Chapter 36: Changing Deskmates

On Monday, Fei Fei adjusted Chen Qiao’s scarf before they left, nodding with satisfaction.

This week, he and Wu Xin Yu were on duty, and he spotted her at the school gate, wearing her red sash, greeting students.

He pulled out his tattered sash, yawned, and stood beside her.

“Your monthly exam went well,” Wu Xin Yu said.

“You heard from the teacher?” he replied, unsurprised.

She took both Chinese and math tutoring, so early score access wasn’t odd.
Sometimes, math teachers had students grade papers—neat, delicate handwriting with corrections (like 6 to 8) screamed student work.

“You’re not shocked?” she asked, eyes wide.

He leaned back, hands behind head.
“Estimated my score when I finished.”

“Still…” she said, noting uncertainties like essays or tricky questions.

“What’d my essay get?”

“Twenty-eight or twenty-nine?”

He trusted his skills.

“Full marks!”

“Guess the teacher gave me some face.”

“Hold my bag.”

She handed him her heavy red backpack, secured with two buttoned metal clasps—snapping them was oddly satisfying.

Opening it released a faint scent.
Inside: a folder, pencil case, textbooks, notebooks.

She pulled out a test paper from the folder.
“Your Chinese exam.”

“Why’s it with you?”

He glanced at the 100, tucking it into his bag—no fragrance from her bag, sadly.

Could more 100s convince Mom for more sisters?

“The teacher used your essay as this week’s model.
I studied it at home—really solid.
I learned a lot.
Didn’t know your writing was that good.”

“I had an epiphany.”

Dragon Field Enlightenment.

She looked puzzled, stowed the folder, rebuttoned the bag, and slung it on.
“You know Lin Na did poorly?”

“She bombed.”

“Math: 58, failed.”

“Really?”

Lin Na’s math hovered around passing—60s, 70s if lucky.
This exam was all sixth-grade material.

He’d been drilling her on fourth- and fifth-grade basics to build a foundation, solving many issues.
Sixth-grade stuff?
He’d only mentioned bits in passing—likely forgotten.

The exam’s timing sucked—her basics were incomplete, and she hadn’t crammed sixth-grade content, missing easy guesses.

Despite his help, her math regressed.

“She’ll do better next time,” he said.

“I think so too.”

Without your interference.

Seeing Lin Na and Lin Yu heading to school, he asked Lin Na to take his bag to class.

Wu Xin Yu hesitated, wanting to avoid airing Lin Na’s failure publicly.

After gate duty, they checked the office building’s cleanliness, then raced upstairs to class.
His week of exercise paid off—he kept up with Wu Xin Yu, panting less, saving face.

First period was math.
The teacher, face dark, opened with: “You’re the worst class I’ve taught.”

Seven or eight students stood by the blackboard, holding tests—Lin Na among them, likely failed, punished with standing.

No chance to “rub” with Lin Na—pity.

After class, she slunk back, head low, avoiding him.

“Sorry, Chen Qiao.
You worked so hard teaching me, but I failed.
I’m not cut out for studying,” she said, crumpling her test, the red 58 glaring.

“It’s not your fault…”

He explained why she flopped—losing confidence this early was bad.
She felt dumb, not study material.

“Let me see your test.
I’ll analyze your mistakes.”

A mistake log helped pinpoint errors and thought processes, preventing repeat falls.

She smoothed the test, shyly covering the score, but the bell rang after a few questions—Chinese class next.

Teacher Yang’s first words: “Xin Yu, swap seats with Lin Na.”

“Huh?” Chen Qiao froze.
No reason given.

In his memory, he and Lin Na stayed desk mates until graduation.
Swaps were for chatty kids.

What went wrong?

Lin Na sat, stunned.

Wu Xin Yu, prepared, grabbed her books, pencil case, and test, heading for his seat.

With Wu Xin Yu looming, Lin Na shuffled to her old spot, taking nothing—drawers would be swapped later.

“Let’s commend Chen Qiao—huge progress, perfect in Chinese and math,” Yang said.

Wu Xin Yu led sparse applause, leaving him shy, scratching his cheek.

“But this exam doesn’t define you.
High scorers, keep it up; low scorers, don’t give up—aim for the entrance exam.”

After regular questions, Yang had him read his essay aloud—public execution.

Wu Xin Yu stepped into the aisle to let him pass.

So formal—his “rubbing” days were over.

