Chapter 87

Late June, the sun blazed like fire, the earth a steaming cage.

Even at night, sleep was hard to come by—a torment for students on the brink of the college entrance exam.

Everything to be learned had been learned; everything to be practiced had been practiced. All they wished was for tomorrow to be exam day—success or failure, just get it over with.

Xia Yue hadn’t slept well for two days.

Lu Jingyao had promised her the Algebra book, but it arrived days late; the promised volumes on Plane Geometry and Solid Geometry never came at all.

This completely shattered Xia Yue’s plan, for even though these self-study texts were invaluable, they required time to absorb.

With barely over a month left, Xia Yue had begged Teacher Hu to help her condense the key points, and even then, she’d only grasped the basics.

As for the later geometry books, she’d given up hope.

She’d sent multiple letters and telegrams urging delivery—still no reply. That meant Lu Jingyao had broken her word.

“Sigh~”

Xia Yue sighed, saw the sky outside the window beginning to lighten, then finally fell into a deep sleep.

But she didn’t know that Lu Jingyao, thousands of miles away, had also been feeling uneasy for days.

Lu Jingyao had originally obtained part of the Self-Study Series from Liu Muhan—only a highly educated family like Liu’s could possess such scarce books.

But the several Geometry volumes Lu Jingyao promised Xia Yue came from a senior student.

In the end, that student reneged, claiming he’d already lent the books to someone else.

This left Lu Jingyao deeply embarrassed; she had to beg Liu Muhan again to see if she could acquire them indirectly.

But at this critical moment before the college entrance exam, where could one even find such scarce items? Even Liu Muhan couldn’t help.

Helpless, Lu Jingyao wrote to Xia Yue to explain—but before her letter arrived, Xia Yue’s letters and telegrams kept pouring in.

Reading the frantic, demanding words on the letters and telegrams, Lu Jingyao felt absurd.

“I can’t help you—and now I’m the guilty one?”

This hurt Lu Jingyao deeply. Xia Yue had once been her best friend—how had she become so extreme?

Just then, Lu Jingyao’s final exams began, and after exhausting herself without reward, she suddenly felt utterly drained.

She returned to her dormitory in low spirits, washed her face with water, skipped her usual study session, and collapsed onto her bed.

Above her, Liu Muhan noticed something was off, leaned halfway down, and asked: “You look listless. Sick?”

Lu Jingyao shook her head: “No, just tired.”

Liu Muhan studied her for a moment: “You’re sure you don’t need my comfort?”

Lu Jingyao smiled: “Go on with your own business. I’m fine.”

Liu Muhan snapped back up, lay down, and resumed reading her novel.

Lu Jingyao glanced over idly, her gaze sharpened: “Muhan, didn’t you already read that book, The Infiltrator?”

Liu Muhan squinted: “I’ve read it twice. But this novel’s got something to it. You finish it, forget most details, then reread—it’s still interesting...”

“Interesting?”

“Yes. A fresh writing style—unlike traditional literature or wuxia. It takes an unconventional path, bold and original. This Seven-Inch Blade must be quite an intriguing person.”

Lu Jingyao froze for a long moment. Li Ye’s face flashed in her mind—but she couldn’t connect him to “intriguing” at all.

Before this winter, Li Ye had been simple-minded, always clinging to her, annoying her.

This winter, Li Ye had become cold, keeping her at arm’s length, avoiding her entirely.

Between the two, it was as if he’d become someone else.

Or perhaps he hadn’t changed—just his heart had turned cold.

Without thinking, Lu Jingyao asked: “Muhan, do you think Seven-Inch Blade can get into Beijing University?”

Liu Muhan, absorbed in her book, replied automatically: “Beijing University? Hard to say. Seven-Inch Blade writes novels, sure—but writing novels doesn’t prove his Chinese scores are good, let alone the others...”

Liu Muhan stopped mid-sentence, then, like a nimble monkey, flipped down from her top bunk and landed on Lu Jingyao’s bed.

“You’re saying Seven-Inch Blade is taking the Beijing University exam?”

“I... didn’t... I just wondered.”

Liu Muhan knew people too well—she instantly spotted the panic in Lu Jingyao’s eyes.

In the early 1980s, girls still held poets and writers in high regard. Liu Muhan immediately brightened.

“The author bio says Seven-Inch Blade is a young writer from Dongshan Province. You’re from Dongshan too. Tell me—are you acquainted?”

“........”

Lu Jingyao stayed silent, but her shifting gaze betrayed her.

“You know Seven-Inch Blade well, don’t you?”

“........”

Liu Muhan was stunned. She shoved Lu Jingyao hard against the inner wall of the bed, excited: “Tell me—what’s Seven-Inch Blade like? An old man? A middle-aged guy?”

Lu Jingyao said nothing—or wanted to, but her mouth felt too bitter to open.

Liu Muhan asked, puzzled: “Jingyao, what’s wrong?”

After a long silence, Lu Jingyao forced a awkward smile: “He’s just... my former classmate.”

“........”

Liu Muhan froze, then slowly realized.

She widened her eyes: “Your ex... boyfriend?”

Lu Jingyao said nothing—her silence was confirmation.

Liu Muhan sat stunned for a long while, then blurted: “So... is he ugly?”

Lu Jingyao shook her head.

Liu Muhan pressed: “Short? Dark? Any weird flaws?”

