Chapter 101: Clarification, Final Pride (Subscription Request!)

During evening self-study, Li Heng opened Chen Zijin’s letter amid the classroom’s silence.

In his past life, he had waited a long time for this letter, sending countless letters to Beijing—only for them to vanish without a trace.

But in this life, with the success of the novel *Alive*, his connection with Chen Zijin finally came alive, just as the novel’s title promised.

The letter was not thin—it spanned three pages of stationery.

In it, Chen Zijin recounted fragments of daily life and a series of trivial academic matters; she never mentioned their feelings, nor uttered a single word of ambiguity, yet every sentence and every gap between paragraphs overflowed with longing, each line radiating her affection for him.

At the end of the letter, she asked Li Heng: Would he go to Beijing?

Would he apply to Peking University?

Chen Zijin also told him: her family hoped she would attend Renmin University’s Law School.

It seemed the Chen family had already paved her future path.

Renmin University’s Law School—just as in his past life.

It appeared Chen Zijin’s future had not been altered by his previous phone call; the anxiety in his chest finally eased.

The letter was neither long nor short; Li Heng silently reread it twice.

Song Yu, watching his every move, hesitated, then wrote on her scratch paper: Zijin sent me photos last month—do you want to see them?

Li Heng: Huh?

Song Yu replied: If you want, I can bring them on the weekend.

Li Heng wrote: No need.

Song Yu glanced at him, thought for two seconds, then replied: From the photos, she’s more beautiful than before, her features have matured, her clothing and style have more taste—and more allure.

That was to be expected.

After all, it’s Beijing—how could it compare to some mountain backwater like Shaoshan?

Li Heng wrote: Thank you.

Seeing he deliberately avoided Zijin in front of her, Song Yu let the matter drop and turned back to her own work.

After twenty minutes, Li Heng wrote a reply to Chen Zijin.

In it, he told her his college application choices and also mentioned his novel *Wanbao*.

As for Song Yu and Xiao Han—he said nothing, his conscience too guilty to mention them.

Just as he folded the letter, Song Yu suddenly pulled an envelope and two stamps from her bag and placed them gently on his desk.

Li Heng was surprised, whispering: “You prepared these for me already?”

Song Yu smiled and nodded.

Her smile was like fading light, words unspoken, breath as fragrant as orchids, graceful and effortlessly elegant.

Feeling her spring-warm smile so close, Li Heng, whose heart already belonged to someone else, was momentarily spellbound.

Seeing him stare fixedly at her, Song Yu paused, then slowly softened her smile, picked up her pen, and stared blankly at the fresh, empty scratch paper.

The pen tip hovered above the paper, its cap set aside for a long while; within those five short minutes, she had tried—and failed—to voice their relationship for the nth time.

Finally, the pen tip sank weakly onto the white page, leaving a blurred blue stain and a deep, difficult indentation.

She had been too long without writing.

She hadn’t expected that after putting the envelope away, Li Heng would simply open his lunchbox, pull out a spoon, and begin eating chicken right there on his desk, openly and without shame.

The chicken was from free-range black chickens, stewed with Tianma—aromatic, and the moment the box opened, the scent lingered in the air.

Song Yu stared blankly at the dotted lines on the white paper; the chicken’s fragrance grew sharper. At one moment, as she involuntarily turned her head to look, a slip of paper appeared before her eyes, filled with ten or so lines of writing.

Without looking at her expression, Li Heng placed the note before her and returned to his meal, eating loudly.

Song Yu took a quiet breath, shifted her gaze to the paper, and read silently.

The text read:

Whether immoral,

Whether not honorable,

I simply love someone I believe is worth loving,

Even if we can’t be together, I will keep loving them,

That is the direction of my heart—what’s the cost of betting my whole life?

Love has no worthiness or unworthiness,

Only willingness or unwillingness.

I only want to give you all my best,

Willingness is the only answer.

The words were few, yet Song Yu read them three times without realizing it; after finishing, she fell utterly silent.

