Chapter Twelve: At Least I Still Have You

…Upon reconsideration, she felt somewhat relieved: thank goodness she hadn’t accidentally ended up before the high school entrance exam! With her current state of mind, if she had to take that exam, disaster would be inevitable. Yet, if she really had crossed back to before that pivotal test, she would surely have applied to high school instead of the vocational school. Back in 1997, those who attended vocational schools were like angels with broken wings; they had achieved even higher scores than those accepted by top high schools—she herself had scored over 620 out of a possible 650, and more than half her class had done the same, all former top students, brimming with ambition as they entered what was supposed to be a gathering place for the elite.

But who would have thought that in that very year, against the backdrop of university expansion, the once-coveted vocational diploma would quickly become worthless, as vocational schools of all calibers began to enroll students en masse—soon, all it took was money to get in. This led directly to a collapse in both reputation and value for vocational students. The following year, university expansion sent the number of college students skyrocketing, and soon employers began to shut their doors to vocational graduates altogether. So many talented classmates would come to regret their choices, suffering in ways they never could have imagined.

Such is fate: a single misstep, and the future is forever altered.

Her deskmate Liu Qiang was pretending to be cool, lost in his music, head nodding in bliss beneath his headphones. Driven to distraction by his endless bobbing, Dong Yanyan finally couldn’t stand it any longer. She rapped him on the head, pulled off his headphones, and smiled sweetly as she made her request in the gentlest tone, “Hey deskmate, could I borrow your homework to copy?”

Liu Qiang squinted at her in astonishment, then exclaimed loudly, “What? You want to copy homework?!”

Utterly speechless, Dong Yanyan glanced helplessly at the classmates now peering over curiously, then at this naïve seventeen-year-old, and managed a nod. “Come on, help a friend in need. I really don’t know how to do it,” she pleaded.

“If you don’t understand, I’ll teach you! When has copying homework ever helped anyone learn?” Liu Qiang perked up, grabbed her workbook, and began explaining every problem in painstaking detail from the very first question. The urge to play teacher was a common affliction among new students at this school, and she supposed she was indulging his sense of superiority. Still, he was giving up his leisure and the chance to harass others for her sake—what touching camaraderie! If only he weren’t so long-winded…

Dong Yanyan struggled to recall formulas and theorems at his prompting, all the while dodging his ever-closer advances. She had never liked being crowded, but this boy’s hormones seemed even more rampant than most. All she could do was respond to his overzealous friendliness with a wry smile. If not for attending your wedding, how could I have ended up here? Now poor Lulu is left a motherless child—hmph! Absorbing old knowledge like a sponge, she couldn’t help but grumble inwardly.

An hour of evening study passed with Liu Qiang in high spirits and Dong Yanyan scribbling away. After the 9 p.m. study session was over, there was an hour before lights-out at ten—time for washing up, packing, or for some, sneaking out with friends.

At last she finished her advanced math homework, packed away her books, wiped the sweat from her brow, and finally breathed a sigh of relief—only to see Liu Qiang, still unsatisfied, waving his English book temptingly in front of her and asking, “Did you finish your English homework?”

“Thank you, yes, I did,” she replied, nonchalant as she continued to tidy up.

“I don’t believe you. I’m going to quiz you on some vocabulary!” Liu Qiang flipped to the word list, regarding her with mock seriousness.

Quiz her on vocab? Was this a joke? Those technical terms were at least a dozen letters long; she’d spent the whole afternoon in the library and couldn’t possibly have memorized them! Assessing the situation—she was sitting by the wall and couldn’t leave unless he moved—she realized she’d have to show him who he was dealing with.

With a mischievous smile, she said, “You want to quiz me? Fine, let me quiz you first. What’s the English word for peach? How about mango, pomegranate, strawberry, honeydew, cherry, watermelon, grapefruit—do you know how to spell those?”

Liu Qiang tilted his head, mouth agape, then scratched his head and shot back, “Do you?”

“Of course I do! Listen up and remember.” Picking up her pen, Dong Yanyan effortlessly wrote a long list of fruit names in English on the back of her notebook, and, basking in his awestruck gaze, gathered her things and strode out of the classroom.

“Don’t fall in love with me—I’m just a legend!” she declared triumphantly as she walked down the corridor, her reflection in the glass beaming with pride. Those fruits had never been taught in her old textbooks; Lulu had learned them in kindergarten, where each step of the stairs was decorated with a fruit picture and its English name. Every day, as Lulu climbed the stairs, she would recite a new word, and over time, Dong Yanyan had learned them all by heart.

Her eyes grew damp. She hurriedly wiped them and, rounding the stairwell, spotted Lin Feng, who had skipped a study period and was just returning from outside. He wore his blue school uniform carelessly, giving off a strangely languid charm.

One had to admit, it took real talent to make even a school uniform look stylish. She allowed herself a brief moment of infatuation before noticing that someone else was standing opposite him—a senior from the class of ‘96, not particularly pretty but with a fantastic figure, who lived in the dorm across from hers. Putting on her brightest smile, Dong Yanyan went up and linked arms with the senior, exclaiming with genuine admiration, “Sister Zhong Ling, your denim skirt is gorgeous! Where did you get it?”

From 1997 onward, for four or five years, shorter girls felt little pressure, since thick platform shoes were all the rage—the soles were at least four centimeters high, sometimes even six or seven, making you feel like you were standing on the shoulders of giants. Denim was also in vogue.

That weekend, Dong Yanyan, with a few dozen yuan in her pocket, went clothes shopping at the underground mall on Hongqi Street with Liu Ying and Gu Xiaohan. Liu Ying was exceptionally picky, Xiaohan—who came from a well-off family—had the most spending money but was a master at bargaining, while Dong Yanyan was the sort who wouldn’t buy anything unless she really liked it, and if she did, she’d buy it at the asking price. If the seller didn’t accept, the deal was off.

The three of them wandered the market, arms slung around each other’s shoulders, until suddenly Dong Yanyan’s eyes lit up. Hanging at a nearby stall was a pale blue denim skirt, short and flared, with silvery metal buttons at the waist—a perfect princess style, twirling with flair and beauty.

Fifteen years had passed, but at least you were still here waiting for me. Overcome with emotion, Dong Yanyan pointed at the skirt, eyes brimming with tears, and said just one thing to the vendor before buying it, “Fifty yuan, I want that one!”

Because back then, she had bought it for fifty yuan as well. In those days, fifty yuan could make a little girl’s princess dream come true; she had worn that skirt for four years, delighting in it all through her school days.

Liu Ying and Gu Xiaohan weren’t particularly impressed; at the time, what was fashionable were denim sets or dresses. After a morning of careful selection, they each bought a skirt they liked—Xiaohan, who was a bit plump, chose a long denim dress that flattered her figure, while the tall Liu Ying picked a denim vest and a short skirt with a row of silver buttons down the side.

Back in the dorm, as soon as they put on their new skirts, Dong Yanyan could see the envy and regret in her friends’ eyes. She couldn’t help but gloat inwardly; the skirt suited her perfectly, and wouldn’t necessarily have looked as good on the others.

Tonight, she was determined to dress up beautifully, for every Saturday evening, there was a dance in the hall on the sixth floor, running from seven until midnight.

It was the perfect chance to catch the eye of a handsome boy—she was not about to let herself down this time.

In the mirror, Dong Yanyan’s face blossomed like a radiant flower: clear goal, full of confidence! Go! Go! Go!