The Weight of a Promise

Chen Gong clenched his fists, glaring with furious eyes and gritted teeth at Zhang Qian’s swaggering back. He silently swore to exact his revenge.

He Yuan’s reprimands were incessant. The students of Class 5 bowed their heads even lower, knowing his verbose nature all too well. They prayed in their hearts for their homeroom teacher to arrive swiftly and rescue them.

“Elder He’s nagging has the power of the Golden Fillet Spell. Let them get a taste of it today,” Zhang Qian said gloatingly, walking abreast with He Chuanrong and Ji Ye at the very back of the group.

He Yuan had earned the moniker “Elder He” from his students due to his lengthy lectures and excessive talking.

“Those guys, ‘Chen Pizi’ and his ilk, are already used to it,” Ji Ye said. “They’re regulars in all the offices.”

The image of He Chuanrong collapsing into his arms was still vivid in Ji Ye’s mind. He felt an inexplicable pang of fear. If He Chuanrong were to suffer any lasting after-effects because of him, what could he possibly offer as compensation?

He would forever be indebted.

Guilt and worry coursed through every cell of his being.

“By the way, is the vice class president feeling any better? Should we go to the hospital to get it checked?”

Zhang Qian clearly sensed the unhappiness in Ji Ye’s tone, guessing it was related to He Chuanrong’s injury, and so he asked.

“No need. It’s just a minor injury,” He Chuanrong replied, shaking his head.

Unease filled Ji Ye’s eyes. He turned to meet He Chuanrong’s gaze and asked, “Are you really fine?”

“Mm.” He Chuanrong’s answer was brief and firm.

Ji Ye breathed a long sigh of relief, the cloud that had weighed on his heart finally dissipating.

The three of them quickened their pace, catching up with those ahead.

****

Inside the single office, several students stared at their shoelaces, not daring to look up. They felt they had let Old Wen down and were deeply ashamed. Thus, they truthfully recounted the incident and promised never to repeat their mistake.

Upon emerging from the office, the class bell rang just then. To avoid being late, they hurried downstairs towards their classroom, only to encounter the students from Class 5 at the stairwell.

Their homeroom teacher had taken a temporary leave to go to the hospital, so they had been stuck in He Yuan’s office receiving a lecture until the bell finally released them.

Seething with suppressed anger, the Class 5 students found themselves face-to-face with the Class 8 students. They blocked the hallway, neither side willing to yield, and the air crackled with hostility.

“Please move aside. Class is starting.” Seeing a conflict about to erupt again, He Chuanrong stepped forward, his expression impassive, and coldly surveyed the students blocking their way.

Though he used the word “please,” his tone held not an ounce of goodwill. Instead, his eyes were filled with an intimidating ferocity, as if he would strike them down if they dared to utter a single word of dissent.

The boy who had struck him with the stick earlier swallowed hard when He Chuanrong’s gaze swept over him. He couldn’t help but feel nervous, thinking, ‘As expected, those from vocational high schools are not to be trifled with.’ He subtly shifted his body aside.

“You brat, what are you being so arrogant for? Is transferring from a vocational high school a big deal?” Chen Gong bristled at He Chuanrong’s brazen attitude. He hadn’t gotten a chance to deal with him earlier, and now He Chuanrong was acting like a big shot in front of him.

Recalling Elder He’s earlier reprimand, Chen Gong’s anger flared. He grabbed He Chuanrong’s collar. He Chuanrong was half a head taller than him, forcing Chen Gong to crane his neck.

“Hey, Chen Pizi, what are you doing!” Zhang Qian and Ji Ye were startled by the sudden scene, their faces aghast. They moved to help He Chuanrong, but he stopped them with an outstretched hand.

He Chuanrong half-opened his eyelids, looking calmly at Chen Gong, and with one hand, he squeezed Chen Gong’s right wrist.

Chen Gong first froze, then felt an excruciating pain in his wrist bone. But he gritted his back teeth, refusing to show any sign of fear.

“Ding—”

It wasn’t until the final bell rang that He Chuanrong slowly released his grip. A smile played on his lips, though it didn’t reach his eyes, as he said, “Please move. We’re going to be late.”

Chen Gong roughly shook his hand free, then raised his left hand, gesturing for them to pass. His right hand, hanging at his side, trembled faintly, the pain making him unable to utter a single word.

