The first time treating someone since the regression fell into Gu Qiumian's hands.
The male student froze, the proprietress froze too, and by the time Zhang Shutong reacted, she had already headed to the restroom without looking back. Looking at the students at her table, not one of them had noticed what had happened here.
It was as if Gu Qiumian had just stepped away from the table for something and casually resolved an urgent problem on the way.
Zhang Shutong accepted this favor.
To put it jokingly—it seemed he had no choice but to accept this favor. What, was he supposed to chase her into the restroom and pull open the bathroom stall door to say "you don't need to pay"?
Of course, that said, there were other options. He was only short twenty-something yuan, so he could break one of those bills for the insufficient amount and return the rest intact.
But favors always came down to two options: accept or don't accept. Taking back only twenty seemed petty instead—better to bring enough money tomorrow and return it all.
Gu Qiumian's trip to the restroom was truly brilliant. Zhang Shutong had never been able to figure out her intentions before, but this time even someone like him could understand—
So he didn't stand there waiting for her to come out. Instead, he left the fish restaurant directly, got on his bicycle, and went to meet up with his buddies.
After riding just a few meters, sure enough he ran into Ruoping and the others queuing at the milk tea shop.
"Did it work out?"
Qingyi pulled him aside and asked quietly.
"Work out what?"
"You asked me to get those two out of the way—didn't you have something to say to Gu Qiumian?"
"Actually..." Zhang Shutong thought for a moment, "more or less. I didn't bring enough money just now."
"How much short?" Qingyi immediately reached for his pocket.
"Already paid. Gu Qiumian came over and paid for me."
"Huh, why?"
"Don't know. Keep it secret for a day for me first."
Zhang Shutong planned to return the money tomorrow before telling Ruoping. That way he could help spread word of Gu Qiumian's "human touch" without causing unnecessary trouble. He was a bit worried Ruoping would drag him back there now.
Shortly after, the group split up at the commercial street.
They couldn't stick together every moment. Qingyi wanted to borrow some books from the bookstore, and Du Kang went along to pick out some video tapes. Ruoping had made plans with some friends at noon and needed to return to school—same route as Zhang Shutong.
He got on his bike and hung the milk tea on the handlebars. The shop was called "Come Get One," not like the milk tea shops that would open in malls later with their 700ml large paper cups printed with exquisite designs. The island's milk tea just came in small transparent cups with plastic film heat-sealed over the mouth—probably made from instant powder—but at four yuan it was quite affordable.
On the way, Ruoping said she knew he had an upset stomach, so she specially ordered hot drinks—drink it while it's hot when you get back. Zhang Shutong was very touched. Then Ruoping said don't just be touched, you need to take action. So he readily agreed, saying next week all your milk tea is on me. Only then did the young lady nod with satisfaction.
It wasn't until he walked into the teaching building holding the milk tea that Zhang Shutong realized this was winter—if it wasn't hot, were they supposed to make it cold for you?
But it was too late now.
Lunch break was from noon to 1:30 PM.
It was just past one now. The classroom was relatively quiet, with some people self-studying and others sleeping at their desks. After all, this was ninth grade—not like the lower grades where students could be noisy enough to lift the ceiling.
Everything from student days felt novel to him.
Zhang Shutong had always had good energy—otherwise he wouldn't have had time for heroic deeds in the future. After thinking it over, he felt he should find a place to properly savor this cup of instant milk tea. Only then could he justify its status as "a week's worth."
He decided on the school rooftop.
That was his favorite place during his student days. This was where Zhang Shutong differed from his buddies—they all thought going to the rooftop to get blown by cold wind would blow their brains stupid. Du Kang would rather go sleep downstairs. Qingyi's chunibyo brain waves didn't sync with this place either. Ruoping even gave a very vivid example, saying every time she went up she felt like a caveman.
