From age seventeen to twenty-four, the question He Dongli heard most often in her relationships was: How did you and Zong Chi meet?
Thinking about it, she realized it had been about five years since anyone last asked her this.
She could barely remember how she used to answer back then: classmates, schoolmates.
Before they started university, they’d been in the same class for two years.
After the arts and sciences split, they became high school alumni.
Then, the person asking would always get curious again: So, rich kids go to public schools too?
I thought he’d have gone to an American high school abroad early on.
Back then, among all the rumors about Zong and He dating, the one everyone believed as gospel was that Zong Chi, just to be closer to his girlfriend, stayed behind alone to finish high school in China, defying his parents’ wishes.
Sometimes, at these lively gatherings, He Dongli would soberly bust the myth: No, he was just immature back then, and so was I.
We weren’t even friends, to be honest.
Everyone says his family is loaded, but before high school, he never once offered to pay me back for a six-yuan bowl of beef noodles.
Everyone would burst out laughing, and Zong Chi never seemed embarrassed.
Right in front of his friends, he’d rattle off memories: You still remember that, huh?
And you say you weren’t secretly in love with me.
He Dongli wasn’t as shameless as he was.
Even when Zong Chi drank until he was tipsy, she’d still scold him: Who was in love with you?
Keep dreaming, Zong Chi, you were really annoying back then.
You’d go out without money and eat noodles with your female classmates’ money—did you ever pay it back?
Shame on you!
When he was tipsy and dazed, taking her back to the hotel, the smell of alcohol and his mischievous smile intertwined.
He always had to take the lead, or maybe his life had been too smooth for any setbacks.
Back then, Zong Chi was brash and hot-blooded.
In those moments when things got a little wild, he couldn’t be bothered to explain himself.
Even though he knew He Dongli carried wounds he couldn’t understand, he still recklessly picked her up and answered her questions: Zong Chi, did you come back to see me just for this?
Of course.
He Dongli stood at the bathroom door of the Liang family’s hotel room, the silence—sometimes brief, sometimes long—dragging out their reunion after five years, making it feel drawn out and strange.
It was as if she and the man not far away had only just turned the page yesterday.
When they broke up, it was right during the Spring Festival holiday.
Zong Chi ignored his family’s gatherings and banquets, flew back to China, and then, after a call from He Dongli’s mother, got reported to his own father.
He Dongli could never forget that day—when Zong Chi’s father found them, he was furious and slapped Zong Chi right in front of everyone.
He cursed him as a good-for-nothing!
That year, A City had a rare heavy snowstorm.
The main roads of Sangtian Road, along with several radiating side streets, all the way to the scenic area and up the mountain, were completely shut down.
After getting slapped by his own father, Zong Chi lifted his shirt hem and carelessly wiped his glasses, then turned his head to spit something out.
He Dongli saw a patch of blood on the carpet.
Zong Jingzhou, in a stern tone, ordered Zong Chi to personally escort He Dongli downstairs.
“If you dare say one more word of ‘no,’ I’ll break your legs myself.”
When the villa’s front door opened, the wind and snow rushed into the warm room, also flooding He Dongli’s senses.
Dark blue chaos, a field of white—
Zong Chi only saw her to the door, said nothing, and turned right back inside.
In the crunch of footsteps on the snowy ground, He Dongli’s limbs felt weak.
She got into the car, her chest swirling with discomfort she couldn’t calm, forcing herself to suppress the physical reaction.
She closed her eyes.
As the car started moving, everything outside blurred into fog on the glass, a string of beads…
And so, they parted ways, for over five years.
As he said, He Dongli had a good memory since childhood.
She couldn’t forget what she’d learned, let alone the people and things she’d encountered.
Over those years, when people kept asking how she met Zong Chi, she never mentioned that, in the very beginning, the two of them were transfer students taking the entrance selection exam at the Affiliated School.
By random assignment, Zong Chi sat right in front of her.
After the written exam, as she passed her test paper forward, she watched the boy in front copy two of her multiple-choice answers.
He Dongli felt contempt.
When she left the exam room, she saw that same boy getting into a shoving match with a few people who’d been waiting outside the school gate.
Outnumbered, he was dragged into Temple Ear Alley, right beside the school, and pinned down by a boy a head taller than him.
Even though He Dongli despised his cheating, her instinct to help the weak left her no time to think.
She took out the old, battered second-hand phone her mother had given her for emergencies, ready to call the police.
A boy keeping watch spotted her.
He Dongli turned to run, but after just two or three steps, someone grabbed her backpack strap.
Her phone was snatched away, and as she shouted, chaos erupted—she had no idea how the boy who’d been pinned down got up again.
Her phone was smashed by the boy who grabbed her.
Almost instantly, the boy who’d gotten up leaped over, kicked the other right in the gut.
The school security and the teachers on duty for the weekend selection were alerted by the commotion.
The teacher who’d invigilated them came out and sternly scolded the boy who’d thrown the punch last.
He Dongli heard the teacher call his name: “Zong Chi, what am I going to do with you? So eager to fight—maybe you’ll come back as a fighting rooster in your next life! If your father finds out, it’ll be another beating!”
That’s when He Dongli realized some students could get into any school they wanted, exam or no exam.
Whether or not he copied her two answers, the result would’ve been the same.
When they left the security office, the boy named Zong Chi stopped her and said he’d pay for her phone.
He Dongli said she didn’t know how much it would cost—she’d have to ask her mom.
Zong Chi’s hair was a mess.
He said her phone was worth, at most, two hundred yuan.
He Dongli didn’t argue, just calmly said, “Mm, I’ll ask my mom. Whatever she says, that’s what you’ll pay.”
Zong Chi didn’t get it.
“When will that be?”
He Dongli said, “When school officially starts, I’ll ask you then.”
Zong Chi glanced back at the Beimen school badge and sign.
He looked at the proud, spirited girl walking toward the bus stop.
“How do you know we’ll both get accepted?”
“I know about myself. You just worry about you.”
Zong Chi was stumped, feeling awkward—he thought she was talking about those two multiple-choice questions.
He just asked, “Did you get the last two math questions right?”
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