Watching them strut past him, Chen Gong’s pent-up fury flared. His hand no longer hurt. He yelled at their retreating backs, “Just you wait! During the sports meet, I’ll crush you all and make you cry for your daddy!”

Zhang Qian, without turning his head, gave them an OK sign and called back, “Daddy’s waiting.”

Upon reaching the classroom door, the group hesitated. This class was with Old Zhang Wu, and that old man was notoriously strict. As soon as the warning bell rang, he would appear punctually in the classroom. Anyone who arrived after him was considered late, unless they had a special reason.

“Which brave soul will shout ‘report’?” The once spirited Zhang Qian now cowered, shrinking behind Ji Ye. He had no desire to be chewed out by Old Man Zhang.

They exchanged glances, looking from one to another, none speaking.

Ji Ye was about to speak, taking a step forward, when he heard He Chuanrong say:

“I’ll do it.”

He stepped forward and pushed open the slightly ajar classroom door.

To prevent He Chuanrong from bearing the brunt alone, Ji Ye called out the “report” for him. Instantly, the eyes of everyone, both inside and outside the classroom, turned towards He Chuanrong, eager to know what was happening.

Zhang Qian, standing behind the two, held back a mischievous grin. He leaned slightly forward and whispered, “Brother will give you a hand.”

Before Ji Ye could react, Zhang Qian pushed his lower back, propelling him into everyone’s view.

“Zhang Qian, you’re such a pain,” Ji Ye muttered with a forced smile, now exposed to the class.

“You’re welcome.”

Zhang Qian said cheekily from behind, pushing him forward a few more steps.

Zhang Wu, who was explaining a problem, saw He Chuanrong push open the door. He was about to wave him in when Ji Ye suddenly appeared beside him, and then he noticed the giggling students behind them. His face instantly darkened.

“Come in. Class monitor, make a note that these few will be in charge of this week’s cleaning.” After saying that, he resumed explaining the problem.

The boys standing at the doorway were instantly petrified, mechanically following He Chuanrong’s footsteps into the classroom.

As soon as Zhang Qian sat down and asked Zhou Yao where they were in the lesson, a crumpled paper ball hit him on the head from behind. He deftly caught the paper ball, shaking his head and sighing inwardly, ‘This brat is so petty.’

“Plop.”

The paper ball landed on the desk. Ji Ye looked up and saw it was the same one he had thrown earlier, but now it had some words written on it. He glanced at Old Man Zhang, who hadn’t turned around yet, and unhurriedly unfolded the paper ball.

“Don’t throw it again, or I’ll beat you up.”

There was also a stick figure drawn next to it.

Ji Ye pressed a fist to his lips, a smile brimming in his large eyes. Then, recalling something, he picked up his pen and wrote.

“This problem, why is the answer option 3C? Is that clear?”

“Clear.”

Zhang Qian also answered, glancing at his deskmate Zhou Yao’s test paper. He corrected all the multiple-choice questions below. After finishing, he puffed out his chest, as if he had gotten them right himself.

“Tap.”

The same paper ball reappeared on the desk. He merely glanced at it and started listening to the lecture, but his thoughts gradually drifted from the class. Eventually, he opened the paper ball.

Staring at the words for a while, he wrote a reply and tossed it back. He thought that would be the end of it, but then someone started drawing stick figures, and the two began exchanging messages via paper balls.

They became increasingly engrossed.

The paper balls arced through the air.

Just as they were thoroughly enjoying their exchange, Ji Ye felt an elbow nudge his arm. He quickly crumpled the paper ball into his palm and looked up, meeting Old Man Zhang’s furious eyes.

“Hand it over!”

Ji Ye hesitated, then obediently opened his palm.

Zhang Wu snatched the paper ball from his hand, opened it, and his face instantly darkened.

“Look at these practice problems yourself! How many have you gotten right? How dare you chat about food!” he roared, slapping the paper ball onto Ji Ye’s desk.

“Both of you, stand up!”

Before his words even finished, the two of them shot up one after another.

“Zhang Qian, what’s the answer to this question?”

Zhang Qian hesitated for a moment; he hadn’t corrected up to that point yet.

“What, you don’t even know where we’re discussing?”

“7.”

A test paper slowly slid into his line of sight. He looked at the number circled in red ink and answered with full confidence.

“What about the next question, Ji Ye? What’s the answer?”

