Renfu University has a tradition rich with artistic heritage; every auditorium has a beautifully named title. For example, the one I clean every day is called “New Life Auditorium,” and the one before me, constructed with 999 pieces of colored glass, is named “Time Auditorium.” Each piece of glass reflects sunlight differently, much like everyone’s unique youthful days. People were coming and going at the entrance, creating a busy scene. I walked in to see everyone setting up the venue, running around with display boards or hanging banners and streamers. No one noticed my intrusion. Hey? Isn’t that guy directing everything from the center of the stage Monster? Seeing him made me smile involuntarily. Monster was wearing a red T-shirt, black and red checked pants, and the classic Adidas three-stripe red sneakers. Was this a tribute to the end of summer? Watching this bright red flame move around on stage, I didn’t have the heart to disturb him. I looked around, ready to find a corner to sit and wait for him to notice me. “Hey, student, take this display board over there.” A tall guy with a mustache handed me a board that was half a head taller than me and then dashed off to move a table. What? Am I now a laborer? Fine, let’s consider it helping Monster, a small token of appreciation for his 8,999-word summary. But this wooden board, why does it feel as heavy as steel? I pulled, pulled, but couldn’t move it; I pushed, still nothing?! How embarrassing, where does all the energy from the meat I eat go? I had to carry the board on my back, gripping the protruding parts on both sides, and walked with my head down. Strangely, with each step, the board seemed to get heavier. After five steps, I couldn’t move it at all. I was so frustrated; what was this, made of reinforced concrete?! When I turned to put down the wretched board, I saw A-Xin’s smug face behind it. He was holding onto the handle of the board, his chin raised, looking at me. What?! So it was him pulling the board from behind, no wonder I couldn’t move it with all my strength. This… really damages my “Rookie King” historical image. “What are you doing?!” I asked him loudly. He really would fit in a horror movie, the kind that suddenly appears behind you, making you shiver. He laughed, about to mock me again, but his brows furrowed under his teasing smile, asking, “What happened to your forehead?” “I bumped into the bulletin board.” “How did you bump into it?” “I just walked into it.” He looked at me incredulously, his smile awkward. Suddenly, he lifted the board onto his shoulder and tilted his head, saying, “Go sit over there.” I followed his direction, picked a chair to sit on, and my forehead indeed started to hurt. I touched it; the smooth forehead seemed to have a slight bump of 0.03 cm. Monster was busy on stage, his red and black checked pants looking very stylish, with a vintage flair. I was lost in thought, not knowing how much time had passed, when A-Xin had silently appeared beside me. He always came and went like a ghost. “What are you doing here?” “I came to get the summary Monster wrote for me.” “Why didn’t you call him over?” “He’s busy, I’ll wait here for him. I wonder if he’ll be pleasantly surprised when he notices me?” I said, lifting my head to smile at him. “He might be scared to death,” A-Xin said coldly, lowering his head to look at the bump on my forehead. “You sure know how to bump into things artistically.” His face was very close, his breath brushing against my cheek. His eyes suddenly lowered to meet mine, his nose wrinkled, and he said, “Why are your cheeks red?” “Me?!” I laughed dumbly, “Well, of course, it’s because the air inside isn’t circulating, it’s too stuffy, nothing strange about getting flushed, haven’t you seen someone blush before?” I leaned back, lowering my head. My fingers subconsciously touched my face, wow, why was it hot? I stood up, not looking at him, picked up my books and drafts, and said, “I’m going to find Monster.” “Hey!” “Hey what hey? I have a name, you know.” “Here, take this.” He pulled out a small bottle from his pocket and tossed it into my lap. I barely caught it — it was a liniment. Why would he carry liniment around? “Next time, keep your eyes open when you walk. If you fall into a pit, you won’t even have time to shout for help.” He stood there with his hands in his pockets, striking a pose like a hero who just saved someone but didn’t want to admit it. I made a face at him and ran off. He wasn’t a hero, and I wasn’t the damsel in distress. I was just a child no one wanted, an angel with porcupine armor, who hurt others and got hurt in return. When I reached the edge of the stage, I couldn’t help but look back. This is what I hate most about myself; my thoughts and actions often don’t align. Then I froze.
The way Ah Xin holds his hands in his pockets hasn’t changed. A girl with long hair coiled up, wearing a black dress, is standing in front of him, chatting with him warmly. Ah Xin is smiling, a smile of equality, naturalness, and sincerity. It’s a genuine smile, accompanied by a slight nod, perhaps they have been old friends for years. Their familiarity and warmth are so fitting. At that moment, I realized that to Ah Xin, and even to Monster and Yida, I was just an accidental intruder, a stranger. The elegant black-haired woman, she must be their real friend.
ANN’s Office.
ANN sits in a leather chair, looking at me with a thick stack of printouts, even thicker than the original book, of my summary outline. I stand with my hands behind my back, staring at her high, straight, and beautifully shaped nose. What a work of art, that nose, I wonder if it’s real? ANN glanced at me from above her pink-framed glasses, hmm? Something’s off, there’s an air of hostility.
“Is this your own work?” ANN asked.
“Yes.”
“Every word?”
“Yes.”
“Then, in Chapter 21, which school of thought influenced the composition of the French Revolution?”
Uh-oh, the latter parts were all written by Monster. I haven’t even read those sections. Well, I’ll just have to block that masterpiece of a nose.
CHAPTER 4: Add Another Layer of Fat to Your Stomach
I squatted at the exit of the subway, reading a text message from Monster: Xiao Yu, where are you? What’s wrong? We’re all worried about you, please reply soon.
So, there are people in this world who care about me. Sometimes I want to disappear for a bit, to make those who never cared about me care just a little, and that would be enough for me. I looked at the beautiful milky white shell of my phone, the transparent, new keys, and turned it off before it could ring again. Phones are like electronic prisons, allowing people to find you anytime, anywhere. How boring.
I walked past ten subway stations, through countless underground passages. I so wanted to find the boy who played the piano that night. Though I already knew who he was, knew he might never appear in the subway tunnel again. But I missed the tears of that night. I missed his slender shoulders, his fingers playing the piano like scallions, and his gaze hidden behind his bangs, still radiating a sense of melancholy.
I was exhausted, couldn’t walk anymore; the breeze of the subway felt like a taste of heaven. Empty, unreal. At 2 AM, opposite me sat a beggar in ragged clothes, drinking from a bottle of XO. His beard concealed his true age, and in the dim light of the subway tunnel, there were just the two of us. I wasn’t scared, just watching him. He raised his bottle towards me, grinning widely. That smile was so radiant, catching me off guard. His life was in full bloom at 2 AM, but I couldn’t cry. I hugged my knees, my head buried between my thighs, warming myself. This was a self-comforting posture I had learned over the years.
When dawn broke and the sun came out, I would go back, pretending nothing had happened, to attend my composition class and clean the auditorium.
