Chapter 38: Like, but friends

To Wu Xin Yu, Chen Qiao was the boy she knew best—her most familiar male friend, the one she talked to most.

Thanks to his sister’s reputation, he caught her eye.
As courtesy team members, they’d spent nearly two years together, standing gate duty monthly, now desk mates.

In her twelve-year life, since moving to this town in second grade, Chen Qiao had been tailing her academically—half her life.

To Chen Qiao, with his near-thirty-year perspective, Wu Xin Yu was a fleeting presence.
After elementary, she vanished from his world.
Her student record listed the middle school teacher dorms, no QQ, just her parents’ phone.

He knew little of her past, present, or future.

Unlike Tian Zhen, known since kindergarten, same school through high school, contact fading until his wedding.
Or Lin Na, a QQ friend never chatted with, posting art and moody, edgy musings on her space, deleted days later.
Eventually, she locked her albums, erased her posts, sealing that dark phase.

Chen Qiao had done similar—shared art, spouted cringe lines, liked posts, then scrubbed them.

What now?
Apologize for misspeaking?
Coax her?

He only knew how to soothe kids like Xin Yu, who was usually well-behaved, rarely moody.

Wu Xin Yu was just a bigger little girl, right?
Smart, but still a kid.

“Um, Wu Xin Yu, when I said ‘not close,’ I meant…”

“I’m not listening, turtle chanting!” she said, covering her ears, shaking her head.

He flipped to a new notebook page, writing: We’re not good friends yet.

He slid it to her.

She turned away, refusing to look, but after a minute of pouting, her cheeks flushed—she felt childish, unreasonable.

To him, her princessy temper was normal for her sheltered upbringing, adding charm, at least in a little girl.

She glanced at his words, wrote back: True.

Her only real friend was Lian Shu Mei.
They walked to school together, neighbors in middle school, friends and rivals since childhood.
Their parents often compared them, but Wu Xin Yu rarely faltered.

Lian Shu Mei stumbled in math, a single mistake widening the gap.

In sixth grade, different classes pulled them apart.
Lian Shu Mei bonded with new classmates.

Their friendship cooled.
Lian Shu Mei still invited her to walk home, but it was with a group, talking boys, love, dramas—topics Wu Xin Yu didn’t care for.

After declining once, Lian Shu Mei stopped asking.
Mornings, she’d leave first or urge Wu Xin Yu to go.
Was she avoiding her?
Wu Xin Yu wondered what she’d done wrong—refusing that one walk?
But with or without her, wasn’t it the same?

“So, our relationship has room to grow,” he wrote.

She nodded, writing: Yeah.

“We can get closer, become good friends.”

“Are you and Lin Na good friends?” she asked, taking charge.

“I think so.”

Lin Na might feel unworthy, though.

“Just good friends?”

“What else?”

“Oh.”

The quiet Wu Xin Yu finally spoke, wanting to ask if they were dating but dropped it, knowing he’d deny it.

“Check my writing,” he said, showing a short piece.

He pulled out another notebook to continue his novel.

“Where’s the rest?
It’s interesting,” she said—a high compliment.

He was adapting stories from future forums, Zhihu, and chat groups.

“Writing it now.”

“What’s the other one?” she asked, sharp-eyed.

“It’s a bit crude—you might not like it.
Incomplete too.”

“Let me see.”

Her curiosity flared.
Graduation exam prep bored her, and she wasn’t rushing into middle school material—using it for elementary problems could backfire, even if correct.

“Don’t get mad again.”

“I won’t—it was an accident.
Sorry.
Want to step on my foot to settle it?” she said, cheeks red, stepping lightly.

She wore pink-and-white sneakers for PE; he stuck to sandals.

“Dirtying your shoes isn’t cool.
Didn’t hurt anyway.
Read it…”

He’d rather touch her clean foot, maybe remove her sock himself.

Fei Fei read slowly, filling gaps with context.
Wu Xin Yu demanded details, asking what happened in missing parts.

“You have a sister?” she asked, reading.

“Will someday.”

The bell rang.
He shook his sore hand, ignoring the eye exercise broadcast, eager to check on Lin Na.

Engrossed, Wu Xin Yu skipped exercises, forgetting she sat on the bench’s edge.

As he stood, the unbalanced bench tipped.

“Wah!” Wu Xin Yu slid off, hitting the floor with a thud.

He steadied the bench to avoid further harm.

“Sorry, didn’t notice—are you okay?”

He offered his hand.

