After finishing the middle section of the drawing on Tuesday night, Cheng Xing began working on the upper part of the map. However, despite being quite tall, he still couldn't reach the top half of the blackboard.
In his previous life, Cheng Xing's growth spurt had only stopped around the age of 19, when he reached a height of 1.83 meters. Now, at this stage in his new life, he hadn't yet reached 1.80 meters, though he was already considered tall among his peers at school.
Girls generally developed earlier than boys—by about two years. Jiang Luxi, standing beside him, was almost the same height as when he would later meet her at Yizhong. She currently stood somewhere between 1.60 and 1.70 meters. Cheng Xing had once checked her official profile on Baike; in the future, she would be listed as 1.67 meters tall.
"Help me get a chair," Cheng Xing requested, turning toward Jiang Luxi.
"Okay," she replied, glancing at the row of chairs behind her. Instead of grabbing the nearest one, she bypassed it and walked to the far end by the window, retrieving Cheng Xing's chair.
"There's a chair right behind you. Why go all the way to get mine?" Cheng Xing asked, finding her choice amusing.
Jiang Luxi met his gaze calmly. "Stepping on someone else's chair doesn't feel right."
"Oh, but it's fine to step on mine? Why not yours?" Cheng Xing teased.
"Then step on mine," Jiang Luxi said without hesitation, prepared to switch chairs with him.
Cheng Xing blinked, a little taken aback by her straightforwardness. "It's fine. You already brought it over. I'll just use mine," he said, feeling speechless yet somehow charmed by her sincerity.
He climbed onto his chair and resumed drawing the upper part of the map.
Since the students had returned from their holiday on Saturday, the map had been a work in progress. On that first day back, Jiang Luxi had written only a few words on the blackboard. By Sunday, Cheng Xing had erased a little of her writing, but not much. It wasn't until Monday that he officially started drawing. Now, by Tuesday night, they were making solid progress.
By Wednesday evening, Cheng Xing planned to have the entire map completed. Thursday would be Jiang Luxi's turn to add the accompanying text, and on Friday—the last day before the next holiday—the judges would grade their work.
If he had only been sketching a rough outline without precise regional boundaries, the task would have been easy, something he could finish within minutes. However, Cheng Xing aimed for accuracy. The map was highly detailed, with both national borders and regional divisions. Drawing all the intricate lines on such a relatively small space required precision. A single mistake could mean erasing and redrawing entire sections.
Focused and cautious, Cheng Xing worked steadily, his hand moving with measured care.
Meanwhile, Jiang Luxi stood beside him, watching silently. She wasn't sure why, but the Cheng Xing she had come to know over the past 20 days seemed different from the person she remembered.
She hadn't paid much attention to him before. In fact, she hadn't paid much attention to anyone. Most of what she knew about Cheng Xing came from others' accounts. Occasionally, she would spot him fighting on her way home, usually while riding her bike.
But in recent weeks, Cheng Xing had changed. He hadn't gotten into a single fight, and he seemed to be more attentive in class. Although she couldn't be certain about his classroom behavior, she did know that during their tutoring sessions, he was serious and focused, making an effort to learn. He hadn't been late to school even once during this time.
Lost in her thoughts, Jiang Luxi didn't notice that Cheng Xing had finished half of the upper part of the map. Having learned from the previous day's incident, he now kept an extra piece of chalk in his left hand.
"What are you thinking about?" Cheng Xing's voice pulled her from her reverie. He waved a hand in front of her face.
"Huh? Do you need more chalk? There's some on the desk," she offered, slightly flustered.
Cheng Xing shook his head, showing her the extra chalk he already had. "No, I'm done with today's drawing," he said.
"Oh." Jiang Luxi nodded, her mind still elsewhere.
"Let's head home. It's already twenty minutes past," Cheng Xing added, checking his watch.
"Alright," she agreed with another nod.
