The Scent of a Newcomer and a Philosophical Query

When the first class ended, students immediately vacated their seats, gravitating towards their social circles. There, they would readily share amusing anecdotes from the previous day or thoughts that had crossed their minds, turning them into conversational fodder. Even if others found these tales less than captivating, they would still recount one everyday incident after another.

“…I’d just finished showering and went to grab my bath towel when a cockroach suddenly flew out of it, nearly scaring me out of my skin.”

“Haha, that’s typical for Southern cockroaches.”

“I once kept a Vietnamese giant centipede. I practically wished for cockroaches at home so I could catch them to feed it.”

“Ugh, that’s so gross…”

It was precisely these seemingly trivial matters that could spark a cascade of associations, diverse opinions, and copious complaints, thereby becoming topics that sustained the conversations within these small groups. Circles of diligent students discussed homework, the more spirited ones chatted about money and girls, while the introverted cliques delved into games and anime. ‘Did they first discover shared interests before forging friendships, or did their friendships blossom first, prompting a gradual search for common ground?’ Such a philosophical query surfaced in my mind, but thankfully, lacking any philosophical aptitude, I didn’t pursue it further.

Suddenly, someone yanked open the curtains, and the morning sunlight, sharp and intrusive, pierced my eyes. That fleeting moment of disorientation jolted me back to reality. Though the sun was remarkably soft at this hour, it remained impossible to stare at directly. I averted my gaze, seeking to escape its dazzling brilliance, only to find the light instead illuminating myself, my stationery, my desk, and indeed, the entire classroom.

“Hey, Master.”

The voice drifted from my left. “Master Yi, I need to tell you something.” It was Gao Qinghong.

“Go on,” I replied. The intense sunlight streaming through the window where he sat prevented me from turning my head to face him.

“I took your advice and tried to offer help to the class monitor,” he confessed. “But I simply couldn’t find the right moment. I mean, how do I put it? We don’t usually talk much, so suddenly going up to her and offering assistance would feel a bit… well, a bit odd.”

I found his predicament rather puzzling. What could possibly be strange about offering assistance to someone facing difficulties or trouble? I was about to voice my thoughts when he promptly continued.

“So, I’ve decided to bypass that step,” he explained. “I’ll join the same club as her first. Once we’re a bit closer, offering help will feel much more natural, don’t you think, Master?”

Despite his repeated use of “Master,” I honestly had no grasp of such matters. When it came to romantic relationships or the intricacies of love, I was utterly clueless.

“Well, if you believe it’s the right approach.”

Gao Qinghong’s face lit up, but then a sudden bashfulness overtook him. “But I still don’t know which club she’s in, and I’m not familiar with her friends… So… could you, no, Master, could you possibly help me ask her?”

‘I don’t know them either,’ I mused.

“Alright,” I conceded, rising from my seat. He showed no surprise at my agreement, instead beaming with unconcealed delight.

I navigated the narrow aisle between the rows of desks, making my way towards Tang Xiaoxiao’s seat. Due to her shorter stature, she invariably occupied one of the first two rows whenever seating arrangements changed. Her naturally curly, voluminous hair shimmered with a pale sheen under the sun’s reflective light. Reaching her desk, I found her engrossed in some task, her head bowed low.

“Class Monitor,” I called out to her.

Tang Xiaoxiao abruptly lifted her head, the sun’s brilliance making her squint, yet she stubbornly strained against the glare to identify who was speaking. As if on cue, the previously drawn-back curtain was now grumblingly pulled shut by another student. The classroom light instantly softened, and my features became clear in Tang Xiaoxiao’s gaze.

Yet, she remained silent, her eyes wide and unblinking, fixated on me in a dazed stupor.

“Is something amiss?” I inquired.

The Class Monitor suddenly snapped back to attention. “Ah, nothing…” Her voice, a mere trickle, flowed with a subtle melancholy. “It just feels like… it’s been a long time since we last spoke.”

“It’s alright; most of the class still hasn’t spoken to me.”

My words, for some unknown reason, elicited a charming smile from her, her dimples appearing like a sudden star in the daytime sky—surprising and captivating. She ceased her activity, turning her entire body to face me directly.

“Is there something you needed me for, Yi Chang?” she asked.

“I’d like to know which club you’ve joined.”

She shook her head decisively. “I haven’t joined any clubs, actually,” she said with a gentle smile. “I’m already swamped with class duties; how could I possibly have the time or energy for a club?”

‘That’s true,’ I thought. “Alright, I understand.”

No sooner had I finished speaking than I prepared to relay the newly acquired information to Gao Qinghong. Turning around, I was met with his eager, expectant gaze.

“Um, Yi Chang…” But the Class Monitor called out to me, signaling that Gao Qinghong would have to wait a little longer.

I turned back, facing her once more. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the peculiar attention of those around us. My conversation with the Class Monitor seemed to have become their latest topic, and they watched us with a mix of curiosity and cautious scrutiny.

“What is it?” I asked.

“…Uh, hey…” The Class Monitor had called out to me, yet now she seemed flustered herself. It was as if she was desperately trying to articulate something but couldn’t find the words—an expression of silently berating oneself for foolishness that I knew all too well. “Ah, I heard you joined a club recently,” her expression suddenly became natural. “What kind of club is it?”

