Chapter 3: The Ugly Duckling and the White Swan
Ding ding ding—
The class bell rang, and only then did Chen Qiao regain his senses. The nosebleed had long stopped, and his legs felt a bit numb from standing. His school uniform and red scarf were stained with blood and water. He pulled out the handkerchief stuffed in his nose and washed his face with water.
The blue handkerchief embroidered with plum blossoms had blood on it, and rubbing it didn’t clean it well; it would probably need some soap and detergent.
In the corner of the handkerchief, the name Lin Na was printed. That name sounded familiar—wasn’t she his female deskmate?
Chen Qiao felt the strange gazes around him and looked up to see a girl in a pink dress. It turned out he was at the washbasin outside the girls’ bathroom. He figured his infamous incident would spread throughout the school by tomorrow and then the entire village would know.
The countryside is too small; one word spreads to ten, ten to a hundred, and soon the whole village would know.
Chen Qiao shrugged and walked toward the familiar Teaching Building. He was in Class 2 of Grade 6 on the sixth floor. There weren’t many students; there were only two classes per grade. About five years ago, there had been a small baby boom related to the universal two-child policy, so the village had spent a fortune building a luxurious kindergarten, with fees matching the county town, but a few years later, there were no students again.
Chen Qiao puffed and panted as he climbed to the sixth floor. His body lacked exercise, and he was short—a typical homebody who didn’t like sports. Rarely living another life, he naturally wanted to exercise and build a strong body; otherwise, how could he be a beast?
Just as he stepped into the classroom with the pre-bell, it was still noisy inside. They had just finished gym class, and everyone was either fanning themselves with paper fans made from homework pages or textbooks or gathering under the only two fans in the classroom, right above the podium and in the middle of the room.
The slow-moving fans creaked with age, the air was still weak, and the crowd made it even hotter.
Some mischievous boys were making fart sounds with folded paper while playing with their deskmates, and some girls were busy playing skipping ropes or needlework, lacking a sense of urgency about the upcoming graduation exams. Today’s primary schools are not as competitive as in the future, where parents guide them closely at every step, and unless they score full marks for the county, 99% of students would just advance to the next grade, with the most competitive students attending private tutoring classes after hours, without mentioning the special privileges at school.
Chen Qiao quickly spotted his seat—a window seat in the fourth column of the first row. The seating arrangement changed every two weeks, and now he was lucky to be by the window. The classroom had no curtains, and the afternoon sun poured in heavily.
Due to his short stature, he sat in the front and, as luck would have it, shared a desk with a girl, the only unique pairing in the whole class. As a child, he thought it was shameful; now, he realized how precious this opportunity was.
His deskmate Lin Na was petite, habitually hunched over, lacking in confidence, and somewhat tanned. Her family ran a fruit stall on the street, and she often helped out at home, probably doing a lot of farming work and not paying much attention to sunblock; her arms were fairer compared to the rest of her skin.
She had a younger sister who was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes in her second year of middle school and had raised some medical expenses through school donations. That had coincided with the darkest time in Chen Qiao’s life; he was merely a mud figurine crossing a river, unable to save himself, let alone help others.
Chen Qiao spread the damp handkerchief in his palm and said, “Thank you for your handkerchief; it helped a lot, but I got it dirty. I’ll wash it and return it to you later.”
“No need, I’ll wash it myself.”
Lin Na quickly snatched back the handkerchief and laid it out on a textbook that had sunlight spilling into the classroom.
Homeroom teacher Yang Fang entered the classroom with some materials and called out, “We’re having a class meeting. Everyone, return to your seats!”
The students fanning themselves promptly scattered and returned to their seats.
Yang Fang was a middle-aged woman wearing gold-rimmed glasses, strict and serious, temperamental due to menopause, and could be quite intimidating when angry.
She had taught Chen Qiao in third grade once but then went on maternity leave. Now she had returned after her maternity leave and held a writing tutoring class at her Teacher’s Dormitory. Chen Qiao was also invited to try out a class but didn’t dare go back after finding out there would be a fee.
