Summer in Your Name - 64

Hou Junqi announced he was skipping class, and a bunch of others jumped in to join him.  

Han Xiao and his crew were obviously on board. While Qi Xiulei, Yang Linyu, and their entire dorm joined in enthusiastically. Then Yang Linyu dragged Xin Xiaohe along, and just like that… 

A boisterous convoy of three cars rolled out. After getting out, Hou Junqi, towering over the group, led the way. Dressed in their school uniforms, they strutted down the hospital corridor, turning heads left and right.

Zhang Shu was dozing off while getting an IV drip when a shouts of “Brother Shu!” jolted him awake.  

He hadn’t been sleeping soundly anyway—couldn’t roll over, couldn’t lie on his side. Without the meds, he was stuck in light sleep during the day. To pass the time, he'd usually listen to some English audio or Chinese recitations.

Zhang Shu turned off the audio playing on his phone and pulled out his earphones.

The caregiver adjusted his bed to raise it slightly.  

He watched as the group filed into the room one by one, like ducklings in a row.  

All guys.  

Finally, at the very end, a girl appeared—short hair, tan, lively eyes. It was Xin Xiaohe.

Zhang Shu’s gaze lingered behind her.  

There was no one else. Xin Xiaohe closed the door.  

No one noticed the dimming in Zhang Shu’s eyes—he hadn’t looked energetic to begin with.  

“What’s with you all? Shouldn’t you be in class?” Zhang Shu asked.  

Hou Junqi: “It's just P.E. this period…”  

Han Xiao: “Like it even matters if we skip one class?”  

Wu Pengcheng: “Hey, don’t lump me in with you guys. I’m making a huge sacrifice here!”  

Liu Hui’an: “Yeah right. As if it makes any difference whether you study or not.”  

The group erupted into meaningless bickering, helping themselves to the fruit they’d brought.  

Then one asked about his condition, another about the incident, all talking at once. Zhang Shu’s single mouth couldn’t keep up.

Hou Junqi wailed, “A-Shu, when are you coming back? When can we play ball again? Studying alone is torture!”  

Yang Linyu called him out: “You’ve barely shown up this past half-month. What torture?”  

“My heart’s in torture!” Hou Junqi shot back. “Not like you, already set for Heyan Tech, living the dream.”

 

Yang Linyu played modest. “Don’t jinx it. I still need to hit the first-tier score, alright?”  

Qi Xiulei scoffed. “First-tier score? That’s a piece of cake for you. A-Shu, look at this guy flexing.”  

Zhang Shu knew Yang Linyu had attended Heyan Tech’s winter camp for independent enrollment. Seemed like he’d done well.  

“When’s the announcement?” he asked.

Yang Linyu replied, “Scores are mostly out already. Official announcement’s in April.”

“Oh, Sheng Xia’s is in April too!” Xin Xiaohe blurted.  

The moment the name left her lips, the guys sighed and exchanged uneasy glances.   

The entire internet knew Zhang Shu's confession in that Weibo post, but the girl in question hadn’t responded. 

Understandable, since word was she was heading abroad.

Snapping to attention, Han Xiao asked, “What’s Sheng Xia got in April?”

Hou Junqi chimed in, “If it’s the SAT, that’s in even-numbered months like April, but there’s no testing in China, right?”

Xin Xiaohe cursed her big mouth.  

She’d learned at Yifang Bookstore last weekend that Sheng Xia had taken leave to prepare for independent enrollment. No one in class knew, not even Sheng Xia’s parents.  

Unlike Yang Linyu, Sheng Xia’s chances weren’t a sure thing.

Xin Xiaohe backpedaled awkwardly, “Ah, I might’ve mixed it up.”

This time, everyone noticed Zhang Shu’s dimming eyes.  

A few seconds passed in silence.  

Wu Pengcheng broke it with a tease, “A-Shu, you're really famous now! That speech about being useful to society and the country, turns out you weren’t just spouting nonsense, huh?”  

“HAHAHAHA!”  

“Achieving life's purpose too soon, hahaha.”  

Uh…  

Why were they the only ones laughing? Zhang Shu remained expressionless, his gaze even grew dimmer?    

What was wrong with that comment?

“A-Shu?” Yang Linyu changed the subject. “Can you make it for the second mock exam?”  

Zhang Shu calculated the time. “Not sure.”  