The first two lines seemed like his attempt to label his actions objectively—because of Chen Zijin, this love was neither moral nor upright.

But he didn’t care; he only felt he loved someone worth loving.

As for the rest, "betting my whole life" and "willingness" struck Song Yu with greater force; her heart stirred violently and could not calm down for a long time.

Overall, Li Heng used retreat as advance: he defined his actions, laid bare his feelings, as if freeing her—yet in doing so, bound her even tighter, more firmly.

Reading it again silently, Song Yu’s stiff pen tip finally moved again, writing: From Lin Huiyin?

Li Heng playfully replied: Yes—if it weren’t from a famous person, I’d fear you’d hit me, and it wouldn’t carry weight.

Song Yu smiled, writing: You’re a celebrity now.

Li Heng replied: Do celebrities get a pass?

What pass?

The pass for love comes first.

The pass to love her.

Lin Huiyin’s romantic life had always been a topic of fascination; Li Heng was shamelessly comparing himself to her.

He showed no hypocrisy, no evasion or taboo—he admitted he had fallen for her before fully severing ties with Chen Zijin.

In truth, there was no choice: whether he admitted it or not, in Song Yu’s eyes—and in the eyes of Mai Sui, Sun Manning, Chen Lijun, and Zhang Zhiyong—he was already a man who had shifted his affections.

Better to be open than to hide.

The word “pass” made the faint smile Song Yu had just shown vanish; she pondered long, then wrote again: Why?

Why?

Why do you like me?

She had asked once before; now, she insisted again. Li Heng thought, and this time did not evade.

He wrote:

What cannot be restrained is love; love has never been rational.

Life is short,

You must love someone.

The one who makes you smile the moment you see them;

The one who smiles the moment they see you.

The most romantic encounter is when you turn your head just as I lift mine.

These words, again from Lin Huiyin, answered Song Yu’s question perfectly, completing a flawless circle.

Sometimes, the same phrase carries more weight when spoken by a master—Song Yu’s heart stirred even more after reading it.

But the effect was immediate: she did not reply again, nor did she dwell on why he loved her.

From far away, the smell of chicken reached the first row; Zou Aiming, in Group One, called out to Li Heng in Group Three:

“Old Heng, such good food—won’t you share?”

Li Heng didn’t look up: “It’s Song Yu’s.”

“Oh! Master Heng, keep eating—I’ll pretend I just let out a fart.” Zou Aiming muttered bitterly.

Li Heng replied: “No problem—next time, let’s be more refined.”

Evening self-study was quiet, but their exchange was heard by the whole class; laughter erupted instantly.

Sun Manning, in the front row, turned around and stared fixedly at Song Yu; after a long pause, she asked haltingly:

“You’re Song Yu—the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in this life—how did you get conquered like this?”

Song Yu opened her mouth to explain, but Li Heng cut in: “Comrade Sun Manning, I don’t like that remark.”

“I—” Sun Manning was speechless.

Homeroom teacher Wang Qi, startled by the laughter, walked into the classroom and asked sternly:

“What are you doing? Not studying? Already got into university?”

Liu Yejiang snitched: “Song Yu brought chicken from home for Li Heng—he’s been showing it off all evening.”

Oddly enough, even villains have their joys—now the whole class, hiding behind books, grinned again.

Song Yu?

Song Yu had always been the teacher’s symbol of “pure and untouchable”—she brought food for Li Heng? Teacher Wang Qi, like everyone else, looked stunned.

The “Nine Thousand Years” immediately called out: “Song Yu, Li Heng—come out here.”

Great—another lecture coming.

Li Heng stood, glanced at Liu Yejiang, then walked toward the classroom door.

Song Yu sat still for a moment, then followed him out.

Inside the office, Wang Qi closed the door, frowned at Li Heng: “What’s going on? Didn’t you promise me you’d hold off until college?”

The way she phrased it made Song Yu feel strange.

Li Heng said: “Teacher, you’ve misunderstood—I’m just a bit greedy. Song Yu gave me chicken, and I couldn’t resist eating a few pieces.”

