Chapter 48: This Is How Debts of Favor Are Owed

No matter how unwilling she felt, Monday morning’s newspapers still had to be delivered. Stepping out of the building, Dong Yanyan shivered involuntarily as the northern wind howled past. In the north, winter arrives suddenly—one day, two days, and it’s here. The biting cold had settled in. Yesterday, a light snow had fallen; overnight, it melted, and by morning it had frozen again. The streets would surely be ice rinks.

She hurried out the school gates to fetch her bicycle, just as Song Mingcheng returned from his morning run.

“Morning, desk mate,” she waved, greeting him. This guy, if he wasn’t up early for exercise, he might be off for winter swimming—it wouldn’t surprise her.

Song Mingcheng smiled, turned to unlock his own bicycle, and said, “Let’s hurry. The roads are bad today!”

Seeing Dong Yanyan’s surprised expression, he added, “From today on, I’m delivering newspapers with you. As the days get shorter, it’s not safe for a girl to be out alone.”

“Isn’t that—improper? Like selling one and getting another free?” Dong Yanyan hesitated. She didn’t want to owe anyone more favors.

“I have to exercise anyway. Besides, your dad asked me to look after you.” Song Mingcheng glanced at her, impatient. “Why aren’t you moving yet? If we’re late, the newspaper office will be empty!”

“Alright, thank you,” Dong Yanyan replied with a helpless smile. She’d relied on him plenty before; at worst, she’d buy him something nice for the holidays. Four years they’d spent like this. In his eyes, she was a troublesome tagalong.

At the newspaper office, after sorting the papers, Song Mingcheng helped her load the bag onto her bike’s rear seat, then leisurely rode behind her. Dong Yanyan thought he might share her workload. Instead, at each apartment block, he’d say considerately, “Go on up, I’ll watch the bike. Be careful.”

Dong Yanyan couldn’t protest, so she ran up the stairs with the newspapers, delivering them door to door. By the time she finished the last one and came downstairs, sweating and exhausted, Song Mingcheng was leaning against his bike, gazing at the sunrise at a forty-five-degree angle. Seeing her approach, he smiled, “That was quick. Let’s head back.”

On the way back to school, there was no rush. They rode slowly, and Dong Yanyan, after much internal struggle, decided to ask him. If she didn’t ask him, who else would she ask?

“Desk mate, can I ask you something?”

“What is it?” Song Mingcheng replied without lifting his eyes.

“Lin Feng—does he have a girlfriend?” Dong Yanyan asked cautiously, her heart trembling with anxiety.

“Yes.”

“Yang Lili?”

“Mm.”

“When did it happen?”

“I don’t know.”

Even though she was prepared, the certainty in his answer made her nose tingle and her mind blur. If she spoke again, she knew she’d burst into tears.

Song Mingcheng noticed her silence and turned to ask, “What’s wrong?”

Dong Yanyan sighed, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“You never asked,” Song Mingcheng shot her a glance, then pursed his lips. “Can you not make your disappointment so obvious? It’s not good.”

Dong Yanyan stumbled, her bike wobbling—she stopped, forced a bitter smile. “Even you noticed. I really am a failure.”

Song Mingcheng hopped off his bike, stared at her for a while, then said, “What do you mean ‘even you’? Are you insulting my intelligence?”

Dong Yanyan paused, then laughed, “Thank you—for that twenty-word sentence.”

“I don’t have time for your drama. The facts are facts. If I were you, I’d stop thinking about useless things and read more books. Have you seen your grades—” Song Mingcheng cast her a contemptuous look, got on his bike, and rode off.

“But I can’t help thinking about it, just as I can’t help regretting, can’t help feeling heartache.” Dong Yanyan looked up at the white clouds and murmured, “But I won’t let myself stay gloomy. I have to cheer up!”

*

At noon, Dong Yanyan and Leng Yue each carried four thermos flasks, queuing at the boiler room for hot water. There were only two taps, and one was nearly broken. Dong Yanyan dreaded this task most, gingerly twisting the tap—when the water barely trickled out, she gritted her teeth and turned it harder. With a loud gush, boiling water splashed everywhere. She yelped, snatching her hand back, but the hot water still burned her hand painfully.

A quick-handed student beside her shut off the tap for her, then turned to glare, “Is that how you fetch water? You got me soaked!”

The voice sounded familiar—Dong Yanyan turned and saw Ren Jiaxuan. He was truly unlucky. Usually, she waited until no one was around to get water, but today the place was crowded.

“Sorry, my tap’s broken,” she said, glancing helplessly at Leng Yue.

Leng Yue was about to take the flask when Ren Jiaxuan snatched it away. “Mine works. Give me your bottles, I’ll fill them for you.” He was kind, and in the time it took to speak, he filled one flask. Dong Yanyan thanked him, handing him the empty ones, and he quickly filled them all...

Eventually, Ren Jiaxuan lost patience, frowning, “Why so many? How many are left?”

“Not many, just two more,” Dong Yanyan replied with a smile.

“You’re relentless,” Ren Jiaxuan muttered, filling all eight flasks. Without looking at the students waiting behind, he lowered his head and hurriedly led Dong Yanyan and Leng Yue out of the crowd.

Dong Yanyan felt he’d complained for nothing; in her memory, he’d only helped her fetch water this once.

Outside the boiler room, Ren Jiaxuan took a deep breath of the damp, cold air, his expression easing. Seeing he carried only two flasks while the girls had four, he took Dong Yanyan’s four as well, helping them carry everything to the dormitory door.

“The school’s singing competition is starting soon. Did you sign up?” he asked at the door.

Dong Yanyan smiled, “No, I don’t sing well. I wouldn’t want to drag the class down.”

“Oh! That’s some team spirit.” Ren Jiaxuan laughed. “I signed up. Listen, I’ll sing for you: ‘Gently open my backpack, discover my luggage, it’s a youthful passport…’ Nice, isn’t it?”

Dong Yanyan nodded, “It’s nice!”

“Will I win first place?” he boasted.

“No,” Dong Yanyan answered firmly. In her memory, he’d placed second or third in the competition—not first. The first place went to a senior from the Class of ‘96 broadcasting department.

“How do you know I won’t?” Ren Jiaxuan asked, unhappy.

“The contest hasn’t started. Why should I boost others’ confidence and dampen my own?” Dong Yanyan retorted.

Ren Jiaxuan considered her words, glared, “You’re right, you’re not in our class. But your attitude isn’t optimistic!”

Dong Yanyan just smiled, saying nothing.

“You don’t look happy. Come on, let’s play some ping pong!” Ren Jiaxuan grinned, slinging an arm over her shoulder.