Because of his abysmal grades, Chen Annan grew exceptionally afraid of exams.
During routine unit tests, he’d pretend to be sick to avoid school. With the Midterm Exam imminent, his face was even more deathly pale as he said, “Brother, I’m going to die.”
Lu Qingyuan wiped the cold sweat from his hair, not even knowing what to say. He thought it wasn’t a big deal, and anyway, every time he failed, he was the one who signed. His imitation of his dad’s signature was now so practiced it was flawless.
The two kids never let the parent know about their mischief. Lu Wenyuan was still completely kept in the dark.
“Don’t tell Uncle, okay?” Chen Annan buried his face in his exercise book, his voice muffled and worried. “Why doesn’t Ultraman ever come here to fight? It’d be fine even if a monster just blew up the school.”
Lu Qingyuan: “…”
Yet no matter how afraid he was, he still had to face it. The Midterm Exam was unavoidable. When the results came out, Chen Annan’s score, unsurprisingly, again ranked at the bottom of the class—thankfully, he had scraped by right on the passing line.
After the Math Teacher handed him his test paper, she stared at him for a long time, sighed a melancholy sigh, then gave his deskmate a deep look, and sighed again.
Xie Xi was thrilled getting his paper back, declaring he’d never scored so high. Chen Annan stared at his own 60-point paper, propping his head up in dejection.
Xie Xi knew his good friend was in a terrible mood and patted his back reassuringly: “Don’t be sad. Let’s try harder next time. We’ll definitely pass.”
Then he leaned over and saw Chen Annan’s 60-point paper. Looking down at his own 59.5-point score, he froze for a few seconds. Afterwards, Chen Annan comforted his friend sprawled on the desk, saying, “Don’t be sad, I only got 0.5 points higher.”
Xie Xi put on a mournful face, even sadder.
Having failed, Chen Annan didn’t dare show the test paper to his parent and sought Brother again to sign. But no matter how much he tried to hide it, it simply couldn’t be concealed for long.
There would be a Parent-Teacher Conference after the Midterm Exams. That day, Chen Annan was kept behind by the teacher, and even Lu Wenyuan was called into the office.
Carrying his little backpack dejectedly, Chen Annan stood outside the office, feeling as if he’d committed the greatest sin under heaven, his head weighing a thousand pounds.
Xie Xi stood there dumbly with him; his mom had also been called in.
“What am I going to do?” Chen Annan’s palms were clammy with nervous sweat. “Why do I always get it wrong?”
Xie Xi said earnestly it was no big deal. He said that whenever he ran out of fingers to count on, he just counted his toes. No one ever noticed he couldn’t figure it out. This trick worked especially well.
Feeling they weren’t on the same wavelength, Chen Annan squatted in the hallway, hugging his knees, and said heartbrokenly, “Uncle is definitely so disappointed in me. I’m done for.”
Xie Xi disagreed: “What’s the big deal? You’re good-looking. Even when you stand in punishment, you’re the best-looking one doing it. My mom says if she had a kid like you, she’d chuck me into the garbage processing plant for recycling.”
Chen Annan buried his face and didn’t speak.
Before, even getting a simple scolding would leave him dejected for a whole day. Now, summoned with the parent—this made Chen Annan feel as if a huge rock was lodged in his heart, weighing it down, sinking into an abyss, impossible to pull up.
When Lu Wenyuan entered, he saw the teacher’s face was cold as a block of ice that couldn’t be melted by a single drop of water. Only then did he sense the matter was somewhat serious.
The teacher pulled out Chen Annan’s homework books and test papers from the drawer and said, “Just writing homework beautifully is useless. Every time we ask him to explain on stage, he can’t clearly explain the thought process behind the problem. If you parents coach him like this, how is it any different from directly copying the answers?”
Lu Wenyuan flipped through the thin homework book a few times and said, “I understand. It’s my fault for not paying attention.”
The teacher continued, “First grade is also a critical year. Crucially important.”
Lu Wenyuan didn’t speak. He flipped through the homework again. The formulas on it were written very clearly, with traces of erasing, looking like they’d been revised many times. But the signature handwriting on the test paper was obviously not his own.
Afterwards, the teacher re-emphasized the matter of grades several times. Lu Wenyuan understood the gist perfectly—it was nothing more than Chen Annan pulling down their class average, and he should pay more attention to the child’s academic performance. Lu Wenyuan didn’t say much more about it.
Because, indeed, he hadn’t placed his focus on Chen Annan’s grades.