Downstairs, as they prepared to part ways, Cheng Xing said, "Goodnight. Stay safe on your way home."
"Okay," Jiang Luxi replied softly, her voice almost drowned out by the quiet evening air.
By Wednesday night, Cheng Xing finally completed the map. Yet, as Jiang Luxi looked at it, she frowned. The map didn't resemble China. Instead of the familiar rooster shape, Cheng Xing's creation looked entirely different.
"What is this?" Jiang Luxi questioned, confusion evident in her tone.
"It's a map of China," Cheng Xing answered confidently.
"This doesn't look like a map of China," she insisted, her brow furrowed.
"You'll understand tomorrow," Cheng Xing said with a mysterious smile.
On Thursday morning, light rain began to fall. By the time Cheng Xing arrived at class, he saw Jiang Luxi had made it early, beating the heavier rain. She wasn't soaked, much to his relief.
Handing her a written draft, he said, "Here. This explains everything."
Jiang Luxi glanced at the paper, then back at Cheng Xing, her curiosity piqued.
As she read, Cheng Xing explained the significance of the map. Jiang Luxi listened closely, her eyes widening as the meaning behind the lines unfolded.
"The classroom speaker. I need it tomorrow," Cheng Xing requested. "Can you borrow the memory card from the teacher tonight? I need to load something onto it."
"Okay," Jiang Luxi agreed.
In larger classrooms, the speaker was essential for everyone to hear clearly. Often used for music or literature classes, it played songs, poems, and readings. Cheng Xing's map required a song, hence his request for the memory card.
After school, Jiang Luxi handed Cheng Xing the memory card. He accepted it with a nod, while she began writing the text on the blackboard, using the draft he had given her. Her handwriting was beautiful—neat, uniform, and precise, as if engraved.
Later in life, Cheng Xing's handwriting would improve after being criticized by a seasoned industry expert, whose sharp words about his sloppy writing inspired him to take calligraphy seriously. Even now, he could recall the old master's critique vividly.
As writing drifts further from pen and paper, writers have gradually distanced themselves from the traditional arts of calligraphy and painting. The once-thriving tradition of literary calligraphy and painting now teeters on the edge of extinction, showing no signs of revival. Esteemed writers like Jia Pingwa will inevitably grow old, and the younger generation—represented by figures like Cheng, Han, and Guo—who primarily type on computers, seem unlikely to inherit this legacy. It's a lamentable reality: writers who can also practice calligraphy are becoming increasingly rare.
If literary calligraphy and painting were to vanish entirely, it wouldn't just be a loss for the literati but a profound cultural loss for society as a whole. After all, throughout history, there has never been a writer who couldn't write by hand.
With Jiang Luxi's final stroke, the class bulletin board was complete—a culmination of their joint efforts.
"It shouldn't end up at the bottom of the rankings," Jiang Luxi said, stepping back to admire their work.
"If all our hard work over the past few days just keeps us from finishing last, then it really wasn't worth it," Cheng Xing replied with a smile.
"Thank you," Jiang Luxi said, turning to face him.
She knew, deep down, that without Cheng Xing's help, she probably would have been limited to simply writing "Happy National Day" on the board, albeit in her neat handwriting. She lacked any real talent for drawing and wouldn't have known what content to include. Despite her excellent grades in Chinese, she wasn't skilled at crafting essays.
Cheng Xing, however, excelled in essay writing, and the content he wrote for the bulletin board was both compelling and well-structured.
"You've already thanked me once. No need to say it again. If you really want to show your gratitude, how about we be friends?" Cheng Xing suggested, smiling warmly.
Jiang Luxi's expression instantly turned cold. "No."
"Hey, I'm serious. I just want to be friends—nothing more," Cheng Xing clarified.
"I know," Jiang Luxi said, her tone still distant. "Whether you wanted to be friends or helped me these past few days, it's all because you were trying to provoke Chen Qing after she rejected your confession. Regardless of your motives, you did help me, so I still owe you a thank-you."
