The girl's eyes were clear, like pristine water—transparent and devoid of any impurity. Perhaps what made Jiang Luxi truly remarkable was that no amount of hardship ever seemed to affect her.
Cheng Xing glanced at her bright, clear eyes and said, "I don't have any money on my meal card, and I forgot to borrow Zhou Yuan's."
"Didn't Chen Qing just lend you her meal card?" Jiang Luxi asked, her tone calm and straightforward.
"I didn't take it," Cheng Xing admitted.
"Oh." Jiang Luxi didn't press him for a reason. Instead, she said simply, "We might have to wait in line for a while."
No matter the school, waiting in line was often an ordeal. Cutting in line was a common occurrence, something most students had grown used to. Jiang Luxi stood quietly, but the line hadn't moved much even after a while.
Many students who arrived late handed their cups to friends ahead in the line, asking them to fill them, or they blatantly pushed their way forward, disregarding any sense of order. Those who queued properly were usually rule-abiding students who, even when others cut in or shoved through, chose to remain silent to avoid conflict.
Jiang Luxi, always considerate, stepped aside whenever someone pushed near, letting others pass. Naturally, this slowed her progress in getting water.
"You can cut in line," Jiang Luxi suggested as they waited. "That way, you'll get the water faster."
"It's fine," Cheng Xing replied without hesitation. "You wait in line; I'll stand behind you."
"Okay." Jiang Luxi nodded. If she had been alone, she would have waited until everyone else was done before fetching her water. But with Cheng Xing also needing water, it didn't seem fair to make him wait because of her habits.
Cheng Xing had helped her many times, and she always felt the need to repay his kindness, even in small ways.
"I rarely see you queuing," Jiang Luxi remarked after a moment.
"Really? Lately, I've been queuing a lot," Cheng Xing said. "Except for that one time I cut in line to buy fried buns. Other than that, I've been waiting my turn."
Hearing this, Jiang Luxi fell silent. She still remembered that incident. Cheng Xing had cut in line back then—not for himself, but to buy her a one-yuan fried bun.
As they waited, more students tried to force their way into the queue. Cheng Xing turned to face them, his voice firm. "Line up properly."
The students froze for a moment, ready to argue, but then their expressions softened when they recognized him. "Oh, it's Brother Cheng! If Brother Cheng is queuing, how could we dare to cut in?"
They immediately lined up behind him, and from that moment, no one else dared to push forward. If anyone tried, the other students quickly stopped them, declaring that Cheng Xing had said not to allow it.
And so, a rare, orderly line formed at the water station. For once, it wasn't just a scattered handful of students queuing properly while others crowded around haphazardly. With no one cutting in, the line moved quickly.
When they reached the front, Jiang Luxi placed her meal card on the sensor, and hot water began pouring from the tap. The steam rose in soft, curling wisps.
"Let me do it." Cheng Xing reached out and took the two cups from her. The water was scalding, and he was worried her small hands might get burned.
With careful movements, he filled both cups, glancing at the water meter on the sensor. Two cups of water had cost only five cents. When he was done, he handed one cup to Jiang Luxi, who accepted it and removed her card.
"I won't bother repaying these two cents," Cheng Xing teased with a grin.
"There's no need," Jiang Luxi replied, shaking her head. "If you need it next time, you can borrow my card again."
Her reasoning was simple: Cheng Xing had helped her many times, and even a small repayment felt meaningful to her.
"Alright, I won't be shy then," Cheng Xing said with a smile.
Two cents for a cup of water—a hundred cups would cost just two yuan. Jiang Luxi now earned over a thousand yuan monthly from tutoring, so she no longer needed to scrimp as she once did.
"I'll be off now." Cheng Xing waved and walked away with his cup of water.
"Jiang Luxi, thank you!" A girl who had been ahead of her in line called out with a smile as they left the water station. "If it weren't for you, who knows when we'd have gotten water!"
Jiang Luxi shook her head. "It wasn't because of me."
"Of course it was! If not for you, Cheng Xing wouldn't have stayed in line and stopped those people from cutting." The girl laughed lightly. "By the way, it's strange. Lately, I've even seen Cheng Xing queuing at the street food stalls outside school. Isn't that surprising?"
