The female quartermaster’s surname was Wang, and the students all called her Teacher Wang. Lin Fang remembered that when Teacher Wang became the quartermaster, she was already in her second year of high school. It was a female classmate who was already familiar with Teacher Wang who happened to take her to Teacher Wang’s home one day, and they got to know each other through introductions. At that time, Teacher Wang was 52 years old, nearing retirement age.
Originally, Teacher Wang had no job and was just an ordinary housewife, dedicated to serving her husband at home. Her husband’s surname was Guo, forty years her senior, a veteran revolutionary who had managed logistics at County No. 1 High School before retirement, holding the same rank as the principal. Teacher Guo had a fiery temper and wasn’t particularly kind to his wife. However, when he realized his mind was beginning to fail, he did one good deed: he approached the government to request a job for his wife, arranging things in advance so that after his passing, his childless and jobless wife wouldn’t be left without support. Later, the county government assigned Teacher Wang to County No. 2 High School, also in logistics management.
No one knew why Teacher Wang had married someone who could almost have been her grandfather. Even later, when she treated Lin Fang and other students who often visited her home like her own children, she never mentioned it.
Though not yet sixty, Teacher Wang had a head full of white hair, yet traces of her youthful beauty were still visible. The calligraphy and paintings on the walls of her home were all her own work. She also had a piano at home. When Teacher Guo, who no longer recognized people, became agitated, Teacher Wang would play a tune, and he would immediately calm down, sometimes even drifting slowly into sleep.
Lin Fang recalled that when she was in college, Teacher Guo was nearly a hundred years old. Though his mind was muddled, his body remained strong, yet he was completely unable to care for himself. Meanwhile, Teacher Wang, forty years his junior, had grown frail from years of hardship and found it increasingly difficult to tend to him. Fortunately, students visited her from time to time, offering help. Even so, Teacher Wang was nearing her breaking point. After Lin Fang started working, she rarely had time to return home, and what happened afterward, she could no longer remember.
“Hey, hey, hey! What are you thinking about? I’m talking to you—are you spacing out again?”
Her reminiscence was interrupted by Meatball. Lin Fang glared at him, but the guy glared back, pointing at the bun on her fork and saying, “Hurry up and eat. If it gets cold, you’ll have a stomachache. Fine, I’ll swap with you.”
As he spoke, Meatball pulled out another lunchbox from his clothes and opened it. Like the previous one, it was packed with two large meat buns. Without another word, he bit the bun off Lin Fang’s fork, tilting his head slightly to free it, then pointed at the box, signaling her to take another. Lin Fang didn’t hesitate, spearing a bun and starting to eat.
Though called meat buns, they only had a faint meaty flavor—the filling was mostly shredded radish, with barely any minced meat. Given that the buns cost the same as plain steamed buns, it wasn’t too bad a deal. Lin Fang sighed inwardly. Though Teacher Wang had appeared earlier than expected, her essence remained unchanged. Beautiful and talented, she still lived frugally.
By the time Lin Fang finished one bun, Meatball had already devoured three. Eating too fast, he choked a little, waved at Lin Fang, and dashed back to his dorm. As his bulky frame jostled along, the bag hanging around his neck bounced against his protruding belly, making passersby chuckle or burst into laughter. Unfazed, he just kept running.
After the meal, the girls in the dorm went about their own business—some headed to the classroom early for evening self-study, others strolled outside the school along the paths by the perimeter wall. Those who were close or from the same hometown visited each other to chat or discuss homework.
Though Lin Fang didn’t plan to devote herself entirely to studying, she still had to do her homework—she couldn’t afford to stand out too much. She asked Yang Xiuqin if the teacher had assigned any homework that afternoon. Learning that no new lessons had been taught and they were only expected to review for the midterm exams, she began sorting through the old newspapers she had brought back.
Yang Xiuqin picked up a newspaper and flipped through it, noticing a serialized novel. She started organizing the papers too—Lin Fang sorted by paper quality and size, while Yang Xiuqin hunted for the novels and arranged them chronologically. Hearing there were novels to read, other classmates came to help, some even starting to read eagerly, discussing the plots as they went. This ended up completely messing up Lin Fang’s neatly arranged piles. Giving up, she let them have their fun—after all, these newspapers would eventually be covered in her calligraphy practice.
Now free, she joined the novel-reading group, laughing and chatting with her classmates. In the midst of the lively atmosphere, Liang Xiaoyan came to find her, suggesting they visit Fu Hongxia.
Liang Xiaoyan was from Zhouzhuang, a neighboring village to Lin Fang’s. She had also attended middle school in Yiping Village. Failing the high school entrance exam the first year, she repeated a grade before entering No. 2 High School. Originally, her relationship with Fu Hongxia had been lukewarm—they barely exchanged a word a day. It was only after starting high school, when Fu Hongxia, who didn’t have a bicycle, began riding with her, that they grew closer. Still, from Lin Fang’s observations, their friendship was mostly superficial.
