JFWCM Chapter 9
by VolareThe chocolate wrapper crinkled softly in Yi Shang’s palm. She stood under the bus stop sign, watching the black sedan turn around the mountain road and disappear. The exhaust fumes shimmered in the sunlight, distorting into swirling, transparent patterns. The pink chalk stick in her pocket pressed against her thigh like a piece of red-hot coal.
By the time she returned to the classroom, half of the lunch break had already passed. Yi Shang quietly pushed the door open, only to find Jiang Wan’yuan already sitting in her seat, drawing something on the blackboard with that star-sky chalk. Sunlight streamed through the window, slanting across her face and outlining a soft profile.
“You’re back,” Jiang Wan’yuan said without turning her head, as if she had eyes in the back of her head. Her fingertip swirled on the blackboard, and a lopsided five-pointed star appeared.
Yi Shang stood at the door, her fingers unconsciously reaching for the chocolate wrapper in her pocket. “Yeah, I got on the wrong bus.”
“I know,” Jiang Wan’yuan finally turned around, a slightly mocking smile, her trademark, playing on her lips. “I saw you spacing out at the opposite bus stop.”
The pattern on the blackboard gradually became clearer – a rabbit wearing headphones sitting on a rocket, surrounded by stars of all sizes. Yi Shang recognized it as a pattern Jiang Wan’yuan often drew in the corner of her notebooks.
“The competition list is out,” Jiang Wan’yuan said suddenly, twirling the chalk between her fingers. “Neither of us made it.”
Yi Shang’s breath caught in her throat. The physics competition her father had been looking forward to for a whole year, the competition where he had promised, “If you get in, I’ll let you learn to draw.” Her fingers dug into her palm, and the chocolate wrapper made a soft rustling sound.
“Oh,” she finally managed to utter, her voice as dry as autumn leaves.
Jiang Wan’yuan tilted her head and looked at her, then suddenly pulled a chocolate bar from her pocket and threw it accurately at Yi Shang. “Catch.”
The chocolate arced through the air. Yi Shang instinctively caught it, the familiar gold wrapper shimmering in the sunlight – it was her favorite Belgian dark chocolate, the brand her father forbade her from eating on the grounds that it was “too high in sugar.”
“How did you…”
“I saw you staring at it on the supermarket shelf for three minutes last time,” Jiang Wan’yuan shrugged. “Eat it. Sweets help relieve feelings of failure.” She paused, then added, “My sister said so.”
Yi Shang lowered her head and unwrapped the chocolate, and the rich aroma of chocolate immediately filled her nostrils. She took a small bite, the sweet and bitter taste spreading across her tongue. For some reason, her eyes suddenly felt hot.
“Thank you,” she said softly, her voice almost drowned out by the cicadas outside the window.
Jiang Wan’yuan didn’t respond, she just continued to paint on the blackboard. Her technique was special, using the side of the chalk instead of the tip, spreading large patches of pink that looked like a nebula.
The classroom door was suddenly pushed open, and Lin Jichuan, the physics representative, walked in carrying a stack of test papers. He frowned immediately when he saw Jiang Wan’yuan in front of the blackboard.
“Jiang Wan’yuan! You’re messing up the blackboard again!” His voice was shrill and grating. “We need to write the afternoon physics lesson on there!”
Jiang Wan’yuan turned around slowly, twirling the chalk between her fingers. “What’s the rush? There’s still half an hour before class.” Her gaze swept over the test papers in Lin Jichuan’s hand, and a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Oh, the competition mock exam, huh? Looks like those of us who didn’t make the cut have to suffer too?”
Lin Jichuan’s face flushed red. “At least I made it to the finals list! Unlike some people who only know how to draw all day and can’t even remember the basic formulas.”
Yi Shang saw Jiang Wan’yuan’s fingers tighten slightly, and the chalk made a faint cracking sound. But her expression didn’t change, and her smile only deepened.
“Is that so? Then tell me, Lin the Academic Giant,” she took a step forward, “do you know how to explain the aurora with the Bohr model?”
Lin Jichuan was visibly stunned. “This… this isn’t on the preliminary exam!”
“But it’s interesting, isn’t it?” Jiang Wan’yuan turned around and quickly sketched several atomic models on the blackboard with the chalk. “My sister’s notes have a detailed derivation process. Want to see?”
