TODAY WAS REAL ANNOYING. Xiao Gui wasn’t really present in any of my morning classes, yet everyone still kept reminding me of him like very intensely. Some didn’t dare to talk to me but only make a fuss with their squads, and some actually dared to spout non-sensical questions in front of my face.

They’re mostly about, “When did you guys go official?” and “How did you do that?”. I couldn’t give proper answers at all. Not only because I was lazy, but also because I couldn’t figure what they’re trying to get from me. I’ve been literally twitching my face as my response.

But there’s this one question I could never forget.

“Have you taken some pregnancy test(s) yet?”

---

It’s finally the time for my last class today, History of Chinese Music. I’m a bit nervous because I’m going to see Xiao Gui, most likely. That’s why, as a preventive act—for my own emotional health—I sit in the second row... from the front.

The lecturer, Professor Gao, is walking to the front of the class scarily. I feel like I’m seeing a very dark aura around him. He must’ve had a bad breakfast today, or he probably just slipped on his way.

He slams his bag on his table. Everyone’s startled—some pairs of shoulders on the first row just slightly raised, in shock. A bit funny from this sight, I think.

“Do you think this class is a joke??” He places both of his palms on the table. “I'm very disappointed that most of you have chosen to not value this class at all. This was brought to my attention by a student, shoutout to that student.”

”That student said that you’ve been looking at me and the whiteboard all this time, but your mind is going everywhere. That’s why, even though you always ask me for my PPT after class, your mid exam scores are still awful.”

Is that why he still hasn’t published our scores yet? But I think I did well, though?

“I’m aware that History is not for everyone. Many of you dislike this subject.”

Hashtag relatable.

”But, couldn’t you at least try to treat it more seriously? I’m not the one who sets this as your mandatory subject but your dean.” He lets out a heavy sigh.

“This will greatly affect your chance to graduate.”

“Listen, I’m here to help you. But please, you have to at first allow me to help you. Stop blocking your mind with, maybe, your girlfriend, boyfriend, parents, friends, work or anything. Be more focused in class.”

“Pay attention to the lecture. If you’re starting to feel bored or sleepy, take notes about what I say and what I show in the front. Don’t let your mind wander around. The fact that you’re accepted here means that you all are smart enough. You all are worthy enough. So, stop wasting your time.”

“From now on, I will not give my PPT to you.” Everyone starts groaning.

“SILENT!!” He slams the table with his hand. “I want you all to stop relying on my PPT. As I said, you have to take notes about what I say and what I show!”

He sighs. “My PPT only contains points, as what it stands for; Powerpoints. And you need more than that to actually graduate!”

But by the way, I rely on friend’s notes..... and Google, sir.

“I want you all to always submit your notebook in the end of my class, starting from today. I’ll give it back to you the next day.”

Crap. My notebook is nearly empty, especially for this class, because just like what he said, I’m also not a fan of this subject. I only wrote stuff at the first meeting. And for the others, I rely on the photos of my friends’ notes on my phone.

So, what should I do?

If I start copying those on my notebook now, it’s impossible that I’ll be able to finish it today—I don’t think I can even do that in one week.

---

As expected, he called me to his office.

I’ve been telling myself this; I’m the one who chooses not to write anything in my book these days, so I have to take the risk. I have to take responsibility for my action.

I'm telling myself that it’s normal iif he wants to give me any punishment for that.

I knock on his door.

“Come in.” He says.

I open it, then walk to his table and bow. “Good afternoon, sir. I’m Liu Boxin.”

“Sit.”

I sit randomly on one of the two chairs in front of him.

He starts it with a sigh. “Miss Liu Boxin, honestly, I was really shocked when I saw your answer sheet, in a good way. It’s safe to say that you’re one of the few brilliant students in my class.” Haha... thank you, then?

“But,” I don’t like that word. “—after I checked your notebook, I started doubting whether you actually did well because of your own answer or not.”

“Sir, I can guarantee that I didn’t cheat, at all. It was really my answer.”

Someone’s knocking on the door.

“Come in.”

“Sir, you called me?” I turn to the voice, because it’s crispily familiar.

“Yes, please sit.”

“You too?” I mouth to him.

He raises his shoulders and presses his lips—definitely implying yes or no idea.

“Mr. Wang Linkai, I want to talk about your mid exam score.” He sighs. “You should’ve written something instead of leaving your sheet blank. That way, I can at least give you a pity score.”

I start chuckling, but I cough to censor that.

“How am I supposed to type on your report card?”

“S-sorry, sir. I had a gig the night before, so... I couldn’t study. This will not happen again, I promise—”

“I wonder, did you pay someone to fill your notebook?”

Wow, nice deduction.

“No, sir. I filled it myself.”

“Then why did you fail the exam? Did you decide to fail? It doesn’t make sense to me that you couldn’t at least write an answer. Because I believe you’ve learned many things as you’re writing in your notebook.”

“I never made questions that couldn’t be answered by students who paid attention in my class.”

Sir, are you ok? Are you sure you’re not feeling unwell somewhere? We both always sit in the very back row, you kicked us out on the first day, and just an fyi, this Wang Linkai guy has been valuing PUBG more than you, as long as I can remember.

“Truthfully, I used to not take notes when I’m in your class, sir. I take a photo of others’ notes, instead.” You man up, respect. “I write them down on my book later.”

