Little Duckling - Chapter 12

With two minutes left until the bell rang, the music teacher was already standing at the door, textbook in hand.

This was the third class of the afternoon, and once it ended, school would be dismissed. The moment the bell chimed, she bolted out of the classroom faster than students rushing to the cafeteria for lunch.

Jian Xin stretched lazily and glanced back. She was about to call out to her former deskmate to go to the cafeteria together when she saw the girl laughing and chatting with her new deskmate as they dashed out the back door—without even a glance in Jian Xin’s direction.

Human relationships… Jian Xin thought bitterly. The moment distance changes, the intensity of feelings fades too.

Look at that! It’s only been a few days since the seating change, and she’s already made better friends. We used to be together every day…

Losing her regular lunch buddy left Jian Xin feeling a pang of disappointment.

Most of the classmates had already left, missing the prime time to grab food. Now, going to the cafeteria meant facing a long, long line.

The thought instantly killed Jian Xin’s appetite. She slumped back onto her desk, feeling utterly deflated.

The classroom was empty and quiet, everyone having gone to the cafeteria. Only the faint, rhythmic scratching of a pen persisted beside her.

Why isn’t this guy going to dinner? What’s he scribbling away at so intently?

Could this be the reason he jumped five hundred places on the midterm exam?

The thought of the midterm exam reminded Jian Xin of the study plan she had meticulously crafted the night the results came out—a plan she hadn’t followed for even a single day.

Before she knew it, the next monthly exam was already looming. Yet she remained the same lazy bum who still copied homework from others.

It seemed that even if she started working hard right now, she wouldn’t be able to switch desks with her classmate this month.

Jian Xin sighed, put on her headphones, and closed her eyes. If I don’t see, hear, or think about it, anxiety can’t catch me!

Anxiety might not be able to catch her, but hunger certainly did.

Ugh, this is so annoying!

I hate eating alone!

After her stomach had rumbled through its third round of hunger pangs, Jian Xin couldn’t help but sit up straight.

She glanced to her left and saw Yan Lu still hunched over, scribbling away furiously.

After some deliberation, Jian Xin decided to try inviting him to dinner.

She gently poked Yan Lu’s arm. “Hey, what are you writing?”

Yan Lu flinched as if she’d been electrocuted, hastily covering what she was writing with her notebook. She shook her head without daring to look up. “Nothing… just nothing.”

Why is she hiding it so fiercely?

So nervous… it’s definitely not just practice problems.

Could it be a secret crush diary? Or a love letter to a classmate?

Ugh! What’s it to me anyway?

Food’s more important!

Jian Xin withdrew her curious gaze and cut to the chase. “It’s already 5:30. Why don’t you stop writing for now and we go to the cafeteria for dinner?”

Yan Lu looked up, her expression surprised.

“What’s wrong?” Jian Xin asked.

Yan Lu opened her mouth, the surprise in her eyes gradually shifting to hesitation.

Jian Xin was a little exasperated. “It’s just one word—yes or no. Why are you hesitating? If you don’t want to go, I’ll just go by myself!”

“I… I only paid for lunch.”

Jian Xin stared in silence for a moment before asking, “Aren’t you a boarding student?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“So you only eat one meal a day?”

“Mm-hmm,” Yan Lu replied, lowering her head again.

…Seriously? Sis, are you really being this frugal?

No wonder she looked so malnourished, so thin she seemed like she could be blown away by the wind.

Come to think of it, they’d been classmates for nearly a month, yet Jian Xin had barely exchanged a word with Yan Lu.

Her deskmate was incredibly reserved. If you didn’t initiate conversation, she would never approach you—a living, breathing, transparent mute.

Jian Xin’s impression of Yan Lu was of a petite, quiet girl who always wore a school uniform two sizes too big, her head perpetually bowed whether sitting or standing. She was so introverted, Jian Xin suspected she might have severe social anxiety.

Now, reflecting on it, Jian Xin realized Yan Lu didn’t even have a pencil case. Her pens, erasers, rulers, compasses—everything she used—were retrieved from an old, faded backpack.

Yan Lu’s family probably wasn’t well-off, which explained why she could only afford to pay for lunch on her meal card.

Jian Xin felt a pang of guilt, remembering her earlier impatient tone.

For a moment, she hesitated, wanting to speak but holding back, then wanting to hold back but feeling compelled to speak.

After agonizing over it, she pursed her lips and mumbled softly, “Zhang Danya went to eat with someone else, and I don’t like going to the cafeteria alone. Would you… would you come with me?”

“I don’t eat much rice anyway, and you can always get more. Grab a soup bowl and join me,” Jian Xin said, gently nudging Yan Lu’s arm again. “Please? Just keep me company.”

Yan Lu hesitated for a moment, but under Jian Xin’s hopeful gaze, she finally nodded.

When they arrived at the cafeteria, it was nearly empty, with only two or three food stations still open and very few dishes left to choose from.

“Auntie, could you give me a little extra tomato beef, please? Thank you, Auntie!”

“Auntie, could I have a little extra cabbage too? Thank you so much, Auntie!”

“Auntie, could I have a little extra of this too… and a little extra rice as well? Thank you, Auntie! You’re the best!”

