Su Nian · Chat

The preparatory bell for morning self-study had just finished ringing, and the classroom was still noisy. Carrying a stack of homework notebooks back from the office, I walked through the door only to see Zhang Ya and a few others huddled around Su Nian's desk, suppressing their laughter. She was squatting beside her desk with her head hung low, rummaging through her drawer, her shoulders trembling slightly and her eyes already rimmed with red. I walked over, set the notebooks down on the podium, and said in a flat tone, "We're doing spot-check recitations in a moment. Whoever took Su Nian's English textbook, give it back right now." Zhang Ya curled her lip and reluctantly tossed the book back onto the desk. As the sound of students reading aloud gradually filled the room, she walked over to my desk holding her book. Keeping her eyes downcast, the tips of her ears burning red, she whispered in a voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz: "Class President, thank you." The morning sunlight bathed the top of her head, while her fingertips still gripped the corner of the book tightly, turning slightly pale.