Yi Shang noticed her voice trembled slightly when she said “sister,” just like it had at the cemetery today. Lin Jichuan seemed to notice something too, and his expression became a little embarrassed.
“Anyway… just wipe the blackboard clean.” He put down the test papers and hurried out of the classroom.
Jiang Wan’yuan stood in that position for a few seconds, then suddenly raised her hand and threw the remaining chalk accurately into the trash can.
“Boring,” she muttered, walking back to her seat.
Yi Shang hesitated for a moment, then followed. She took the crumpled chocolate wrapper out of her pocket and gently placed it on Jiang Wan’yuan’s desk.
“Here,” she said, “you can… fold stars.”
Jiang Wan’yuan looked up at her, a hint of surprise flashing in her eyes, before reverting to her nonchalant expression. “Oh, so the Academic Giant knows about this too?”
“When I was little… my mother taught me,” Yi Shang said softly. This was the first time she had mentioned her mother at school, the woman who had left when she was ten years old to pursue her “artistic dreams.”
Jiang Wan’yuan’s fingers gently stroked the wrapper, the golden foil reflecting a subtle light on her pale fingertips. “Thanks,” she paused, “There’s a Perseid meteor shower observation at the astronomical observatory next week, want to go?”
Yi Shang’s heart suddenly started racing. Her father would never agree, next Saturday night was the fixed “physics intensive training” time. But looking at Jiang Wan’yuan’s expectant eyes, she nodded as if possessed.
“I can… try.”
Jiang Wan’yuan smiled, a genuine smile this time, the corners of her eyes curving slightly, like crescent moons. “It’s a deal then.” She took out a worn notebook from her bag, tore out a page and handed it to Yi Shang. “My sister’s observation notes, I’ll lend them to you for now.”
Yi Shang took the paper, which was densely covered with observation data, but the edges were filled with various cartoon rabbits, some wearing headphones, some holding guitars. At the bottom, written in childish handwriting, was: “The universe is a waltz, and we are all the notes that dance within it.”
When the dismissal bell rang, Yi Shang was still studying the notes. Jiang Wan’yuan had already packed her bag and was standing at the door, waving at her.
“Don’t forget the chocolate wrapper,” she reminded her. “You can fold a thousand stars with it.”
Yi Shang nodded, carefully tucking the notes into her physics textbook. As soon as she walked out of the school gate, she saw her father’s car parked in its usual spot, the black body gleaming coldly in the setting sun.
“Why are you so late today?” Her father’s voice came from the rolled-down car window, with a clear hint of displeasure.
Yi Shang gripped her bag strap tightly. “The teacher… kept me back for a bit.”
Her father’s sharp eyes scanned her face, as if judging the truthfulness of her words. “Get in the car, Professor Zhang is coming to visit us at seven.”
An suffocating silence filled the car. Yi Shang stared out the window at the rapidly receding scenery, her fingers unconsciously stroking the chocolate wrapper in her pocket.
“The competition list is out,” her father said suddenly.
Yi Shang’s heart skipped a beat. “Yeah.”
“You didn’t get in.”
It wasn’t a question. Yi Shang closed her eyes, waiting for the storm to come.
“Do you know why?” Her father’s voice was unusually calm, a calmness that was even more terrifying than a roar. “Because you were distracted. On last week’s mock exam, you got three basic electromagnetism questions wrong.”
Yi Shang bit her lip. She wanted to say that she had tried her best, that the questions all blurred into a mess when she did them at 3 AM, that she actually preferred the rabbit sketches on the edges of Jiang Wan’yuan’s sister’s notes. But in the end, she just said softly, “I’m sorry.”
“Professor Zhang has a research project, and I recommended you,” her father turned the steering wheel. “Starting next week, you’ll go to the lab every Saturday night.”
Saturday night. Astronomical observatory. Meteor shower. Yi Shang felt a stabbing pain in her chest.
“Can we… change it to Sunday?” she asked, summoning her courage.
Her father glanced at her. “Why?”
“I… I want to…” Yi Shang’s fingers gripped the chocolate wrapper tightly. “There’s an astronomical observation activity…”
“Yi Shang,” her father interrupted, his voice as cold as ice. “Do you know why your older female cousin was able to get into MIT? Because she gave up all ‘activities’ and focused on academics.”
Yi Shang didn’t say anything else. The car window reflected her pale face and the gradually receding outline of the school behind her. In that blurry reflection, she seemed to see Jiang Wan’yuan standing at the school gate, holding up the star drawn with chalk.
