The Class Reunion
1052 Words
Ni Wu didn’t expect her daughter to say that out of the blue. Staring into Sui Sui’s bright, clear eyes, she froze.
Suddenly, Ni Wu realized: her daughter, though already six, was smaller than most kids her age, a result of years of suffering from her congenital heart condition. For the absent father, Sui Sui was sensitive beyond her years, and she’d long outgrown the white lie Ni Wu told—“Daddy went to a faraway place.”
In Ni Wu’s drawer lay a photo: her and Pei Huaiyu, taken in high school. Sui Sui had spotted it before. But Ni Wu never imagined the little girl would remember it after all these years.
The bus skidded to a sudden stop. Ni Wu lurched forward, instinctively shielding Sui Sui in her arms. After a moment’s daze, she whispered, “No, he’s not.”
“But he looks just like Daddy,” Sui Sui insisted.
Ni Wu fell silent for a beat. “He’s just… similar,” she mumbled, forcing a weak smile.
When they reached home, Ni Wu knocked on the door of Granny Chen, who lived downstairs. The old lady was known in the neighborhood for her grumpy, eccentric ways, though she’d softened since Ni Wu saved her from choking on nuts two years ago.
Back then, Ni Wu was desperate to enroll Sui Sui in kindergarten and had hit a snag with the paperwork. By chance, she’d met Chen Sha’an, a man whose terminally ill father wanted to see him married before he died. He needed a quick marriage and divorce to fulfill his wish, and he was scheduled to move abroad for work. Ni Wu agreed to the arrangement—for Sui Sui’s household registration.
The old man passed the same night. Though Granny Chen was livid about her son’s “shotgun marriage,” she’d understood his filial piety, letting her husband die without regret. Now, living alone in their old, small apartment (no elevator, cheap rent), she’d let Ni Wu and Sui Sui live in the attic—with a separate entrance, for a small rent.
That afternoon, Ni Wu had boiled frozen dumplings for lunch. Granny Chen ambled into the kitchen, her voice gruff but warm. “Sui Sui’s getting older. Get her the surgery soon. If you need money, I’ll lend it—just a loan.”
Ni Wu knew the old lady had savings… but those were her “coffin funds.” Lending them for Sui Sui’s surgery would leave her vulnerable if something happened to Granny. She thanked her profusely, declining gently.
Later, Ni Wu arrived at L&M Design Studio on the 15th floor of Jinmao Tower.
“Sister Ni Wu, Director Lin wants you in her office,” her colleague Meng Lin called as she stepped in.
Lin Shixuan, the design director and Ni Wu’s boss, was on a call, glancing up only briefly to nod for her to wait. Ni Wu checked her watch. Thirteen minutes ticked by before Lin Shixuan finally hung up.
“Your team’s design draft for Yitang was rejected,” Lin said, sliding a folder across her desk. “Redo it must be done by next week. It’s too conservative; it needs to stand out. Add quirky elements: polka dots, dark embroidery… something bold.”
“Director Lin, Yitang’s brand is about elegant temperament, targeting 30+ consumers. We aligned with market feedback,” Ni Wu tried, voice steady.
Lin fixed her with a sharp look, cutting her off mid-sentence. “Am I the director or are you?”
Back at her desk, Ni Wu explained the changes to her team. Groans erupted.
“What kind of trash taste is this?” Qi Lu, across from her, frowned. “Dark embroidery and polka dots on a brand that does ‘bamboo elegance’? This is a disaster.”
“Ugh, why do we always have to fix her terrible ideas?” someone grumbled.
“But—rumor has it Songcheng Fashion Media is interviewing her this Saturday. ‘The Rise of a Top Designer: A Night of Starlight,’” another added.
“Her dad’s a retired general, right? Third-gen red. She’s just here for fun. LM’s partner Mr. Feng is her friend from the industry,” someone whispered.
“Shhh—let’s keep it down.”
Ni Wu worked late. Sui Sui called on Granny Chen’s WeChat, showing her dinner, and Meng Lin waved at the screen, marveling. “You’ve worked with us three years, and no one knows you have a six-year-old? You look like a college grad—so pretty.”
“Go home to your daughter,” Meng Lin said, patting her shoulder. “We’ll be back in half an hour.”
On the subway, her phone buzzed. She thought it was Sui Sui… but it was a high school classmate. Ni Wu never added old friends to this WeChat—she’d cut all ties to her past. The only exception was Wan Ning, her neighbor in high school, still in touch off and on.
Wan Ning’s message was a long voice note. Ni Wu converted it, reading:
“Our high school reunion’s on. Class monitor Lu Zhanpeng couldn’t find you, so he asked me about you. I said I didn’t know. But the rumors? They say you’re dead… Ugh, forget that. Now? Even if you stood right in front of them, they wouldn’t recognize you. You’re so slim, so stunning.”
For a heartbeat, Ni Wu felt like Cheng Qingmiao—the girl who’d vanished seven years ago, silent and invisible. She typed slowly: “Let them think Cheng Qingmiao is dead.”
No one had liked that girl. Not even Ni Wu. Changing her name was a way to say goodbye.
Wan Ning replied: “I heard—just heard—that Pei Huaiyu’s coming back too. Do you want to go? With how you look… he probably wouldn’t recognize you.”
Ni Wu’s fingers froze on the screen. Wan Ning was her only link to the past, the one who’d barely recognized her at her wedding—the once chubby girl, now white as fine jade.
Ni Wu stared at Pei Huaiyu’s name, her throat tight. She’d already seen him, hadn’t she? At the hospital.
She typed two words, and sent.
Not going.
- Writer