Teacher Wang Qi plopped onto his chair and chuckled: “Greedy? A few pieces of chicken really warrant this? I think you’re not craving chicken—you’re craving Song Yu.”

This was even more outrageous. Song Yu didn’t know whether to stand or leave; her right hand unconsciously brushed a strand of fine hair behind her ear, her gaze drifting toward the window, her cheeks faintly flushed.

Li Heng and Teacher Wang Qi had never seen Song Yu look shy before—subtly, though not obviously.

But her beauty carried a different charm.

Wang Qi’s eyes lingered on Song Yu’s face for two seconds. He sighed inwardly, suddenly understanding why Li Heng, with his youthful vigor, could no longer hold back.

After weighing his options, Wang Qi told Li Heng: “Go back to class and switch seats with Sun Manning.”

Li Heng groaned, “No, no, Teacher—ask Song Yu first. Have I harassed her?”

Wang Qi lit a cigarette, took two puffs, and said: “It’s only ten days. Tough it out. Go.”

Ordered to leave, Li Heng reluctantly returned to class—but he was shameless, refusing to mention the seat-switching at all.

After Li Heng left, Wang Qi asked Song Yu in as calm a voice as he could manage:

“Did you really bring that brat chicken?”

Song Yu had intended to truthfully say, “Chen Zijin asked me to bring it,” but then realized: if she said that, the relationship among the three would only seem more complicated and tangled.

After a moment’s hesitation, Song Yu answered: “I gave it to him.”

Then she told a small lie, adding: “I brought some for Mai Sui and the others too.”

This relieved Wang Qi immensely; even his cigarette seemed to burn more easily. He then asked the question he cared about most:

“Has Li Heng harassed you?”

Li Heng’s affection for Song Yu was practically public knowledge—both parties were aware—so the homeroom teacher spoke openly this time, no longer beating around the bush as he had in the past.

Song Yu shook her head.

Wang Qi asked again: “Does sitting next to him cause you psychological stress?”

Song Yu shook her head again, calmly saying: “It’s fine.”

Wang Qi nodded, clearly trusting Song Yu’s words more than Li Heng’s.

The two talked for about ten minutes, mostly with the homeroom teacher offering her advice.

Drawing on his own experience, he taught her how to handle life, studies, and romantic feelings correctly.

To be honest, because Song Yu and Mai Sui were so outstanding, he’d worried endlessly these past few years, fearing other boys might distract them from their studies.

This conversation went pleasantly. Wang Qi smiled and said: “Only fifteen days left until the college entrance exam. This might be the last time I speak with you alone. In a few months, you’ll be a university student, a pillar of the nation.”

“At that point, I’ll have to change how I speak to you. Go on—study hard, keep your composure. Peking University may be out of reach for others, but for you, it’s not a dream—it’s just a new beginning. The school and your teachers believe in you.”

“Thank you, Teacher.”

Song Yu politely expressed her gratitude and returned to class.

Soon after, Wang Qi arrived in class. His gaze swept twice over Li Heng, then twice over Sun Manning and Mai Sui in the front row. Finally, he stood right beside Li Heng’s desk, watching him solve a math problem before leaving.

When he left, Wang Qi didn’t mention switching seats again. Instead, he called Mai Sui to his office—clearly to give her one final pep talk before the exam.

As the countdown on the upper-right corner of the blackboard ticked down day by day, Homeroom Teacher Wang Qi relaxed his control over Class 204, greatly increasing his tolerance.

Whether male or female, nearly every behavior once considered crossing the line was now excused by Wang Qi as “relieving exam pressure.”

So during this period, as long as things weren’t too extreme—even if boys and girls swapped seats for a class or two—he pretended not to notice, didn’t investigate, and didn’t force them back.

Such a relaxed environment was rare in three years of high school—and sure enough, a few students took advantage, daring to push boundaries.

July 3rd.

At lunch in the cafeteria, Liu Li proudly yet anxiously told Li Heng, Zhang Zhiyong, and Zou Ai: “Have you three noticed? Chen Dan keeps switching seats with me lately.”

