Years later, when Xie Qian recalled his student days, most memories had faded to vague outlines, as if he’d become a mere bystander in his own past.
But the summer of 2004, his first vacation knowing Wen Ying, stood out as the most vivid splash of color in his mind.
Later, his life gained deeper moments, yet none matched the quirky charm of that summer—his first time holding a girl’s hand, not tied to teenage romance, but special nonetheless.
Before that day, Xie Qian never imagined a girl would grab his hand with fingers fresh from hurling rotten eggs.
The shock was so sudden his germaphobia didn’t kick in, he just ran as Wen Ying tugged him along.
Summer wind hit their faces, warm and sticky, their clasped hands sweaty, at first she dragged him, her stamina no match for his long legs, soon he was pulling her forward.
They dashed past the music college’s lecture halls.
Across the sports field.
Through the dorms, then toward the admin block, outsmarting the “pursuers” behind them.
Xie Qian found it absurd and funny, he laughed aloud.
The laugh stole his breath, bending over coughing.
Wen Ying panted hard.
He waved her off, “Run on your own.”
He still held the blaring megaphone, security’s real target was to silence it.
With it in his grip, they’d leave Wen Ying alone.
“Forget it, I’m done running, everyone who needed to hear it has, I didn’t lie about Pan Li, getting caught by security’s no big deal!”
She fanned him with her hand.
Xie Qian’s forehead glistened with sweat, Wen Ying didn’t mind.
Even sweaty, a heartthrob was different from stinky boys!
Wait—had they just held hands? Wen Ying’s face flushed, she hadn’t meant to take advantage.
Xie Qian’s palm was dry and cool, hers a sweaty mess.
Oh no, would he think she’s gross?
She forced a laugh, about to explain, when security closed in.
“You two kids are nuts, come on, to the security office, your parents need to pick you up!”
Parents?
If hers knew, they’d break her legs.
But Wen Ying wasn’t too worried, “parents” didn’t have to mean the real deal.
Xie Qian guessed her plan.
After all this chaos, if Pan Li stayed, wouldn’t it be for nothing?
He refused the security office, unshaken as a “captive,” insisting, “Take us to the department office, Professor Fang said so.”
He’d heard her in the hall, now wielding it against security.
Panting, they sized him up, his calm after mischief hinting at a bigwig’s kid—trouble they couldn’t afford.
“You disrupted Fang’s class, fine, let her deal with you!”
Escorted to the department office, students gawked and trailed them, Wen Ying waved like a parade VIP, sparking laughter.
Inside, the crowd was locked out.
Fang’s class ruined, Pan Li “fainted,” she couldn’t continue, seeing Wen Ying caught, she slammed the desk, “Who are you, daring to disrupt our school? Call your parents now!”
Wen Ying bowed deeply, “Sorry, I messed up your class, I was wrong, but I didn’t know what else to do, Pan Li shamelessly wrecked my family, I don’t know where she lives, I just hoped school would handle her, Professor, they say you’re fair, you won’t let a rotten apple like her slide, right?”
More shouting would fan the flames.
But facing Fang, she turned pitiful, her earlier stunt now a childish tantrum—a round-faced teen, baby fuzz still on her cheeks.
Fang steeled herself, looking away, “Don’t play pitiful, I’m not buying it! So young and so wild, a girl’s reputation is precious, what you did to Pan Li—how can she stay here? You didn’t think, but you might’ve ruined her life… Call your parents, apologize to Pan Li in person, or you’re not leaving.”
Before Wen Ying spoke, Xie Qian cut in, “Whether Pan Li stays is your school’s call, not ours, slandering’s a crime, but truth isn’t.”
“You—”
Fang fumed, Xie Qian’s cool gaze pierced with clarity.
“If we hadn’t done this, would your school expel Pan Li?”
Of course not.
Schools hushed scandals quietly.
Music college, with its pretty girls, was a gossip hub in Rongcheng—tales of cars at the gate, a water bottle on the hood signaling interest… fabricators were vile, believers biased.
First, they’d protect the school’s image, then maybe address the culprit.
Night jobs harming no one? Out of their hands.
Mistress ruining a family, with an angry victim storming in? Expulsion, sure—with proof!
Not just two kids causing a ruckus.
Fang couldn’t debate this with teens, she demanded evidence or parents.
That threat didn’t faze Wen Ying or Xie Qian.
One, a 31-year-old soul, feared no parents, the other’s family in Beijing—call them to fly over?
Unshaken, they gave Fang a headache, students outside clamored, some peeking through windows.
A department head rushed in, Wen Ying perked up, shouting, “Every word I said was true, investigate if you want, take Pan Li for a urine test, see if she’s pregnant, make her name the father! If I’m wrong, I’ll apologize in the papers, if I’m right, expel her, or I’ll come back daily—I’m a minor, cops can only lecture me!”
The head nearly tripped.
Using juvenile protection like that?!
—This girl’s too clever!
