The Gaze of the Radio Girl (GL) - Chapter 2

—Beep beep.

Wu Lele was about to take off her headphones when the sound of Morse code suddenly came through the empty frequency.

She hurriedly grabbed paper and pen, transcribing the sounds onto the fibers.

“I…”

—Beep—beep beep—beep beep beep—beep—beep…

“c… a… n…”

“h… e… a… r…”

“y… o… u…”

Wu Lele’s fingers trembled lightly in the darkness.

The warm glow of the desk lamp refracted and scattered in the air, casting light on the rough texture of the draft paper, glinting at the tip of her pen. The clear handwriting pierced through Wu Lele’s pupils, letting her read the line: I can hear you.

This was her 9,999th time sending a signal into the universe, and the first time she received a response meant just for her.

Before she could process the joy in her heart, Wu Lele jumped up, her knee slamming into the desk, letting out a yelp.

Oh no!

She quickly covered her mouth, turning in panic to look at the door behind her.

The sound of the doorknob turning came from outside. She hurriedly turned off the amplifier and computer, switched off the lamp, and dove under the covers.

The man’s footsteps were rushed, reaching her door in an instant.

The door flung open, and the stench of cigarettes and alcohol flooded in, invading the cool air-conditioned room.

Wu Lele closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing.

In the darkness, she heard the man approaching, his footsteps stopping by her bed. Time stretched, like an endless void.

After what felt like forever, the man finally turned and left.

Wu Lele cautiously poked her head out from under the blanket, a wave of heat rushing in from where the man had left—the door was still open.

Outside was an abyss. She stared into it, clutching the draft paper with those words, nearly crumpling it in her hand.

She couldn’t close the door; she was still asleep, unable to sustain interrupted communication.

She pulled the air-conditioned blanket over her head again, feeling the stifling heat, and fell asleep unknowingly.

The next morning, Wu Lele was woken by the sound of the kitchen sink.

She closed her door, changed into her school uniform, and when she came out, Wu Zesun had already made breakfast and was sitting at the table waiting for her.

She looked at his face with some confusion, unable to discern her father’s mood.

Wu Zesun was also looking at her: “Sit, eat quickly.”

It was a rare morning; her father had unusually made breakfast and was being kind.

Wu Lele picked up the fried egg and sausage, stuffing them into her mouth bit by bit. Suddenly, Wu Zesun stood, his chair scraping sharply against the tiles, startling her into dropping half the egg back onto the plate, splattering tiny oil stains.

Wu Zesun raised his hand and opened the fridge, revealing a cupcake inside.

The cupcake was topped with two strawberries. He took out a candle, placed it between the strawberries, and with a flick, lit the lighter, igniting it.

Wu Lele’s heart pounded wildly, not stopping even when Wu Zesun spoke.

Wu Zesun smiled happily, saying: “Happy seventeenth birthday!”

Wu Lele looked at him nervously: “…Thank you.”

“Come on, eat!”

She stared at the small cupcake, unsure if she could eat it.

But Wu Zesun’s gaze was sincere, giving her an inexplicable confidence: maybe it would be fine.

“Okay…” She picked off the strawberries, gently peeled back the paper liner, and took a bite. The sweet, creamy strawberry flavor delighted her taste buds, making her happy.

She was overjoyed, but when her eyes accidentally met Wu Zesun’s, that joy shrank back into a black hole.

Just a moment ago, he was smiling warmly, but now Wu Zesun was as unfathomable as an abyss.

His every expression sagged downward, from the crow’s feet at his eyes to his uneven lips, every wrinkle etched with deep resentment.

The cupcake, with one bite taken, froze in place. Wu Lele didn’t dare take another.

But her father was watching, leaving her at a loss, torn.

Wu Zesun suddenly asked: “Were you playing on the computer late last night?”

“N-no…”

“Then why was the computer still warm past midnight?”

“…”

Her father’s words stirred a storm. Wu Lele, holding the cupcake, nervously shrank deeper into her chair.

With a creak, the wooden chair scraped the tiles again. Wu Zesun stepped in front of her, towering over her, clearly seeing the whirl of hair on her head.

Wu Lele didn’t dare look up, only aware of the air stirring around her, her father’s massive hand raised high, ready to fall at any moment.

Perhaps it was instinct, but she stumbled out of the chair, the barely eaten cupcake smashing into mush on the floor.

“Are you going to hide from me like your mom did?!”

Here it came—Wu Zesun was angry again.

Wu Lele instinctively darted toward the door. But their home was too small; Wu Zesun’s reach could cover any corner. She couldn’t escape.

His hand was dry, like tongs used to stoke a furnace, grabbing at her arm: “Don’t even think about leaving!”

The moment his hand came down, Wu Lele’s back slammed into the iron door with a clang.

Someone passed by outside, probably Grandma Liu from next door.

Grandma Liu spoke loudly, shouting: “You’re in Senior Year 3, don’t go running wild! If your teacher catches you skipping class, it won’t be good!”