She brushed dirt off her hands, took his, and stood.
Her hand was soft, cool, slightly dirty—reminiscent of the playground, roles reversed.

“I’m fine… my fault for sitting so far out.”

She patted her dusty bottom, wincing, too sore to sit or walk.

“Excuse me, I’m checking on Lin Na.”

He squeezed past her in the tight desk gap, brushing close—rubbing again.

She pouted, muttering, “Can’t wait a minute.”

“Lin Na, finished the problems I gave you?” he asked, leaning on her desk.

“Done.
Why skip eye exercises?
What if a teacher comes?” she said, passing her notebook, glancing nervously at the window and back door.

A bespectacled figure appeared.

“It’s the principal,” she whispered, yanking his arm to her seat.

“Huh?”

Caught off guard, he mimed eye exercises, half his butt on her bench, pressed against her—closer than as desk mates.

He hoped the principal wouldn’t care about their trio.
He could’ve faked being the exercise monitor or collecting homework, but he didn’t want to waste her kindness.

Nothing happened—the principal was just strolling.

He stood back in the aisle—lingering would upset Wu Xin Yu’s old desk mate.

“Scared me,” Lin Na said, patting her chest.

“You scared me.
Let’s do the problems—wanna come to our desk?” he suggested.

Her spot was busy, conspicuous.

“Okay.”

Wu Xin Yu, watching him tutor Lin Na up close, asked, “You’ve been teaching her?”

After school, she’d thought they were flirting from afar, assuming her seat swap failed.

“Since last week—after you accidentally hit me with the basketball.”

“Sorry!” she said, slightly annoyed.

“Not blaming you—thanking you.
It was a blessing in disguise.”

“Thanks,” Lin Na echoed.

This made Wu Xin Yu feel like a matchmaker.
What?
I’m supposed to break them up!

“All correct—great job.
You got everything I explained after school,” he said, patting Lin Na’s head.

She squinted, giggling.

“Let’s go to PE—teacher takes roll.
Bring your sketchbook and pencils for drawing the school.”

Boys were already raiding the sports shed, kicking any ball like soccer, tossing any as basketball.

She’d planned to spy on their “romance” during PE, but now it seemed confirmed.

Descending the stairs, Chen Qiao and Wu Xin Yu walked side by side, Lin Na a step behind.

Casually, he asked, “Wu Xin Yu, why’d the teacher swap you and Lin Na?”

Her heart skipped, body trembling—her first “bad deed.”
Calmly, she countered, “You asked her?”

“Yeah.
She said mutual supervision and courtesy team convenience.
But is that necessary?
Why not at the start of sixth grade?”

No precedent—others had aced exams without swaps.
Someone influential must’ve pushed Yang, likely…

“I asked her to swap,” Wu Xin Yu admitted, biting her lip.
“You and Lin Na—are you dating?”

“What!” Lin Na gasped, tripping, crashing into his back.

He grabbed Wu Xin Yu’s hand with one, the wall with the other, steadying them on the first-floor landing, avoiding a three-person tumble.

“Where’d you get that?” he asked, half-laughing, piecing together her odd behavior—she suspected romance.

Well, he did have those thoughts—lots.

“You touch her head, hold her hand…”

“That’s it?
I’m holding yours too,” he said, raising their clasped hands.

She yanked hers back, hiding it.

“Doesn’t count.”

“Why not?”

“Real couples kiss.
Did you see us kiss?”

“Maybe… where I couldn’t see,” she said, ears red, almost shouting.

“We didn’t.
Chen Qiao wouldn’t like me—I’m so… plain,” Lin Na said, waving frantically, caught in bigger rumors.
After the swap, classmates asked if Wu Xin Yu and Chen Qiao were dating—her aura deterred direct questions.

He stuffed his sketchbook and pencils in his pocket, freeing a hand to grab Lin Na’s.
“First, you’re just not pretty now—girls transform at eighteen, right?
I never said I don’t like you.”

Letting Lin Na crash out now would ruin his plans.

Wu Xin Yu’s I knew it look screamed—not liking meant liking.

“I like you both—you’re my good friends, aren’t you?” he said, grabbing Wu Xin Yu’s hand too.

“Huh?”

He pulled the stunned pair from the building’s shade into the sunny playground, the bell ringing.

A week since his rebirth, and the anniversary of the basketball hit.

Another ball flew at him, spinning.

He didn’t want to let go of their hands.

Next second, Wu Xin Yu and Lin Na broke free, stepped in front, caught the ball, and pushed it away together.