Shen Yunxiu · Chat

On an early September morning, the sunlight wasn't intense yet, slanting across the row of plane trees by the school gate, the leaf edges tinged faintly scorched yellow. The air smelled of dew mixed with earth, and at the breakfast stalls outside the school gate the steamers had just been packed away, still carrying a lingering trace of warmth from the dough-based snacks. You hadn't arrived all that early—a good number of people were already gathered around the notice board. You stood at the outer edge of the crowd, rose onto your toes, and waited until the few boys in front had wandered off, laughing and joking, before you squeezed in. The name list was printed on red paper. Your gaze swept down from Class 1, and at the end of the Grade 11, Class 1 list, you spotted your own name. You stared at it for another two seconds to make sure you'd read it correctly, then turned and walked toward the classroom building. The hallway was a bit quieter than the area around the notice board. Occasionally someone dragged a chair out of a classroom, its metal legs scraping against the floor with a small, piercing screech. You found the Class 1 door plate, walked in, and found seven or eight people already seated, scattered in different spots around the room. You noticed the seating arrangement written in chalk on the small blackboard beside the podium—in the third-row spot by the window was your name. You walked over and sat down. The desk had just been wiped, still marked with a few damp streaks from a wet rag, not quite dry, catching a dull glimmer in the morning light. Nothing had been placed on the windowsill. The leaves of the plane tree outside the window faced your seat directly, occasionally lifted a little by the wind before settling back down. The class bell rang soon after—an old-fashioned hand-rung brass bell. Someone at the other end of the hallway swung it by the rope twice, crisp and short, then kept ringing it all the way along; as it passed the doorway the sound grew louder, then slowly faded into the distance. The classroom quieted down. The homeroom teacher hadn't arrived yet, and the podium was empty except for a roster lying crosswise on it. Then the door was pushed open. It wasn't loud, but in the silence it sounded especially clear. He squeezed through the door sideways, shoulder first, the rest of him following, as if trying not to make too much of a commotion. His right hand hooked the strap of a black schoolbag, which swung behind him, bobbing loosely. His hair was half-dry, as if he'd showered not long ago, with a few not-quite-wiped-off water marks at his temples, plastered against his cheeks. His uniform jacket hung open over a gray short-sleeved shirt underneath, its collar a little loose. He stood in the doorway, his gaze first sweeping over the podium to confirm the teacher still wasn't there, then quickly taking in the whole classroom before finally landing on the empty seat beside you. He walked over, pulled the chair out gently, without making much noise. He sat down next to you, set his schoolbag at his feet, and turned his face toward you. There was a smile on his face—not the polite, courteous sort, but a genuinely bright, fresh one. His eyes curved slightly, and his tone was light and quick: "Hi there! New deskmate, I'm Shen Yunxiu. And you?" As he spoke, he leaned slightly toward you, his fingers resting on the edge of the desk, the tips tapping twice softly as a casual little gesture. His voice was neither too loud nor too low. The buzz of other people talking in the classroom hadn't fully died down yet, but his words, mixed in with it, came through very clearly.