After Liu Xiue’s birthday, Zhao Meimei officially threw herself into the busy preparation for the city-wide joint exam.
Robber Hao handed out test papers every day with red eyes, checking answers and explaining questions. Even when he was extremely busy, he didn’t forget to stand by Zhang Zhao’s desk, instructing him sternly: "Finish your questions quickly, I’ll be the first to check them."
No matter how laid-back Zhang Zhao was, he still had some foundation from his previous studies. With a bit of effort, he caught up. Ever since he cut himself with a knife, the whole class looked at him as if he were a lunatic; some timid classmates would walk past him carefully, afraid he might pull out a knife and, instead of amusing himself, decide to stab someone else for fun.
In this environment where everyone was on edge, only the carefree Zhao Meimei behaved like nothing was going on, still accepting all kinds of snacks Zhang Zhao offered to her, eating them herself, sometimes sharing them with Xu Xu and Wang Jiayue, and occasionally taking Zhang’s big wallet for a trip to the supermarket to raid the snack aisle.
Zhang Zhao walked beside Zhao Meimei, turning his head to look at her still somewhat pretty face. Sometimes, unable to help himself, he’d ask mockingly: "Hey, Zhao Meimei, you’re not planning to have an affair, are you?"
Zhao Meimei immediately shot back with a cold glare: "Nonsense, who am I supposed to have an affair with?"
Zhang Zhao pointed at himself.
Zhao Meimei snorted with disdain, unhesitatingly retorting: "Stop it, I’m not crazy."
Zhang Zhao sneered: "Being with me is crazy?"
Zhao Meimei scoffed: "You’re not crazy? You cut yourself with a knife; normal people don’t do such things!"
Zhang Zhao rarely showed displeasure in front of Zhao Meimei: "And why isn’t it normal? It’s not like I’m slitting my wrists; using a knife to cut myself isn’t crazy, I didn’t hurt anyone else!"
Zhao Meimei lectured him: "And you say it’s not crazy?! Besides you, who else thinks cutting themselves with a knife is fun? If you can name one person, then I’ll admit you’re not crazy. Not even speaking generally, just our class—everyone from Robber Hao to our classmates, who doesn’t look at you like you’re nuts? You think it’s super cool, right? I’m telling you, it’s not cool, it’s crazy! And it’s serious! I... "
Zhang Zhao, both irritated and collapsing inside, was struck to the core by Zhao Meimei’s inadvertent words. Suddenly, he turned and kicked the wall, shouting roughly: "You don’t know anything! Who says it’s crazy?! It’s not crazy at all!"
Zhao Meimei was startled by his sudden outburst and curiously asked: "If it’s not crazy, then what is it?"
Zhang Zhao’s face instantly darkened, an indescribable anger erupted as if someone had poured filth over a statue of a deity. He glared fiercely at Zhao Meimei, his chest heaving: "It’s not crazy at all! She just wanted some excitement. Watching the blade cut through skin, severing blood vessels, it’s truly thrilling in that instant. It’s just a craving for mental highs, it’s not crazy! What do you guys know? Who says it’s crazy?"
Zhao Meimei stared at Zhang Zhao in shock: "How is this not crazy? What if you hit an artery, then it’s suicide!"
The word "suicide" directly triggered Zhang Zhao’s long-suppressed gloom from inside out. Without even thinking, he blurted: "What do you mean ’then it’s suicide’? My sister would never commit suicide. How can you guys say she has depression and wants to commit suicide just because she rebellious plays with blood!"
Zhang Zhao grabbed Zhao Meimei by the collar, pulling her forward so she slammed against the wall before she could stabilize herself, her back hitting the hard surface, making her gasp in pain.
Zhang Zhao growled furiously: "She’s pretty and has dated a few times, so you say she’s mentally empty, seeking excitement, and has a mental illness. You say she wants to kill herself anytime, anywhere! Bullshit! Absolute bullshit! You guys go commit suicide! Your whole family goes commit suicide!"
Zhao Meimei, overwhelmed by the information, stood dazed, forgetting the pain in her back. It wasn’t until much later that she slowly gathered her wits and asked, murmuringly: "Are you saying Sister Xin has depression? When did it happen? How could that be? Isn’t it nonsense? Last time I saw her, she was perfectly fine. When did she play with blood? Zhang Zhao, is everything you’re saying really true?"
Zhang Zhao suddenly froze, color draining from his face to the paleness of a ghostly mask. His lips trembled slightly, mouth half open, grabbing Zhao Meimei’s hands only to let them fall weakly beside his body.
Zhao Meimei watched Zhang Zhao, goosebumps creeping up her neck: "So you cut yourself only to prove it’s not crazy, correct?"
Zhang Zhao didn’t speak; he seemed drained, bending over, elbows resting on his knees, lowering his gaze to stare at his feet. This matter had been buried deep within him, never mentioned to anyone. Now, suddenly revealed, he felt empty, with an unsettling feeling of groundlessness.
Zhang Zhao stayed silent for such a long time that Zhao Meimei leaned closer, patting his shoulder: "You okay?"
Zhang Zhao looked up at her, slightly dazed, realizing Zhao Meimei indeed was different from everyone else he knew.
Others were like kaleidoscopes, vibrant and diverse on the surface, but possibly just a crumbling cardboard inside.
While Zhao Meimei was like a bottle of juice whose transparency revealed everything. Unscrewing the cap, one could smell its sweetness inside; even when all the liquid was gone, there’s still a faint aroma clinging to its edges.
If before knowing Zhao Meimei, someone had told him he’d someday share the secrets buried deep inside him without reservation, he’d definitely think they’ve had their brain smoothed out with an electric iron.
"I’m fine." Zhang Zhao shook his head, standing up with a bitter smile, asking: "Just a bit tired. Can you keep me company to eat some spicy skewers?" Read full story at novel-fire.net
Zhao Meimei blinked at Zhang Zhao, not saying anything.
Zhang Zhao averted his gaze, saying lightly: "If you don’t want to, forget it. Anyway, let’s go back to class; it’s almost time for lessons."
Zhang Zhao turned to walk to the classroom, only to be tugged by his school uniform after taking just one step.
Zhang Zhao turned back, meeting Zhao Meimei’s clear gaze.
Zhao Meimei squinted her eyes, lazily looking through her lashes at him: "Okay, let’s go, but you need to pay. I didn’t bring any money."
Zhang Zhao chuckled helplessly: "Class President, when have you ever paid when hanging out with me?"
Listening to his playful chatter, Zhao Meimei secretly sighed in relief, adding: "Wait for me here. I’ll go back and make some cover arrangements, then I’ll come find you."