Chapter 67: One Thousand and One Nights

Ren Jiaxuan exaggeratedly curled his lips. “What a nice sentence, and look at the state you’re in because of it. If you want to cry, at least don’t do it out here—your face is turning numb from the cold.” As he spoke, he reached out to cup her cheeks with his thick, woolen gloves, the sudden contact soft and warm. Dong Yanyan’s gaze trembled, and her eyes grew red again.

“What are you doing here? Don’t tell me you ‘just happened’ to run into me again.” Her tone was less than friendly.

Ren Jiaxuan shrugged, a grin tugging at his lips. “This time, it really was a coincidence. I just got a membership card here, so I come by every week. The moment I stepped out today, there you were. Why don’t we head inside and warm up? You’ll freeze if you stay out much longer.”

“No need. I need to cool my head, and this deadly cold weather is just perfect for that.” Dong Yanyan found herself chuckling as she spoke, gazing out at the heavy snow falling thick and fast, blurring the boundaries between heaven and earth. For a moment, she felt as if time and space had lost all meaning.

Ren Jiaxuan laughed too, for once gentle. “Why don’t we walk while you calm down? Otherwise, we’ll both be icicles in no time.”

Dong Yanyan glanced at her watch. It was nearly dark; she should be heading back to school. She gave a faint smile and nodded silently, following him as they made their way back.

“It’s rare to see you looking so down. I’ll sing you a song,” Ren Jiaxuan said with a smile, glancing at her before softly singing to himself: “She is always silent, waiting in the dusk till the sky turns pale, caressing the stringless lute in her arms…”

*

“In loneliness, autumn comes and spring goes, promises scatter with the wind, dreams bring no news at all. A thousand and one nights, not a single night without longing; every moment of missing turns into butterflies that can never pair. A thousand and one nights, not a single night without weeping—tears flow inward and become snow…”

Dong Yanyan sat among the judges, smiling as she watched Ren Jiaxuan quietly play and sing on stage, guitar in his arms. His style was ever-changing—at times sunny, wild, or deeply melancholic. She had to admit, he was a different person when he sang: so focused and absorbed, as if he himself was the person in the song.

Yes, even in the howling winter wind, he could sing a love song with unwavering passion.

His slender fingers glided unhurriedly over the strings; the clear, moving notes gradually faded, like words left unspoken, drifting further away.

Ren Jiaxuan stood, guitar in hand, and gave a perfect bow to the audience as applause erupted.

The judges raised their scorecards. Dong Yanyan unhesitatingly gave him a ten. No wonder the judges from “Super Girl” once said you could tell if someone truly loves music by listening to their voice. He had such talent—if not for his abysmal college entrance scores, he might have made it into a conservatory, rather than wasting his days here. She felt a twinge of regret.

Dong Yanyan realized she was becoming hopelessly infatuated—an aftereffect of those years spent online, obsessing over gossip and idolizing celebrities. Now, whenever she saw a handsome guy, she subconsciously analyzed what made him attractive. When she saw a girl, she’d instinctively estimate her cup size.

She shook her head, forcing herself to stop daydreaming, and glanced at the contestants’ list. Mengmeng hadn’t performed well just now—her score was a bit low, unlikely she’d make it to the finals. Next up was Lin Feng—

Lin Feng was singing Andy Lau’s old song “Fated Love in the Next Life.” No matter how much of a flirt he claimed to be, he was stubbornly devoted when it came to his musical choices; even though Teacher Chen kept urging him to pick something more mainstream, he insisted on another love song. He truly suited love songs—even if he didn’t place, he could still charm a group of artsy, starry-eyed girls. He loved being admired, loved it in his quietly egotistical, yet irresistibly attractive way.

Lately, every time he saw her, he seemed awkward, as if wanting to speak but holding back. Dong Yanyan smiled wryly to herself—was she really being that unreasonable lately? According to Ren Jiaxuan, she was so volatile these days she could bite anyone who crossed her path.

This wasn’t good, and she knew it. She was already making an effort to rein it in.

“Your eyes seem half closed, your thoughts elsewhere.” Li Zhe, sitting beside her, glanced over and chuckled softly.

Li Jian nodded in agreement, nudging Dong Yanyan’s arm. “Your class monitor’s up there singing, and you don’t look nervous at all?”

Dong Yanyan returned a smile. “Sis, I don’t have to score him, so what’s there to be nervous about?”

“Lily told me that if her Lin Feng doesn’t make it into the top ten, she’ll hang herself in our dorm doorway,” Li Jian said, half-joking.

Li Zhe laughed leisurely. “Lily is too much. Good thing she’s not in my dorm.”

His words made Dong Yanyan want to tease him. She turned and grinned. “That’s not a bad idea. If our class monitor doesn’t make the top ten, maybe I’ll bring a rope to your dorm too… ha~”

“No! Please don’t… Look—now I’m so nervous I wrote an 8 instead of a 9!” Li Zhe scribbled a flamboyant 9.0 on his scorecard.

Li Jian gave a 9.2.

Zhao Jing revised her card several times before settling on a 9.0.

Dong Yanyan quickly calculated Lin Feng’s average score—it was above 9.0, so barring any surprises, he should make the top five among the boys.

