Chapter 3: Grass Grows

Downstairs, in the guest room, Zou Ji was still lost in a melancholic sleep, unaware that his friends upstairs had finally shattered the fragile pretense that had long been obvious to everyone.

When he eventually found out, he would certainly be happy for them.

Today, Zou Ji and Yang Qiao had a close relationship, but it hadn’t always been that way.

Their friendship dated back over a decade.

They attended the same middle school, with Zou Ji and Bo Ren in the same class, while Yang Qiao was in a different class.

During that time, Zou Ji had almost no interaction with Yang Qiao, other than knowing that Yang Qiao was the top student in their grade and often seeing him at the door of their classroom—always there to find Bo Ren, and that was the extent of it.

Later, after the high school entrance exams, Zou Ji just barely made it into the high school department of their school, and as fate would have it, he ended up in the same class as Bo Ren again.

At the end of August that year, on the first day of high school, Zou Ji ran into Bo Ren, who had also just registered, at the door of their new classroom. Encountering an old classmate in a new environment, the two embraced, laughing and crying, and quickly decided to become desk mates before the official seating arrangement was announced. They even chose a desk in the middle of the back row together.

Zou Ji then went out to visit some friends who had been placed in other classes, played around for a bit, and returned about ten minutes later, only to find that his previously cheerful new desk mate had turned sullen.

Zou Ji was a carefree child, with harmonious parents, a well-off family, and a head start in adolescence, evidenced by his impressive height that delighted his elders and the acne that troubled him.

Bo Ren, his old classmate, was different. He had a completely different growth pace.

When they first became classmates in seventh grade, Bo Ren had a mushroom haircut, big eyes, and a small round face, the epitome of a cute boy. By the time they reached middle school, the boys were all hitting growth spurts, racing to get taller. Although Bo Ren quickly realized that his childish haircut didn’t fit in and changed it within a few days, his height wasn’t something he could control, so he remained short.

For the first two years of middle school, Bo Ren was always assigned a seat in the front rows during seating changes, which left him dispirited.

Fortunately, his height didn’t hinder his popularity among his classmates. On the contrary, his harmlessly cute appearance, combined with his cheerful and open personality and impressive soccer skills that weren’t limited by his height, made him well-liked by both boys and girls.

Given his name, which sounds like “crispy yet resilient,” someone, though Zou Ji couldn’t remember who, gave him the nickname “Little Biscuit.” The nickname quickly gained unanimous approval and spread among his classmates, eventually even being used by the teachers.

Bo Ren himself offered weak resistance to the nickname, but he didn’t actually get upset with his classmates. After hearing it so many times, he had no choice but to accept it, just as he had to accept his lack of height.

This situation continued until the third year of middle school. With consistent sports training and proper nutrition, Bo Ren experienced a growth spurt that year, growing over ten centimeters in a single year.

At fifteen, Bo Ren made a stunning transformation, experiencing the first major change of his life.

Of course, at this point, he still had the frame of a teenager, but among his peers, he now stood out, his once-boyish features becoming more defined and handsome.

Zou Ji had witnessed this transformation day by day, and as teenage boys are prone to comparing themselves with their peers, he couldn’t help but feel a bit envious and jealous of Bo Ren.

Now, as he observed Bo Ren’s sudden scowl, he thought to himself, “Even with a poker face, he looks so handsome. It’s enough to make anyone eat a bucket of lemons out of jealousy.”

Zou Ji couldn’t resist teasing, “Little Biscuit, what’s got you so upset? Don’t start crying now, or you’ll get soggy and won’t be crispy anymore—not as tasty.”

“Do you really have to call me that?” Bo Ren, feeling down, grumbled back at his old classmate, “You’re the real ‘Little Biscuit,’ your whole family is ‘Little Biscuit.'”

New students were still trickling in. A girl who had just arrived sat down at the desk in front of them. Hearing their conversation, she turned around with a smile, curiously sizing them up. She couldn’t quite understand how someone like Bo Ren could end up with such a nickname.

After the girl turned back, Bo Ren leaned in close to Zou Ji’s ear and issued a deadly threat, “Don’t push me. Be careful, or I’ll shout out your nickname.”