“Even during breaks, she often comes over to sit with me. At first, it made me so nervous—do you think she likes me?”

Zou Ai asked: “Has she talked to you?”

Liu Li thought back: “Occasionally, but not often.”

Zou Ai asked again: “Has she passed you notes?”

Liu Li said: “No.”

At that moment, Sun Manning sat down with her tray of food. “Maybe she’s just shy.”

Seeing Sun Manning, Liu Li instinctively glanced behind her—and only when he saw Mai Sui and Song Yu, but not Chen Lijun, did he finally exhale in relief.

Sun Manning guessed his thoughts, waved her tray, and grinned: “What are you afraid of? Lijun isn’t here—she’s taking a shower. I got her food for her.”

Liu Li grumbled: “Next time, don’t sneak up like that—you’ll scare me to death.”

Sun Manning shrugged, teasing: “If we didn’t sneak, how would we find out that Liu Li, who’s always afraid to talk to girls alone, is actually a flirt?”

“Just now, your proud expression completely shattered my three-year perception of you.”

This flushed Liu Li’s face crimson. He buried his head in his food, smiling awkwardly in silence.

The rest of them began speculating: how had Liu Li, who looked like a bitter melon, attracted Chen Dan?

Maybe they talked too much. Maybe they kept mocking him. Eventually, Liu Li couldn’t help defending himself:

“You don’t understand night if you only know day—it’s fate, okay? You guys are too shallow.”

Seeing Li Heng unusually quiet, Mai Sui asked with concern: “Li Heng, are you feeling unwell?”

At this, Song Yu turned to look.

Sun Manning, Zhang Zhiyong, and Liu Li, who had been arguing moments before, fell silent and all turned to Li Heng.

Li Heng chewed slowly, swallowed his food, then looked up and said: “I’m not unwell—I just don’t know whether I should speak.”

Mai Sui asked curiously: “Why?”

Li Heng glanced at Liu Li, wondering mischievously whether to reveal the cruel truth—when suddenly, a bottle of soda flew through the air and landed on his back, accompanied by Class Monitor Liu Hui’s voice:

“Lao Heng, I got you a soda.”

Then, Liu Hui handed out the entire stack of sodas he’d been carrying—each student received exactly one, as if he’d planned it.

After distributing them, Liu Hui still had one left. “Hey, where’s Chen Lijun? Why isn’t she with you today?”

Sun Manning said: “She’s on her period. She’s in the dorm.”

“Then take this soda to her for me.”

Saying this, Liu Hui handed the soda to Sun Manning and sat down beside Li Heng.

Zhang Zhiyong asked the monitor: “Whoa, a rare sight! You never sit down to eat in the cafeteria—why today?”

Liu Hui answered awkwardly: “I came to find Lao Heng.”

At this, everyone turned their gazes toward Li Heng.

The course of history hadn’t changed after all—the inevitable had come. Li Heng thought to himself.

In his past life, of the entire Class 204, only Li Heng and Song Yu had a romantic relationship—and Liu Hui and Chen Dan had married.

Though they became a happy couple, Liu Hui had suffered greatly in the beginning. Because of his plain looks, he pursued Chen Dan for fourteen years before finally winning her heart.

During those fourteen years, Chen Dan had been attracted to three other boys—Li Heng was one of them.

Don’t ask how Li Heng knew.

Because he’d attended their wedding—and Liu Hui hadn’t hidden his wife’s past. Over drinks, he’d proudly recounted it all.

Gathering his memories, Li Heng understood why Liu Hui had come. He asked: “Want to eat outside?”

Liu Hui replied gratefully: “Sure. You’re the only one who really understands me, Lao Heng.”

Amid the curious stares of the others, Li Heng picked up his food tray and left the cafeteria first.

Liu Hui followed.

Outside, in a deserted corner, Li Heng stopped and waited for the other to speak.

Liu Hui seemed nervous, struggling to begin. After a long silence, he finally asked:

“Lao Heng, do you really like Song Yu—or is it just gossip?”