Liu Siying was the last to perform, and Dong Yanyan had every confidence in her. Siying was the kind of contestant who could command a stage—the bigger the crowd, the more dazzling she became. Though performing last was a slight disadvantage, she stuck with her cute, fresh style, singing Ye Fan’s “Falling for You Is My Fate.” As soon as the music started, she sang and danced across the stage, waving at Dong Yanyan from time to time. It was a simple pop song, but she made it lively and fun; though her high notes and vocal quality weren’t as strong as some, her stage presence was outstanding. In short, she knew how to be adorable, and she was very good at it.

When she finished, the applause was thunderous—especially the boys’ whistles.

“Your class’s hooligans are over the top,” Dong Yanyan teased Li Jian with a laugh.

Li Jian rolled her eyes. “Please, your class are the real hooligans.”

Liu Siying beamed at the audience; Dong Yanyan gave her a triumphant victory sign.

Teachers Wang and Yang exchanged a few words, nodding as they both gave high scores.

When the results were announced, Dong Yanyan couldn’t help but laugh. Teacher Chen had emphasized “mainstream” songs over and over, but look at the two classes he coached: only Li Ling from the sending class sang a mainstream song, while her own class’s two contestants made it to the finals with less conventional tunes.

Where was the justice in that?

After the event, Liu Siying, bubbling with excitement, caught up to Dong Yanyan and threw her arms around her, laughing, “Yanyan, I was so nervous! I never thought I’d make it to the finals.”

“Mm, we have to celebrate! It’s just a pity Mengmeng didn’t make it. Hey, where is she?” Dong Yanyan glanced around for Du Xinmeng and finally spotted her in a corner, wiping away tears. With the teacher nearby, Zhang Lei didn’t dare approach. Silly girl, crying over something like this.

“Mengmeng, stop crying. It’s not good if the teacher sees.” She hurried over, taking her hand and leading her out, comforting her along the way. “You did well today—just half a point behind fifth place. Don’t worry, Siying will avenge you in the finals!”

Liu Siying nodded vigorously, pulling out tissues to wipe her tears.

Du Xinmeng kept her head down, sniffling. “Don’t comfort me. I know I didn’t do well today. I let the class down.”

Dong Yanyan laughed at that. “Silly girl, there are eight classes in the whole school and only ten spots in the finals. That’s barely more than one per class! Do you really think the teachers would let our class get three in at once? What about the other classes? Managing two is already a win. The sending class only got one in. If you didn’t make it, it’s not because you’re not good enough, but because our class is full of talent.”

“If you want to blame someone, blame me—I only beat you by one point and took your spot,” Liu Siying chimed in.

Du Xinmeng thought it over and finally broke into a smile. “Why would I blame you? I’m counting on you to get my revenge! If you don’t make the top three, I’ll come after you!”

“Oh dear, I’m scared now—the pressure’s too much!” Liu Siying said in mock alarm.

The three laughed as they returned to class. As soon as they entered, Zhang Lei pulled Du Xinmeng aside for a private chat. Liu Siying put on her headphones to study English; it was Saturday night, and the classroom was too noisy with everyone watching TV.

Dong Yanyan rather liked the bustle—it felt warm. She returned to her seat, pulled out her diary, and began doodling. Xiao Han sidled up to copy her lab report; Dong Yanyan leaned against the wall, legs crossed, frowning as she watched.

“My dear sister, how can you be this lazy? Can’t even write your own lab report?” she drawled lazily.

Xiao Han pulled off her headphones, looking blank. “Huh? What did you say?” she shouted.

“Nothing, just carry on,” Dong Yanyan replied, pushing her headphones back on.

At that moment, Yang Lili burst in like a gust of wind, marched up to Dong Yanyan, and slammed a notebook onto her desk. “Dong Yanyan, what’s the meaning of this?!”

Startled, Dong Yanyan looked up to see Lili’s furious, hostile expression. Was she picking a fight?

She picked up the notebook—it was her activity log.

“If you’ve got something to say, say it straight. What’s with the dramatics?” she asked, puzzled.

“Fine, let me ask you: what right did you have to give Ren Jiaxuan a perfect score? Do you know what people are saying about our class now? That we’re clinging to the Broadcasting class just to make it to the finals! I know Teacher Yang likes you, but if you want to curry favor, don’t make it so obvious! Now the whole class is being dragged through the mud because of you!” Yang Lili shouted, eyes red.

The classmates watching TV in front all turned their attention to them.

Dong Yanyan stood up, smiling. “You really think we need to latch onto the Broadcasting class? Do Lin Feng and Siying need me to suck up to another class to reach the finals? I’m a judge. I gave Ren Jiaxuan a perfect score because he deserved it—simple as that! And if anyone wants to criticize our class for it, let them come say it to my face—I’d love to see if they have the guts!”

“Other people sang well too, but you didn’t give them perfect scores! Just look at your scores for the Broadcasting class—they’re always higher! Li Ling from the sending class sang so well, but you only gave her a 9.5. Do you know what the sending class is saying about us? It’s bad enough you’re siding with the Broadcasting class, but now you’re helping them suppress our sister class? We have the same homeroom teacher—shouldn’t we be supporting each other instead of scheming? How does that make our class look to everyone else?”