Lu Jingyao laughed outright: “He’s 1.8 meters tall. Looks... a bit better than Lin Qiang. But he’s just... not my type.”

“...........”

Liu Muhan stared at Lu Jingyao for a long time, then slowly got up, climbed back to her top bunk.

As she climbed, she muttered: “You turn your nose up at the Queen Mother’s peaches—what’ll you do when all you’ve got left are rotten apricots? You’re doomed!”

July 7, 1982, lunar calendar Ren Xu Year, fifth month, seventeenth day: auspicious for marriage, opening business, praying for blessings, traveling; inauspicious for digging wells, cutting wood, keeping livestock.

At five in the morning, Han Chunmei quietly rose, slipped free of the arm wrapped around her, dressed swiftly, and headed to the kitchen.

Today was Li Ye’s college entrance exam—he’d come home two days early, and she needed to prepare his breakfast.

But when Han Chunmei entered the kitchen, she found her mother-in-law Wu Juying already busy.

She smiled awkwardly and hurried to help.

She wasn’t lazy—today, the mother-in-law was unusually diligent.

The two women worked in silent harmony: one kneaded dough, the other mixed filling. Soon, bamboo steamers were packed with dumplings stuffed with leek and egg.

It was still early; the dumplings didn’t need boiling yet. Han Chunmei sat with Wu Juying in the kitchen, uneasy.

Suddenly, Wu Juying asked: “Are you getting used to it?”

Han Chunmei blinked, then quickly replied: “I’m fine, Ma. Everything’s behind us.”

Wu Juying’s face hardened. “Once you’re in the Li family, we won’t mistreat you. Those two girls bear the Li surname—they won’t suffer. But there’s one rule...”

“Li family has only one heir: Xiao Ye. If he’s happy, we’re all happy. If he’s unhappy, none of us are.”

“Yes, yes, I understand, Mother.”

Han Chunmei hurried to agree. She’d long understood who truly ruled this household.

One thing tames another—eventually, everything circles back to Li Ye.

For his exam, the whole family revolved around him—even her sister-in-law’s child had been barred from staying over these days, lest he disturb Li Ye and ruin his exam.

Fortunately, since last winter, this little demon had changed. Though occasionally domineering, he’d grown more reasonable and kinder to his two daughters.

As long as he treated his daughters well, that was all that mattered.

Just before six, Li Juan stumbled into the kitchen, half-asleep. Seeing Wu Juying, she snapped awake and hurried to light the stove, boil water, and pull the bellows.

My brother’s taking his exam today—how could I oversleep?

At half past six, Wu Juying woke Li Ye. He washed, ate, and his clothes were adjusted three times.

“Nai, I’m going to take an exam, not a marriage proposal. I don’t need to be so stiff.”

“What nonsense are you spouting? Who are you going to propose to?”

Wu Juying frowned: “That teacher Ke brought her daughter over the other day. You’d better behave yourself from now on—don’t let people laugh at us.”

“Alright, alright, I got it.”

Li Ye grabbed his bag, pushed his bike out the door, and the whole family followed him to the gate, as if he were leaving for war.

Same routine as always: first to County No. 2 Middle School, then line up and march out.

But this time, Li Ye was assigned to Yuhong Middle School—a junior high with far worse facilities than County No. 2.

Fate was cruel: at Yuhong, Li Ye spotted his cousin-in-law Cui Aiguo again—though they were in different exam halls.

The two lumps on his head had faded, but faint traces remained—he’d need to shed several layers of skin before they vanished completely.

“Hmm. Smart kid. Didn’t cause trouble yesterday.”

Cui Aiguo hadn’t come to Li’s house to sleep last night. Li Ye didn’t know whether Wu Juying had barred him—or if the boy was simply afraid of him.

But the moment Li Ye thought this, Cui Aiguo raised his left hand, flashing a brand-new watch.

“...........”

【Is this... a challenge?】

Looking at Cui Aiguo’s “come on, hit me if you dare” expression, Li Ye couldn’t help but feel a pang of emotion.

This bastard cousin had inherited not only his father’s ugly face but also his cunning malice.

Fighting in front of so many teachers, right in the middle of the official college entrance exam, was such a stupid thing to do?

Li Ye merely moved slightly, extending his arm to reveal the plum blossom watch inside his sleeve.

Cui Aiguo’s eyes widened instantly, as if flames were about to burst from them.

For that plum blossom watch, he’d been beaten by Li Ye into a swollen-headed monster, avoiding people for days.

Now... was this just taking a beating for nothing?

Li Ye smiled and walked into his examination room.

If your mental resilience isn’t strong enough, don’t go looking for trouble—anger will ruin your exam, and you’ll be the one who suffers.

The first subject: Chinese.

Li Ye had completed the earlier sections smoothly, with nothing beyond his expectations; occasionally, a few unreviewed points could be guessed reasonably well with some thought.

Turning to the final page’s essay, Li Ye smiled.

Essay topic: “Be the First to Worry About the World’s Troubles, the Last to Enjoy Its Joys.”

History had not changed; everything was exactly as expected.

Meanwhile, the other members of the eight-person group were all beaming with joy.

This essay topic had been a key focus for Li Ye’s eight-person group; everyone had a ready draft memorized.

They wrote furiously, completing it in one uninterrupted flow.