Chapter 19

Soon, the midterm grades came out.
Du Ruo checked online, every subject above 88, quite a few even over 90. Ranked first in the class.
Her roommates were totally blown away.
He Huanhuan’s jaw nearly hit the floor. “Holy shit, you’re going to the moon! Xiao Ruo, you and homework are literally dating, you sick overachiever! You’re gonna drive me nuts!”
Qiu Yuchen was just as stunned. “Damn, Ruo, you’re the pilot of the straight-A jet fighter squad.”
Xia Nan just shrugged. “Well, all that hard work paid off.”
Du Ruo flashed a “humble” grin. “Eh, what can I say? Genius problems.”
All three pounced and “beat her up” in mock outrage.
“Alright, but with grades that good, isn’t it time for a celebratory dinner?” He Huanhuan never missed a chance to propose eating out.
Everyone was burnt out on cafeteria food, so it was unanimous, they’d head off campus for hot pot.
“Heavy smog tonight, don’t forget your masks,” Xia Nan said, drawing the curtains closed and stepping in from the balcony.
Du Ruo hadn’t encountered smog before coming to Beijing. Her hometown had blue skies and green mountains year round. The first time she faced Beijing haze, she coughed for days.
Qiu Yuchen consoled her: “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. It’s just autumn, wait till winter, the whole city goes totally dark, like doomsday.”
Du Ruo lit up, “No sunshine? Does that mean I’ll finally get paler?”
The whole dorm shot her identical murderous glares.
It was already November and darkness fell early.
Outside the dorm, the world was muddled and gloomy; the haze blanketed everything, giving it an apocalypse movie vibe.
The nearby dorms were just gray shapes; only windows lit from within pricked holes of light through the murk, like someone had punched a pattern into a dark canvas.
Du Ruo wrinkled her nose and pursed her lips, breathing extra carefully, she still wasn’t used to the sharp, chemical scent in the air.
She tore open the plastic wrapping, tossed it in a street bin, and was just about to put on her mask when a tall, blurred figure materialized up ahead in the haze, striding toward her.
She only saw the silhouette, but she knew instantly.
She froze on the spot, forgotten mask in hand, hurriedly smoothing her hair and bangs to look as cool and serene as possible.
The figure grew clearer. Closer. Only… a girl walked alongside him, keeping a respectful distance.
He had both hands tucked in his pockets, a black mask covering all but those sharp eyes and brows, colder than she remembered.
Closer. Closer still.
Du Ruo straightened her back and lifted her chin, heart banging wildly.
But when they passed, Jing Ming didn’t even glance her way, just brushed past, eyes fixed straight ahead.
Du Ruo’s heart plummeted and bounced uselessly somewhere in her chest. Behind her, the girl looked up at Jing Ming, starry-eyed and all admiration. “Ohhh, so that’s it! It totally makes sense now after hearing you explain it.”
Du Ruo’s smile drooped. A wave of jealousy hit, bitter and annoying, but she couldn’t help sneaking another look at his retreating back.
He was all long legs and quick steps, and the girl nearly had to jog to match his pace.
Du Ruo slipped on her mask in silence.
He Huanhuan couldn’t help glancing back, Jing Ming was campus royalty, after all. “New girlfriend?”
“Doesn’t look like it,” Qiu Yuchen analyzed. “But she definitely wants to be.”
Xia Nan agreed. “We girls can read these things in a glance.”
“She got a shot?”
“Doubt it.”
Finally, Du Ruo spoke. “Why not?”
“Looks, basically. Like, you break up with Ryan Gosling and then start dating Danny DeVito?”
Du Ruo: “…”
At this rate, she thought, maybe Danny DeVito’s doing better than me right now.
Thank god for the heavy smog and the mask, no one could see just how deflated she looked.
On the side, He Huanhuan’s gossipy antenna shot up. “Hey, Xia Nan, you went to high school with him, right? What’s he like? Is he super shallow about looks?”
“Not really,” Xia Nan replied. “He definitely cares about excellence. I always thought he and Min Enzhu would break up, and yup, here we are. They were never on the same level. Next time he dates, it’ll be a girl who’s amazing. Like, super accomplished at everything.”
Qiu Yuchen: "Why?"
Xia Nan replied as if it were obvious: "Well, I have to be good enough for him."
Du Ruo stayed silent, letting out a faint sigh.
In his eyes, she was still nothing more than background scenery, just another tree by the roadside.
She was growing, yes, but it was slow, and she was so impatient. When would this tree finally blossom and bear fruit?
That leaf from Xiangshan, fearing it would wither, she'd pressed between pages, imprinting it as beautiful leaf art, preserving it forever like a watercolor painting.
But encounters with Jing Ming grew rare.