Cheng Xing blinked in surprise. He frowned, puzzled by her assumption. "Why do you think that?"
"Isn't it true?" Jiang Luxi asked, her gaze unwavering.
"What if I told you my help had nothing to do with her?" Cheng Xing countered.
Jiang Luxi pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing. "Then I definitely can't be friends with you."
"Fine," Cheng Xing sighed, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Think whatever you want. Let's just say I did it to provoke Chen Qing."
Clearly, making friends with Jiang Luxi was going to be harder than he had anticipated. Still, Cheng Xing wasn't planning to give up. After all, in his previous life, Jiang Luxi had genuinely helped him when no one else did.
"Yeah, I knew it," Jiang Luxi said with a wrinkle of her nose, her voice tinged with defiance.
"You know nothing. Let's go," Cheng Xing replied, turning away.
As he walked off to turn off the lights, Jiang Luxi playfully waved a tiny fist behind his back. So rude! But she only dared to express her frustration when he wasn't looking. Cheng Xing's reputation still lingered. If she genuinely angered him, especially when they were alone, she wasn't confident anyone could protect her if he decided to retaliate.
Cheng Xing switched off the lights, casting the hallway into darkness. Jiang Luxi stepped forward to lock the door, fumbling awkwardly as she struggled to align the keyhole.
Seeing her difficulty, Cheng Xing suddenly let out a loud, abrupt "Ah!" His shout echoed through the hallway, triggering the motion-sensor lights overhead.
The lights flickered on, but Jiang Luxi jumped, startled. The lock slipped from her hands, clattering to the ground.
"Please, don't hit me!" she squeaked, her voice trembling.
Cheng Xing blinked, stunned. "...What?"
"The lights are on. Hurry up and lock the door," he said, exasperated.
"Huh? Oh, right," Jiang Luxi muttered, bending down to retrieve the lock.
Under the dim glow of the hallway lights, she finally managed to secure the classroom door. Once satisfied, Cheng Xing turned and began walking down the hall. Jiang Luxi silently followed a few steps behind.
At the bottom of the stairs, Cheng Xing paused, glancing over his shoulder.
"It rained this morning, so the roads are slippery. Ride slowly and be careful."
Before she could respond, he disappeared into the night, his figure blending with the shadows.
When Cheng Xing arrived home, he retrieved the memory card Jiang Luxi had lent him, inserting it into his computer's card reader. He quickly downloaded the song he needed for the next day's presentation onto the card.
By morning, the card was in place within the classroom's speaker system.
During the second class, the judging panel arrived. More than a dozen judges entered, including prominent school officials. It was clear the school was taking this bulletin board contest very seriously. Even the principal of Yizhong was present, along with their homeroom teacher, Zheng Hua.
Zheng Hua stepped into the room, his gaze scanning the students.
"Those who worked on the bulletin board, please come forward," he announced.
Cheng Xing and Jiang Luxi stood and walked to the front.
Zheng Hua's eyes widened. "Is it just the two of you?"
They nodded.
His head throbbed. As Class 3's homeroom teacher and a judge, he had already viewed over ten bulletin boards that morning. Most classes had teams of at least five or six students, sometimes more. Yet here stood only two—and one of them was Cheng Xing.
Cheng Xing's past attempts at bulletin boards had always ranked near the bottom. Zheng Hua silently questioned why Jiang Luxi, of all people, had enlisted his help.
Having not seen their board earlier due to his duties, Zheng Hua approached it now, his expression darkening. What is this? It wasn't a recognizable map or a decorative flower. It looked more like a random leaf. A map of China would have at least fit the National Day theme.
Behind him, Class 3 sat stiffly, their gazes locked on the board. Zheng Hua had instructed them earlier:
"Sit straight. Look at the board. No one slouches, or you'll face my ruler on Monday morning."