The doctor said his recovery was progressing well, but it was hard to predict.

The group exchanged glances.  

Being bedridden this long would definitely impact his grades, but no one dared say it aloud.  

Zhang Shu said, “It’s fine. There’s still time.”  

Hearing this, everyone eased a little.  

They chatted about basketball and some recent school gossip before leaving. 

Couldn’t skip too many classes.

Xin Xiaohe lingered at the back, then paused and turned around.  

Should she say something? She noticed Sheng Xia had also been down lately.  

But Sheng Xia must've had her reasons for everything. Xin Xiaohe didn’t want to overstep.

After a long internal debate, she ultimately left without another word.  

Propped up in bed, Zhang Shu replayed Xin Xiaohe’s hesitant look as if she wanted to say something, and fell deep in thought.  

He grabbed his phone, opened Q.Q, and messaged Xin Xiaohe:  

S: “What were you trying to say earlier?”  

Xin Xiaohe, probably bored in the car, replied instantly: “Nothing, hehehe.”  

S: “What’s Sheng Xia got in April?”  

Even if it were the SAT or TOEFL, it’d be ‘scores results’ not ‘announcement’. The word ‘announcement’ felt too... official. 

The chat flickered with “typing…” but no message came.

Growing impatient, Zhang Shu called Xin Xiaohe directly.

Xin Xiaohe hung up instantly.  

Zhang Shu: …  

Moments later, a message from Xin Xiaohe finally came.  

Xin Xiaohe: “Sorry, Brother Shu, my finger slipped… Um, why don't you ask Old Wang instead? I’m not sure myself…”

She wasn’t unsure—she knew too much and didn’t know if saying anything was right.

What if she messed things up for Sheng Xia?  

Without hesitation, Zhang Shu tried calling Wang Wei, but there was no answer.

Probably teaching.  

Wait until after class?  

Zhang Shu couldn’t wait.  

Remembering something, he found Fu Jie’s QQ in the class group and sent a friend request.    

She accepted almost instantly, sending a cute: "Hi~"    

Zhang Shu didn't reply and called her.  

Fu Jie picked up right away. “Our hero! To what do I owe this honor? How are you feeling? Teacher Wang says you’re recovering strong and well. When can we visit?”  

Zhang Shu cut to the chase: “Much better. Visit anytime. Teacher Fu, I need to ask you something. Can you be honest with me?”  

Fu Jie: …  

“What’s so urgent?”  

“Do you know… what Sheng Xia’s been up to?" Zhang Shu asked bluntly.

Fu Jie: “She’s… in class?”  

Zhang Shu: …  

He realized Fu Jie’s thought process bore an uncanny resemblance to Sheng Xia’s.  

Zhang Shu: “Does she have any exams in April? Or a camp?”

Then he caught himself—most schools only had winter or summer camps. A spring camp? That wasn't a thing.  

“I don't think so?” Fu Jie answered, then paused to think. “Oh, the announcement for her independent enrollment results is in April. You didn’t know?”  

Zhang Shu: “What independent enrollment?”  

Fu Jie: “Heqing University’s Strong Foundation Program?”  

She seemed to catch on. “You really didn’t know?”

Zhang Shu put the call on speaker, his hand dropping limply.  

Fu Jie’s voice was laced with confusion: “Aren’t you two always together? I thought you knew. It’s intense. She’s been writing drafts till midnight, even during lunch breaks. Weren’t you always with her at lunch? How could you possibly not know?”  

Zhang Shu felt like something had cracked his skull. His scalp tingling.  

So, those lunch breaks when she insisted on carrying that heavy backpack… was she bringing a laptop to write drafts?

“Teacher…” Zhang Shu struggled to form words. “What independent enrollment?? What drafts?”  

“I’ll send you the details, look at it yourself.” Fu Jie muttered. “It’s intense, super strict requirements. Teacher Wang and I both thought there was no hope. Her first draft didn’t pass—100,000 words wasted just like that. We figured that was it, but Sheng Xia wanted to try again. She took two weeks off to rewrite it…”  

“I’ve never seen a girl so determined. She could’ve taken an easier path…” Fu Jie still seemed in disbelief. "How come you don't know any of this? Then why were you at Yifang Bookstore? I thought you were there with her? Did you not plan together?”  

Zhang Shu stared at the ceiling, eyes shut tight, his mind replaying her crying, saying she tried so hard but still failed.  

