April took a small step toward May, and a large number of green leaves were about to burst forth from the tree branches.
Everything grew rapidly as if the fast-forward button had been pressed on a film.
"The cherry blossoms are all gone."
On the steep slope leading to Goda High School, Kiyono Lin gazed at the cherry trees’ bare, brown branches.
"The new green leaves will grow out soon." Dubian Che paused, "If you connect these two phrases, does it count as a haiku? ’Cherry blossoms all gone, new green leaves will soon grow.’"
"Did you memorize the ’Essentials of Haikai’?" Kiyono Lin subtly pointed out his nonsense, that he understood nothing.
"Instead of learning haiku, it’s better to learn Wakayama. I’ve memorized the entire ’Collection of Ten Thousand Leaves,’ but Han poetry is the best. I have a personal preference for that," Dubian Che replied.
Outside of China, poetry written in the Chinese language is called Han poetry.
In Island Country, some ancient literati, when learning haiku, also learned to write Han poetry. Modern textbooks not only contain Du Fu’s "Spring View" but also Zhuangzi’s "Carefree Travel."
"Then why didn’t you go into arts?" asked Kiyono Lin.
"It’s easier to find a job in science. Han poetry is a hobby; even if it’s not taught at school, you can learn it yourself."
"Easier to find a job?"
"To give my parents peace of mind, if possible, they definitely still hope that I can earn money to support the family on my own."
"But you’ve already decided to be a playboy, haven’t you?"
"A playboy?" Dubian Che turned, puzzled, to Kiyono Lin beside him.
"I’m just a stay-at-home dad who doesn’t work, how did I become a playboy? R-san, you’re too biased against me. I suspect that if something bad happened to me, you might very well die of sorrow."
"I’ll consider it seriously if something really happens to you," Kiyono Lin replied indifferently.
After climbing the steep slope, today’s duty teacher was Akiko.
"You, stop right there," she said to Dubian Che.
Dubian Che stopped: "Is there anything the matter, Akiko?"
"Call me Teacher Fujiki!"
"Teacher Fujiki?" Dubian Che blinked in confusion, "Who’s Fujiki?"
Dodging Fujiki Akiko’s furious punch, Dubian Che quickly slipped into the school gate with his backpack tight against him and quickly caught up with Kiyono Lin in a few strides.
Circling the oak tree and entering the school building, they parted at the shoe lockers; he went alone to the activity room and placed today’s blue roses into the plastic bottle on the windowsill.
Back in the classroom, Kiyono Lin had already taken out a hardcover book and was reading.
Determined to disturb her during the break this month so she couldn’t study—Dubian Che thought this as he walked past her.
"I advise you not to do that."
"Kiyono, can you really read minds?"
"It’s easy to see through the evil in your eyes, the malice you can’t hide on your face. I don’t need to read minds to see through you," said Kiyono Lin, her eyes scanning the lines of the book.
Her tone was scornful, her words venomous, her demeanor condescending.
Dubian Che flicked his hand twenty centimeters behind her head in a gesture of spiritual victory, satisfying himself.
The wind howled past, and even the white curtains by Jiutiao Meiji’s seat were slightly swayed.
Kiyono Lin’s hair was black and shiny like lead powder, and it fluttered in the wind, as beautiful as a light novel heroine appearing in spring.
"Click." Her pen on the desk rolled to the ground.
Although the pen rolled slowly, Kiyono Lin did not attempt to catch it.
She just watched it lie sadly on the ground before casting Dubian Che a cold and emotionless glance.
"Sorry." Dubian Che bent over to pick up the pen and neatly placed it back where it belonged.
Maybe that idea about disrupting her during the break needed to be reconsidered.
Dubian Che sat back in his own seat, took out his homework, and hung his backpack on the side of the desk away from the aisle.
After finishing these tasks, he took out his smartphone and placed it inside Jiutiao Meiji’s desk.
Kiyono Lin looked over.
’I’ll play with it secretly later.’ Dubian Che winked proudly.
Having completed his preparations, Dubian Che then chatted with Saito Huijie and three others, including Ichiki Aoi, about games.
After the early morning meeting, the first period was Ancient Literature class.
"Class test." The old teacher walked into the classroom and immediately started handing out the test papers.
"Ah—" Even though they were accustomed to it, everyone couldn’t help but groan.
"Twenty-five minutes for the test, twenty minutes for explanation."
Dubian Che received the test paper, glanced at it, and noted that the test question was from a passage in the "Continued Comprehensive Mirror for Aid in Government."
Classical Chinese text, Chinese characters—tough on ordinary high school students in the Island Country.
Dubian Che read through the article once and immediately started answering the questions.
However, after writing just two characters, "Xiaoquan Aonai" arrived.
Kiyono Lin was originally concentrating on the test but noticed something and looked at Jiutiao Meiji’s seat.
Dubian Cat appeared inside the desk, curled up using his tail to scroll through the news on the smartphone.
Occasionally watching videos, the cat’s tail had nothing to do, hanging off the edge of the desk, fishing-style—the Ancient Literature teacher disliked patrolling and sat at the podium drinking tea.
Kiyono Lin really wanted to take out her smartphone and snap a picture of Dubian Cat sneakily playing with the phone in class, but the Island Country law forbidding silent photography restrained her desire.
She decided she would buy an international phone this week and continued tackling the Ancient Literature test.
She had finished in a mere eight minutes. Resting her right hand on her chin and tilting her head to the left, she was ready to enjoy watching the cat.
Dubian Cat, who had been playing with the smartphone, had now fallen asleep.
He was lying on his back like a human, his cat’s head hanging off the edge of the desk, making one worry if the cat might slide off or if the head might become congested with blood.
And in front of him—Dubian Che’s own seat, "Xiaoquan Aonai" was covered in anxiety.