Chapter15

Schoolroom Observations (Part Two)

This was the first time Yu Manyi had been taken out to eat by someone other than her Second Uncle.

Of course, it would be improper for her and Song Qi to go out alone, so when they parted ways with the teachers and classmates on the way back, Fang Qian was added to the group. However, Fang Qian showed no interest in joining them. Halfway there, he detoured to a bookstore, and so, in the end, the meal was just between her and Song Qi.

Yu Manyi felt that Song Qi wasn’t particularly interested in this meal. He didn’t seem to care much for food, sleep, or lodging. She didn’t know what exactly he cared about. She guessed he was trying to avoid his teacher, to prevent the man from noticing his absent-mindedness. Indeed, he was someone who would promote ideology in his own newspaper. He was not like Teacher Meng, who only pursued endless truths.

Suddenly, Yu Manyi felt that Song Qi’s situation wasn’t much different from her own. Just like she couldn’t return to the old residence and couldn’t break into the vast world outside the high walls, Song Qi too was stuck in some kind of in-between place. They both felt a trace of hopelessness in that crevice — but people, no matter how hopeless, still had to eat.

So she began talking again. After a few days of lessons, her speech had become more logical. She started by saying the meatballs in the Shaoxing Three Delicacies were made from free-range pigs from Mount Ji, then mentioned that the most authentic chicken soup must be stewed with Yue chickens. As for the fishballs, they were caught from Mirror Lake. The restaurant Song Qi had picked was quite average; had she known he liked this dish, Yu Manyi could’ve asked her Second Aunt to inform the kitchen. These kinds of regional dishes always tasted more authentic when made at home than in a commercial restaurant.

Yu Manyi chattered on, and Song Qi finally snapped out of his distracted state and began studying her features carefully. As the only child in his family, he had no younger sister and didn’t realize how quickly a sixteen- or seventeen-year-old girl’s appearance could change. In just a few days, she already looked different. Or perhaps it was because she was good at mimicking others — her speech no longer came with downcast eyes and quiet obedience, but with a sense of ease, something only Fang Qian used to have.

Except Fang Qian didn’t talk this much. None of the noble ladies, socialites, or female classmates Song Qi had encountered growing up talked this much. In the entire world, it seemed only Yu Manyi would chatter on so insistently in front of him.

Song Qi shifted the teacup on the table and heard Yu Manyi’s conversation had drifted from asking the kitchen to make drunken chicken to talking about a restaurant Old Master Yu had once praised for its yellow croaker. He took a sip of tea and picked up where she left off:

“Very well. If you ever come to Shanghai, I’ll treat you just as generously.”

Song Qi didn’t realize what was wrong with that statement, but it made the usually talkative Yu Manyi hesitate slightly. After a brief silence, he heard Yu Manyi speak softly, her tone filled with curiosity.

“Song Qi,” she asked cautiously, “is Shanghai really as wonderful as the Little Postman said?”

“Little Postman?” Song Qi was momentarily confused, then finally connected the nickname to the boy who was always chasing after Fang Qian asking about English. He looked at Yu Manyi for a moment and asked in return, “What did the Little Postman say?”

Yu Manyi thought for a moment and realized the Little Postman hadn’t actually said anything specific. It was just that everything about his tone and manner was so exaggeratedly enthusiastic that she instinctively believed in a golden city. She recalled fragments of what he had said and reported to Song Qi:

“He said there’s a Nanjing Road in Shanghai, and under the asphalt it’s all redwood. The wood planks are this wide, and this long, and a Jewish businessman bought four million pieces to pave the road…”

Song Qi had already developed the habit of smiling when Yu Manyi talked, but upon hearing this, he couldn’t help but laugh aloud, placing his teacup back on the table. Yu Manyi widened her eyes and stared at him, realizing that when Song Qi smiled, he looked quite different from usual — like a breeze under moonlight, far more handsome than when he was cold and indifferent."I don’t remember hearing that version," he thought for a moment and replied. "I seem to recall the elders mentioning it was ironwood bought to lay tram tracks. And there definitely weren’t four million planks—at most, a few hundred thousand. When it was just built, some people called that place the Redwood Boulevard. Maybe it was misreported over time."