Only Zhang Shutong truly enjoyed this feeling:
The school was built on the island's periphery. Climbing to the rooftop, breathing in the cool lake breeze, the scenery in all directions came into view—gray-white buildings tall and short, staggered and interlaced. The lake surface was azure blue, the sky reflected on it too. Mountain ranges stretched continuously. The people below shrank into tiny black dots. But this was itself a very small place, just right to contain these small people.
This time he planned to ponder the murder case while drinking his milk tea.
Walking into the pitch-black stairwell, his feet covered in dust, the door to the rooftop was locked. But Zhang Shutong knew where the key was.
If he remembered correctly... he pressed his foot down. The third tile from the bottom of the steps was a bit loose. He felt around in the cement crevices but came up empty.
Where was the key?
Zhang Shutong was puzzled.
He remembered this key was one he'd had copied. Once a maintenance master had forgotten to remove his key, and Zhang Shutong, bold as he was back then, had gone straight off campus to copy one before returning it to the homeroom teacher's hands, planning to use it as a secret base for the group—
But after getting blown by the wind a few times, they all thought it wasn't private enough to serve as a proper base, and as a break room it was cold in winter and hot in summer. Only he still went up sometimes.
Had some very perceptive student picked it up?
Zhang Shutong didn't know whether to be happy or regretful. Happy that apparently he wasn't the only one whose brain got blown stupid, regretful that he quite enjoyed having a secret hideout. A hideout and a base sounded similar but were actually different—Batman joined the Justice League but still had the Batcave. This showed that whether rich or poor, men needed a private little nest.
When he didn't want to be disturbed, he would come up and sit for a while. He couldn't explain why—he'd just been this way since childhood.
But once this little nest was discovered by someone, it was no longer a nest. Still, he was graduating soon anyway. In that case, consider this the last time coming here. It was time to pass the rooftop key to an underclassman—at least there would be a successor.
So he tried pushing the door. Wind howled outside, even exerting pressure on the door panel. He pushed open a crack, and a wave of cold immediately struck. Zhang Shutong could also make out the back of another caveman—
Not an underclassman, not an underclasswoman, but a very familiar young lady.
Even without wearing her green robe today, the high ponytail at the back of her head was quite distinctive, hanging quietly down her back, just as the young lady's posture sat perfectly straight.
Lu Qinglian turned her face at the sound and tilted her head:
"Looking for me?"
Her tone was as casual as if someone had come to visit at home. After speaking, without caring about Zhang Shutong's reaction, she turned her face back.
"What are you doing here?" Zhang Shutong asked, puzzled.
"Eating."
Only then did Zhang Shutong notice the young lady was holding an old-style aluminum lunch box. She picked up a small clump of rice with her chopsticks and unhurriedly brought it to her equally small lips, eating quite gracefully.
"I'm eating. If you have business, please make it quick."
After swallowing the food in her mouth, she emphasized again in the same flat tone.
Just like a hostess who opens the door only to find a salesman, so her expression turns cold as she tells them not to disturb during mealtime.
Lu Qinglian's difference was that she was very polite and wouldn't give anyone a cold face. Her tone was flat—at most it could be called a polite refusal. But a polite refusal was actually the biggest problem—
What was with this attitude of reversing host and guest?
Zhang Shutong felt she didn't quite understand what he meant. That question wasn't asking what she was doing, but why she was here.
"You sit on the rooftop to eat?" Somehow that seemed even more foolish than coming to the rooftop to fish.
"I like being alone when I eat."
"No wonder I've never seen you at any restaurant outside."
Zhang Shutong mused thoughtfully, then sat down at some distance from Lu Qinglian, side by side with her, looking at the scattered students walking below.
When he used to come alone it was fine—no one specifically looked up, so he wouldn't be discovered.
Now that there were two, he didn't know if it was more conspicuous.
But conspicuous was conspicuous. Though he liked being alone, having Lu Qinglian occasionally come eat a meal wasn't a big deal. She wasn't noisy anyway. Just consider it a guest visiting the base—wouldn't interfere with drinking his milk tea.