During public classes, he arrived late, left early, and skipped more and more sessions.
Sometimes the professor would call, "Jing Ming."
But the voice answering "Here" was never his own.
She barely even saw him in passing, let alone found the right moment to give him the pressed leaf.
Truth was, Jing Ming was swamped lately, spending nearly every day holed up in the lab, sketching designs and rough drafts for Prime’s self-driving project.
One morning, his homeroom teacher, Liang Wenbang, called, asking him to swing by the office before noon.
Jing Ming skipped his politics and English classes that morning to grind away in the lab, and only headed over to the office just before lunch.
Hands in pockets, he strolled in. Liang Wenbang looked up from his book, grinned, and said, "You made it?"
Jing Ming dragged over a chair, slouched into it, and asked, "Something up?"
"Just routine," Liang Wenbang said. "Wanted to check on your team’s latest project progress."
"You called me in just for that? Doesn’t Li Wei give you the regular updates?"
"I know." Liang Wenbang smiled. "Believe me, I’ve read everything. Your overall design and planning are excellent, Professor Zhen Daoming has been singing your praises all morning."
Zhen Daoming, a close friend of Jing Yuanshan, had helped Jing Ming a lot over the years. Since starting college, they’d connected even more. Like Liang Wenbang, Zhen Daoming was also a Prime faculty advisor.
Jing Ming scratched his ear. "So it’s all compliments? Nothing else?"
Liang Wenbang couldn’t help but laugh. "Yep. Only good things. Your plan is nearly perfect. Neither Professor Zhen nor I have any major concerns. Just a few minor nitpicks, we’ve marked them for you to consider or ignore as you like."
He handed over a stack of documents.
Jing Ming flipped through a few pages; even the smallest notes were seriously detailed. "Appreciate it, Old Liang."
Liang Wenbang chuckled, then his tone shifted slightly. "Actually, there’s one more thing."
"Go on." Of course. He’d suspected as much, no way he’d be called in for just minor feedback.
"Have you heard what Yi Kun’s team is working on lately?"
"Automatic braking, right?" Jing Ming had caught a bit of gossip. "Why?"
Liang Wenbang hesitated, choosing his words carefully. He was a doer, not a negotiator, but orders were orders…
"Their project overlaps with yours in a few areas. The department heads think, to avoid wasting manpower, time, and resources, they want you and Yi Kun to…"
Jing Ming instantly snorted, cutting him off: "You want me to cooperate with him? Not happening."
"Not cooperate, combine forces…"
Jing Ming shut him down: "Only the weak need partners. The strong? They swallow their competition whole."
Liang Wenbang blinked, caught off guard.
"Combine? Please," Jing Ming sneered. "So who calls the shots, him or me? Whoever came up with this, let me know: I don’t work for anyone, and I don’t follow anyone’s orders. Got it? If you want to play team-up, have Yi Kun come work under me. Otherwise? Forget it."
With that, he cocked his head and lounged back, eyeing his teacher from his chair.
Liang Wenbang tried for reproach, but just sighed, helplessly grinning. "Man, you set off like a firecracker. It’s just a suggestion." He shook his head again. "Knew it. With your attitude, what was I expecting? Fine, have it your way, I’ll let the higher-ups know."
This time Jing Ming grew quiet, brow furrowed, not entirely pleased. "Are the department heads giving you a hard time? Is it that Deputy Director Yuan or whatever?"
"No, not at all. Don’t read into it. Merging projects is a normal concern. But since you won’t work with anyone else, forget it, it’s hardly a big deal." Liang Wenbang smoothed things over gracefully.
What he left unsaid: Deputy Director Yuan, who oversaw student entrepreneurship, didn’t really buy into what Jing Ming’s group was doing. They were just freshmen, by seniority, shouldn’t they be supporting the grad students? More reliable, more efficient, bigger chance of rapid progress.
But say that out loud, and the guy sitting here would probably explode.
Even without hearing it, Jing Ming had already guessed. He didn’t bother being polite: "If he wants to micromanage, tell him to come see me himself." Then, an afterthought: "And don’t let yourself get stuck in the middle for my sake."
Liang Wenbang grinned. "Well, look who’s suddenly worried about his class advisor."
Jing Ming: "…"
"I’m out, unless you need something else." He was just about to get up when Liang Wenbang motioned, "Wait a sec."
"Now what?"
"Your political make-up exam, take it seriously, got it?"
"Yeah, yeah, got it!"
He couldn’t have sounded less interested.
Liang Wenbang watched his student’s retreating back for a long moment, then smiled, shaking his head as he muttered, "Ah, youth..."
Jing Ming didn’t spare another thought for any merger drama, once out the door, it was ancient history.