Zou Ji’s face turned pale instantly, and he quickly begged for mercy. Back in middle school, he also had a nickname, a playful repetition of the last syllable of his name. It was one thing to joke around during the nine years of compulsory education when everyone was immature, but in high school, where they were practically adults, being called that would be utterly embarrassing.

“So, what exactly are you upset about? Who annoyed you?” Zou Ji asked again.

In the ten minutes that Zou Ji had been away, Bo Ren, bored and looking around, had noticed the new student list posted next to the blackboard. There, he saw a name he knew all too well.

“He’s back,” Bo Ren said, crossing his arms and speaking with a deep tone. “He’s been assigned to this class.”

“Who?” Zou Ji thought for a moment, then realized that only one person could shake Bo Ren up like this. “Your runaway childhood friend?”

Bo Ren’s emotions were clearly complicated as he stared at the classroom door. “He’s now my sworn enemy… No, my nemesis. I hate him so much.”

The girl sitting in front of them turned around again, her face full of curiosity.

“You have such big eyes,” Zou Ji noticed the scholarly and pretty girl and took the opportunity to start a clumsy conversation. “Even bigger than my goldfish’s eyes at home.”

“… Are you stupid?” the girl responded.

Zou Ji, with starry eyes, replied, “How did you figure that out?”

The girl was speechless.

Zou Ji asked, “What’s your name? I’m Zou Ji, like ‘Zou Ji advises King Qi to accept criticism’ from the classics, and ‘Ji’ as in ‘hope.'”

“Gu Yao, ‘Yao’ as in ‘far away,'” the girl introduced herself, then looked at Bo Ren with a teasing tone, though clearly joking, “How does ‘Little Biscuit’ have a nemesis? Is it Sachima?”

Bo Ren was silent.

Zou Ji burst into laughter.

Bo Ren reached out and grabbed Zou Ji by the neck, threatening, “Don’t ever call me that name again, got it?”

Gu Yao, standing up for what was right, said, “He’s just dumb. Cut him some slack.”

Bo Ren released Zou Ji and retreated into his own gloomy thoughts.

Zou Ji, having narrowly escaped Bo Ren’s grip, was filled with gratitude towards Gu Yao, whom he now considered a goddess, and he began to passionately recount the story of Bo Ren and his “Sachima” nemesis.

Bo Ren and his childhood friend Yang Qiao had been inseparable since they were four years old, bound together by the red thread of fate. They spent three years in kindergarten, six years in elementary school, always in the same class, never apart. Even in middle school, although they were placed in different classes, they remained glued to each other every day.

Zou Ji explained, “From what I’ve heard, over the years, they were like shadows to each other, always there for one another, sharing everything, from moonlit walks to sworn oaths of eternal friendship…”

Gu Yao was laughing so hard her shoulders were shaking.

Bo Ren couldn’t take it anymore and started to say, “Zou Ji, you…”

“Don’t interrupt!” Zou Ji quickly wrapped up, sensing he was pushing his luck. “They had a bond stronger than gold, promised to walk through life together, but then, one day before the final exams in their second year of middle school, Yang Qiao suddenly disappeared without a word. And just like that, our poor Bo Ren was abandoned by his childhood friend.”

This was a well-known event in their middle school class, a significant incident. Everyone in the class got along well with Bo Ren, and they all knew how much he cherished his childhood friend, who was the top student in their grade. Then, suddenly, this friend, Yang Qiao, transferred to another school without any prior notice, and Bo Ren had no idea. When other classmates told him about Yang Qiao’s transfer, he refused to believe it, insisting that it was impossible.

But reality hit him hard—Yang Qiao had indeed left, silently and completely.

Bo Ren went to ask the teacher and learned that Yang Qiao had already transferred, supposedly due to family matters.

He then rushed to Yang Qiao’s house, knocking on the door frantically, but there was no response. A neighbor from across the street came out and told him, “Stop knocking; there’s no one home. They’ve left for a long trip.”

Bo Ren asked, “Where did they go?”

The neighbor said, “Wenhe.”

Wenhe was a border city, a thousand miles away from Yunzhou, a place Bo Ren had only seen in geography textbooks.