Lu Wenyuan had always felt that, for a kid, if childhood was filled with nothing but studying, that was far too terrifying. So he didn’t like managing the two kids’ studies much. As a father, he was busy amusing the kids all day, believing that their happiness was more important than anything. And besides, poor grades didn’t necessarily mean anything.
If a teacher judged people solely based on grades, he’d rather transfer Chen Annan to another school.
On the way home, Chen Annan was quieter than he’d ever been. He was no longer joyful, his radiant smile gone, nor did he fawn around Uncle, acting cute.
He never lifted his drooping head the entire journey. His little head was practically buried down to the second button of his shirt. Only when Lu Wenyuan called his name did he suddenly raise his eyes, looking at Lu Wenyuan innocently, with a trace of timidity.
“Nannan.” Lu Wenyuan slowly stopped walking.
The thing he feared most had come. Chen Annan didn’t dare meet Uncle’s eyes. Lu Wenyuan’s gaze also pressed down on him, making him feel like he could barely breathe.
“Good boy, come. Come here.” Within their relative gaze, Lu Wenyuan bent one knee, crouching down in an accommodating posture and beckoning to him.
Chen Annan felt so bad he wanted to cry. He couldn’t imagine how disappointed Uncle must be in him. His fingers rubbed his clothes nervously, holding back tears as he said, “I’m sorry. I’ll try harder.”
“You’re this aggrieved, I thought it was some huge matter.” Lu Wenyuan stroked his head, his tone light. “When the teacher called me, I thought you’d been hurt at school, or that your emotional issues had gotten worse again.”
His palm held the scorching warmth of an adult, covering the back of Chen Annan’s head, burning hot, searing into Chen Annan’s heart. “Recently, I always felt you weren’t happy. Turns out it’s because of this. It’s truly my fault for not thinking of this aspect.”
He described it so lightly. Chen Annan pressed his lips tight, his voice laced with a trembling sob: “I’m sorry… I let you down… I shouldn’t have gotten Brother to sign for me. I just can’t ever learn, it’s all my fault for being so stupid… I’ll try even harder from now on.”
Lu Wenyuan furrowed his brows slightly, looking at him seriously. After a few seconds, he said, “Look at you, so upset, as if the sky is falling.” He stroked Chen Annan’s hair as if petting some small animal.
“I’ve never been disappointed in you. On the contrary, I’ve always felt Nannan is a gift bestowed upon me by the heavens.”
He neither blamed Chen Annan for having Brother sign, nor mentioned the grades. That little twist in a child’s heart was nothing more than the fear of being scolded by the parent for poor grades, hence not daring to show the adult.
Chen Annan’s eyes were red, his shoulders heaving with sobs.
“Our Nannan sings beautifully, is good at coaxing people, is good-looking, and is unbelievably well-behaved. Other parents must be so envious, you know? Today, when I attended your Parent-Teacher Conference, I was surrounded by a bunch of parents asking, ‘How is your Nannan so good? Mine are so naughty they’ll be the death of me.’ I just said, ‘Of course! Yours might have good grades, but is yours as well-behaved as ours?'”
He imitated others’ tones as he spoke, coaxing a laugh out of Chen Annan.
“Most importantly, our Nannan also takes care of Brother. Before you came, Brother hadn’t been this happy in a long time. Uncle was worried sick. Comparing grades to all that… there’s really no comparison.”
Lu Wenyuan used the clean part of his wrist to wipe Chen Annan’s tears, his eyes brimming with warm laughter. “So it’s alright. No matter what you’re like, I love you. It’s okay if you don’t study well. It’s okay if you’re a bit slow. Even if you can’t get into a good school or find a good job in the future, it’s still okay. Uncle will support you for a lifetime.”
Chen Annan’s eyelids couldn’t hold so many tears. The moisture seeped through skin, carrying a child’s body temperature.
Lu Wenyuan lifted him into his arms. Uncle’s shadow was like a mountain, enveloping him, blocking all wind and rain, gently lifting him up. Through the thin fabric, that scorching, powerful warmth soothed the heart.
Lu Wenyuan patted the child’s back, his laughter causing his chest to vibrate slightly. “Our Nannan and our Brother are both the most amazing kids in the world.”
The words were spoken too tenderly, wiping away all of Chen Annan’s inner knots, fears, and unease. Actually, when it came down to it, Chen Annan was simply afraid that his poor grades would add trouble and make him disliked.
After all, many parents saw their kids’ grades as more important than life itself. Poor grades meant poor character. Some teachers even told parents at conferences to tell their own kids not to play with those who had bad grades.