“The problem is, I think I overlooked this subject... so I started writing everything down days after the exam day. I apologize for my behavior, sir. Please forgive me.”

The Professor takes a deep breath. “Ok, since a lot of your classmates are also failing, I allow you all to re-take the exam. I’ll inform the date later.”

“Thank you very much, sir.”

“And for you,” The Professor looks at me. I gulp. “To prove that you really understand what I’ve been teaching in class, I want you to make a review for this book.” He shows me his phone’s screen, which displays a book with the title of Origins of Chinese Music. “Submit it to me hand-written, at least 3000 words in three days on my desk.”

“Excuse me, sir, are you sure it should be 3000 words? Isn’t a book review usually below 1000 words?”

“Miss, I need to see more of what you think about my class so I can guarantee that your opinion [on your answer sheet] was really yours. Remember, I couldn’t do that on your notebook because you barely wrote a thing.”

I press my eyes. “Alright, sir. I'm sorry.”

Xiao Gui suddenly clears his throat. “Sir, there’s a reason for why she doesn’t write in her notebook. It’s not that she refuses, but she just, can’t. She has this—“

“Laziness, that needs to be punished, totally. Alright, sir, I’ll do it as you ask.” Come on dude, let’s just get out of here.

He turns to me with furrowed eyebrows, then turns back to the professor. “No, sir. Her hand is injured, it’s been a long time.” I sigh. I don’t like that now another someone knows this, and the other someone is pitying me. Thanks.

“You see, that her writing is not tidy, it’s because she’s been trying to write with her left hand, where she’s actually right-handed.”

I press my lips. “Sir, it’s fine, I can do the review.” Let’s end this already.

“Please, don’t make her do the review.” I turn to him, checking on his face. Now it does feel like he's begging for my sake. I'm so pitiful. I hate that.

“If that’s the case... ok, but I think she still has to get a punishment. I want all of my students to have words inside their books. Miss Liu Boxin can actually take photos of others’ notes, print them, then put them inside her notebook. She also can type her notes if she’s having a hard time to write. There are varous ways of typing today that she can use anyway. And I have no problem with printed notes.” Wow........?

“Miss, you can submit the review on my desk or in my e-mail. You don’t have to hide any of your difficulties from your lecturers. We’re here to help you.” He smiles at me. “I believe you can finish it on time.”

I just got a homework-in-disguise nuisance but I’m lowkey not mad for that. I actually feel like spouting thank you.

“Ok, that’s all for you two. You may leave. Good luck!”

“Thank you, sir.” I bow to him, and Xiao Gui follows.

As we stand up, he halts us. “Oh, Miss Liu Boxin, you can find the book in Tianjin Binhai Library and Shanghai Library, only.”

Nah, I’ll just Google that.

“It’s not available online, and you can’t take the book home.”

Great. This finally feels like a punishment.

---

Outside,

“Hey, I can drive you there. When should we—”

“No need, thanks.” You did so much already.

But where is my manner? Cutting someone else’s talk is never a good thing.

“I mean, thanks!” I force myself to smile. "So when is it?”

Great, I just incidentally accept his offer—re: agreed to bother him with my life for the nth time already.

He flashes his eyebrows. “I think, I’m free this weekend.” He scratches the back of his head. “Tomorrow is Saturday, right? Let’s go in the morning.” He grins. “We can stay for one night or two, then leave on Sunday or Monday morning, if you want—”

I feel terrible that he’s doing more stuff for me and that I'm now looking at his smiley face.

I press my eyes shut for a while, then tell him, “Hey Xiao Gui, listen. First of all, thank you for telling the professor about my hand, although I wish that would be the last time you ever mention that to anyone again. But I did owe you, a lot. So, could you please let me solve this one [problem of mine] by myself?" I sigh. "I don't think I can actually count the debts I have with you by now—"

"You and your non-sensical debt theory. I told you that life isn't always about taking and giving like a transaction." He sighs.

"Here's the thing. It's actually just like you and your famous friend—"

No matter how often I hear that she's famous, I can't stop to feel weird. I think she always behaves like an anti-social, in a good way because she's a cool one, and she doesn't give a for everyone's .

"Don't you feel like helping her if she ever needs it one day, even if she hasn't asked you for that?"

I bite my bottom lip. But we're both girls and we're not attracted to each other, I believe.

Wait-

"Stop feeling whatever you're feeling right now."

"Like... confused?"

"Yeah, whatever it—" He pauses. "—is." He clears his throat. "Just put it that way and you'll probably stop feeling confused."

"Easy for you to say that. You have no idea that I'm reeally having a hard time here."

"Huh?" He crinkles his forehead.

I gulp.

"It's hard for me to face everyone in campus, in class.... and you know what's the hardest among all? Facing you."

He flinches.

I shouldn't have said that.

He'll absolutely ask why or stuff and how am I supposed to answer him?

I'm also looking for an answer.

 

"Why? Chill." He says.

I wet my lips.

"I... I know you can help me prepare for the exam. So, we are both helping each other, right? It's cool to have something to do on weekend, anyways."

I sigh. "I have to go now. See you." I start walking away from him.

"Y-yeah, see you... tomorrow morning!" He yells. "7 AM, your place!"

I roll my eyes.

Just why did I say see you—out of so many farewell expressions in this world.