Yu Manyi gave a sudden “Ah,” as if suddenly enlightened.

“A road is meant to be stepped on,” Song Qi said. “Using it for bragging is meaningless. Same goes for Shanghai. There are some schools, banks, and docks—convenient for doing business and academic work. That’s about it.”

“Shanghai has docks?”

“Of course. Shanghai was a treaty port. Banks and schools could be built in any city. The only thing that really sets it apart are those docks. Take out your Chinese textbook—I think there’s a map in the back. I’ll show you.”

Yu Manyi, still a bit lost, went to fetch her book. Halfway through, she suddenly remembered something and shoved it back into her bag with a whoosh. Song Qi, puzzled, reached out to take it, but she pressed it deep into the bottom with all her strength.

Yu Manyi hadn’t expected this man to be so childish—she’d only mentioned the book casually, but seeing her resist, he actually became playful. Pretending to continue eating, he waited until she loosened her grip, then suddenly grabbed her schoolbag. The two ended up wrestling at the dining table. Song Qi pulled the book out, held it high, shook it open, and sure enough, saw on the last page a thin line stretching from Shaoxing to Shanghai.

She jumped up, trying to reach the book he held overhead, but couldn’t. Frustrated, she smacked him on the shoulder. Song Qi didn’t seem to feel any pain and teased her instead: “No wonder you asked me about Shanghai—you want to go there so badly.”

“I don’t want to go to Shanghai!” Yu Manyi protested, tugging at his sleeve to pull him down.

“Shanghai’s wonderful,” Song Qi suddenly changed his tone, as if the person who’d just spoken with such indifference wasn’t him at all. “Roads paved with redwood, huge buildings built by Jewish tycoons, fashion boutiques and cafés lining the streets, our school is also beautiful—”

“I can’t go on my own!” Yu Manyi interrupted. “I have to wait for my cousin to come back. If I beg him, maybe he’ll take me.”

As soon as those words left her mouth, Song Qi froze. His arm slowly lowered. Yu Manyi seized the opportunity, jumped up, snatched the textbook from his hand, and stuffed it back into her bag.

She hadn’t said it with any emotional burden. She had accepted this reality for years—even attending literacy classes was because her Third Uncle hoped she could become “a wife educated enough to match someone who had studied abroad.” To this day, Yu Manyi still felt grateful to her cousin—thankful that his arrival had improved her situation, thankful that his presence had given her a sliver of hope to receive an education.

Yet, somehow, those words seemed to wound Song Qi. He let her take the book without resistance and, as if suddenly realizing something, fell silent and quietly resumed eating.He was still uninterested in food, eating only to distract himself, chewing even the finest dishes without savoring them. Yu Manyi swallowed a few mouthfuls of rice and looked up at him, about to ask if Song Qi was still troubled by Director He’s matter, when suddenly, Fang Qian’s voice came from the doorway, speaking with the shopkeeper.

They had parted ways earlier, agreeing to meet at the restaurant later. Yu Manyi watched Fang Qian storm in, full of energy, tossing a pile of books onto the table and gulping down several cups of tea to quench her thirst.

Yu Manyi helped arrange the books for her and realized they were all in English, with titles and text in that language. Boldly printed on the covers were blonde men and women locked in passionate kisses. She quickly looked away, and heard the now-refreshed Fang Qian excitedly say to both of them, “If I had known earlier, we should’ve come to the east side of town first—there are so many good spots here. The bookstore has titles even Shanghai doesn’t stock. I even came across a private printing press hidden in a back alley. The old gentlemen there are all former Qing dynasty scholars… Song Qi, what are you brooding about?”

Song Qi didn’t respond, but Fang Qian didn’t actually care what he was brooding about. She’d only asked in passing, and then turned her body toward Yu Manyi, her mood brimming with enthusiasm: “I found another great place—just head east out the door and follow the river for about three hundred meters. Manyi, I’ll take you there first. Song Qi can come find us after he settles the bill.”