Back home, her father went straight to the study, leaving behind the words, “Get your competition mistake book ready before seven.” Yi Shang slowly walked up the stairs, each step feeling like she was walking on cotton.
Her room was spotless, and various reference books were neatly arranged on the bookshelf according to the numbering system compiled by her father. Posters of Einstein and the periodic table were pasted on the wall, and a copy of “Fundamentals of Quantum Mechanics,” newly bought by her father last week, was on her desk.
Yi Shang locked the door and carefully took out the notes that Jiang Wan’yuan had given her from her bag. Under the desk lamp, the scribbled data and cute doodles formed a wonderful harmony. She gently stroked the sentence “The universe is a waltz,” and suddenly felt a pang of sadness.
A sketchbook was hidden in the deepest part of her desk drawer, the last gift her mother had given her before she left. Yi Shang rarely allowed herself to open it, because every time she drew, her father could magically sense it and then confiscate her pencils on the grounds that it was “a waste of time.”
Today, she couldn’t help but take out the sketchbook. She opened the first page, which was a portrait of her at the age of ten, drawn by her mother, her smile as bright as she wasn’t now. Yi Shang picked up a pencil and gently sketched on a blank page – first the rabbit’s long ears, then the streamlined shell of the rocket, and finally the stars dotted around it.
Halfway through the drawing, a knock suddenly sounded on the door. “Yi Shang? Professor Zhang is here,” her father’s voice came through the door.
Yi Shang hurriedly closed the sketchbook, but it was too late. Her father pushed the door open, his eyes immediately locking onto the book in her hand.
“Drawing again?” His voice was full of disappointment. “This is why you failed the competition.”
Yi Shang instinctively hid the book behind her, an action that angered her father. He strode forward and snatched the sketchbook.
“Dad!” Yi Shang stood up, her voice sharp with urgency. “Give it back to me!”
Her father paid no attention, flipping through the drawings in the book. “Childish,” he commented. “Your older female cousin was already studying calculus at your age.”
“I’m not her!” Yi Shang heard herself shout, her voice surprisingly loud. “I hate physics! I hate the competition! I just want to… just want to…”
“Just want to what?” her father asked coldly. “Be a failed artist like your mother? Or jump off a building because you failed a competition like Jiang Wan’yuan’s sister?”
Yi Shang was struck by lightning. “You… how do you know about her sister…”
“I’m on the school board, of course I know,” her father closed the sketchbook. “I forbid you from associating with that girl again. She’ll ruin your future.”
Yi Shang stood there, trembling. She remembered Jiang Wan’yuan’s focused profile as she drew stars with chalk at the cemetery today; remembered the light in her eyes when she talked about her sister; remembered the longing in her voice when she said, “The universe is a waltz.”
“No,” she heard herself say, her voice soft but firm. “Jiang Wan’yuan is my friend.”
Her father’s expression became strange and terrible. “Friend?” he sneered. “When you get into Tsinghua University, you’ll have better ‘friends.'”
He threw the sketchbook into the trash can and turned to walk towards the door. “Be in the living room at seven o’clock sharp. Now, clear those useless things from your mind.”
The sound of the door closing was like a slap in the face. Yi Shang slowly squatted down and picked up the sketchbook from the trash can. The portrait her mother had drawn was creased, her little face now divided in half.
The chocolate wrapper in her pocket made a soft sound. Yi Shang took it out and carefully unfolded it. Under the desk lamp, the golden foil reflected a warm light. She remembered what Jiang Wan’yuan had said: “You can fold a thousand stars with it.”
The clock on the desk pointed to 6:50. Yi Shang took a deep breath, hid the sketchbook back in the depths of the drawer, but tucked the chocolate wrapper into her physics textbook. She tidied up her expression in the mirror, making sure there were no traces of crying.
Before going downstairs, she took one last look out the window. The night sky was dotted with stars, tomorrow should be a clear day. For some reason, she remembered the sentence in Jiang Wan’yuan’s sister’s notes – “The universe is a waltz, and we are all the notes that dance within it.”
Yi Shang gently touched the pink chalk stick in her pocket, the one that Jiang Wan’yuan had stuffed into her hand at the cemetery today. “I’m giving you a star,” she had said at the time, her eyes shining incredibly brightly.
The sound of her father and Professor Zhang talking and laughing came from the living room. Yi Shang took a deep breath and pushed open the door.