Jiang Luxi thought about it for a moment. Aside from that one incident with the fried bun, it was true.
In just a month, Cheng Xing had changed dramatically. He learned fast—so fast that Jiang Luxi's tutoring materials, which were meant to last much longer, had already exceeded expectations. They had nearly finished the entire first-year math curriculum in just over a month.
She suddenly recalled something Chen Qing had said that morning. Perhaps by next year, Cheng Xing wouldn't just pass the college entrance exams—he might even get into a very good university. By then, Cheng Xing and Chen Qing might already be a couple.
"Jiang Luxi? Jiang Luxi?" The girl waved her hand in front of her face. "What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing," Jiang Luxi replied, shaking her head. She turned and walked away without another word.
The girl stared after her, a little frustrated. Jiang Luxi could be so cold! If she didn't want to talk, she could at least say goodbye. How could she just leave mid-conversation?
Meanwhile, Cheng Xing sat at his desk. He opened a small bag of Xinyang Maojian tea and carefully poured it into his cup. This green tea, with its elegant aroma and fresh taste, was his favorite from his previous life.
As the tea leaves unfurled, they floated gracefully, like a youthful girl swimming through clear water. Cheng Xing loved all things pure and clean—white clothes, natural beauty, and the nostalgia of simpler times, found only in school days long past.
He blew away the rising steam and took a sip, savoring the moment.
It was a little hot that day, but the autumn breeze carried a refreshing chill. Cheng Xing gazed at the unsolvable math problem on the blackboard, the faint sounds of his classmates' laughter filling the air. The classroom was alive with the kind of energy only youth could produce. Sipping tea in such an environment, with the golden light of autumn streaming through the windows and memories of a bygone time creeping into his heart, Cheng Xing felt this moment was the happiest in life.
For someone at this age, this period might not have seemed particularly meaningful. After all, life was vast, and they had already faced so much, with more challenges yet to come. But for Cheng Xing, who had been regressed to this point in time, these youthful days were tinged with bitter-sweetness. He savored the moment, his heart swelling with emotions that he couldn't quite express.
Just then, the classroom door creaked open at the back. Zheng Hua, who had been silently observing from the window for some time, stepped in. His displeased expression was unmistakable. Without hesitation, he smacked Cheng Xing lightly on the head with a book.
"Have you had enough of this little tea ceremony of yours?" Zheng Hua scolded, his tone half-serious. "What are you trying to do, enjoy life more than me? Look around. What's everyone else doing?"
Startled, Cheng Xing raised his head and saw that most of his classmates had already taken out their Chinese workbooks and were diligently working. Embarrassed, he quickly covered his teacup, set it aside, and grabbed his workbook.
In truth, it wasn't yet time for class. The break between the second and third periods was fairly long—20 minutes in total. There were still a few minutes left because the speaker in the classroom was still playing the school's eye exercises. Yet, this was First High School, where the line between break and class was always blurred.
The moment a teacher stepped into the room, silence and studious behavior were expected. It didn't matter that Cheng Xing had been enjoying his tea; the atmosphere instantly shifted with Zheng Hua's arrival.
Cheng Xing realized that he had been so absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed Zheng Hua standing by the window for a while. A thought struck him then—since the bulletin board contest, the homeroom teacher had been paying more attention to him.
Before that, it didn't matter if Cheng Xing was drinking tea or secretly reading novels on his phone—he had been largely left alone. Take Zhou Yuan, for instance. The guy could sleep through an entire period, head buried in his arms, and the teacher wouldn't say a word. But lately, it seemed like Cheng Xing couldn't even sip tea without scrutiny.
Soon, the break was over, and the bell signaling the start of the third period rang.
"Xu Hui, lead the song," Zheng Hua said from the podium, his authoritative tone cutting through the quiet.
"Spring blossoms, autumn winds, and winter sunsets..." Xu Hui stood and began the familiar refrain. "Ready, everyone, sing together."
To keep students energized during class, schools in Ancheng had a tradition of singing before lessons. The song Xu Hui chose was Time Story by Lo Ta-yu, released in 1982.
Even decades after its release, this song remained timeless, stirring something deep within everyone who heard it.