Yu Manyi said, “I have some spare change on me too. You’re the guests—I can…”

But Fang Qian had already grabbed her and pulled her away, leaving behind only: “No need to be polite with Young Master Song.”

Outside the door was a winding river. As dusk approached, a thin mist rose from the surface. Every so often, a stone staircase appeared, its end dipping into the water—ideal for mooring a black-awning boat. The wooden storefronts passed behind them one by one, and Yu Manyi, for the first time, discovered just how bustling this riverside street in the east side of town truly was. The shops were varied and plentiful, not inferior to the markets in the center of town.

As they hurried forward, Yu Manyi found time to ask Fang Qian, “Why do you always call him Young Master Song?”

“So that he’ll pay up quickly just to shut me up,” Fang Qian replied with a sly smile. Before Yu Manyi could ask anything else, she suddenly paused, raised her hand, and pointed toward an open window. “Right here! Look—I think it suits you perfectly!”

Yu Manyi, dragged along in a stumble, suddenly came to a halt, almost bumping into Fang Qian. She followed the direction of her finger and saw a wooden window flung wide open. Hanging above it was a wooden plaque painted white, with four large characters written boldly:

"Ru Hai Art Studio."

To the right was another window, pinned with a sheet of white paper. The ink was still fresh—probably written within the past few days. Yu Manyi stared at the two pieces of paper for a moment, her chest rising and falling faintly, as if a flock of birds had suddenly taken flight within her, beating their wings in the twilight.

“During the remaining summer break, a crash course in painting is offered. Those eager to learn, please come.”

Beneath the white paper hung a row of the instructor’s paintings, suspended by thin cords. Most of the models Yu Manyi had copied before were screen patterns and embroidery motifs. She had always believed her versions were more beautiful than the originals and had taken some pride in that. But compared to these real paintings, her own works suddenly felt childish and amateurish.

She also noticed the pigments used in these artworks were unlike any she had seen at home. However, Yu Manyi didn’t yet know what they were.

She stared at those paintings for a long time—initially stunned, then gradually spellbound—until she felt a faint sense of shame and inadequacy. These shifting emotions did not escape Fang Qian’s notice, who was quite pleased with her decision to bring Yu Manyi here. After all, those two afternoon Chinese literature classes would’ve been easy for Yu Manyi anyway. If this literacy outing could also offer her a chance to learn something she was truly passionate about, wouldn’t that be a far better choice?However, to Fang Qian’s surprise, as Yu Manyi kept looking, her expression gradually turned despondent. Then, without saying a word, she suddenly turned and walked away.

The two of them were each more suddenly melancholic than the other, leaving Fang Qian completely confused. She had no choice but to hurry after her and ask. Fortunately, she had a bit more patience with Yu Manyi than with Song Qi. After several rounds of questioning, she finally figured out the source of her worry—

Yu Manyi had been given a special allowance by Master Yu to attend the literacy class. It was enough for meals and buying books, but certainly not enough to enroll in an additional art course—let alone to buy those fresh, exciting paints that Yu Manyi had been so drawn to.

“I can lend it to you,” Fang Qian said.

“What would be the point of borrowing from you?” Yu Manyi shook her head. “If I can’t pay it back, then I shouldn’t borrow it.”

The sun had set, and even the twilight felt melancholy. Yu Manyi walked ahead in quiet sorrow, while Fang Qian trailed behind, equally glum. She was irritated by the fact that all three of them were brooding at the same time. Catching up with Yu Manyi by a few steps, she suddenly looked up, grabbed her sleeve, and pulled her back.

“I think you’re wrong,” Fang Qian said with certainty. “I think you can pay it back!”

…

Since the end of puberty, Song Qi had never experienced such a prolonged melancholy. He didn’t even know where it stemmed from—only that it began the moment Yu Manyi made him happy, only to then mention her cousin right in front of him. Song Qi spent the entire night thinking about it, unraveling it thread by thread, and came to the following conclusion—

He realized that whenever Yu Manyi ran into difficulties, she would always turn to him, Song Qi, first. Like when she needed help repairing the kite, or when she wanted to attend the literacy course. So, if she wanted to go to Shanghai, the first person she should think of should logically be him, Song Qi—someone who came from Shanghai.

