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Chapter 18 - An Anecdote or Two About Tongtong and Mianmian

Full-size executive sedans are generally over five ters long—a useless piece of knowledge that suddenly popped into Zhang Shutong's head.

From this, he deduced that the gate of "Yingcai Junior High" could not be more than six ters wide.

In front of this sub-six-ter gate, a girl nad Gu Qiumian stepped out of a car. She was wearing a fashionable, light-brown skirt with gray tights that did little to conceal the slender curve of her calves. He didn't understand girls' fashion, but he got a strange sense of a retro style from her outfit.

She was like a stylish girl on a city street, her radiant presence at odds with the old-fashioned corners of the town. But this was the island, and her energy seed to awaken the morning itself.

Then, the girl's small leather boots landed neatly on the pavent. Gu Qiumian leaned out of the car. As a cold breeze swept by, she pulled her short, khaki wool coat tighter, its collar nestling against her cold-reddened cheeks and making her seem all the more petite.

Just then, the driver's side window rolled down, and a man's voice drifted out.

"Have fun at school. If anything like what happened before cos up again, you tell ..."

Gu Qiumian didn't look at the window. She just stared at the school gate and nodded absently.

Then the man said again.

"Alright, Daddy's leaving now, Mianmian..."

The girl froze. Her brows and her delicate nose wrinkled in a frown.

"Aiya! I told you not to call that..."

She had a habit of adding expressive particles to her speech, but it never sounded forced. In fact, it tended to take the edge off her anger, making her sound softer. As she was speaking, she instinctively glanced over her shoulder and locked eyes with a boy who was pushing his bike.

"You!" the girl gritted her teeth.

"Morning," the boy greeted her calmly.

After speaking, Zhang Shutong blinked.

Just now... did I hear sothing I wasn't supposed to hear?

She looked like she wanted to ask him why he was eavesdropping, but he really had just been passing by.

Truthfully, he didn't mind hearing pet nas. His own was Tongtong, and he got by just fine. But he suspected "Mianmian" was very sensitive about it and probably felt her whole day was already ruined.

He saw Gu Qiumian's pretty eyes glare wide again. She opened her mouth to speak, a puff of condensed breath escaping, but in the end, she just stomped her foot hard, shot a dirty look at who-knows-what, and ignored the two n—one big, one small—behind her.

She whipped her head around, the charm on her hair swinging, and strode away. The little pleats on her skirt flew up, barely keeping pace with her.

A wry laugh ca from the car window, and Zhang Shutong shrugged as well.

The Audi's engine revved, spitting a stream of black exhaust into the crisp morning air, as if foretelling that his new school life would be full of the sll of gunpowder from the get-go.

He pushed his bike inside the gate. While locking it up, he mulled it over. He hadn't actually heard the conversation clearly. So, was her nickna Mianmian, or was it a sheep's bleat, Miemie?

But he couldn't ntion it. If anyone were to ask, it was because "Tongtong" wanted to live in peace... He was suddenly disgusted by his own thoughts. Zhang Shutong swore to never use reduplicative nicknas again.

But whether it was Mian or Mie, both brought sheep to mind. He ventured a guess that this was why she liked to draw them.

Outside the school building, the students on cleaning duty were sweeping. Their large brooms, made from bound sorghum stalks, weren't particularly effective for sweeping, but they made excellent weapons. At this very mont, two boys were having a sword fight with them. One wielded his like a great saber, charging forward with a loud Waaaah!

The other tucked his broom under his armpit and strafed his opponent with imaginary bullets. The attacker took two more steps, clutched his heart, and collapsed, his acting completely convincing.

A broom can be many different things in the mind of a boy. Zhang Shutong watched, amused, and was about to offer his own take, but the sight of the two boys on duty reminded him that he was on the hook for all of next week's cleaning because of his missing howork. His interest vanished.

Speaking of howork, he seed to have forgotten yesterday's as well...

Crap.

But then again, the four of them had perford a great service last night. For the mont, they had a valid excuse.

So he wouldn't do it for now. Hopefully, Old Song would understand.

The steps he had been about to quicken slowed down again.

After climbing the stairs, he could hear the sound of morning reading coming from the classroom.

He walked into the classroom and saw a boy with sowhat dark skin standing next to his seat. His na was... Zhou sothing? He only rembered that he was Gu Qiumian's forr deskmate.