Bo Ren asked again, “Did they say when they’d be back?”

The neighbor, who had seen Bo Ren visit many times and knew he was good friends with the Yang family’s child, patiently replied, “They didn’t say. Yang Qiao’s father has been transferred to work there, and they might not come back until he retires.”

“Really?” Gu Yao, the female classmate, hadn’t expected the story to take such a turn. “So suddenly?”

Zou Ji replied, “Yes, it was very sudden.”

A year-old wound that had never healed continued to fester in Bo Ren’s heart. As Zou Ji recounted the story, it brought back a flood of memories, and Bo Ren’s mood grew darker.

Gu Yao seemed like she wanted to say something but held back when she saw the look of anger and frustration on Bo Ren’s face. She exchanged a sympathetic glance with Zou Ji.

Over the past year, Bo Ren had been continually burdened by this sadness.

For more than a decade, Bo Ren and Yang Qiao had been inseparable. Before middle school, they were practically together every day. Even after being placed in different classes, they would always seek each other out whenever they had free time. Even on weekends and school holidays, when they didn’t go to school, they would call each other to share any interesting experiences.

For Bo Ren, Yang Qiao was an indispensable part of his entire childhood and the first half of his adolescence. If his life were a jigsaw puzzle, Yang Qiao would be the piece right in the center, the one that had been placed there from the very beginning.

They had been best friends since kindergarten. After starting first grade, Bo Ren’s house was very close to the elementary school, while Yang Qiao’s family was often too busy to pick him up after school. So little Bo Ren would invite little Yang Qiao over to his house, where they would do homework together, eat together, and even share Bo Ren’s bed.

Later, to make it easier for Yang Qiao to come over and avoid being left alone when no one could pick him up, Bo Ren had a copy of his house key made and solemnly gave it to Yang Qiao. Although Yang Qiao never actually used the key to enter Bo Ren’s house on his own, this level of closeness and trust left no doubt in anyone’s mind that their bond was stronger than that of actual brothers.

No matter what, Bo Ren never expected that one day Yang Qiao would leave his life so quietly and without warning.

He wasn’t used to Yang Qiao not being by his side. Right after Yang Qiao left, it felt to Bo Ren like the air had become half as breathable, as if the oxygen itself had thinned out because of Yang Qiao’s departure.

This brotherly love—perhaps it had been misplaced from the start.

At first, Bo Ren stubbornly waited, convinced that Yang Qiao would call him, write to him. He thought that maybe Yang Qiao had to leave in a hurry due to his father’s sudden job transfer, leaving no time to inform him. He believed that once Yang Qiao settled down in Wenhe, he would surely make up for the missed farewell and offer an explanation.

But he never received either.

For the first time, Bo Ren experienced what it meant for love to turn into hate. For a while, just thinking about Yang Qiao made him so angry that his teeth would grind.

Yet, amidst the hate, there was also worry. In such a distant place, would Yang Qiao be able to adjust to his new life? Would he also think of Bo Ren every day?

And so, Bo Ren found himself oscillating between hating Yang Qiao and missing him. On odd days, he would be furious, grinding his teeth in anger, and on even days, he would long for him deeply. For over a year, he was unable to let go.

Today, on his first day as a high school student, from the moment he left home in the morning, Bo Ren made a vow: from this day forward, he would get used to the thin air, open his heart, make new friends. He was determined to slowly move on. He would always remember that he once had a childhood friend named Yang Qiao, but he would let go of the pain Yang Qiao had caused him. He would become a happy, renewed high school student, and he was sure he could do it.

But just at this critical moment, when he least expected it, the same Yang Qiao who had left without warning suddenly returned just as unexpectedly.

When Bo Ren saw that familiar name on the class roster, it felt like his heart stopped beating.

The student list was arranged by entrance exam scores, and “Yang Qiao” was listed as number one, the top scorer. This meant that all of Bo Ren’s worries were in vain. Yang Qiao had not only adjusted well to his new life and studies elsewhere but had also maintained his status as a top student, returning to their high school with great success.

A flood of emotions overwhelmed Bo Ren. He forgot all about the new school year and his plans for a fresh start. Only one thought remained in his mind: He’s back? Good. It’s time to settle the score.