Zhang Shutong didn't care, but Lu Qinglian seemed to care. After swallowing the food in her mouth again, she frowned:
"Do you have business here?"
"No, just spacing out."
"If you have something to say, please say it quickly. Don't beat around the bush." She simply put down her chopsticks.
"...Why would you think I'm looking for you for something?"
"I'm the only one who comes here, so I don't like people disturbing my meals."
"Wait," Zhang Shutong stopped inserting his straw. "What do you mean 'only you come here'?"
Wasn't it enough that you snatched my fishing rod yesterday? Now you want to occupy my nest too?
Zhang Shutong said with a headache:
"Lu Qinglian, haven't you noticed this place is usually locked?"
"Zhang Shutong, haven't you noticed the door isn't locked today?"
This woman was actually copying how he spoke, even learning his tone, as if she thought he wasn't very bright. After finishing, she added:
"Because I'm the one who opened it."
Of course I know you opened it. The problem is I'm the one who had the key copied.
Before he could speak, Lu Qinglian felt it still wasn't enough and revealed a decisive piece of evidence:
"Two years ago, in eighth grade, I found where the key was hidden."
Why did this feel like a divorce dispute over property? The man says I paid the down payment on the car, the woman says but I'm the one who paid the loan...
Zhang Shutong's mouth twitched. He thought to himself, of course it was eighth grade—it would be strange if it were any other time, because I'm the one who had it copied in eighth grade. By this point he finally understood where Lu Qinglian's standoffish attitude came from.
But what surprised him more was something else—
His supposedly secret little nest had apparently been thoroughly infiltrated from the moment of discovery?
And the two of them had never discovered each other all this time?
"You usually come here to eat lunch?"
"More or less."
No wonder.
Zhang Shutong wasn't like her, always alone. He ate lunch with his buddies—he'd never come to the rooftop.
"Actually, the key was copied by me..."
"No, clearly I'm the one who found it." Lu Qinglian gently shook her head. This girl was not only naturally airheaded but also stubborn.
"It really was me who had it copied."
"Proof?"
"Guess why it's hidden under the third tile?"
"I'm the temple keeper."
"Temple keepers can divine where keys are hidden?" Zhang Shutong was shocked.
"You can understand it that way." Lu Qinglian said casually.
Zhang Shutong wanted to say I was just being sarcastic, didn't you hear? Also, why did that familiar phrase come up again? But he remembered last night when he saw her home to the mountain—that subtle arc sketched at the corner of her lips for just a moment—and suddenly realized something:
First, when she said "you can understand it that way," it definitely meant the previous sentence was a lie.
Second, this girl was never naturally airheaded. She was pretending to be airheaded. If you actually believed her words, you were the one being played.
"Stop pretending." Zhang Shutong said helplessly, "I was just fooled by you yesterday."
"You're a bit smarter than I thought, Zhang Shutong."
Sure enough, once he exposed her, she returned to that flat manner, as if her whole person had matured. She even dropped the "classmate" suffix:
"But to correct you—not just yesterday."
Zhang Shutong was too lazy to ask which other days—another trap. No matter what result he guessed, the response would just be "you can understand it that way for now." Zhang Shutong finally understood what that phrase meant—the subtext was actually "you're not very bright for now, please keep trying."
He suddenly found Lu Qinglian more interesting than he'd imagined:
"You knew all along I come here often?"
"Before today I had no idea anyone else came here."
She no longer waited to swallow the food in her mouth before speaking, but talked while taking small bites of rice:
"At first I thought you were looking for me urgently. It wasn't until you asked 'what do you mean only you come here' that I realized I was wrong."
Zhang Shutong thought she was a bit narcissistic—yesterday asking if he liked her, today unconsciously assuming he was looking for her urgently.
"So everything after that was just messing with me?"
"More or less." She took another bite of rice.
Now Zhang Shutong was confused:
"Then since you realized, why did you still pretend to be..."
