Chapter 7: A Trio of Youths

Page (1/3)

Alright, joking about going back in time aside.
Better to face social death than to be stuck in the past.
But the current situation was really giving Zhang Shutong a headache. At their age, they were at the most gossip-hungry and curious phase about relationships. Just chatting a little more with a female classmate would spark rumors that someone had a crush on someone else—not to mention the contents on that scrap of paper. The problem was, it had two girls’ names written on it, which made it even juicier.
He could guarantee that in a few days, there would be rumors about Zhang Shutong secretly liking two girls at the same time.
One by one, classmates around were dumbfounded. They thought this boy usually spoke little, but it turned out his ambitions were huge. If it had been someone like Dukang, who couldn’t hide his feelings, it would have been easier. At this moment, everyone would surely offer the warmest smiles, sending the other person into the ground. But Zhang Shutong, sitting there with a cold face, was unshaken, prompting someone to secretly give a thumbs-up.
The homeroom teacher on the podium was momentarily stunned, cleared his throat, and said gravely:
“Zhang Shutong.”
“…Present.”
“What’s going on with your homework yesterday?”
He raised the “Five Three” exercise book, slammed it onto the podium with such force that it startled the students. With his other hand, he discreetly crumpled the scrap of paper and stuffed it into his pocket.
“Doing well in class so you get special treatment, even skipping homework? Your tail’s about to curl up to the sky!”
“Forgot.”
“Forgot? Get to the back of the class and reflect for a whole lesson.”
Song Nanshan was imposing when expressionless. Scanning the room, the students were like startled birds. Then he barked:
“Alright, why the blank stares? Do you think I’m always giving you smiles? Stop staring at me and look at the screen!”
Zhang Shutong stood there for an entire lesson.
After class, he was immediately called into the office by Song Nanshan.
Old Song sat back in his chair, still stern, exuding a murderous aura:
“Do you know what you did wrong?”
“Yes.” Zhang Shutong lowered his head, still playing the part. He had planned to act obedient this once but couldn’t quite fake it, so he blurted, “Thank you, teacher.”
“Hmm, thank me for what?” To his surprise, Old Song was getting into it, grinning, “I yelled at you and made you stand for a whole lesson. Aren’t you mad at me?”
Zhang Shutong almost grimaced:
“Thanks for shifting all the fire away and making me go to the back, so no one had to stare at me all lesson.”
Actually, his face wasn’t that thin-skinned; standing was just tiring. But in the homeroom teacher’s eyes, he was probably still the same stubborn, silent kid, hence this response.
Song Nanshan was heartened, saying, “You really get me, kid. Even if I get scolded to death, I can die in peace now.” Zhang Shutong replied, “No way, sir. I might go before you.”
—Of course, none of this actually happened.
Zhang Shutong never said nonsense; at most, he rolled his eyes when speechless.
Song Nanshan just raised an eyebrow, leaned back comfortably, and handed him an empty tea cup:
“Wow, your emotional intelligence has suddenly improved a lot.”
“Just been reflecting.”
“If you had this in mind, why did things get so bad with Gu Qiumian before?”
“What do you mean?”
“You still don’t get it. Although I know you didn’t do it, how should I put it…” Old Song looked like a seasoned veteran suddenly feeling nostalgic, recalling some heartbreak. “Never mind, you’ll understand when you grow up.”
Zhang Shutong thought, sorry, I still don’t get it.
“You already know about this?”
“Of course, I was even wondering how to deal if her dad came looking, but he didn’t.”
Zhang Shutong stopped adding hot water for a moment to cool the tea a bit.
Returning the cup to the homeroom teacher, he asked:
“Anything else?”
“You’re already thinking of running off? Not staying here until the bell?”
Zhang Shutong shook his head.
Song Nanshan was displeased, pulling him over by the shoulder:
“Come on, tell me, what’s with those names on that paper?”
That was exactly the last thing Zhang Shutong wanted to discuss.
He sighed helplessly:
“They’re just names.”
“Nothing else?”
“Really nothing.”
“Which one do you like more?”
Zhang Shutong nearly choked, knowing rumors must be nipped at the source. Just as he was about to explain, Old Song nodded, stroked his stubble, muttering to himself:
“Looks like it’s Gu Qiumian. Otherwise, why sit next to her? Hmm, go ahead, you boys are quite amusing.”
Zhang Shutong twitched at the corner of his eye. Just as he stepped out of the office, Song Nanshan called after him:
“Shutong—”
His tone had grown serious, making Zhang Shutong turn around involuntarily.
The man took a sip of water, crossed his legs, and said:
“If you didn’t do your homework, don’t forget to take the duty next week.”
“…”
In the end, Zhang Shutong only returned to class after the bell rang.
Though he had a rough plan, he underestimated how curious everyone was. As soon as he walked in, all eyes were on him like he was a giant panda whose fur was nearly worn off from staring.
The only exception was Gu Qiumian.
She stared straight at the podium, not saying a word the whole time.
Zhang Shutong unexpectedly felt relieved. If she started questioning him, that would have been a headache.
And so, his relationship with the new deskmate shifted from gloomy to drizzly, then to cloudy.