Chen Qiao planned to squeeze into his seat through a gap behind Lin Na. He felt quite slim and trim, but in reality, he wasn’t. His legs brushed against Lin Na’s back, and she immediately shifted her stool forward, being considerate and allowing Chen Qiao to enter with ease.
Sitting on the long bench, Chen Qiao blocked most of the sunlight, which made the classroom walls hot.
“Class begins.”
Yang Fang announced loudly, and the class leader called out, “Stand up!”
Chen Qiao had just sat down when he stood up again. The classroom filled with the sound of chair legs scraping against the ground as he and his classmates shouted, “Good morning, teacher.”
“Good morning, students. Let’s start today’s class meeting. Summer is approaching, and the weather is getting hotter. You are about to graduate, and you are not allowed to swim in the river without permission, understood?”
It was a common topic; every year there were incidents—either children drowning or people who tried to save them drowning themselves. The pollution of the village’s river had been severe in recent years, full of household garbage and occasionally rotten pigs, so filthy that the stench was pungent. It was a multi-colored black, making them more reluctant to swim; if they wanted to swim, they’d have to go upstream to the mountains.
Would starting a swimming pool be feasible? Chen Qiao’s adult mindset instinctively wanted to think about earning some small money. He didn’t pay any heed to the homeroom teacher’s trivial talk.
Back at his desk, Chen Qiao’s hand brushed over the rough, pockmarked desk. He looked over at Lin Na’s profile; she seemed to be working on today’s math homework.
Although her skin was a bit dark, Lin Na had well-defined features, a straight nose, long eyelashes, and her lips, drying after gym class, looked parched.
Her slightly coarse hair was tied in a simple short ponytail with a cheap black hair tie. Her chest was flat like an airport; she probably hadn’t started developing yet. Wu Xinyu, on the other hand, had developed a bit, as her family was well-off.
Chen Qiao turned to look for Wu Xinyu. She was seated in the second desk of the first row, fanning herself with her left hand while slightly opening her collar with her right, clearly very hot.
Though they were far apart, Wu Xinyu happened to turn her head and locked eyes with Chen Qiao, pouting her lips in irritation and giving him a glare.
Feeling a bit confused, he thought he hadn’t done anything to upset her, and he was more deserving of being upset than she was.
It must have been Wu Xinyu’s basketball that hit him; otherwise, she had no reason to care about him. They had no interactions, and Wu Xinyu didn’t attend the local middle school; she must have gone to the county town or city. The children of teachers were all very competitive; there were many children of middle school teachers in the school, each a type that would win awards endlessly.
Once the homeroom teacher finished with her routine talk, she allowed everyone to self-study, saying they could ask her if they had any questions. She also walked around to see who wasn’t paying attention.
Chen Qiao turned his head, propping his chin with one hand, and continued to watch Lin Na’s profile. He recalled that someone in class had given Lin Na and Wu Xinyu the nicknames Ugly Duckling and White Swan—comparison brings pain.
Due to Lin Na’s short stature and darker skin, coupled with average academic results, she was usually quiet, with few friends, and would run home to help at her parent’s fruit stand right after school.
In contrast, Wu Xinyu had skin as white as snow, was an excellent student, and often helped classmates with problems. Although everyone wore the same school uniform, her hairstyle and accessories changed daily. This wasn’t something she learned to do at a young age out of vanity, but rather her mother had time and energy to style her hair, treating her like a little princess.
However, comparing Wu Xinyu to Lin Na was indeed a bit like bullying; not just in their grade, but even in the entire school or village, it would be hard to find someone who stood out more than her. Her older sister could be one.
Feeling uncomfortable under Chen Qiao’s gaze, Lin Na turned around, facing away from him. They were deskmates with clear boundaries, and they usually never crossed them. Even a slight bump of their elbows would make them blush and race their hearts.