He asked this because he knew Li Heng had once dated Chen Zijin, so while rumors flew, he couldn’t be certain.

Li Heng said: “I really do.”

Hearing this, Liu Hui seemed to gain strength, his tone relaxing. “D-Did Chen Dan write you a love letter?”

Li Heng nodded. “Yeah.”

The letter had been secretly passed to him during lunch break—a rare one that slipped past Teacher Wang Qi’s inspections.

Probably because the girl realized Wang Qi flipped through desks, so she’d cleverly avoided it.

Liu Hui’s face collapsed. He forced a smile worse than crying. “A-And what about you? What did you think of Chen Dan?”

Li Heng said: “Relax—I never opened it.”

Seeing the other’s anxious silence, he added: “I know you like her. Go after her properly. I’ll destroy the letter later.”

At this, Liu Hui set his tray aside and grabbed Li Heng’s right hand in excitement: “Thank you so much! Thank you so much!”

“I know this is bold, maybe even offensive—but I can’t help it!”

“My grades weren’t great in junior high, but for her, I re-studied every textbook from elementary through junior high during the summer break. In third year, I studied day and night just to follow her into No. 1 High and into Class 204. I hope you understand my desperation.”

Understand.

How could he not?

Honestly, he was genuinely impressed by Liu Hui’s persistence. He joked half-seriously: “You’re impressive—liking a girl since junior high, and with that kind of determination.”

“Hehe, we’re even. I know you dated Chen Zijin back in junior high too. But I don’t have your looks—I can only be your shadow.” Liu Hui spoke with deep self-awareness, no pretense.

Li Heng asked casually: “Does Chen Dan know you like her?”

Liu Hui puffed his cheeks. “After all these years, how could she not? She’s not stupid—she knows. But she just laughs it off.”

“She told me she likes you. Didn’t she once go out of her way to sit next to you? Thank goodness Sun Manning chased her away. Otherwise, my world would’ve collapsed.”

Li Heng liked this guy’s honesty—but collapse? Really?

The university will collapse again later.

Entering society will bring another collapse.

Just wait, you’ll have it rough.

To him, Chen Dan was merely a passerby among passersby; if Liu Hui hadn’t come to him in his past life, he never would’ve noticed her.

Of course, Liu Hui came to him precisely because he feared Li Heng would grab at anything—just to pull Chen Dan into his orbit.

Back at the cafeteria, Sun Man couldn’t hold back and asked the two, “Two big guys being so secretive—what are you hiding?”

Liu Hui didn’t answer Sun Man, but picked up his soda and said to Song Yu, “Song Yu, I toast you with this soda—thank you.”

Song Yu was puzzled, glanced at Li Heng, and remained reserved, not moving.

Since there were only four classes left this afternoon, and Li Heng already knew about Chen Dan, Liu Hui spoke generously:

“If you weren’t Song Yu, and if you weren’t Lao Heng’s desk partner, Chen Dan would’ve asked you to switch seats these past days.”

The first half meant Chen Dan feared Song Yu.

The middle half expressed relief that Li Heng liked Song Yu, not just any girl.

The last half explained the situation to everyone.

After hearing it, all were smart enough to instantly understand.

Sun Man first glanced at Li Heng, then turned to Liu Li, and burst out laughing, covering her mouth: “Liu Li, you’re so shameless!”

Liu Li was utterly mortified, face flushed red: “If you know, keep it to yourself! Don’t say it out loud—we’re this close, can’t you give Old Liu a little face? I’ve barely ever been proud of my charm in my whole life. Really, truly—”

As he spoke, Liu Li couldn’t go on, and collapsed face-down on the table: “Ah! I’ve lost all dignity!”

Everyone couldn’t help laughing, and laughed for a long time.

Finally, Song Yu picked up her soda and lightly clinked it against Liu Hui’s: “Wishing you success in the exams and all your wishes fulfilled.”

“Thank you, thank you!” Liu Hui was deeply grateful, and downed more than half the bottle in one gulp.

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(End of Chapter)