Chapter 15: Incredibly Beautiful

In fact, his acquaintance with the girl before him dated back to the first day of seventh grade, and even decades later, he could still recall the scene vividly.

It was September 1st, a clear day.

When Li Heng carried a stack of new books to line up for registration in Class 125, the previously noisy classroom suddenly fell dead silent—all eyes, including the homeroom teacher’s and every classmate’s, fixed on the new arrival, Xiao Han.

Being so close at the time, the impression was deepest; it felt as if this impossibly beautiful girl had stepped down from a rainbow cloud.

One glance, and like all the other boys in class, his heart was lit up—as if he’d walked into a fairy tale.

His blood surged suddenly, his mouth went dry, and he felt inexplicably tense.

She’s damn beautiful!

How could such a beautiful person exist in this small town?

Everyone’s first impression was the same.

Xiao Han’s presence overshadowed the entire Class 125, making everyone else seem dull and dim.

Even now he remembered how, unconsciously, both boys and girls in class began copying her habit of propping her cheek with her right hand, keeping her nails long, and mimicking her tone of speech.

Unfortunately, the goodwill Li Heng had slowly built up was later worn away by the chair-snatching incident, leaving their relationship stuck for a long time—neither close nor distant, hovering between stranger and classmate.

Xiao Han and Chen Zijin were both close friends of Yang Ying; bound by Yang Ying, the three girls often ate together and took walks side by side.

But her relationship with Chen Zijin was unusually complex—marked by academic rivalry and some unknown quarrels; “rival and friend” best described the two girls.

In the first semester of ninth grade, Li Heng and Xiao Han had briefly been desk partners for half a month, but when Chen Zijin from another class found out, she demanded they be separated immediately.

Already often at odds, Xiao Han lifted her chin and deliberately provoked her: “What, are you so insecure you’re afraid your boyfriend will cheat on you?”

Chen Zijin didn’t hide it at all: “I’m not afraid, but I have to watch out for you.”

Xiao Han was never one to take things lying down; she snorted coldly in reply: “If you’re so scared of everything, why not just tie him to your belt and carry him around everywhere?”

Only you treat him like a treasure—look around, who else even cares?”

Listening to the two girls’ exchange gave Li Heng a headache; later, he went to the homeroom teacher himself and requested a seat change.

Looking back now, those words and actions seemed childish, but that’s how naive youth passed by.

That was probably the most vivid memory of his middle school years—romantic as a freshly bloomed rose, filling the garden with fragrance, intoxicating.

But many beautiful things, you think are merely the warm-up of life, yet in truth they are the final aria. A middle-school Xiao Han, a high-school Song Yu—when he grew old and looked back on his early life, he realized he’d already met the two most stunning women of his life before he even knew what love was.

In fact, he could fully understand why Chen Zijin had to be wary of Xiao Han.

A sweet voice, a healing smile, a face pure as first love—when this girl wanted to win someone’s affection, few boys could resist.

As the boys often said: her charm couldn’t be stopped even by death itself.

But Xiao Han was two-faced, with a changeable personality—sweet one moment, sharp the next.

When she got angry, she was bitterly cold and ruthless; Li Heng had suffered plenty on that front, and deep down he naturally avoided provoking her.

After instinctively greeting each other, their eyes met briefly in the air, then Moqi ly looked away—as if they weren’t particularly familiar.

Wei Shiman, sensing something odd, secretly glanced at her daughter, then scanned Li Heng from head to toe, with a faint air of dismissal.

Seeing this, Li Heng wasn’t surprised at all.

They say clothes make the man, and a fine saddle adorns a horse; his outfit, patched and mended for years, was perfectly normal in the rural countryside, but to Wei Shiman, who lived in comfort, it clearly looked shabby.

Especially with his bamboo hat on his head, straw raincoat on his back, stains of dirty water on his clothes and pant legs, and his worn-out rubber shoes caked solid with yellow mud—dirty as a sack thrown over his body—who could possibly look up to him?

The Xiao family didn’t farm; they bought rice to eat. With her experience, Wei Shiman could instantly tell rice quality, so no matter how much Tian Rune gushed, she didn’t stay long before leaving.

Li Heng stayed silent beside them, and only after the mother and daughter left did he comfort his mother:

“Mom, if they won’t buy it, forget it—take it home and cook it for me. I’m growing now, and I’m starving for white rice.”

Hearing her son beg for white rice, Tian Rune didn’t scold him—she only sighed heavily:

“Manzi, school’s starting soon, and you and your second sister still don’t have enough tuition.”

In the past, Li Heng had been too young to care about tuition; to avoid labor, he’d either hole up in his room reading or carry a bucket to the river to catch fish and shrimp—every semester, Tian Run’e always managed to scrape together the money for him.

He asked: “How much is still missing?”

Tian Run’e said: “About thirty yuan.”

Li Heng looked down at the four bags of rice and instantly understood—his mother had priced the rice by the exact amount she needed.

But unfortunately, it seemed he hadn’t checked the almanac today—half a morning had passed, and still no buyers.

…

On the other side.

After walking about twenty meters, Xiao Han asked her mother: “Mom, is that rice really that bad? I thought it looked pretty good.”

Wei Shiman replied: “It’s not bad, but better rice is available on the market today.”

Her husband was picky about food, so she always bought the best-quality rice and vegetables.

A few steps forward, Wei Shiman suddenly realized something, turned her head to her daughter, and asked: “You know him? Are you classmates?”

“Mm.”

Xiao Han nodded: “We were in the same class for all three years of middle school, and we’re in the same high school too.”

Wei Shiman was surprised: “He went to high school too?”

Xiao Han pursed her lips: “Mom thinks they’re so poorly dressed they can’t afford high school?”

Wei Shiman had indeed thought that, but never voiced it; she asked curiously:

“If he got into Shaoshan No.1 High, his grades must be excellent. Why have I never heard you mention him before?”

Xiao Han slightly sneered: “I’m not especially close to him—why would I bring him up?”

Wei Shiman, who hadn’t caught his name earlier, glanced at her daughter: “Only seven of you from your middle school batch got into Shaoshan No.1—what’s his name?”

Xiao Han corrected: “There were seven—plus one who got in through connections.”

The “connection” she meant was Zhang Zhiyong—his aunt’s husband was a middle school principal, part of the same education system, with his own channels.

(End of chapter)