I'm A Math Idiot, So What? - Chapter 50

Chapter 50: No Nostalgia Allowed (1)

It was already one in the morning by the time I got home.

In the dead of night, I texted Wang Ziqi. Sure enough, she was with Zhang Ziqin.

I asked how Zhang Ziqin was doing, and she immediately called me. “Ziqin cried secretly in the bathroom for a while, but she’s asleep now,” she said.

“Ziqin mentioned something… She asked if you could waive Zhao Xiaoxiao’s medical fees, or if she could pay you back for them. But she regretted it right after and told me not to bring it up with you.”

“Why?”

“Zhao Xiaoxiao hasn’t found a job since graduating from the Art Institute, right? His family’s just average, and he’s been drifting for a year now. He’s become really insecure, and they’ve been growing apart for a long time. Zhao Xiaoxiao just sped up the breakup process, but his methods were so ugly. Otherwise, they could have parted on good terms.”

Wang Ziqi paused. “We’re in our senior year. Who’s still looking for a simple, carefree romance?”

I rinsed my mouth. “At the police station, she was so furious she looked like she wanted to eat him alive. But behind closed doors, she’s still soft-hearted.”

“She did love him, after all.”

“I’ll just take a token amount. No matter what, someone who does wrong can’t get away without paying a price. I wouldn’t dare use that money anyway. I’ll donate it later.”

“Yeah. That’s what I was thinking too.”

After settling that topic, Wang Ziqi started a new one. “So, that knight in shining armor who dropped out of the sky today… is he really your boyfriend?”

“No. If I had a boyfriend, why would I hide it from you?”

“He likes you, though, right?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s been in love with someone for years. Tong Xiao—ever heard of her?”

“Never. But I don’t think eyes can lie. Are you sure you’re not mistaken?”

“What do you, a lifelong single, know about reading eyes? Just focus on sorting out your own mess first.”

I let out a big yawn.

“Says the one who’s never been in a relationship either.”

“Tch. Go to sleep. I’m dead tired.”

I was about to hang up when Wang Ziqi added one last thing. “Lin Meng, sometimes being delusional isn’t a bad thing. What if it’s real? Don’t let past failures stop you from trying again.”

After hanging up, I collapsed onto my bed, thinking, What ‘what if’?

I’ve stumbled and made a fool of myself countless times by being delusional.

Life is so long, and time is a great river that sifts through everything. All the joy, anger, sorrow, and grief settle like fine sand in the relentless current of days, becoming a riverbed that never sees the light of day.

Only the awkward moments remain. Glance back at any time, and you’ll see them floating on the water’s surface like a layer of grimy black oil—never rotting, never broken down by the years.

The slightest backward glance is like feeding them nutrients. They burst out of your cerebral cortex, baring fangs and claws, making you jolt upright from your deathbed, trembling as you light a candle for your own pathetic soul.

Just like me right now. A moment ago, I was so sleepy I could barely keep my eyes open. But now, recalling one mortifying memory after another, I can’t help but cringe so hard my hands and feet curl up.

Back in eighth grade, a washed-up child star transferred to our class. I never paid him much mind until one day, this “celebrity” seemed to be secretly watching me with a burning gaze.

This was definitely not my imagination.

My deskmate pointed it out.

Even the teacher noticed something was off, calling on him several times before he finally managed to tear his eyes away.

But as soon as class ended, his gaze drifted back to me, intentionally or not.

He must have a crush on me, I concluded.

This made me nervous, but also sparked a desire to explore.

So that day, I acted exceptionally ladylike. I even refused to go to the bathroom, because a lady should never be associated with such a place. I spent the entire afternoon sitting there, desperately holding it in, elegantly sipping water, speaking in a soft, gentle voice, and instinctively covering my mouth whenever I laughed.

That day, it was his turn for classroom duty, so I deliberately stayed late.

When he started sweeping around my desk, I should have stood up. Instead, he sprang back as if he’d triggered a trap, recoiling several feet.

I stood up, pointed to a crumpled piece of paper under my desk, and told him to sweep it up. His face flushed bright red, and he hesitated for a long moment.

Could liking someone really make you this flustered, just like in the books? I wondered.

Then I heard him stammer, “Your skirt—look at your skirt.”

I turned and saw that my skirt was tucked into my underwear. Our classroom was near the restrooms, and I sat in the back row. He must have come out of the restroom right behind me and seen it.

All those intense gazes throughout the day—they were just part of a joke.

Later, at the beginning of my first year of high school, I had another heart-pounding “romantic encounter” while borrowing books at the library. Someone slipped me a note.

Clutching the note, I walked out of the library, blushing, weaving through groups of laughing and roughhousing students. The whole way, I debated whether to accept or reject this advance, mentally rehearsing various scenarios for each outcome. Finally, I slipped into the restroom to secretly unfold it.

Seven large characters stared back at me: “YOUR FLY IS DOWN.”

Later, during the summer after the college entrance exams, an extreme case of wishful thinking occurred.

Although Taixi High School was in a small town, it fiercely prioritized education. The school ruthlessly managed both academic performance and puppy love.