“I’m not sure; I haven’t participated in any activities yet,” I admitted. ‘It doesn’t seem like there will be many activities anyway.’ “In any case, it’s a rather relaxed club.”

“Is that so? I see…” The conversation quickly dwindled. Tang Xiaoxiao seemed eager to prolong our chat, yet there was nothing left to say.

Upon returning to my seat, Gao Qinghong leaned in, his eyes wide with anticipation, awaiting my words.

“She said she hasn’t joined any club.” The words had barely left my lips when his face predictably fell into profound disappointment. Yet, perhaps owing to his experience with the basketball team, his resilience was swift; he quickly recovered from the setback.

“I understand, Master,” he declared, as if a sudden revelation had struck him. “Since I can’t establish a connection through that approach, I’ll simply have to seize the opportunity myself, offer her help, and draw closer to her.”

He appeared to be back at square one, yet this time, he seemed imbued with a new resolve, which was commendable. Listening to him expound on various analyses beside me, chattering incessantly about Tang Xiaoxiao, made me wonder if the break time had inexplicably lengthened. I glanced towards the doorway, intending to check if the teacher was approaching, only to find the Class Monitor looking back at us. The instant our gazes met, she swiftly averted her eyes, looking away.

****

“Newcomer! You’ve arrived just in time, quickly help me kill it!”

The moment I pushed open the club room door, I collided squarely with Dorothy, who was frantically dashing towards the corridor, a nervous tremor in her movements.

“Kill what?”

“A cockroach!” she shrieked, a mix of panic and fury in her voice. “There’s one in the utility room, and it kept scurrying right under my feet! It’s utterly repulsive, utterly repulsive! These shoes are ruined; I can’t possibly wear them home!”

She rubbed her arms vigorously, trying to smooth away the goosebumps that had erupted on her skin. Then, with a piercing glare, she demanded why I hadn’t moved yet.

With a sigh, I stepped into the utility room. It took me a full two minutes to locate it, five seconds to dispatch it, and then I used a broom and dustpan to sweep its lifeless body into the trash can.

“Don’t put it in the trash can!” she shrieked furiously, her delicate face flushed crimson. “Throw it outside, quickly! I don’t want to see it!”

“But it’s already dead…”

“Even dead, it’s still disgusting! Hurry up and throw that trash bag out!”

Witnessing Dorothy’s trembling yet utterly imperious manner, I could only sigh and comply. After bagging the trash, I headed for the door. Dorothy, who had been cowering behind me, recoiled as if I held a plague-ridden artifact, keeping a wide berth from the trash bag in my hand. I carried it all the way to the main hall, where, right beside the corridor I had initially walked down, stood the trash can I had failed to locate during my first visit to the activity room.

On my way back, I stopped to wash my hands before returning to the activity room. I found Dorothy nervously scrutinizing the utility room, repeatedly checking every corner. Only after confirming nothing else was amiss did she finally exhale a breath of relief and, with an air of composure, settled back into her chair.

I, too, found a convenient seat and settled in. Dorothy retrieved a book from her backpack and began to leaf through it, but she had barely read the first line before her brow furrowed.

“This is so damn annoying; I’ve completely lost my mood for reading now.”

She grumbled, then glared at me ferociously. “You arrived yesterday, and today there’s a cockroach in the activity room,” she accused, seemingly intent on displacing her anger about the cockroach onto me. “Hey, newcomer, do you actually shower properly? It couldn’t be your body odor attracting them, could it?”

‘Could someone truly reek so much as to attract insects?’ Despite knowing she was being utterly unreasonable, I still responded.

“I shower every other day; I’m quite clean.”

“Huh? I shower once at noon and once at night, every single day! If you only shower every two days, wouldn’t you be reeking of sweat and body odor?”

“I don’t sweat much,” I explained. ‘Only when I exercise or eat spicy food do I break out in a full sweat, and I rarely do either of those things.’

“Newcomer,” she declared, standing up. “Let me smell you, so I can confirm whether you’re the one who attracted that cockroach.”

The cockroach incident seemed to have rattled her to the point of irrationality, or perhaps she simply enjoyed being obstinate. In any case, I didn’t particularly mind. I rose to my feet, mirroring her. We moved along the conference table, she advancing towards me, and I towards her.

I extended the back of my hand.

“What are you doing?” Dorothy frowned.

“You wanted to smell me…”

“You can’t smell anything on the back of a hand!” She grabbed my school uniform tie, forcing me to bend over. “Present your neck.”

Commanded so forcefully, I leaned my body even lower, allowing her slender nose to reach. She loosened the tie gripping my collar, then unbuttoned the top two buttons of my inner shirt. Pulling at my collar with both hands, she rose onto her tiptoes and took a few gentle sniffs.

“Why is there no scent at all?”

“There wouldn’t be any scent to begin with.”

“Is that so?” Having gone to such lengths, Dorothy seemed to accept it. “Then it seems I’ve misjudged you…”

She looked up, our gazes locking. The adrenaline and anger caused by the cockroach ordeal had gradually subsided. Dorothy’s eyes shifted, meeting mine in silence. As her rationality fully returned, a different kind of blush crept onto her cheeks. Her cherry-red lips parted pointlessly; she was undoubtedly trying to utter some curse words, but couldn’t bring herself to voice them.

“What are you two doing…”