But yesterday, he suddenly realized that in Yu Manyi’s heart, if her cousin could take her to Shanghai, then Song Qi wouldn’t even be considered. This deeply frustrated him, making him feel like he was just a backup plan.

Song Qi was disheartened by the idea of being Yu Manyi’s backup—and this gloominess made him teach his next day’s lesson in an unusually low mood. He even grew curious about what field that cousin who had studied abroad had majored in. If it was something more specialized than his own field of fundamental science, then in Yu Manyi’s eyes, even when it came to math questions, would he, Song Qi, be just a second-best option?

The more Backup Song thought about it, the more annoyed he became. He sat in the prep room grading papers from the literacy class, and tests that might have passed on any other day were all marked as failing. By the time lunch break came, Fang Qian walked in, observed his dark and gloomy expression for a while, then turned and left. When the door opened again, it was Yu Manyi who entered.

Song Qi didn’t know if Yu Manyi had come to ask him another math question. And even if she did, wouldn’t he still just be a fallback option? The two of them sat silently on opposite sides of the table. Yu Manyi seemed hesitant, and Song Qi was also weighing his thoughts.

After a long internal debate, Song Qi suddenly looked up and said:“What’s your cousin’s major?”

“I want to do illustrations for your newspaper as a side job.”

……

Even Fang Qian, eavesdropping from outside the door, felt a moment of confusion.

“What did you say?” Yu Manyi had taken a long time to gather the courage to speak, and hadn’t actually heard what Song Qi had asked. The latter paused for a moment, then seemed to suddenly realize what was going on and quickly repeated, “What did you say? You want to do illustrations for the newspaper?”

“Yes, Fang Qian said your paper’s always short on illustrators,” Yu Manyi was completely preoccupied with the cost of the art class and hurried to explain, “You said the ones I drew last time could be used. I can draw more, but I’d need you to pay me in advance. Fang Qian took me to a studio in the east part of town yesterday—they’re taking students. I want to enroll, but there’s a tuition fee…”

She continued in her usual habit of explaining things down to the smallest detail. The more Song Qi listened, the more relaxed and clear-headed he became. When Yu Manyi finally finished speaking, he cleared his throat and said:

“Your… cousin didn’t send you any remittance from abroad?”

Yu Manyi looked completely baffled by the question: “My cousin’s tuition is still being paid by the Yu family. Why would he send me money?”

“So you haven’t even asked him,” Song Qi stated matter-of-factly. “You want to study painting, and you don’t have enough for tuition, so the first person you came to was me.”

Outside the door, Fang Qian rolled her eyes dramatically.

“…If I had said no, only then might you have gone to your cousin, treating him as a backup,” Song Qi continued calmly. “Well then, it just so happens we are short one illustrator. And I can give you an advance on your pay. So, coming to me first—you’ve come to exactly the right person.”

At this moment, Yu Manyi’s face was completely filled with confusion. What she also suddenly noticed was that the gloom that had been hanging over Song Qi all night and all morning had completely vanished. That melancholy had come for no reason and left just as inexplicably, so much so that as she walked out of the prep room, she couldn’t help but bring it up with Fang Qian, concerned that something might be wrong with Song Qi.

But Fang Qian told her to relax, to not worry about Song Qi, and just take the advance and pay the tuition. After lunch, she led Yu Manyi back to the classroom. Seeing that the latter still seemed uneasy about Song Qi’s condition, Fang Qian patted her on the shoulder and said with solemn emphasis:

“Manyi, you really don’t need to concern yourself with his moods. Just like my mother taught me growing up, I’m going to tell you this today too.”"Men are all fools. I used to think Song Qi was better than the others, but ever since we came to Shaoxing, I’ve realized—he’s a fool too!"

Fang Qian looked so serious that Yu Manyi couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. She didn’t say anything, only silently thought to herself—Song Qi isn’t a fool.

Song Qi… is really a good person.