I'm A Math Idiot, So What? - Chapter 51

Chapter 51: No Room for Nostalgia (2)

The next day, I overslept. By the time I woke up, it was already eleven.

In a panic, I yanked every piece of clothing from my wardrobe and threw it onto the bed. I tried on outfits haphazardly, my haste only making things worse. While pulling off a pair of pants, I tripped and slammed my head straight into the corner of the desk.

Another fifteen minutes had ticked by. Heart pounding with anxiety, I threw on a pale yellow chiffon dress and hailed a taxi.

What if Xu Zheng has already left? I worried in the car.

In movies, when the male lead waits for the female lead’s reply, he’s always caught in a sudden downpour. Though today the sky was clear and Xu Zheng had wisely chosen an indoor location, there was no guarantee he hadn’t already left, heartbroken and dejected.

So when I got out of the taxi, I sprinted up the five flights of stairs as if running a hundred-meter dash.

Xu Zheng was still there, standing ramrod straight at the entrance like a modern-day Wang Fu Shi, his gaze fixed on the doorway.

I ran over, panting. “I’m… I’m so sorry! I… I woke up late.”

“Huh?”

“You said ten, but when I opened my eyes… when I opened my eyes, it was already this late. I swear I didn’t mean to… to stand you up.”

He was holding two bottles of Evian. He opened one and handed it to me. “Here, drink some water first. Wet your throat.”

I gulped down half the bottle. After finishing my explanation, I saw him fidgeting nervously, at a loss for words. I knew he was too overjoyed to speak, so I deliberately changed the subject. “What movie do you want to see? How about Big Fish & Begonia?”

“Oh… oh, okay,” he replied, completely spaced out.

As we chose our seats, he was still in a state of shock, his expression blank. It wasn’t until I pulled out my phone to scan the payment QR code that he snapped out of it. “Let me, let me!” he said hurriedly. “I can’t let a girl pay.”

After he paid, he suddenly stared at me. “You’re bleeding from your head.”

“Huh?”

I touched the stinging spot. Sure enough, there was a trace of blood.

“How did that happen?”

“I knocked it rushing out to meet you.”

He fell silent for a few seconds. “I’ll go buy you a Band-Aid.”

“Don’t worry about it. The movie’s about to start.”

“We can watch a movie anytime. Your wound is more important. Wait for me.”

With that, he hurried off.

I sat alone on the lobby sofa, clutching the Evian bottle, my gaze soft as I waited for him to return.

About half an hour later, he finally reappeared, looking even paler than before.

“If you’d been any later, my wound would have healed on its own,” I joked. “Where’s the Band-Aid?”

“Where’s the Band-Aid?” I teased.

He let out a small “Ah.” “Sorry, I couldn’t find any.”

“Forget it, let’s just go watch the movie,” I said.

“No, let’s skip it. We’ve already missed the beginning; we won’t understand it anyway. I’ll take you to get that wound treated. If we can’t find a pharmacy, we’ll go to the hospital.”

“It’s not that serious, is it?” I said, feeling a little shy. So this is what affection looks like, I thought. Care, nervousness, and making a big deal out of nothing. Bashfully, I followed him downstairs.

As soon as we reached the ground floor, we saw a large pharmacy right there.

“Isn’t that one?” I pointed.

He scratched his head. “My eyes must be painted on.”

He picked out a cute-themed box of Band-Aids from the shelf and handed one to me. I lifted my bangs with one hand and tried to tear open the wrapper with the other. It wasn’t easy to do one-handed. After two failed attempts, Xu Zheng took it from me. “Let me,” he said.

He gently blew on the wound. “Let me know if it hurts.”

His warm breath on my forehead made my cheeks flush first. But the moment his warm fingers touched my skin, I instinctively flinched away.

His hand froze in mid-air, and the scene turned instantly awkward.

I didn’t even know why I’d pulled back. I could only lean my head slightly forward again until he gently applied the Band-Aid.

To break the tension, I tried to be witty. “You’ve seen my big forehead now,” I said playfully. “No one else gets to see that. You have to take responsibility for me, you know.”

The air instantly dropped to freezing point.

I could practically hear the caw-caw of crows flying overhead.

“You said you overslept and came straight here?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Yeah.”

“Let’s get something to eat first, then.”

“Okay.”

Halfway through our meal, my mom called. She said she was at Yisheng Mall eating with my aunt and cousins and asked if I wanted her to bring me back a portion.

I nearly died of fright. Even though the strict “no dating” phase was over, the last thing I wanted was for my mom to catch me on my very first date.

Xu Zheng noticed my panicked expression. I confessed everything, and he said, “You should go meet up with your auntie then.”

“It’s fine,” I insisted. “We can finish eating first.”

He was firm. “We can eat another time.”

I had no choice but to call my mom back, telling her I was also at the mall and would come mooch the second half of her meal.

Naturally, my mom grilled me about my forehead and even tried to rip off the Band-Aid to inspect the wound herself. I clutched it for dear life, refusing to let her. Then I rushed to the bathroom and took a series of selfies, terrified the Band-Aid might fall off on its own.