Up close, she noticed he wasn’t listening in class, scribbling like after school.

She didn’t peek—snooping while he read felt wrong, possibly private.

His throat dried reading; few listened, but Lin Na did, intently.
He’d need to comfort her—she overthought when down.

Before stepping down, Yang said, “Chen Qiao, come to my office after the flag ceremony.”

“Got it.”

Post-class, Wu Xin Yu and Lin Na swapped books.

“I’ll help,” he offered.

“Thanks,” Lin Na mumbled, visibly down.

He moved her books to Wu Xin Yu’s old seat, then hers to his, finishing quickly.

Just the three of them remained, rushing to the flag ceremony, no time to talk.

After the principal’s rambling, Lin Na bolted to the girls’ bathroom.
Helpless, he went to Yang’s office.

“Your essay’s great, handwriting neater—you finally listened.
Last week’s in-class essay was solid too.
Want to join my essay class Saturday afternoon?
You tried it once, right?”

“Yeah.”

He’d stopped when fees came up.

“No charge—just share writing tips with classmates?”

Refusing would slight her, and good teacher relations meant classroom freedom.

“Thanks, Teacher.”

“Why’d you make Wu Xin Yu my desk mate?” he asked, confused.

“You two can push each other, and as courtesy team members, it’s easier for seating after duties.”

“Oh, I’ll work hard.”

Her supervising him made sense—she was the top student—but it felt off, like his high scores triggered a chain reaction.

“Chen Qiao, hand out Class 2’s English tests and homework,” Wang Yi Lin called from the office corner.
No English for Class 2 today, but Class 1 had it.

“You did well in English—keep it up, aim for a perfect score.”

“Any reward?”

He hadn’t forgotten their deal.

“Ahem, we’ll talk at my dorm.”

She’d meant to reward a perfect score to keep him hungry, but his eager eyes softened her.

She couldn’t hug a male student in the teacher-packed office—their deal leaking would shame her.

“I’ll look forward to it.”

He handed out English tests and homework, then the bell rang.
Wu Xin Yu scored 100; he got 99.
English was only 30 points in the entrance exam, so his 299 edged her out.

Third period ended with eye exercises.
Wu Xin Yu did them earnestly, eyes closed, lashes fluttering—nice to watch, a different kind of “eye care.”

After, Lin Na was gone, returning just before class.

She was avoiding him.

At dismissal, ignoring Wu Xin Yu’s homework, he squeezed past her, chasing Lin Na.

“Ah!” Wu Xin Yu yelped—he usually stayed late, not bolting like this.

She watched him grab Lin Na’s hand as she tried to leave, confirming her suspicions.

“Lin Na, even if we’re not desk mates, I’ll keep teaching you,” he said, reassuring her.

“No need—I can’t learn.
Don’t waste your time.”

“Who says you can’t?
I said there’s no bad student, only bad teachers.
Am I a bad teacher?
I owe you for the handkerchief.
I haven’t finished your test—let’s continue.
Rushing home?”

Not being desk mates was inconvenient.

“My sister’s waiting.”

He pressed her back to her seat—she could’ve resisted; he was no match now.

“I’ll find her, tell her to go ahead.
Wait here.
What class is she?”

“Fourth grade, Class 1.”

“Be right back, prep your test.”

Lin Yu stood at the stairwell landing, watching the crowd.
Luckily, they’d met before—not total strangers.

“Your sister’s staying to study, will be home later.
Go ahead alone, okay?”

“Don’t treat me like a kid!
And thanks for the candy.”

“I’ll treat you again.”

“No need!”

She tugged her bag straps and left—those sisters were alike in moments like this.

He spotted Fang Meng Jia, twin ponytails, passing by, nodding slightly—she was in fourth grade too.

The classroom was empty except for Lin Na and Wu Xin Yu.

Wu Xin Yu copied math homework on the blackboard; Lin Na, waiting, copied each line.

His return broke the silence.

Wu Xin Yu watched them discuss at her old seat, cheeks puffing.
Changed?
Nothing’s changed.

He left earlier to avoid Fei Fei meeting Lin Na and Wu Xin Yu—time management mastery.
No fires yet, but better safe.

Boarders weren’t shocked seeing their duo become a trio, but seat-swap rumors grew—some said Wu Xin Yu switched for Chen Qiao, especially since their scores tied, putting them on equal footing.

Before, no one matched her; now, someone might.