My Moon, Please Hang High

I returned to my wife’s high school days. This time, I made a completely different choice. I decided to be a bystander, to witness her living a beautiful life of her own. Even if that beautiful life didn’t directly involve me, I was willing to accept it gracefully. Ding ding ding — clang clang clang — A crisp and melodious bell echoed through every corner, quickly restoring the quiet to the campus after a brief moment of noise. High school life was like that — short breaks vanished in the blink of an eye. The corridors of the teaching building gradually fell silent, and the air filled with a calmness that signaled the coming immersion in knowledge. Where students had once hurried or whispered, an invisible force now gently smoothed the atmosphere, guiding everyone back into the classroom. I sat in the last row, in a corner, staring fixedly at the girl entering the door. After all, I was “sent to the frontier” — a nobody nobody paid attention to. Her name was Lou Yue. Nice name, right? Heh. I realized I was subconsciously wearing a lecherous grin, so I immediately slapped my left cheek. She wore a lightweight pair of glasses, behind which were tired eyes. There were faint dark circles beneath them — she must have stayed up late studying again last night. In the crowd of students dressed in the same uniform, she wasn’t particularly eye-catching. But it was exactly this “lost in the crowd” girl who was the grade’s famous academic star — three years in a row, she ranked first in science. That was my future wife. No, now that I’m back, she would become a rising star in the aerospace field, or a renowned physics professor. Someone who’d be mentioned alongside Stephen Hawking. But she would never be my wife. She would never be tied to a loser like me. Students gradually took their seats. I cast one last lingering glance at her, then pulled back my gaze, slipping on the long-sleeved school jacket tied around my waist. The homeroom teacher hurried in, holding a stack of test papers, face stern. “Class, we’re having a surprise quiz.” The teacher’s emotionless voice shattered the classroom calm. The students immediately erupted in complaints, but after a brief fuss, they all pulled out pens and papers with resigned expressions. My brow twitched. I couldn’t help but worry. This was my only bad habit after returning to school — quizzes every two days, exams every three. I sighed quietly, then shut the book whiter than my face and tossed it onto the pile of books beside me. The textbook I’d painstakingly flipped through was never even used. “Lou Yue.” When the teacher called her name, Lou Yue walked to the front like it was routine. She took the stack of test papers from him, counted them carefully, and handed them out one by one to the front row. Then she straightened her uniform and sat back down, posture perfect. She tore off a sheet of scratch paper from the top of her books and placed it under her right hand. Most faces in the classroom wore some trace of worry — except hers and mine. But my calm wasn’t from confidence. I already knew my score. How could anyone expect a failing student who graduated years ago to write a single test paper? Especially a math exam. A soft rustling sound spread across the classroom. Lou Yue took the test paper passed from the desk in front of her and smiled slightly at the whispered words, “Top student, let me absorb some of your brilliance.” As she lifted her elbow, the sleeve of her school uniform slipped down, revealing a section of her fair arm. It wasn’t until the rustling sound of the test papers drew near that I realized I’d been staring at Lou Yue again, lost in thought. I couldn’t help but slap my right cheek this time. The sting forced me to pull my eyes away from her back. Raising my head, I glanced at the progress of the test papers being handed out. Calculating roughly when it would reach me, I stretched out two fingers beside the shoulder of the desk in front. Looking at the burn mark on my index finger, I instinctively reached into my pocket and found a lighter. And a few cigarettes. Ah, in my past life I didn’t learn anything useful at school, but I sure picked up a bunch of bad habits. The sound of flipping test papers was loud and chaotic. Unexpectedly, the student in front turned around quickly and said, “No more.” Then she turned her head back and buried herself in the test. What the heck! No more? Perfect! Only an i***t would want to write this test. Heh. Before I could enjoy the moment, I saw the homeroom teacher glance casually over at me. Seeing my desk was empty, his brow furrowed deeply, making his already worried face look even more serious. I wanted to smooth out those wrinkles for him. But then I remembered the teacher made a fortune from stock trading in his lifetime, walked around with a swagger—and I dropped the idea. Let him frown; soon enough, there wouldn’t be much left to bother him. I lifted the corners of my mouth, flashed him a bright, sunshiny college-boy smile—but he frowned even harder, like he’d just seen a ghost. I dropped my smile, but then he suddenly relaxed and let out a breath. What are you up to? In my previous life, I was just a lazy student, not causing any real trouble. At most, I pushed the grade’s top student—Lou Yue—to the side. Thinking of this, my spirit deflated instantly. I lowered my head and averted my gaze. Lou Yue, this lifetime, you won’t have any ties with a loser like me. As I was sulking and quietly nursing my wounds, a sudden unexpected presence invaded my sight. A crisp white test paper. It gave me a headache just looking at it. Following the roughened middle finger, my gaze met Lou Yue’s calm, emotionless eyes. “You write this one, I’ll go get another.” Her ponytail swept over her neck as she nodded slightly, eyelashes like butterflies lowering. My heart skipped a beat. The hand supporting my head dropped unconsciously, and I finally remembered exactly when I’d returned to this time. It was Lou Yue’s kindness to every classmate that had sparked the chain of events leading to our fate in the last lifetime. Back then, I took the test paper and wrote nonsense on it, all the while thinking about Lou Yue’s name. Because of me, Lou Yue was delayed and held back. As she turned to leave, I suddenly stood up, making a completely different decision than last time. I shoved the test paper right back into her hand. Accidentally brushing her palm — damn, so soft, just like last time. I scoffed, shoved my hands into my pockets, and avoided Lou Yue’s stunned gaze. I defiantly looked toward the teacher. “I’m not going to write it anyway.” After saying that coolly, the noise attracted some of the students buried deep in the test to sneak glances at me. My awkwardness among these diligent, honest students strangely drew their attention. So even though I was a terrible student in my past life, I still caught the eyes of many naive teenage girls. No choice—innocent girls always got attracted to bad boys like me. Lou Yue stood there, stunned, not reacting at first. The black-rimmed glasses made her look even more dazed.