Back then, he'd thought she meant dealing with her parents.

But was it about her independent enrollment all along?  

Had she cried because her draft was rejected?  

Zhang Shu stayed silent. Fu Jie seemed to sense something, her voice uneasy. “Did I say something I shouldn’t have?”  

“No,” Zhang Shu said solemnly. “Thank you, Teacher Fu.”  

Fu Jie paused, then asked, “You don’t check Weibo anymore?”

Zhang Shu: “I don't plan on using it again.”  

Opening it meant a flood of red notifications—reposts, comments, and private messages. 

All 99+.  

He didn't want this kind of attention.  

But he wouldn’t delete it either.  

What he’d done, what he’d said—it was all him, unapologetically. No need to erase it.

 

"You might want to take a look," Fu Jie suggested.    

---  

That evening, Sheng Xia ran into Lu Youze at Hengxin Building.  

She was surprised. “Didn’t you finish your exam?”  

Lu Youze replied, "The results aren't out yet. I can't relax just in case I need to retake them."

“You’ll be fine,” she encouraged, her tone sincere but distant.

“Thanks.” Lu Youze smiled, then asked. “How is he?”  

They both knew who this 'he' referred to.  

“Much better, I think…”

Noting her uncertainty, Lu Youze had a vague guess. “You two… haven’t made up?"  

For such a spectacle that could be described as a life-risking sacrifice, even if it was only Zhang Shu's misunderstanding, their bond was deep.  

Made up…  

Sheng Xia didn’t know how to define that. She wasn’t sure if they’d ‘made up’.

In any case, things weren't great right now.

She shook her head.  

Lu Youze sighed and changed the subject. “Focus on your exam prep. The questions aren’t tough; just stay calm!"

Sheng Xia nodded.  

When Wang Lianhua picked Sheng Xia up and saw Lu Youze, she exchanged polite small talk. In the car, she asked, "Is this classmate also going abroad?"  

“Yeah.”  

“Where?”  

“Penn.”  

Wang Lianhua raised an eyebrow. “Penn too?”

“They have a great business program.”  

Wang Lianhua chuckled dryly, muttering under her breath. “So your dad, acting all sweet and protective, was pushing for this…”  

Sheng Xia sighed.  

Alas, the misunderstandings between her Mom and Dad ran too deep.  

“Our teacher recommended the schools separately. It’s just a coincidence,” she explained.  

Wang Lianhua didn’t seem convinced, only warned, “No matter what, keep an appropriate distance.”  

“I know.”  

Wang Lianhua had a zero-tolerance attitude for early romance, she didn’t care who the guy was, not even a prince would get a pass.

“You haven’t visited that… Zhang Shu in a while. You can go if you want,” Wang Lianhua suddenly said.  

Sheng Xia was caught off guard. If it was before, she’d have rushed over immediately.

“Maybe when I have time.”

Wang Lianhua looked surprised but said nothing more.  

That night, Sheng Xia followed her usual routine: doing practice tests and reviewing mistakes until late into the night.

At 1 AM, she finally climbed into bed.  

Before sleeping, she checked her phone. Hou Junqi had sent a video of the hospital visit. The ward was filled with laughter, and Zhang Shu looked much more energetic.  

His voice was back to normal volume too.  

As she exited the chat, she noticed a red notification badge appeared next to ‘Song Jiang’, a chat that had hung in silence until now.

10.

Ten new messages. 

Clicking in, she saw he’d replied to every message she’d sent before.  

The last one read: “Asking so much but won’t come visit me?”

Sent two minutes ago.  

Sheng Xia: “Why are you still awake this late?!”  

Shouldn’t patients rest more?  

Song Jiang replied instantly: “I know you’d check your phone around now.”

Sheng Xia: …  

“Get some rest!”  

Song Jiang: “Come see me tomorrow, then.”

 

Sheng Xia: “Okay.”  

Several minutes passed. Sheng Xia watched her phone screen light up and dimmed and finally typed: “Why didn't you reply to my messages before?"

Song Jiang still answered immediately: ”Come tomorrow, and I’ll tell you.”

This had to be said in person?

Sheng Xia confirmed one thing: He’d been ignoring her messages on purpose.  

