essay won the city's gold medal," said Teacher Wei. "I must read a passage to everyone."

Yu Zhu sat in the last row, her head bowed low.

Teacher Wei's voice was pleasant, her Mandarin was standard, and her delivery was full of emotion. When she read the line "My mother couldn't hear my voice," a sentimental girl in the front row sniffed. When she read the line "My father went to school to pay the tuition, and standing at the school gate, he first pulled down his trouser legs," another girl lowered her head and wiped the corner of her eye with the back of her hand.

Yu Zhu looked at the blackboard.

The blackboard wasn't completely clean; half a square root symbol left by yesterday's math teacher was still in the upper left corner. Ms. Wei's voice echoed around the classroom. Those words, having left her pen, returned with a different voice, much cleaner now.

She wrote about pigsties, and others heard her hometown.

She wrote about hunger, and others heard it and she remained strong.

After reading it, Teacher Wei held the paper, her eyes a little wet.

"That's the power of words," she said. "Truth has immense power."

Yu Zhu felt a strange urge to laugh, a mixture of amusement and satisfaction at having pulled off a prank.

After Teacher Wei finished speaking, the room was quiet, and no one applauded.

When the first round of applause rang out, Yu Zhu thought someone had dropped a book on the ground.

Snapped.

Another one.

Applause quickly erupted. Teacher Wei smiled and gestured for Yu Zhu to stand up.

Xu Jiayan sat diagonally in front of her and looked back at her, clapping his hands loudly.

"Wow, Yu Zhu is awesome," he said. "Gold medal."

She lowered her head.

Applause came from all directions, hands clapping, warm, loud, and frequent. She understood something again: in this city, in their circle, hardship was the true luxury.

After class, Song Keyi and a few other girls sat chatting in their seats. Someone whispered, "Wow, her family is really struggling."

Another said, "No wonder."

No wonder, nobody finished speaking.

Yu Zhu sat in her seat and continued copying English words.

Xu Jiayan turned around from the front seat and rested her arm on her desk.

"Yu Zhu," he said.

Yu Zhu stopped writing, without looking up.

Xu Jiayan stared at her for a while: "Has anyone ever said your eyes look like a horse's?"

Someone nearby chuckled.

Yu Zhu gripped the pen tightly.

Xu Jiayan pointed his finger at her face.

"I suddenly realized," he said, "that your eyelashes are exceptionally long and straight."