Unable to bear it any longer, Lin Na tucked her hair behind her ears, biting her lower lip as she asked, “Chen Qiao… is there something dirty on my face?”
“No, I wanted to ask what homework we have today; I didn’t remember.”
Chen Qiao’s mind was still a bit muddled, as the information overload was too much, making it hard to recall the finer details.
“The math homework is exercises 135, and the teacher assigned some equations and word problems on the back blackboard.”
Chen Qiao turned to look at the back blackboard, where the handwriting was beautiful, unlike the crude calligraphy of the math teacher. It should have been written by Wu Xinyu, the class representative as well as the math representative.
“The Chinese homework is the paper that was written on the blackboard this afternoon.” Lin Na said, flipping open her notebook.
Yang Fang, as the Chinese teacher, was quite diligent, often finding past papers for them to do, starting early on test practice; however, due to limited school funding, it was impossible to print a copy for everyone, and asking students to pay for it was even less practical. Instead, the Chinese representative would transcribe it on the blackboard during lunch hours, so students could arrive early and see the questions to write the answers down.
The more serious students would copy the questions too; Lin Na was one of them. After copying the questions, she would leave space or draw a slanting line with a ruler, and the answers were still written in pencil.
The questions involved choosing the correct pronunciation for given characters, completing idioms, and fill-in-the-blank items, as well as recitation, correcting errors, and identifying rhetorical techniques.
Chen Qiao flipped through his notebook and discovered that the Chinese homework was already written down while the math homework only had the questions copied; he intended to finish it at home.
Solving equations involved linear equations, which were easy, and the word problems were classics, including distance problems, the chicken-rabbit in the same cage problem, and profit and loss problems. The elementary school questions of this era were quite innocent and straightforward.
In his drawer, there was a red ribbon, old and frayed, with the words “Civilized Guidance Team of Baiyun Primary School” printed on it. He was still a member of the school’s guidance team. Starting in fourth grade, the homeroom teacher could recommend two exemplary students to become guidance team members.
Chen Qiao was chosen in fifth grade; it should not have been his turn, but the two who had better grades than him—one was Wu Xinyu, who had become a guidance team member back in fourth grade, and the other didn’t want to take the position because he already had a role as class leader.
The Civilized Guidance Team was responsible for checking the cleanliness of areas and classrooms, directly related to the evaluation of a civilized class, as well as whether students wore their red scarves and confiscating toys like marbles and various cards, such as Yu-Gi-Oh and 三国杀 (Three Kingdoms Kill).
Chen Qiao turned in some of his cards, pocketing a portion for himself.
“Is that all the homework for today?” Chen Qiao asked, picking up his notebook and math book. He didn’t want to go home to do homework; he had more important things to do.
“Uh-huh. Huh? Did you finish all your work?” Lin Na asked, tilting her head in surprise.
“Is that strange?”
Lin Na flailed her hands, saying, “No, no.”
Feeling as if her voice was too loud, she turned her head to check on the homeroom teacher, who was lingering at the back blackboard. She finally breathed a sigh of relief; several boys sitting in the back row were quite mischievous.
“I heard everyone say today’s problems were difficult, um…”
Lin Na’s small mouth opened slightly, hesitating to speak.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, nothing.”
Lin Na shook her head back and forth like a rattle.
“Do you want me to teach you how to solve these questions?”
Lin Na used the back of her used notebook as draft paper, filling it with various formulas; only the numbers in the problems were correct while the errors were quite absurd.
“I’m very stupid; you might not be able to teach me,” Lin Na said, lowering her head self-consciously. Math had always been her weakness, and she often failed.
“The more difficult it is, the more challenging it is. I like it more. There are no stupid students, only teachers who can’t teach. And since you lent me your handkerchief to stop my nosebleed, I should repay your kindness well.”
Not having a childhood sweetheart was a significant regret for Chen Qiao. He spent all his days playing games and kept a distance from girls. Nurturing the ugly duckling into a beautiful swan would indeed give him a sense of accomplishment.