But here with Lu Wenyuan, things seemed a little different.
A child’s growth forms an incomplete musical scale. Lu Wenyuan, clumsy yet sincere, struck a segment of notes within their life’s melody. Joy or sorrow, it was all gentle and soothing, like a grandmother’s nursery rhyme, continuous and melodious.
Chen Annan’s emotions and little worries were always fleeting—arriving quickly, leaving just as fast. Freed from the shackles of grades, his days slowly became bright and clear again.
The four seasons turned distinctly in this city. Perhaps because spring had arrived early this year, winter also came especially early.
A rain fell, and a thin mist rose between heaven and earth. Wind mixed with rain, mingling with snow pellets, pelted people’s faces. The sycamore branches were pulled and tilted, rustling loudly. Leaves, soaked with water, stuck to the ground. Others swirled in scattered disarray, drifting into the water channels.
At school during recess, the kids went wild, shouting, “It’s snowing, it’s snowing!” Hearing this, Chen Annan twisted his head to look, but was called back by the teacher.
“Chen Annan, your mind is wandering again.” The teacher held a thermos cup, took a sip of tea, and said with the frustration of one who sees great potential unmet, “Can you put some effort into your studies or not? The teacher doesn’t see you as a particularly slow child. You just need to apply yourself.”
Chen Annan stood in the office, head lowered, hands held tightly together.
The teacher sighed. His sweet, pretty demeanor seemed enough to make one forgive his academic shortcomings.
“And you, Xie Xi,” the teacher shifted target. “Next time, for the Final Exam, whether our class average goes up depends entirely on you.”
Xie Xi declared with fighting spirit, “Don’t worry, Teacher! Since the Midterm Exam, I’ve been burying my head in studying. This time, I definitely won’t be the absolute last place!”
Chen Annan jumped in fright, his mouth wide open, stunned. “When did you start studying?”
Xie Xi said, “Every day after school, my mom sends me to Cram School for two extra hours of lessons.”
“Wow, then you’re definitely going to score really high this time. You’re amazing.” Chen Annan verbally admired him, but inwardly he thought: How can Xie Xi not be last? If Xie Xi isn’t last anymore, then who will go with me to the teacher’s office as a pair?
As soon as the two left the office, Chen Annan said anxiously, “Do you still remember what you said to me last time?”
Xie Xi scratched his head. “What?”
Chen Annan’s face flushed red with urgency: “Share joys and sorrows! Didn’t you say good friends share joys and sorrows?”
Xie Xi pondered, then said with sudden realization, “Oh! Then I’ll tell my mom to send you to Cram School too, to study?”
“…” Chen Annan pursed his lips. “Forget it.” You can eat that bitterness yourself.
Very soon, the Final Exam arrived as scheduled. However, to the teacher’s surprise, after the scores came out, Xie Xi actually did exactly as he’d boasted—under the intensive practice of two extra hours daily, he had improved!
He leaped from absolute last place all the way to second-to-last place. Through his sheer effort alone, he had pulled up the class average by a whole point!
And Chen Annan, through his own two months of hard work, hadn’t regressed at all, steadily maintaining his position in the class—third from last.
Chen Annan was very happy, for he could continue to retain the privilege of going in and out of the teacher’s office alongside his good friend.
The teacher initially had some complaints about these two deskmates, but observing the entire semester, these two kids were simply slow to catch on academically. They weren’t naughty boys and never caused any trouble for the class. Over time, the teacher simply let them be.
Some kids were just late bloomers. It was hard to say what the future held. What if everything suddenly clicked by third grade?
On the last day before Winter Vacation, Chen Annan waited for Brother on the playground. Happily, he held up his report card and said, “Brother, look! My grades didn’t drop this time!”
Lu Qingyuan glanced at it indifferently, wondering to himself: Does your score even have room to drop?
“Got it.” After he spoke, he saw Chen Annan still staring at him with those big, watery eyes, his face full of expectation.
“…” Reluctantly, he added a line: “Wow, so impressive.”
“Right, right?” Chen Annan hugged Brother, happily taking his hand and placing it on his own head.
Chen Annan really liked this intimate gesture. Lu Wenyuan always did this when praising him—the warmth of a palm pressing on the back of his head made him feel secure.
The little bear ears on his woolen hat brushed against Lu Qingyuan’s palm. He unconsciously rubbed them. Somehow, he felt a stirring of happiness too.
As if the heavy curtains within the walls of his heart were being slowly, bit by bit, pushed open, letting the light through.