Page (2/3)

Though he didn’t dislike cloudy days.
A lesson passed quickly, and what had to come came—Dukang arrived with a guilty look. Zhang Shutong didn’t care about the glances from others but couldn’t handle familiar inquiries, especially about his “relationship status.”
“I was wrong, bro!” Dukang was direct, nearly ready to kneel.
Wrong about what? Zhang Shutong almost asked, recalling Song Nanshan’s words: “Is this helping me turn in homework? Is this a favor? Brothers don’t need thanks?”
There were so many points to mock that even he wanted to retort.
Besides, this guy wasn’t really apologizing; he was just the vanguard.
The real culprits were behind—Ruoping and Qingyi, standing not far away, sneaking glances with faces nearly cracking up. If Zhang Shutong looked in a good mood and open to friendly talk, they’d rush over to gossip.
Zhang Shutong was straightforward. He raised three fingers casually:
“Three versions. Which one do you wanna hear?”
“Can I hear them all?” Dukang asked, winking at the two girls.
The surrounding noise seemed to lower. Some pretended not to care but looked over, even Gu Qiumian perked up, though she was still focused on her bag—it was dismissal time.
Zhang Shutong didn’t mind and continued:
“Okay, but I’ll only tell one person. I don’t like crowds. I want some peace.”
He immediately regretted it, staring at Dukang’s mouth, wishing he wouldn’t bite.
But:
“Peace who?”
“Swap Qingyi in.” Zhang Shutong rubbed his forehead. This was the 2012 banter style: “I’m dizzy,” “Peace,” “Clouds”… He found it embarrassing.
“No, no, no. I’ll keep quiet! So, what’s the first one?”
“Old Song asked me to draw a seating chart to form a study group. I didn’t finish and turned it in.”
“Bro, your timeline doesn’t match. What’s the second one?”
“Before switching seats, I dreamt the next spots would be like this,”
Zhang Shutong spread his arms wide:
“See? She’s next to me, she’s diagonally ahead, and with me, it forms a stable triangle.”
At this point, he thought maybe it was true—Gu Qiumian was the right angle.
“So you drew what you saw in your dream on the paper, then sat according to it?”
Dukang helped finish the sentence, wearing a “you’re fooling me” look.
“What’s the third one?”
“I like both of them at the same time.”
“I don’t believe that at all.”
Dukang was dumbfounded.
“Then I have no choice,” Zhang Shutong shrugged. “Pick whichever version you want to believe.”
What’s the best way to kill rumors? Zhang Shutong thought it was to make up even crazier ones.
If everyone thought all were nonsense and believed none, his goal would be achieved.
So far, it was working well. The few onlookers showed expressions of “Is that it?” and turned away in boredom.
The more you take things seriously, the more endless they become. Saying it openly calmed everything down immediately.
He believed that by tomorrow, the three absurd rumors from his own mouth would spread through the class, be discussed a while, and then nothing would happen.
“Are you sure you don’t like Lu Qinglian?” Dukang finally asked the most pressing question, his own small motive for volunteering.
Zhang Shutong was too lazy to argue about such trivial matters, but this reaction reassured Dukang.
Zhang Shutong thought the matter was nearly settled. His handling wasn’t perfect, but for such a trivial matter, the brain power spent was just right.
Besides, he had another big thing to deal with soon—actually the real trigger for his time rewind eight years later. Just as he was about to say he was heading downstairs, Gu Qiumian suddenly packed her bag and stood up.
Her face was half-hidden in a red scarf, concealing her chin, only revealing a delicate nose.
The girl still wore a cold expression. A wisp of hair fell over her beautiful eyes as she tapped Zhang Shutong’s chair back, then said nothing more.
Zhang Shutong thought he really couldn’t understand girls’ minds. Did Miss Gu want to hear a fourth version? No way, even the previous three had exhausted him.
They stared at each other for two seconds before she glared and said sharply:
“Let me out!”
“…”
She slid her chair back and clicked out the door in her little leather boots, the pendant at her hair’s end swinging.
The two watched her retreating back:
“Can you guess what she meant?”
“Seems… maybe?” Dukang was unsure. “I think it’s simple. She just wants to leave, but we’re blocking her path.”
“You’re just stating the obvious.”
Reflecting on himself rather than questioning others.
Zhang Shutong stretched and relaxed:
“Alright, I’m heading out too.”
“Okay, see you at the usual spot.”
“The usual spot?”
“Didn’t you say we’d battle again today? The bait’s already prepared, then you changed your mind?”
Hearing this, Zhang Shutong couldn’t help but feel a bit eager—his parents usually worked overtime and weren’t home, so he had nothing to do anyway.
“Perfect, but I have some family matters first. I’ll come after. You guys eat first.”
Looking around, Ruoping and Qingyi headed off first—probably mistook his mood and planned to interrogate Dukang later.
They waved goodbye. Zhang Shutong smiled, feeling this was the proper way to live student days.
Just as he packed up to leave, the girl in front slowly turned her head:
“Zhang Shutong, wait a moment.”

