Zhao then redrew Pang’s lip lines to make her mouth smaller and show off its outline. After changing the color of Fenghua’s eye shadow, Zhao held up a small mirror for Pang to see how she looked.
“Silly girl, see how pretty you are.”
Pang glanced away and spotted the homeroom teacher, who was gazing attentively in their direction. Still caught up in her low self-esteem, Fenghua said, “Shanshan, we country girls can never get rid of our country look.”
Zhao rapped Pang’s head with her knuckles, which hurt; it was as if only pain could help her explain what she wanted to say.
“How could you be a country girl? What makes you think that? Just look at you. You have such good qualities.”
Zhao’s earnest words entered Fenghua’s ears and went straight to her heart. She was deeply moved. Fenghua had always been concerned that she looked like a country girl, but everything was fine now that an authoritative description of her had been formed.
She was so emotional she felt a need to repay Zhao’s kindness, but before she could say anything, Zhao gave her a kind reminder: “When we’re on stage, don’t wait for me to nod to you. You have to give me the signal, all right? Remember, you’re the conductor.”
Pang just stared at Shanshan and, with a sudden sadness rising up, wrapped her arms around the girl’s waist. “Shanshan, I’ve been so jealous of you, but I promise I won’t be any longer. I mean it. Let’s be sisters.” Shanshan knew she meant it.
Knowing that people tend to degrade themselves in the grip of emotion, Shanshan still did not like what she was hearing. Fenghua was flattering herself. How dare she claim to be my sister. Who does she think she is?
Shanshan turned and saw that the homeroom teacher was watching her. This time he looked away before she did. Turning back, she took Fenghua’s hands and said, “It’s our turn.” Feeling a bit lost, Pang stared straight ahead, a blank look on her face. But she was convinced that a friendship between Shanshan and herself had taken hold. There had been, she thought, a definite improvement in their relationship. Now she was an integral member of Shanshan’s group.
Section Three did not just win; it scored a resounding victory with a huge lead over the class that came in second. When Shanshan went onstage to receive the award, the homeroom teacher signaled his approval with a tilt of his chin. He was the first to applaud. Except for Sun Jianqiang and Wang Yuyang, everyone in Section Three was bathed in a holiday mood. Luckily those two were overlooked, since the others were too happy to be reminded of them. Why would they give them even a passing thought? The homeroom teacher did not have to say or do anything for the students to know how he felt about their accomplishment.
They weren’t children, after all. Taking advantage of the happy moment, Shanshan dragged Fenghua over to the homeroom teacher’s dorm room that evening. Fenghua, who hadn’t wanted to go, stood hand in hand with Shanshan outside his room, wearing a stylish red hairclip that was a gift from Shanshan.
The teacher was happy to see them and had plums ready as a treat, as if he’d known they’d come. “You’ve done well,” he said, drawing a bashful smile from Shanshan, who was sitting on the bed next to Fenghua, still holding her hand.
The teacher lit a cigarette, but he looked like a new smoker as he puffed on it in an awkward, exaggerated manner. But that did not stop him from chattering away; in fact, he all but monopolized the conversation. His Misty Poetry-style of talking was replaced by plain everyday conversation that was easily understood by both girls. That went on for five or six minutes before Shanshan jumped to her feet, suddenly reminded of something urgent. Fenghua stood to leave with her, but Shanshan said, “You stay. I just remembered that someone’s waiting for me.” A note of self-reproach crept into her voice.
Fenghua insisted on leaving with her, but relented when Shanshan stood firm. Any more insistence would have seemed planned. The room abruptly quieted down when only the two of them were left.
“I never realized how nice Zhao Shanshan can be,” Fenghua said quietly.
“Yes, Zhao Shanshan has been behaving nicely lately,” the teacher commented after a brief silence.
Not knowing what else to say, they sat quietly, trying to think of something to talk about. And that created an atmosphere of nervous tension. They weren’t, of course, really nervous. These were unusual circumstances; they both felt a desire to do something, yet dared not take another step, for that would be crossing a line. Saying that a warm, tender feeling filled their hearts better describes the moment.
Avoiding Fenghua’s eyes, the teacher focused on the red hairclip. “I see you like red,” he said with a smile. Fenghua lowered her head and concentrated on rubbing her hands.
“Red really isn’t a good color,” he said.
Without looking up, she batted her eyes and said, “And why is that? You have to take responsibility for what you say.”
His chest heaved with a silent laugh. “For something like that? What responsibility do you expect me to take?”
“If the girls in my class say I’m not pretty, I’ll come looking for you.”
Surprised that she had the nerve to say that, he had to laugh. “I meant red isn’t a good color for you.”
“Why not?”
“It just isn’t.”
Fenghua looked up and glared at him, pointing with her chin. With her eyes fixed on his face, she blurted out harshly, “Bullshit.”
Panic-stricken at her outburst, she quickly covered her mouth, but was surprised to see that he was not offended. On the contrary, he appeared to like the way she talked; his smile seemed to indicate that he was glad to hear that kind of talk from her. She could tell that the word brought him unexpected happiness. People often forget themselves when they’re happy, and the teacher was no exception.
“What did you just say?” he asked softly. “Say it again.”
Emboldened by what he must be thinking, Fenghua leaned forward and replied in an even softer voice, “Bullshit. You’re full of shit.” Her voice was so soft that she seemed to be only mouthing the words.
He reacted to the unique whisper by smiling and saying in a honeyed voice, “Be careful, or I might sew your mouth shut.”
Falling out of love is the same as falling ill, and Yuyang’s illness was a serious one. She was weak and lethargic. Everyone in her class was elated over winning the singing contest, but their euphoria only made her more aware of her own insignificance and inferiority—yet another kind of humiliation. Preoccupied over her disappointment in love and the pain of that humiliation, she had completely forgotten an important task—she hadn’t sent a written report to Teacher Wei for two weeks in a row. His displeasure and anger were clearly on display when he pulled the curtain shut after calling her into the duty office. He got right to the point by giving an accurate diagnosis of Yuyang’s problem before asking her to talk about it: She was dispirited and her thinking must have been contaminated by something unhealthy.
As she sat across from her teacher, she felt ashamed and terrified, aware that he’d seen through her, so she looked down at her feet and held her tongue. In fact, she had been watchful since the day she had met Chu Tian, and had cautioned and castigated herself, but to no avail. Unable to control herself, she’d fallen in love with a young hooligan. The results would have been devastating if Chu Tian hadn’t destroyed himself in her eyes, if he hadn’t exposed his hooligan nature.
After being silent for as long as it took Wei to smoke half a cigarette, Yuyang finally shed tears of remorse and courageously looked up at the teacher. “I’ll tell you everything,” she said through her tears.