To avoid being caught, couples conducted their relationships like underground spies making clandestine contact.

Those of us who weren’t dating naively assumed everyone else was just studying hard.

Who knew that once the exams were over, the “underground” would be liberated, and couples would emerge in droves?

This trend made people like me, who were still single, seem particularly pathetic.

So, the big graduation parties devolved into small cliques of four or five “single dogs” huddling together for their own separate gatherings.

That’s how Xu Zheng and I became close.

Since Xu Zheng and I were both heading to Changning for university and had been classmates before, we naturally ended up in the same group.

Back then, Xu Zheng was radiant and enthusiastic when he spoke, yet carried a faint air of melancholy when quiet—nothing like the shameless character he is now. He was tall with fair skin, giving him a very clean-cut look. Honestly, in high school, and even in college, being “clean-cut” was a crucial quality for a guy.

I secretly found it strange that someone like Xu Zheng was still single.

Later, Xu Zheng organized a massive karaoke party by merging our small clique with two other groups of singles.

He sat before the microphone stand, about to sing “Little Dimples” with another guy, looking utterly desolate.

Holding the mic, he asked, “Isn’t there a single girl here willing to sing this with me? Come on, girls with or without dimples, show some support!”

I have a faint, pear-shaped dimple on one cheek, so I guessed he was calling out to me for help and bravely volunteered.

The crowd erupted in whistles and applause.

Belatedly, I felt a wave of embarrassment and waved my hands at him. “Never mind, never mind, I’m not singing.”

He turned to the crowd and shouted, “See? You’ve booed her right back to her seat! Someone else come up, quick! If no one volunteers, I’m going to start calling out people with dimples by name!”

The entire group immediately started chanting my name, so I had no choice but to go back up and sing the duet with him.

When the song ended, Xu Zheng said, “Not bad at all. No wonder Yellow Hair said you have a great voice.”

“I used to see you playing basketball with Yellow Hair,” I replied.

“We were good friends,” he said. “It’s a shame he dropped out of school later.”

“He used to mention you to me all the time back then,” Xu Zheng said. “I actually really wanted to get to know you, but you—well, you had that incident, didn’t you? So I didn’t dare try to get close. Then I transferred to another class.”

He led me to an empty spot, and we sat down to continue our conversation.

“Yellow Hair used to have a crush on a girl,” he said. “Before he left, he even asked me to take good care of her.”

“Who?” I asked. I’d never heard of Yellow Hair liking anyone. He was always either working part-time or getting into fights. At school, he just slept. After he cleaned up his act, he was busy catching up on his studies, and he only ever hung out with me and a few close guy friends. When would he have had time to notice other girls?

Xu Zheng said, “She’s not far away—in fact, she’s right in front of me.”

“Huh?”

I lowered my head and stuffed a piece of watermelon into my mouth. Suddenly, I realized what he meant. A watermelon seed lodged in my throat, and I started coughing violently.

Could he possibly mean… me?

“Actually, even without his request, I would have taken care of her anyway.”

Desperate to suppress the coughing that might make me miss crucial information, I twisted open a bottle of Evian on the table and gulped down water. Over my sputtering, I heard Xu Zheng say calmly, “After all, I like her too.”

The shock was so overwhelming that I forgot to breathe. A mouthful of water sprayed directly onto his face.

Looking back now, the force of my water spray was way stronger than Fang Congxin’s earlier tonight.

After I’d sprayed him, my first thought—as a broke girl—was, How could I waste such expensive water?!

Only then did a wave of deep shame wash over me. I frantically searched for something to wipe his face with. Luckily, the girl sitting on his other side quickly pulled a pack of tissues from her bag.

He took them, murmuring a quiet “Thank you.”

I wiped my own mouth beside him, eager to press on. “So, why didn’t you tell her sooner?”

He lowered his head. “I felt like it would be a huge betrayal to Yellow Hair, so I never dared to tell her. But I’ve thought it through now. When it comes to feelings, there’s no first-come, first-served.”

He paused for a few seconds before continuing, “I need to make this clear: I’m not confessing now just because we’re about to go to the same university and it’s trendy or convenient. I’ve liked her for a very, very long time. If she hears this and is willing to respond, please ask her to be at the Guangming Cinema in Yisheng Mall tomorrow at ten a.m. sharp. I’ll be waiting for her there.”

Holy crap.

Just like Jay Chou sings in his song, love really is a tornado. It’s spun me around until I’m dizzy, and I have no idea where it’s blown me.

Back home that night, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

Xu Zheng’s confession was so sudden it left me completely unprepared. I grumbled about how little time he’d given me to respond, but secretly, I wondered what it felt like to like someone for a very long time.

I didn’t have a crush on anyone. I was like a lonely, empty room. If someone knocked sincerely on my door, I’d probably open it easily.

I figured if the person outside sang “Little bunny, be good, open the door” a few more times, I might just let them in.

As dawn broke, I recalled the classic scenes from the romance novels I’d been binge-reading lately—those deeply devoted male leads with their unwavering love. I secretly cast myself as the heroine, bit down on my quilt, and drifted off to sleep with a sweet smile on my face.