Lin Fang had heard from a classmate from Fu Hongxia’s village that her father was an old-fashioned man with strict patriarchal views. Fu Hongxia had a hard life at home—doing heavy physical labor, enduring beatings, and suffering her father’s cruel words. She was the eldest of three siblings: a younger sister and a younger brother. Though sharp-tongued outside, at home she was silent, fiercely protective of her siblings. The money for her schooling and the grain she exchanged for meal tickets were all earned by her own efforts.
Yet, as the saying goes, “The pitiable often have their own faults.” This might not hold true for everyone, but in Fu Hongxia’s case, it was spot-on.
Though suffering at home, Fu Hongxia was bold and sharp-tongued outside, never backing down in an argument. With those she couldn’t afford to offend or those she could use, she was all flattery to their faces, praising them like flowers, but behind their backs, she spread rumors. And if someone she had used became useless to her, she’d turn on them in an instant. Because of this, Lin Fang had lost count of how many times Fu Hongxia had faced retaliation. Worse, she never learned—over time, even if you wanted to sympathize with her, it became impossible.
Honestly, Lin Fang didn’t want to visit Fu Hongxia. As Chen Dong had said, no matter how kind you were to her, she wouldn’t remember it. But recalling Staff Officer Shangguan’s account of Fu Hongxia’s father’s reaction that day, Lin Fang couldn’t help feeling a pang of pity. Fu Hongxia had become this way because she lacked familial love—her behavior was just self-protection, albeit the wrong kind.
The girls flipping through the newspapers sighed upon hearing Lin Fang recount Staff Officer Shangguan’s words. They discussed visiting Fu Hongxia together, including some who usually couldn’t stand her. With that, Lin Fang had no choice but to go—after all, she and Fu Hongxia were middle school classmates and fellow villagers. If she didn’t go, others would call her cold-hearted, and losing goodwill over this wasn’t worth it.
Being students, none of them had much money. Lin Fang’s monthly living expenses for meals in the cafeteria were twenty yuan—a considerable sum among boarding students. Take Yang Xiuqin, for example—her family gave her at most five yuan a month for pocket money, which she had to spend sparingly. The others were in similar straits. So, pooling their resources, they scraped together a motley assortment of small bills and even coins, totaling just over ten yuan.
A serving of vegetables in the school cafeteria cost ten cents, while meat dishes were twenty. The hospital cafeteria wasn’t much more expensive. Given Fu Hongxia’s frugal habits, though the sum was small, it would last her over a month.
Stepping out of the dorm, they were startled to see two figures—one tall, one short—standing outside. Their expressions were odd, and the girls initially thought teachers were inspecting the dorms and had found some issue. Located in the suburbs, the school was relatively isolated, and sometimes troublemakers sneaked in at night, so after dinner, teachers took turns patrolling the grounds.
Zhang Jiejun, who had participated in singing competitions since childhood and was more worldly than the others, was the first to regain her composure. “Teacher Shangguan, Teacher Su, is something the matter?” she asked.
Lin Fang and Yang Xiuqin, stuck at the back, couldn’t squeeze out, so they busied themselves straightening the newspapers strewn across the kang. Hearing Zhang Jiejun’s question, they pricked up their ears. Staff Officer Shangguan asked, “Were you planning to walk to the hospital?”
Ah, so that was it. The two teachers must have been there for a while, overhearing their conversation. The girls relaxed. Zheng Hua answered first, “It’s getting dark, and the road’s uneven. Walking there is fine, but biking back wouldn’t be safe, so we decided to go on foot.”
“Hmph, so you do realize it’s getting dark? A group of girls, and you don’t even know what fear is.” The moment Teacher Su spoke, the girls fell silent, not daring to utter another word.
Due to her heart condition, Lin Fang had never attended PE class and thus had no dealings with Teacher Su. But she’d heard the rumors—this PE teacher was average-looking, standing only up to the handsome Staff Officer Shangguan’s chest, and was scrawny to boot. Yet he was strict in class, rarely smiled, and had a sharp tongue, sparing no one’s feelings. He often reduced female students to tears. Hearing him now, Lin Fang could confirm the strictness and sharp tongue weren’t exaggerated. As for his looks—though she’d never interacted with him, she recognized him. She’d even seen him that day. Teacher Su was actually quite handsome, but his bad temper had led students to caricature him.
An awkward silence fell outside the dorm. After a moment, Staff Officer Shangguan said, “We understand how you feel, but Teacher Su is right—it really is too late, and you’re all girls. Safety should come first. The midterms are the day after tomorrow. Focus on reviewing for now, and after the exams, pick a daytime slot to visit Fu Hongxia. That’s settled—everyone, disperse.”
With the stern, sharp-tongued Teacher Su present, the girls, though eager to gaze at the handsome Staff Officer Shangguan a little longer, didn’t dare linger and quickly scattered. Lin Fang breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t afraid of walking at night—she just really didn’t want to go to the hospital.
Lin Fang had been nearsighted since middle school, wearing glasses. But these past few days, she’d noticed her vision was even better than before—she could see far into the distance, and even at night, she could make out objects in the room without turning on the lights. This was probably a perk of her rebirth—like in that other world, she had night vision.
Night vision. The thought brought Qi Biao’s figure flickering before her eyes, flickering until her heart ached.
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