She’d had an inkling but didn’t think it was that serious. After his incident, she wasn’t the only one worried about him, others did too. Not everyone’s concern could be responded to, but at least she knew her concern had reached him, and that alone was worthwhile.

Clearly, he didn’t see it that way.  

Sigh.  

---  

The next day was Sunday, with the afternoon free.  

After informing Wang Lianhua, Sheng Xia hitched a ride with Zhang Sujin to the hospital.  

The room was filled with flowers, bouquets crowding every surface.  

Zhang Shu wasn’t alone. A girl stood by his bed, their heads bent close to look at a phone.  

When they heard someone enter, both looked up.  

The girl was striking—long black hair, bangs framing bright, expressive eyes, though she carried an air of aloof detachment.  

Zhang Shu handed the phone back to the girl. “My family’s here.”  

The girl nodded, stepped aside, waved “bye,” then nodded to Zhang Sujin and Sheng Xia before slipping out.

Zhang Sujin smiled at the stunned Sheng Xia. “That’s the girl from the window seat that day. She can’t speak.”

Oh, I see.  

Sheng Xia’s heart, which had tightened without her noticing, eased. “I heard she has a hearing impairment.”

That was why when that madman rushed up behind her, she didn't hear anything.

“Yes. But with a cochlear implant, she can hear a little.”  

"It must not be easy for her.”  

“It is.”  

Sheng Xia looked at Zhang Shu, who was half-sitting on the bed, suddenly felt a bit at loss. 

His gaze was fixed on her, without any particular expression, his emotions unreadable.  

Zhang Sujin announced, "I’ll go buy some fruit and yogurt. Be right back."  

An obvious excuse to give them space—too obvious, since the bedside table was already piled with fruit baskets.  

“Sit?” Zhang Shu said finally.  

Sheng Xia set her bag aside and sat by the bed, her eyes betraying a flicker of guilt.

Zhang Shu sighed inwardly and decided to tackle the first issue.

He pulled a stack of envelopes from the bedside drawer and handed them to her. “Read them to me.”

Sheng Xia looked up:.... 

Zhang Shu: "I don’t want to read. It’s tiring. You read.”

Sheng Xia: “These are… from other people, for you…”

How could she read them?  

Zhang Shu: “Read.”  

This felt like a trap, but she was here now, and she’d overstepped first. She had to do something.

When soldiers attack, send generals to block; when floods come, use earth to dam¹.

(¹: A Chinese idiom, one will adapt and confront whenever challenges arise.) 

She picked the least pink envelope—plain kraft paper—and opened it.  

“A-Shu…” Just the greeting made her squirm.

Why could others call him A-Shu so easily?

She checked the signature—someone from second-year. “You know them?” She showed him the name.

Zhang Shu shook his head. “Nope.”

Sheng Xia blinked, surprised. You could address someone so familiarly without knowing them?

Urged on by his look, she continued:  

“I hope this letter finds you well… Hearing you were hurt, I haven’t slept for two days, I hope you can recover and see this letter..."

“The first time I saw you, on Camphor Avenue, you rode past me on your bike. At that moment, the air felt sweet. That's when I realized there really is such a thing as love at first sight..."

Sheng Xia's voice trailed off, stumbling.

The next page, over a thousand words, detailed every encounter between the letter’s writer and Zhang Shu.

She glanced up. His eyes were closed, as if resting.    

When she stopped, he prompted, “Keep reading.”  

“…I never thought we’d end up together. I just wanted you to know someone likes you and always will, no matter what. You’re the brightest color of my high school years. A-Shu, if I’m lucky enough, I hope you’ll remember my name…”

Zhang Shu opened his eyes. “Done?”  

“Yeah…”  

Zhang Shu: “Next one.”  

Sheng Xia: …  

“Shu…”  

“When you read this letter, you should be out of danger. Heaven has answered my prayers…”  

“…You probably don’t remember, during freshman military training…”

“You’re always so dazzling…”  

Zhang Shu: “Next.”  

Sheng Xia felt a lump in her throat, tight and aching.

She didn’t read on. Didn’t open the third letter.

Zhang Shu opened his eyes slowly. He’d steeled himself before she came, but seeing her head bowed, chin tucked into her neck, he could only sigh softly.

“How does that feel, Sheng Xia?”  

She didn’t look up, shoving the letters back into the drawer. “I don’t want to read anymore…”  

Zhang Shu: “Why?”  