Page (3/3)

Zhang Shutong suddenly remembered there was this one… no, this one character. She had such a low presence.
Lu Qinglian, the girl, was tearing off a straw from a milk carton, expressionless as she fixed her gaze:
“Are you free after school? I have a few things to say to you.”
Of course, I knew it…
Zhang Shutong pinched the bridge of his nose.
He had considered the chain reaction the scrap of paper might cause—Song Nanshan, classmates, close friends, even Gu Qiumian—but forgot to consider her.
The girl lowered her head, coldly found the right spot, inserted the straw, then added:
“You better come. It’s something important.”
She was really terrifying to have waited this long to drink.
But this girl was easy to deal with—like how doubles attract each other, quiet people liked quiet people most.
Zhang Shutong showed a perfectly puzzled look:
“No time.”
“What’s the matter?” The girl frowned, surprisingly imposing.
“Fishing.”
“And after fishing?”
“…”
Zhang Shutong sighed, “If it’s about that Five Three exercise book causing you trouble, I…”
“Oh, I took it.” Lu Qinglian drank her milk, her fine eyebrows relaxed. “So you’re busy all day?”
Zhang Shutong nodded.
“I see.”
She turned away lightly, ending the conversation suddenly, as if the “important thing” she mentioned wasn’t more important than her milk.
Is that it?
Zhang Shutong blinked.
Suddenly, he understood Song Nanshan’s recent mood.
A riddle-teller is not made overnight—miss, your personality will be dangerous eight years later.
But it wasn’t worth dwelling on; it was just a random, pointless exchange. Zhang Shutong thought.
He now walked on the snow-covered campus, the ground slippery, forcing him to slow down his pace.
The surroundings were the same as always: the red sunset bathed the world in warm hues, the ping-pong table was pure white, and through the fence, the lake shimmered silver with warm reflections. He watched for a moment until the glare was too much.
He closed his eyes. Judging by the sounds, students were running or walking around, a few snowballs zipped by, and someone fell…
He must have been like them back then—a kid running wild.
Wanting to eat, sleep, play, sometimes just stop to watch the aimless clouds above.
What had made him become who he was later?
It was impossible to trace back.
But since he was back, he would make up for past regrets.
Zhang Shutong got stuck at the first step of making amends—he forgot where he parked his bicycle.
After searching the bike shed for a while, he finally found a familiar one:
Deep blue, Flying Pigeon brand, the handlebars slightly bent, decorated with ocean animal stickers, still cool to look at now.
The frame had a double-sided bag—one side for water, the other for a flashlight.
The rear seat was modified by himself, fitted with a square box. Opening it revealed a telescopic fishing rod and even a collapsible baton.
Zhang Shutong suddenly laughed.
No wonder he never had a girlfriend before—no rear seat left, how could he bring a girl?
The snow was half-melted, leaving black-gray tire tracks and footprints on the ground. Islanders were used to it, at most sprinkling some salt, nothing like de-icing chemicals.
When the weather was bad, neighbors would come out to shovel snow enthusiastically, sometimes even students got called upon.
He cautiously left the school, heading to the island’s only police station.
This was the plan he had made immediately after rewinding—Zhang Shutong called it Plan A. As for Plan B, like Ultraman’s finishing move, it would be used only if Plan A failed.
School ended at five; it took over twenty minutes to get there. Along the way, he rehearsed his story—how to make people believe a student’s words, how to focus on the case four days later… He thought it was well-prepared.
However, less than a minute inside the police station, Zhang Shutong was dragged out.
Literally dragged—
The duty officer was a bear of a man, dark-skinned, with a scar on his face, coincidentally named Officer Xiong.
With wide eyes, he scolded in a thick accent:
“How many times have I told you students? It’s fishing ban season. The higher-ups just issued a notice for strict inspections. Do you know what ‘strict’ means?”
He actually said “inspection.”
“But you little brats still dare to come. Last time, that baby-faced one told me someone was electrofishing on the east side. I just went to patrol, and you bunch turned west to fish. Now you’re making it worse, bringing up suspects and whatnot!”
“If I catch you again, I’ll report your school directly. Go home and reflect, got it?”
“Got, got…” Zhang Shutong responded weakly, speaking dialect for the first time in a while.
He rubbed his temples; poor Plan A was officially dead—short-lived like Ultraman’s timer, red light flashing in minutes.
Looking at his hands, he laughed bitterly, “How much did you love fishing back then…”
Sigh, oh well…
He had no choice but to get back on the bike, put on tactical gloves, checked the baton in the box, squinted toward the sunset, and pedaled off.
The bicycle lazily left a long trail.
Looks like he had to check out the “restricted zone.”