After admiring the photos for what felt like an eternity, I logged into Weibo. Giddy with sweetness, I posted one of the selfies and bravely typed a caption that, even now, makes me want to die of cringe:

Thanks for the love Band-Aid. Please take care of me for the rest of our lives. ❤️❤️❤️ @XuZhengIsNotXuZheng

Back then, I’d overdosed on romance novels. My brain was saturated with sentimental clichés like “May our days be peaceful and our years serene,” “To win one heart, never to part,” “I promise you a lifetime of tenderness,” and “If you never leave, I’ll stand by you till death.” I was constantly lost in imagined love stories.

Plus, it was graduation season—the peak of couples showing off online—and I was determined not to be left behind. So, with my heart overflowing, I announced I was officially off the market.

At home, I kept refreshing Weibo, eagerly waiting for Xu Zheng’s declaration of love.

But after nearly a full day, the comments and private messages were nothing but congratulations. No sign of Xu Zheng. Not a single message from him.

The next day, Xu Zheng called to ask me to meet.

To make up for being late the day before and making him wait so long, I woke up at the crack of dawn, meticulously got ready, and arrived at the designated plaza half an hour early.

When Xu Zheng saw me, he stammered, “Can you… can you delete that Weibo post? People are getting the wrong idea about us.”

I was confused. “What wrong idea?”

He glanced at my face, took a deep breath, and said, “The person I like isn’t you. It’s Zhang Hui.”

I stood rooted to the spot, but my soul had already drifted into the air, calmly observing my body standing there like a wooden post. Then it traveled through time, delving into the deepest archives of my memory, searching for any information on Zhang Hui.

Zhang Hui was the princess of Taixi’s biggest taxpayer. She treated her classes at our school with casual indifference, attending when she felt like it and easily getting excused when she didn’t. Her father had long ago paved her way to study abroad, reportedly donating a substantial sum to a prestigious overseas university. But for some unknown reason, she’d had a falling out with him and only registered for the college entrance exams at the last minute.

With her cold, aloof demeanor, she had few friends in high school. She never joined our singles’ gatherings or the graduation parties organized by the couples.

I froze.

My mind frantically rewound, stopping on the scene from the KTV room a few days ago. Amid the swirling, multicolored lights, I saw the hand that had offered the tissue.

The nails were painted in alternating red and black—Zhang Hui’s signature colors.

The only party she’d attended was that one, and she had been sitting on Xu Zheng’s other side.

When Xu Zheng said Yellow Hair’s crush was “far away yet right before his eyes,” he wasn’t talking about me. He was talking about Zhang Hui.

Once, when Yellow Hair and I passed a high-end convenience store, he asked the clerk if they had Evian water.

I told him he was crazy. “Why buy such expensive water?”

He said he’d seen someone who only drank that brand and wanted to taste what was so special about it.

“Water is just H₂O,” I retorted. “Colorless, odorless. If you taste anything different, it’s probably just the taste of money.”

Because of her on-again, off-again approach to studying, Zhang Hui bombed the college entrance exams and only got into a vocational school, Yantian University. It was in a satellite city of Changning, just a few dozen kilometers away—basically, she ended up in the same area as us.

The owner of the Evian water who never showed up at the cinema, the one I’d waited for so anxiously, was Zhang Hui.

The girl with the deep dimples and long eyelashes was Zhang Hui.

The girl I’d unwittingly replaced, the one I’d stood in for, was Zhang Hui.

Which meant the person Xu Zheng had liked for so long was Zhang Hui.

Xu Zheng explained that Zhang Hui had indeed come to the cinema yesterday. He’d run into her when he went downstairs to buy Band-Aids. But she wasn’t there to watch a movie with him; she was there to apologize.

“Oh, right,” I said. “No wonder you were gone for so long and looked so grim when you came back.”

“Sorry,” he said. “What I said at the KTV the other day was really easy to misinterpret.”

“Hey, no worries!” I chirped. “As long as the misunderstanding is cleared up, right?”

“As long as Zhang Hui didn’t misunderstand, it’s all good!”

“She won’t,” he said. “Yellow Hair confessed to her before. She knew I was confessing to her.”

“Oh, wow,” I said. “Yellow Hair never told me. If he had, I could’ve helped him brainstorm a plan. Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean it like I’d help him but not you.”

“It’s fine,” he said. “I didn’t take it that way.”

“Good.”

“So… can you delete that Weibo post?” he asked. “I’m afraid Zhang Hui will misunderstand.”

“Didn’t you just say she wouldn’t?”

“I’m afraid she’ll think that after she rejected me, I immediately got together with another girl. It would make my feelings for her seem cheap.”

“Oh, right. That’s true,” I said. “You’re so thoughtful. Even a rejected confession needs after-sales service.”

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Of course, of course.”

“Then let’s go,” he said.

“You go ahead,” I replied. “My mom’s picking me up for dinner soon.”

“You and your mom are really close.”

“Well, ‘Only Mom is the Best in the World,’ right?”

“Okay, see you then.”

“See ya.” I added, “Sorry for all the trouble.”

“No trouble at all. I’m leaving now. Bye.”

“Bye-bye.”

I sat on a lounge chair in the plaza, losing track of time until a torrential downpour erupted, drenching me to the bone.

Just like in the movies—the dramatic rain might be late, but it never fails to show up.