She couldn't bring herself to say it.  

Zhang Shu: “Why, XIA_abcdef?”  

Sheng Xia finally looked up.

Had he seen it? Didn’t he say he wouldn’t look?  

“You saw—”  

“Yeah,” Zhang Shu cut in. “I saw.”  

If he hadn't seen those words for himself—"May we both get our wishes, and meet again in September.”—he wouldn’t have believed a girl who liked him would hand him someone else’s love letters.

Not just one. A whole stack.  

He pondered it all night and finally came to terms with it.  

He shouldn't judge her actions by his own worldview and logic.

Sheng Xia was used to caring for everyone around her, always putting other's feelings first, with an empathy that often outweighed her own desires.

During his birthday, when he’d asked her to help unwrap his gifts, she’d felt it was disrespectful to the givers. How much more so for letters sent when he was at death’s door?

Her feelings for him were unfamiliar to her.

Not knowing how to handle them, she fell back on her usual logic.

“So why? Why don’t you want to read anymore?” Zhang Shu pressed.  

Finally, under his relentless questioning, she murmured, "Because it didn't feel good..."    

The letters weren’t polished, but they were sincere. If she’d stumbled upon them online, she might’ve been touched. But the subject of these letters was him, describing moments of his life she’d missed.

She couldn't explain it; she just felt terrible.  

Suddenly, someone touched her fingertips. She looked up, meeting Zhang Shu’s faint smile.

“Get it now? This is called jealousy.” His eyes locked onto hers, each word deliberate.

Jeal-ous-y.  

He propped an arm behind his head, all casual, but his next words sent heat rushing to her ears:  

when another guy talks to you for more than three sentences, and I’m annoyed. When someone hands you water, I’m annoyed. Knowing you could study abroad at the same school as someone else? I’m really annoyed. Logic says it’s all good for you, but emotionally, I’m just… not okay. This feeling, do you understand now?”

Understand?  

She did.  

Jealousy was Lin Daiyu saying, 'Had I known she would be here, I wouldn’t have come¹’; It was Jane retreating to her hidden corner²; It was Bryce raging inside,’ ‘How can she smile at someone else like that?’³.

(¹: Lin Daiyu is the famously sensitive heroine of Dream of the Red Chamber, she says this when she arrives at a gathering only to discover her love rival is already there.)

(²: Jane Eyre's retreat alludes to pivotal moments in the novel where the protagonist withdraws after discovering her love interest has a wife.)

(³: In Flipped, Bryce spends years taking the female protagonist's devotion for granted until she befriends another boy—triggering his unexpected, furious jealousy.) 

It was knowing all the reasons, yet still feeling suffocated.  

It was veiled jabs, fury, losing composure.  

Possessiveness.  

Sheng Xia: “I feel it too…”

Zhang Shu glanced at her, his expression saying he was listening but wasn't convinced. 

“I feel it too,” she repeated, firm. “When I saw you rehearsing with another girl, when I heard you gave her flowers and a necklace, when I watched you chatting and laughing so naturally with her…. and just now.”  

“Just now…”  

She trailed off, her cheeks flushed red.  

She could feel her tightly clenched hand growing warm and sweaty.

Zhang Shu sat up straighter, ignoring a twinge in his abdomen, and leaned closer.

He took her nervous hand—it still feels impossibly soft.  

“Just now what?”  

His IV-connected hand was cold against her feverish skin, providing a sudden chill she found soothing.  

Sheng Xia met his gaze, no longer dodging.  

“Just now… seeing you so close to someone else…”  

Zhang Shu studied her flushed face, eyes brimming with stubbornness and grievances. His smile broke free, spreading to his eyes.

Sheng Xia, heart pounding like it might burst, held his gaze.

She was sincere and meant every word. 

He shouldn’t accuse her of not understanding.    

“Sheng Xia…”

His voice was low, soft, lingering.

“What do I do? It's not just liking you anymore..."

Sheng Xia's heartbeat and pulse refused to obey her will—none of it would slow down.

Zhang Shu watched her every reaction, swallowing the words he’d nearly said.

Take it step by step, don't rush.  

She wasn’t like anyone else.  

He leaned in until their faces were inches apart and said instead:  

“From now on, I’ll only listen to your confessions, only give flowers and necklaces to you, and keep a one-meter distance from other girls. What do you think?”

---

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