Grandma Liu had a grandson about Wu Lele’s age. Passing by her door, he mischievously banged on it before running off, before Wu Zesun could react.

Wu Zesun’s hand froze midair, as if waking from a dream.

He asked Wu Lele: “Isn’t it summer break?”

“Senior Year 3… extra classes…”

He seemed to finally notice the long-sleeved school uniform on Wu Lele and let go: “Alright, go to school.”

Wu Lele, as if granted amnesty, rushed back to her room, stuffed her headphones and handheld radio into her bag, and fled toward school.

Not until the subway roared into the station, the wind whipping past her, did she snap out of her panic.

At some point, the draft paper lay in her palm, crumpled and wrinkled.

The sweat in her hand had smudged the letters, spreading a dark blur, a mess.

She cried out in her heart: It’s ruined.

The smudged words could be recopied, but the broken connection—Wu Lele didn’t know how to reconnect it.

All morning, she hid behind a stack of books, dawdling.

The pencil lead scratched across her notebook, dot by dash, repeatedly tracing that Morse code.

Finally reaching lunch break, she grabbed a six-yuan subsidized meal at the cafeteria and climbed back to the school building’s rooftop.

At noon, the sunlight was blinding, but Wu Lele didn’t feel hot.

She put on her headphones, tuning the handheld radio to last night’s frequency.

This frequency was special, one she found after countless tries, unique. On this frequency, no one disturbed her, and she didn’t have to worry about disturbing others.

It was a strange experience.

She clearly wanted to be found, yet hid in a corner, tirelessly sending signals into no-man’s-land, a bit like a masochist.

But Wu Lele didn’t care, as if waiting for some uninvited guest to stumble in and play hide-and-seek with her.

When she sent her 10,000th signal to the sky, silence enveloped her again.

Just like the 9,998 times before, no one answered.

…Fine.

Wu Lele found a shady corner, pulled her sleeping bag from some abandoned, nameless clubroom, and caught up on the sleep she missed last night.

She didn’t know how long she slept, but Wu Lele felt her face being pinched and rubbed, startling her awake.

The sky was overcast. A girl was squatting beside her sleeping bag, leaning down to look at her.

Wu Lele thought she should know her, but she didn’t know many people. After racking her brain, she couldn’t recall the girl’s name and asked: “Who are you?”

The girl visibly froze, her previously pleasant expression suddenly clouding over.

Her tone was icy: “I’m your deskmate, and your class monitor.”

Who was the class monitor? She couldn’t remember.

And her deskmate? She hadn’t even memorized the last one, and with the seat change yesterday, she remembered even less.

Asking for her name again seemed rude, but Wu Lele wasn’t used to dealing with people. Her dark eyes darted around, unable to find the right words. Thankfully, the girl let it slide.

“Let me introduce myself, Xue Ran. Ran as in rising slowly.”

“Oh… I’m Wu Lele, Lele as in happy.”

They say you don’t hit a smiling face. Wu Lele quickly grinned at Xue Ran: “Hi, class monitor.”

Xue Ran’s gaze shifted slightly, sizing her up, and said: “It’s two o’clock. If you don’t head back, it’ll be study hall again.”

Study hall was perfect, wasn’t it? Study hall was for sending signals.

Wu Lele stood still, unwilling to leave.

Suddenly, the other girl reached out toward her. Wu Lele instinctively dodged back, and as the distance between them awkwardly widened, both felt embarrassed.

She wanted to explain, but the other clearly wasn’t interested in hearing it.

Her long-sleeved jacket was grabbed by Xue Ran at the hem, pulled toward the stairwell.

“Let’s go. If you don’t, it’ll rain.”

Sure enough, rain began to fall in a flurry.

The afternoon had two consecutive Chinese classes. Wu Lele couldn’t understand the teacher’s droning, kept scribbling Morse code, and accidentally fell asleep again.

The Chinese teacher was furious about this and assigned Wu Lele three extra test papers, due by the end of school tomorrow.

“Please explain, what central theme and inner emotions does the third sentence of the second paragraph express… How am I supposed to know that…”

After her shower, Wu Lele sprawled over her desk, poking at the four words “central theme” with her pen tip.

On the tenth poke, she slashed her pen across it.

—Answer: Bored.

The air conditioner hummed, and her brain buzzed along with it.

Because of the rain, she hadn’t sent enough signals today. So, she put on her headphones again, turned on the radio, tuned to her exclusive frequency, and started muttering.

“Please choose the correct statement from the four options below.”

“A. The author feels wistful about childhood experiences.”

“B…”

Wu Lele recognized every word, but when strung together, something felt off.

So, she placed her marker horizontally in front of her. At the end of the pen, she’d taped a white strip with the options A, B, C, D written on it. She rolled the pen on the desk—nice, it landed on B.

“Alright, let’s go with B.”

—Beep—beep beep—beep—beep—beep beep—beep.

“No, C.”

The broken connection linked up again.

Wu Lele froze slightly, hurriedly pressing the talk button: “Is that you?”