"Because I don't like people disturbing my meals. This way I could get you to leave." She said carelessly, like talking to a child.
Zhang Shutong said with amusement:
"So this morning, was that also not wanting anyone to disturb your morning reading?"
"Only that wasn't."
Who knew Lu Qinglian would suddenly frown, the clump of rice under her chopsticks instantly split in two.
Poor rice.
Speaking of which, why was this girl only eating rice? From when he arrived, all he'd seen her do was take small bites of rice, rice, and more rice.
Looking into that old lunch box, he finally understood what was going on:
The aluminum lunch box's surface was already pitted and covered with scratches. Inside, there was basically only rice. Only in one corner was squeezed a small pile of pickled vegetables—not the kind sold in stores, probably homemade, a weird dark green color, somewhat wilted.
Needless to say, the lunch must have been brought down from the mountain.
Then Zhang Shutong realized why she could always use her chopsticks to pinch the rice into small clumps. At first he thought it was some special technique, but now he discovered it was just that the weather was too cold—the rice had long since gone cold, the steam on top had mostly dissipated, so it clumped together in the lunch box.
"You eat just this every day for lunch?" Zhang Shutong looked somewhat shocked.
Lu Qinglian seemed to hear his meaning:
"Only today is particularly bad."
"That's good then. If I'd known, I would have called you at lunch..."
"Usually there's also a hard-boiled egg." She pinched another clump of rice.
Zhang Shutong confirmed for a good while and found that when she said this, she was genuinely concentrating on eating, not pretending anything like before.
"Just one hard-boiled egg?"
"Sometimes it's a duck egg."
"The nutrition isn't really enough."
"I know, so I subscribe to milk every semester."
Zhang Shutong didn't know if the "milk" she mentioned was the school's daily small cartons—150ml pocket-sized packages, sweet water with less than 1.8% protein content.
He didn't know what else to say, so he simply handed her the milk tea. Though it didn't have much nutrition, at least it could provide some calories.
But sensing Lu Qinglian might not accept, he added:
"Ruoping really wants to thank you for last night. Consider it from her."
"No need." Lu Qinglian shook her head. "I don't think I'm living that badly."
"It's not about pitying you..."
Zhang Shutong thought for a moment. But how should he put it? Just friendship? They weren't friends. Just gratitude? No need for thanks. Just sympathy? But she herself didn't think she was living badly.
"I mean... like why you always come to the rooftop to eat—are you afraid of being seen?"
He didn't know why he asked that way. He couldn't say he was testing her self-esteem. It was like when two cavemen communicate, they don't necessarily know what they're saying—it's all gestures. Fortunately Lu Qinglian understood. Her voice was as quiet as water:
"No reason, just like it."
"Habit?"
"Perhaps."
"The daily hard-boiled egg is also what you like?"
"Not really."
"Then you could change to something else."
"But it's very convenient."
"It has a chicken shit smell."
"I know how to deal with that."
"That's right, I know too." Zhang Shutong put the milk tea beside her. He stood up and walked to the rooftop door. "So it's not about pitying you. Drink it or not, whatever. This is just..."
After saying all that, he still hadn't found an appropriate description, so he just left it mysterious:
"A gift."
Unfortunately Lu Qinglian didn't ask what he meant, otherwise no matter what she said, he could reply "you can understand it that way for now"—repaying her in kind.
Hearing this phrase, the young lady just furrowed her brow, as if pondering some problem.
Or rather, suddenly she didn't seem like a young lady anymore. The woman seen in that black-and-white memorial photo eight years later seemed to appear before him again, somehow familiar.
But this time Zhang Shutong understood her meaning. This was a foolish girl who couldn't even tell Oreos apart, so he kindly explained:
"Don't eat those black ones—they're tapioca pearls. Spit them out when you drink."
She paused upon hearing this. The sense of familiarity disappeared. The young lady's gaze suddenly became quite terrifying again. Though still expressionless, right now she very much resembled this morning:
"...Don't treat me like I'm stupid."