Jian Xin showered the cafeteria ladies with sweet compliments, her voice dripping with honey. The aunties, clearly pleased, piled her plate so high it nearly overflowed.

After getting their food, Jian Xin grabbed two pairs of chopsticks and scooped up an empty bowl from the soup station before hurrying back to Yan Lu’s side.

Yan Lu had chosen a corner hidden behind a pillar, looking rather guilty. Sharing one meal between two people made her genuinely worried about getting caught and scolded.

Jian Xin, however, had no such worries. She sat down and pushed the tray between them, her eyes brimming with smug satisfaction.

“Impressive, right? My sweet talk got us so much food—more than enough for both of us!”

“Are you sure it’s okay?” Yan Lu asked quietly.

“What’s the big deal? I paid for it!” Jian Xin retorted.

“I didn’t…”

“I paid, didn’t I?” Jian Xin said, scooping two heaping mounds of rice into a small bowl and sliding it toward Yan Lu. “What are you so worried about? Just eat! The school usually turns a blind eye to these little things—it’s too much trouble to enforce.”

“……”

“I forgot my meal card countless times in middle school and did this all the time!” Jian Xin mumbled through a mouthful of braised pork. “You’re just too thin-skinned!”

“……”

After finishing her first bite, Jian Xin noticed Yan Lu still hadn’t touched her food. She pulled her meal card from her school uniform pocket and pressed it into Yan Lu’s hand.

Yan Lu’s eyes widened in surprise.

“If anyone comes to check, just say the card is yours and I’m the one freeloading, okay?” Jian Xin said.

“But…” Yan Lu began.

“At worst, you’ll have to write a self-criticism,” Jian Xin said. “How hard could that be?”

Yan Lu stared at the meal card in her hand for several seconds before picking up her chopsticks and starting to eat the plain rice in her bowl.

Seeing that Yan Lu was only eating from her own bowl, Jian Xin didn’t press the matter further. She silently added some vegetables to Yan Lu’s bowl.

Every time a cafeteria worker passed by to collect dishes, Yan Lu’s eyes darted away. Only after finishing her meal without anyone noticing did she finally let out a sigh of relief.

On the way back to the classroom building, Yan Lu handed the meal card to Jian Xin.

Jian Xin took it with a smile, but before she could put it back in her pocket, she asked, “Why don’t you hold onto it for me? I’m a day student, and I always forget to bring it!”

“Huh?” Yan Lu replied.

“If we eat together every day, you can keep it for me. That way, I won’t miss any meals.”

Yan Lu opened her mouth as if to respond, but no words came out.

“Is that inconvenient?” Jian Xin asked. “I won’t force you if it is…”

Yan Lu took the meal card. “It’s fine.”

“Thanks!” Jian Xin said, stretching her arms overhead before striding ahead.

Yan Lu hurried to catch up.

With twenty minutes until evening self-study began, the classroom was gradually filling up.

The two girls entered the classroom one after the other. Jian Xin returned to her seat and noticed the students at the back table playing Doudizhu. In high spirits, she watched them for a while until the bell rang, prompting the students to hide their cards and straighten up.

As the classroom fell silent, Jian Xin’s peripheral vision drifted involuntarily to her left.

Yan Lu was still writing something, her notebook filled with dense, cramped script. The completed sections were hidden beneath her textbook.

This girl seems to write every day, as if she could never finish.

With so much content, it can’t be a diary, and it’s definitely not a love letter.

Growing increasingly curious, Jian Xin tore off a small piece of paper and passed it over.

What are you writing every day? You’re so secretive! We’ve even eaten together! Can’t you tell me?

Yan Lu looked surprised at first, then hesitated briefly before bowing her head to write a reply and silently sliding it back.

I’m writing a novel.

Jian Xin unfolded the note, her lips moving involuntarily in a silent “Wow.”

You write novels too? That’s amazing!

As expected, her follow-up note received no response.

Jian Xin pouted, tore another corner from her notebook, and passed it over again.

“What kind of novel are you writing? Can I read it when you’re done?”

“It’s far from finished.”

“Then can I follow along as you update it?”

“It’s not very good.”

“I don’t believe you! Let me see for myself! If it’s good, you’re lying, and I’ll praise you to death!”

Yan Lu gazed at the note in her hand, blinked, and a faint smile seemed to tug at the corners of her lips.

She finished writing the final lines of a paragraph, closed her notebook, and gently slid it toward Jian Xin.

“Return it quickly,” she murmured, her voice soft and barely audible. “I still need to write more…”

Jian Xin nodded eagerly and flipped open the first page.

Winter Night, Summer Solstice

Prologue

Lin Xiaoshuang’s world was an endless winter night.

The scorching afternoon sun and the bustling schoolyard were a summer she could never belong to.

That day, the hot wind struck her face, stirring the deepest fears in her heart.

She spread her wings, but fear made her curl up and weep.

Years later, Lin Xiaoshuang still wondered: if Li Xia hadn’t shielded her from the scorching sun on the rooftop that day, would she have become one of those birds that fly only once in their lives?

So, from that moment on, she told herself—

If she could stay close to Li Xia, she would gladly give up flying.