Winter Time Rendering

Chapter 19: Chapter 6: Excuse me, can I rewind?

They seemed to have hit it off instantly. Zhang Shutong decided to build on this strength and keep his mouth shut.

Come to think of it, that old deskmate... His name was Zhou Ziheng, right? The boy with the slightly darker complexion I saw just a moment ago.

At that thought, Zhang Shutong glanced around the classroom, only to find the person in question staring right at him. The moment their eyes met, the guy hurriedly looked down.

Zhang Shutong looked away, thinking it was odd.

A moment later, Du Kang came running back, out of breath. The guy glanced at Lu Qinglian the second he walked in, then started winking and gesturing frantically at Zhang Shutong. ’Too bad our telepathic link died long ago,’ Zhang Shutong thought. ’I have no idea what you’re trying to say.’

There were nearly sixty students in their class, and the seating arrangement wasn’t finalized yet. The homeroom teacher told Du Kang to take this chance to hand out the milk.

As he passed Zhang Shutong’s desk, he deliberately slowed down and whispered:

"I’m gonna pass out."

’Don’t pass out. Hearing that tired old line makes *me* want to pass out.’

Thinking this was about the seating arrangement, Zhang Shutong pointed to the empty seat with the school uniform on it, indicating that he’d saved it for him. Who would have thought Du Kang would look so moved:

"It’s more than enough, man! I seriously didn’t think you’d go this far for me."

’What are you even talking about? I seriously don’t get it. Maybe we should just stick to the tired old lines.’

Then Du Kang rambled on:

"I know I told you I wanted to sit behind Lu Qinglian, but there’s nothing anyone can do since she’s right in front of Gu Qiuyan, right? You really didn’t have to provoke Gu Qiuyan just for my sake. It’s not like you can make her leave, so you still failed in the end."

"..."

The guy even started spouting idioms as he went on:

"But bro, I gotta say, feeding yourself to the tiger like this is just not right, Shutong. Like the old saying goes, a wise man doesn’t stand under a crumbling wall. See? Gu Qiuyan is glaring at us right now..."

With that, he got spooked, turned, and bolted.

"What were you two just talking about?" Sure enough, the voice of the great Miss Gu piped up from beside him. She sounded displeased. "Why do I keep hearing ’Gu Qiuyan, Gu Qiuyan’?"

"He wanted to sit next to you, but I took the spot. He came to settle the score with me," Zhang Shutong answered calmly.

It was a perfectly reasonable explanation. Everyone knew Du Kang had a crush on Lu Qinglian—even his past self had figured that out.

"Tch."

In the end, Gu Qiuyan just made another inscrutable "tch" sound.

A moment later, Du Kang ran over again. He held up a plastic bag with two milk cartons left inside and offered one to Zhang Shutong. "Strawberry flavor."

"I don’t want it. You know what to do," Zhang Shutong hinted.

"Hey, it’s just a seat, no need to feel guilty. Besides, isn’t strawberry your favorite?"

’...It’s really not. Please, just stop talking. The tigress is already staring at me.’

Zhang Shutong gestured as if he were about to poke Lu Qinglian with his pen, his meaning clear: ’If you give it to me, I’ll just give it to her.’ Only then did Du Kang back off. He shuffled a step forward and stammered for a long moment before finally speaking:

"Uh, um, Classmate Lu... We have some extra milk today. Would you... would you like one...?"

"No, thank you."

Her crisp, clear voice drifted over.

And just like that, the guy was stumped. Zhang Shutong felt anxious on his behalf. ’Find an excuse, quickly!’ he thought. ’Even something lame like, "The weather’s great, so let me treat you to some milk," is better than just standing there!’

But Du Kang didn’t dare to even look Lu Qinglian in the eye. Just then, the homeroom teacher finished the seating chart. He clapped his hands as if herding chicks. "Alright, everyone settle down! You’ve had plenty of time to chat."

Du Kang scurried back to his seat, terrified that Song might call out, "Hey, Du Kang! If there’s extra milk, how come you’re not offering any to me?" That would have been mortifying.

Just then, a girl on her way to get water put on a cutesy, high-pitched voice.

"Aww, Teacher, you forgot the bell hasn’t rung yet!"

Song Nanshan gave a cruel smile.

"And you forgot the next period is mine."

The classroom instantly erupted in a collective groan.

Taking over the break between classes was a habit of every teacher; they showed no mercy and played no favorites.

But their homeroom teacher had one good quality: he allowed students to drink water in class.

Zhang Shutong never understood where some teachers came up with so many rules, like not even allowing water bottles on desks. With Song Nanshan, however, as long as you weren’t eating food, you could even drink milk whenever you pleased.

Of course, many obedient students were in the habit of only drinking during breaks—like Lu Qinglian, for example.

The moment the teacher told everyone to sit down, she sat with her back ramrod straight, like a graceful swan stretching its neck, and began earnestly reviewing her test paper.

And then there were the "bad students."

Take Zhang Shutong, for instance. He wasn’t so fussy in front of Song Nanshan and casually poked the straw into his milk carton as if it were nothing.

Of course, the cookies were off-limits now. There had to be mutual respect between people. Song had cut him some slack earlier, so now that class had been declared "in session," he wouldn’t abuse his good relationship with the teacher to show off how special he was. Even his younger self wouldn’t have done something so tactless.

And another example: Zhang Shutong’s deskmate. This was why everyone said Miss Gu’s family was loaded. While everyone else had the standard school-issued milk, she pulled a carton of Telunsu from her Doraemon-esque backpack and calmly poked the straw in.

’Who are these heretics who actually like drinking plain milk?’

But Miss Gu didn’t drink right away. As if remembering something, she slapped her own carton of the school-issued milk down in front of Zhang Shutong and said nonchalantly:

"Here. For you."

’Don’t tell me this is another perk of being her deskmate.’

Zhang Shutong thought with amusement. ’Snacks when you’re hungry, milk when you’re thirsty... no wonder Gu Qiuyan’s old deskmate was always staring at me.’

"This one’s sweet, too. Now we’re even," she added as an explanation. Only then did she lift the carton of Telunsu to her lips, her cheeks puffing out slightly as she drank.

"Thanks, then."

And so, the delightful class time began.

Their school wasn’t advanced enough for multimedia classrooms yet. There was just an overhead projector next to the teacher’s desk. You’d place a test paper on it, and the image would be cast onto a screen. When the sun was too bright, they’d have to draw the curtains.

Then, Song Nanshan pulled out his grimy old briefcase. "Quiet down, quiet down. Take a look at it yourselves first," he said, rummaging through the bag for the test papers. He muttered to himself from time to time, "Hey, I’m sure I put it in here..."