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墨書 Inktalez
This time, she wasn't scared; instead, she focused intently on me, her beautiful eyes filled with curiosity.
The homeroom teacher finally noticed my little actions. She turned around, saw Xu Wenmo, and immediately changed her expression, saying, "Xiao Mo, what's wrong? Is there something you need?"
Xu Wenmo proudly raised her flip phone. "My dad said he would help me arrange a dormitory, so I need to go."
You should know that during my high school years, students were absolutely prohibited from bringing phones to school. At that time, smartphones had not yet emerged, and flip phones were considered cutting-edge.
"Oh, go ahead. I'll let your physics teacher know," she replied.
"Thank you, teacher," Xu Wenmo said with a slight nod before turning toward the hallway. After walking a few steps, she turned back and asked, "I don't know where the dormitory is; could this classmate help me find it?"
I raised an eyebrow. What did she mean by that?
"Sure," the homeroom teacher instructed me as she turned back. "Make sure you come back quickly; don't delay the class."
"Got it."
During that time, there were no makeup techniques, no cosmetic surgeries, no hairstyles allowed, and skirts or shorts could not be above the knee. Except on holidays, everyone was wrapped in oversized and hideously ugly school uniforms. Beautiful girls were particularly rare and attracted a lot of attention.
I stood beside her, pretending to be familiar with her and shamelessly enjoying the gaze that belonged to her. "Thanks."
"Mm."
"Why are you helping me?" I suddenly leaned closer, and she indeed jumped back in surprise like a quail, retracting her head. I couldn't help but laugh out loud.
She opened her mouth as if to say something but swallowed it back down. "If you have something to do, go ahead. I know where the dormitory is."
"You said it."
"Mm."
What an interesting person! I thought as I ran toward the playground. When I reached the entrance of the playground and looked back, she was already gone.
In the next physics class, she didn't return to the classroom.
For some reason, her figure lingered in my mind. Her beautiful brows and eyes, her tall stature, the way she looked at people, her words and actions—all made me envious. To put it plainly, she embodied the image of my dreams: exquisite, elegantly dressed, with grace and refinement—like someone from the heavens who could only be admired from afar but never touched.
I lifted my ballpoint pen; its tip had a diamond-shaped mirror about the size of a fingernail. I held the mirror close to my face and carefully examined my eyes, nose, lips, and pointed chin—everything looked good. Aside from the money that dressed me up on the outside, I wasn't any worse than Xu Wenmo.
If I could wear her clothes... then I would be the center of attention in a crowd...
Thud! A piece of chalk hit my forehead. "Lin Ye! Is class time for you to admire yourself? Pay attention!"
I quickly put away my ballpoint pen amidst the laughter in the classroom while my ears burned red and my face flushed bright.
In the following days, I had no interaction with her. She sat in the front row, upright and serious, continuously absorbing knowledge from her books, while I sat in the back row, daydreaming and dozing off, having received countless slaps from the homeroom teacher on the back of my head.
Honestly, I suspected that the homeroom teacher was a pervert, and I still firmly believe it. She always quietly crouched by the back door, peering at the students with her terrifying dead fish eyes. No matter what class we were in, if she noticed anything unusual, she would rush in without a word. Before the students could react, she would kick hard; for girls, she was somewhat gentler, opting for a slap instead of a kick. Just thinking about it sends chills down my spine.
But that's beside the point.
Back to me and Xu Wenmo—if I were to make an inappropriate analogy, we were like two planets billions of light-years apart in the universe. Aside from gazing at each other from afar, there was no other way to connect; let alone being on the same plane or intersecting—that was impossible.
The reason I say this is to help you understand how surprised I was when my path collided with hers again, especially since this collision happened in a situation that left me feeling extremely awkward and embarrassed.
On Saturday morning during the last class, the homeroom teacher, fearing I might skip out on my debts, called me out into the hallway in front of the math teacher for yet another round of reminders and urgings.
Such a humiliating experience—I wouldn't be able to adapt even if it happened a hundred more times.
On my way home, I imagined countless scenarios in my mind about how I would bring up tuition fees with my father and what terrible consequences might ensue. How could I phrase it so he wouldn’t explode in anger and resort to violence?
My family lived in a dilapidated fifty-square-meter house within Zhaotong City's infamous Shantytown. This place was filled with robbers, exhibitionists, prostitutes, and thieves—an unclean and filthy area that no high school student should ever set foot in.
As I muttered to myself, I reached an intersection. Looking up, I saw a very luxurious black sedan parked in the left alley—one that I couldn’t identify by brand due to my limited knowledge. Why would wealthy people come to such a place? I was slightly surprised for a second before continuing toward home; to me, my father's fists were far more concerning than any car.
Pushing open the low iron gates made of corrugated metal, I immediately saw smoke swirling inside the main room. If it weren't for a few shirtless men by the dining table, one might almost mistake it for a paradise.
I carefully concealed my disgust as I walked inside, took off my backpack, and called out to my father, who was red-faced from drinking, “Dad.” His friends' lewd stares made me feel nauseous.
My father grabbed my wrist and slurred his words, “This is my daughter; isn’t she pretty?”
“Pretty pretty,” his friends nodded eagerly. “How old is she? Is she 18 yet?”
“Not yet; just turned 17. I'll be 18 after the New Year.”
I pulled my wrist away and coldly said, “I’m going back to my room.”
“Wait,” my father looked up at me with unfocused eyes. “You... you go buy me two small dishes; there’s still half a bottle of liquor left. It would be a waste not to finish it.” The latter part was directed at his friends.
“Money,” I held out my palm.
“Money?” My father's muscles twitched with dissatisfaction. “Have you spent all your living expenses?”
“You only give me one hundred a month.”
“You’re such a money pit!”
“Enough already, Lao Lin; why argue with your daughter? One hundred isn’t much; don’t you usually spend two or three hundred on drinks?” one of the men next to my father spoke up while his eyes remained fixed on me as if waiting for my gratitude.
My father, concerned about his pride, irritably waved his hand. “Go ask your mother.”
"Where is she?"
"She's playing Mahjong in the convenience store across the street."
I walked out of the courtyard and saw the black sedan again. A man dressed in a suit was standing outside the rear window, nodding and bowing, clearly an underling.
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