Ji Ye pulled the test paper closer, his eyes darting upwards in a panic. He didn’t even know where they were in the lesson.

“Mm…” He drew out the sound as he read the question, stalling until He Chuanrong’s pen tip pointed to a number.

But because Old Man Zhang was standing right beside Zhang Qian, Ji Ye’s glance couldn’t be too obvious. He could only try his best to discern whether the number on the test paper was 3 or 5.

Perhaps realizing Ji Ye couldn’t clearly see his writing, He Chuanrong quickly wrote ‘root 5′ neatly in the upper-left corner of the test paper.

“Root 5,” he finally blurted out with confidence.

He lifted his face, awaiting Old Man Zhang’s reaction.

“Tell me your solution process,” Zhang Wu said, having caught the two boys’ small actions. He chose a compromise.

This stumped Ji Ye. He hissed, rubbing the stray hairs on his forehead, pretending to think, then picked up the test paper and started reading the question again.

Meanwhile, He Chuanrong quickly wrote out concise calculation steps on the test paper. Ji Ye, after reading the question, followed along with what He Chuanrong had written.

“Mm,” Zhang Wu couldn’t help but nod in approval. “Tell me how you thought of using an arithmetic progression to solve the problem.”

In truth, this question wasn’t for Ji Ye, but for He Chuanrong.

Ji Ye suddenly looked up at Old Man Zhang. He knew the teacher had caught on. He lowered his head, remaining silent for a long moment.

“Alright, sit down.”

Zhang Wu had no intention of wasting time. He proceeded to analyze the solution process from another angle for everyone.

“Woosh.”

The sound of a phone vibrating came from his desk drawer. Ji Ye thought it was his alarm and quickly reached to retrieve it, intending to turn it off. However, it turned out to be a message from Zhang Qian.

[Yo, you actually know how to solve problems using arithmetic progressions. Looks like your deskmate is very patient, huh?]

It also came with a haughty dog emoji.

[Envious that I have a good deskmate?] Ji Ye secretly glanced at Old Man Zhang, seeing that he wouldn’t turn around anytime soon, and quickly typed his reply.

The two then engaged in a back-and-forth on WeChat, emoji after emoji.

[Today’s incident is all your fault. If you hadn’t thrown the paper ball, I wouldn’t have been called out. You have to write the three-thousand-word self-reflection for me.]

Zhang Qian exclaimed that he was being wronged; Ji Ye had clearly thrown the paper ball first. If it were three to five hundred words, he might consider it, but three thousand was simply too much. He didn’t know how long it would take him to piece it together, so he flatly refused.

[You’re sixteen years old. You should be a mature high school student and write it yourself.]

[Three thousand words! Do you know how long that will take me? It’s easy for you! You must have written at least ten thousand words of self-reflection in middle school. This number is a piece of cake for you!]

Ji Ye wouldn’t give up and continued typing, [I’ll treat you to breakfast for a month.]

Ji Ye’s breakfasts, prepared by his mother Shen Qin, were known for their excellent color, aroma, and taste. Thinking of this, Zhang Qian couldn’t help but swallow, but with a hardened heart, he still refused.

The bribe failed. Ji Ye leaned back against his chair in frustration, his heart filled with anxiety. His weekend was completely booked; where would he find the extra time to write three thousand words?

The phone on his desk lit up, but he had no mind to look at it. He leaned forward, resting his chin in his hands on the edge of the desk, his eyes filled with sorrow.

‘I’ll help you write the self-reflection.’

Noticing Ji Ye’s gloom, He Chuanrong glanced at the screen, pondered for a few seconds, then wrote a few words in his notebook and placed it over Ji Ye’s phone.

“Ji Ye,” he prompted, reminding him to look at the notebook.

Indeed, the cloud of sorrow on Ji Ye’s face instantly dissipated, replaced by a smile. He quickly wrote back: ‘I’ll help you with this week’s cleaning.’

‘No need, three thousand words is a small matter for me.’

He couldn’t even remember how many self-reflections he had written during his three years of middle school.

‘Alright, then if you ever need anything in the future, just come to me. I will surely do my utmost, spare no effort, give my all…’

Ji Ye wrote down every word he could think of to express his gratitude and his firm commitment.

Looking at his earnest and persistent gaze, He Chuanrong truly couldn’t bear to disappoint him. He chuckled softly, “Alright.”