He felt a bit dazed again. This world… really changes so fast. It’s like you look up, and everyone has moved on, leaving just a little kid like you standing there.
He pushed open the stall door and walked out, but then he abruptly stopped.
In the mirror above the sink, he saw Sadako—white dress, black hair, with her face hidden behind her hanging hair. She had her hands under the faucet, but the water wasn’t running. She remained frozen in a handwashing posture.
At that moment, Lu Mingfei would have preferred if it were really Sadako, slowly crawling out of the mirror—at least then he’d scream, “There’s a ghost!”
But it was Chen Wenwen.
“I… I walked into the wrong place…” Lu Mingfei explained, only to realize that his words didn’t matter at all.
Chen Wenwen acted as if she didn’t see him. She turned on the faucet, wetting her hand and patting her face. She placed her phone on the sink, and when she reached to pick it up, she fumbled it, and with a “thud,” the phone fell and slid across the tiles to Lu Mingfei.
Lu Mingfei bent down slowly to pick it up, carefully handing it back to her while glancing at her expression. His curiosity was too strong, and his eyes rolled over the screen. Chen Wenwen was also using an iPhone, and the iPhone’s messaging system displayed all the texts with a person like a chat log, stringing together messy memories.
“Not wearing the bracelet I gave you last birthday…”
“Did you get the text I sent earlier? The one about the bracelet…”
“Got it. Not wearing it today; it’s too hot.”
“Yeah, it is hot. I had insomnia last night, kept thinking about the past. I can only sleep for one or two hours each time. Did you sleep well?”
“Not bad. Drink some milk before bed, and you’ll sleep better.”
“Do you still think about me?”
“Don’t think too much. We’re still classmates.”
“Last night, I dreamed I was rowing on a river. I texted you asking where you were, and you said you were waiting for me on the bridge ahead. I rowed towards the bridge, but everything around me was foggy. I kept rowing but couldn’t see the bridge. I texted you again, and you said you were still waiting for me on the bridge. I thought maybe the bridge was behind me, so I tried to row back, but the current was too fast, so I kept moving forward… and then I woke up.”
“Don’t overthink it. A calm heart has no dreams.”
“Do you understand what my dream means?”
“I understand, but I don’t want to hear it. It’s meaningless. The less we say, the better it is for both of us.”
“You don’t want to hear from me anymore. Do you have a new girlfriend?”
“Stop asking! It’s a party today. Let people enjoy their food! You keep texting, and Lu Mingfei is right next to you watching!”
“Don’t be mad. If you find a new girlfriend, I will wish you…”
The last message was unfinished, and now, it no longer needed to be sent.
To give blessings was easy—just go out, buy some flowers, and rush in to give them to Liu Miaomiao, saying, “You’re such a good girl. Now that Zhao Menghua is with you, I’m relieved…” But was that really what you wanted to say? Blessings? Don’t be ridiculous, even Lu Mingfei, with “a love life as blank as a canvas for painting the most beautiful pictures,” wouldn’t buy that!
Lu Mingfei’s face twitched slightly, unsure of what expression to use.
He actually had every reason to smile smugly. The girl you liked once gave you the “good guy card” and then fell into the arms of some fancy rich kid, but now she’s been dumped. If your petty heart doesn’t give a bit of laughter, I won’t believe it! What goes around comes around! Haha! Shouldn’t those “serves you right for thinking I was a nobody when my feelings for you were real and genuine, but that playboy, what’s he got besides money and looks?” words just come out? Or maybe be more gentlemanly and say, “It’ll pass, everyone goes through a breakup.” And secretly think, “That’s what you get for dumping me!”
But Lu Mingfei just scratched his head and sighed.
He was too cowardly—so much that even his desire for revenge was minimal. In his dream, Lu Mingze had asked, “Aren’t you going to take revenge on the world?” Lu Mingfei had never thought about it. On the contrary, he often gave out sympathy cards, even to Chen Wenwen, who had given him a “good guy card.”
Reading those texts, Lu Mingfei felt that Chen Wenwen was exhausted, that she had already given her all. Her face was wet, pale, and so tired that it made people feel sad.
“Stop reading,” Chen Wenwen said softly as she took the phone from his hand and turned off the screen. “It’s fine.”
“Oh, oh.” Lu Mingfei quickly nodded.
Chen Wenwen lifted her long white skirt to wipe her face, smoothed her hair, took a deep breath, and stood straight. Where was the resentment? There was none at all; instead, she looked like Joan of Arc, about to head to the battlefield.
“Don’t say anything, just promise.” Chen Wenwen looked at Lu Mingfei through the mirror.
She always spoke to him like this. Back when they were in the literature club, whenever she arranged something for Lu Mingfei to do, like setting up a venue, she would say, “The venue has to be done properly, promise me,” as if Lu Mingfei’s promise actually meant something.
“Yeah, I promise.” Lu Mingfei raised his hand just like before.
The two of them returned to the private room, and a new round of pizzas had already been served. Everyone was cheerful, as if it had been even livelier without them.
Lu Mingfei absentmindedly chewed on his pizza, observing the people around him. It seemed like everyone was slightly different from before. He noticed a lot of details, like Zhao Menghua taking two pieces of pizza and tearing one for Liu Miaomiao; like Liu Miaomiao absentmindedly drinking from Zhao Menghua’s soda; like a few of the boys who used to say how pretty Liu Miaomiao was no longer sneaking glances at her long legs under the skirt; and like how Zhao Menghua and Liu Miaomiao were sitting close to each other, separated from the others.
Suddenly, Lu Mingfei understood—when it came to feelings, he was just an idiot. He had never understood anyone’s gaze, and everything he thought was wrong.