Perhaps that was the charm of old songs. Unlike the fleeting appeal of modern pop hits—many of which were forgotten within weeks—Time Story seemed to grow richer with time. Its melody and lyrics evoked memories of youth, school days, secret crushes, and nostalgic afternoons in quiet cities.
The class joined in, their voices harmonizing.
For Cheng Xing, no matter how often the song was sung, it always tugged at his heartstrings. Its lyrics seemed to hold within them the very essence of youth: fleeting yet unforgettable. He couldn't help but glance toward the front row, where a girl sat with her ponytail swaying gently. The motion revealed the fair, slender nape of her neck, and Cheng Xing's gaze lingered for a moment too long.
When the song ended, Zheng Hua clapped his hands. "Class begins!" he announced.
"Stand up!" Jiang Luxi, the class monitor, called out in a clear voice.
"Good afternoon, Teacher Zheng," the class chorused in unison.
"Good afternoon, everyone. Please sit down," Zheng Hua replied, giving a slight bow.
This ritual, which some might call outdated or overly formal, was one Zheng Hua insisted on preserving. Most other teachers had abandoned such ceremonies in favor of efficiency, but Zheng Hua believed in maintaining certain traditions. Cheng Xing, too, felt there was value in such gestures. They symbolized mutual respect between teacher and students, something worth keeping alive.
As the afternoon slipped into evening, the golden glow of the sun began to fade. The An River sparkled faintly in the distance, and moonlight streamed through the classroom windows.
The final evening self-study session of the week came to an end. It was Friday, and even the most studious among them couldn't hide their relief.
Seven consecutive days of classes—starting from the previous Saturday—had worn everyone down. Day students had it better, but the boarding students at First High felt trapped in a monotonous cycle. Their days were marked by rigid schedules, cramped dormitories shared with seven or eight others, and uninspiring cafeteria meals. At times, it felt less like school and more like a prison.
Summers were particularly unbearable. With no air conditioning or fans, the suffocating heat and relentless mosquito bites made sleep nearly impossible.
"At last, it's over," Zhou Yuan groaned as they packed their bags. "Seven straight days of school nearly killed me."
"Still planning to stay up all night?" Cheng Xing asked, amused.
"Of course! I'm almost at two stars in CrossFire," Zhou Yuan replied, grinning.
"What rank is that again?" Cheng Xing asked, feigning indifference.
In his past life, game rankings had mattered to him—a lot. Whether it was CrossFire, Dungeon Fighter Online, or QQ levels, he'd obsessed over them. But now, those things felt distant, almost trivial. He could barely remember what a two-star rank meant.
"Two-star Major General," Zhou Yuan said proudly. "I'm the fastest in the class right now."
As they descended the stairs together, Zhou Yuan added, "Come on, Cheng. Join me tonight. I'll even buy you a month's membership!"
"No thanks," Cheng Xing said with a chuckle. "You go ahead."
"I don't get it, Cheng. You used to be more addicted than me. What changed? Don't tell me it's a girl," Zhou Yuan teased.
"What nonsense are you spouting now?" Cheng Xing retorted, nudging his friend lightly.
"Come on, we've been best buds since day one," Zhou Yuan pressed, his grin widening. "Just tell me—do you like Jiang Luxi or Chen Qing? Back then, it was definitely Chen Qing, but now..."
"Where do you even come up with this stuff?" Cheng Xing laughed, shaking his head.
"I've been around long enough to know when something's up," Zhou Yuan said smugly.
Cheng Xing didn't respond. Instead, he bent down to pick up a fallen leaf from the ground. With a flick of his wrist, he sent it spinning into the air. The autumn wind caught it, carrying it to the roadside.
"Seriously, Cheng," Zhou Yuan persisted. "Jiang Luxi or Chen Qing?"
Before Cheng Xing could reply, he noticed Jiang Luxi biking past them. He elbowed Zhou Yuan, motioning for him to keep quiet.
Whether Jiang Luxi had overheard their conversation, Cheng Xing couldn't tell. But what he did know was that in the fading light of late autumn in 2010, Jiang Luxi looked effortlessly beautiful in her white sweater and blue jeans.
Youth, fleeting and pure.