Their relationship must be pretty good. As expected of the man... no, the boy who could tell she was drawing a sheep. Catching up so early in the morning, it almost makes feel awkward about sitting down.

Perhaps I've deprived him of his snack-feeding benefits.

Perhaps I've separated the only kindred spirit who could appreciate Gu Qiumian's art.

Zhang Shutong felt his sins were grave indeed.

But he watched the boy talk for a long ti without any intention of sitting down, just leaning on his desk and mumbling sothing.

Zhang Shutong looked from another angle and suddenly wanted to laugh—

It wasn't that the boy didn't want to sit, but that he couldn't.

Gu Qiumian had thrown her schoolbag onto her own seat, creating a natural trench that separated the two of them.

The boy had no choice but to pretend not to see it and continue chatting.

Zhang Shutong paid them no mind and looked ahead. Lu Qinglian was already sitting upright in her seat. She always arrived earlier than everyone else. She had to walk a mountain path to get to school every day, and her ho was far away, so she must have had to wake up very early.

Was six o'clock early enough? And how did she eat up on the mountain? Did she cook for herself, or buy sothing on the way to school?

A series of questions popped up. He thought about it and felt that none of them were right. It must be another scenario—

Didn't Lu Qinglian have her grandmother? The old woman had only one treasured granddaughter and must have doted on her endlessly. Such a pair, a grandmother and granddaughter depending solely on each other, was a common trope in TV dramas, manga, and all sorts of other stories.

He guessed her grandmother must get up early to cook for her and then wait for her to eat. A thin morning mist, the old woman and the young girl sitting under the eaves of the shrine, watching the condensation on the green tiles as they sip their porridge... It painted a very heartwarming picture.

The thought that Lu Qinglian had such a warm, dostic side to her at the Shrine made even Zhang Shutong smile. He thought that was rather nice.

Looking at the girl now, she was sitting quietly in her plain school uniform jacket, a high ponytail cascading down her back. It was impossible, however, to hide her ethereal presence. She held a textbook in front of her, her lips moving silently, as if last night had never happened.

It was as if she were saying, Even though I unleashed my divine power and defeated an ard thug yesterday, that won't stop from hitting the books this morning…

He felt she radiated this sort of vibe, and he felt humbled in comparison. Not even a magical girl could match her.

He glanced around at everyone, but he wasn't in a hurry to go to his seat. He had sothing else to do first. He went to the bookcase and rummaged through his things, but he still couldn't find Lu Qinglian's history notebook.

He felt a pang of guilt. She was such a diligent student, and he had lost her notes. That was really not good.

When he returned to his seat, he was about to tell the boy to move along and maybe try hitting on the Young Lady so other ti, but their conversation reached his ears.

"I just wanted to tell you..."

"You have to take this seriously..."

"I really saw it at the ti..."

The boy was speaking in a low voice, but Gu Qiumian wasn't listening in the slightest. Initially, while she was still arranging her schoolbag, she would toss him a dismissive "mhm," but then she took out a textbook and began to read, and even that small acknowledgent stopped.

Finally, she put down her textbook, frowned, and said bluntly.

"Are you finished?"

"I..."

"I need to study now."

This ti, she didn't add any of her usual vocal affectations. Every sentence was sharp and clean, like a small silver knife cutting through butter.

The block of butter walked away in embarrassnt. He didn't even put up as much of a fight as Du Kang had.

Watching this, Zhang Shutong thought that his days ahead were sure to be peaceful. His deskmate and the girl diagonally in front of him were both quiet girls. Nothing could be better than that.

He watched the boy go, then pulled out his own chair. Knowing the Young Lady was in a foul mood, he didn't plan on even saying hello. But just as he was about to sit, Gu Qiumian, the very sa girl who had just declared she "needed to study," suddenly lowered her textbook and shot him another glare.

Zhang Shutong was puzzled.

Why are you glaring at and not that Zhou-whatever guy?

Could it be because of the pet na thing? Looks like it really did a number on Mianmian.

He couldn't fathom what she was thinking, but saying good morning couldn't hurt.

"Morning..."

He had barely opened his mouth when she cut him off. That small silver knife of hers had transford into a pair of scissors, snip, snip.

"Not a good morning at all! What took you so long?!"

"Long?"

"Didn't I see you at the school gate just now?"

The girl lifted her schoolbag resentfully to make room for him and demanded.

"If you had gotten here sooner, I wouldn't have had to listen to him ramble!”

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