But with his politics make-up exam looming that afternoon, he couldn’t help but scowl at his own misfortune.
It was early afternoon when he returned to the dorm. All his roommates were there.
"Where’d you run off to?" Zhu Tao asked, pointing at a lunch container on his desk. "Thought you’d miss lunch, so I brought you some noodles."
"Thanks, man. Old Liang pulled me in for the politics make-up thing."
Jing Ming shrugged off his jacket and threw it on the bed, dug out a notebook from his backpack, shoved up his T-shirt sleeves, and flopped down in his chair to study.
Whoever wrote these notes had neat handwriting, too bad the content was so painfully dull.
In the middle of his review,
"A love letter?" Zhu Tao snatched the pages and glanced through before bursting into riotous laughter, theatrically reading aloud: "'To realize the China Dream, we must stay on the Chinese path! Uphold the Chinese spirit! Harness Chinese strength!' Wow, revolutionary bromance, huh?"
"What is it?" Li Wei wandered over, curious, but Jing Ming snatched the notes back before he could peek. "You idiot, can’t you see I’m trying to cram for the exam here?"
"Didn’t expect to see you actually studying," Zhu Tao cackled. "So, where’d you get these notes?"
"How should I know?" Jing Ming kept his eyes on the text, silently memorizing.
"Someone took the time to write out all these pages, had to be some girl in our department with a secret crush on you."
Jing Ming ignored the gossip, dutifully reciting, totally uninterested in the drama.
"Hey, maybe it’s that Sichuan chick from Electrical Engineering? Or that girl from Mechanical Automation in Jiangsu?" Everyone knew he’d bombed the last test, infamous nine points. There weren’t many girls around, so it was hard to narrow down.
Jing Ming, clearly tired of this, snapped: "I’m retaking the exam in half an hour. Can you shut up already?"
"All right, all right." Zhu Tao patted him on the shoulder and finally dropped it.
Jing Ming got back to memorizing,
Seek truth from facts: "facts" means everything that objectively exists. "Truth" is the internal logic, the law behind it all. "Seek" is our process of investigating.,
Oh god, what are these convoluted sentences? Torture device disguised as study material.
Naturally, Du Ruo, who wrote those notes, had no idea that, upon receiving them, the boy had studied with nonstop inner complaints along the way.
With midterms over, Du Ruo had lighter coursework, and finally had more free time for deep self-study. Soon after, she applied to her teacher for permission to do extracurricular experiments in the lab.
After lunch, with no early afternoon classes, she carried her materials to the desktop lathe lab. Opening the door, she found the room empty.
Perfect timing.
Du Ruo found a suitable lathe, studied the parameter sheet on the machine,
Maximum swing: 210 mm
Max workpiece length: 450 mm
Spindle taper: MT.3
Spindle bore: 20 mm
Chuck diameter: 100 mm
Spindle speed: 100–2000 rpm
She laid out her supplies, aluminum ring, round aluminum and copper blocks, thin steel pipe, thin copper tube, adhesive, lubricant…
Cracking open her notebook, she clumsily followed along, step by step, mounting the aluminum block to the chuck, adjusting the machine’s settings, hitting the power switch, the disc spun at dizzying speed. As the tool neared and shaved the spinning metal, pale golden shavings flew like petals around her fingers.
On the lathe, metal gave way as easily as wood. Bit by bit, precise grooves took shape in the once-smooth block.
One step done, on to the next.
Afternoon sun angled in the window, and the lab was peaceful and quiet. Stationed by the machine, Du Ruo was engrossed in the fine hiss of metal against metal, music to her ears.
Patient and serene, she carefully chose tools, tweaked settings, shaped, glued, annealed, drilled, almost an hour of focused effort. At last, she had fashioned a three-axis gyroscope.
The tiny gyroscope gleamed gold and silver, like a miniature globe. Nudge it, and it spun gracefully, a marvel of intricate charm.
Delighted and proud, Du Ruo set her creation aside, swept away stray metal shavings from the lathe, then crouched to clean beneath the table, glancing back now and then at her “baby,” perched obediently on the desktop, until suddenly, a hand reached out and picked it up.
"Wait, that's my, " She sprang to her feet, freezing for a second as she recognized Jing Ming. All the words poised on her tongue instantly slid back down her throat.
Jing Ming was casually fiddling with the gyroscope in his hand. When she suddenly popped out from under the table, he started a bit, glanced at her, then at what he was holding, and set it back on the edge of the table.
They both averted their eyes, quiet as complete strangers.
He wore a deep navy duffle coat with a hood. Passing by her, he tossed out, "Not bad."
Du Ruo's heart thudded, pounding madly.
Pressing her lips together, she glanced over her shoulder; he was already at a workbench, busying himself, head bent, back swaying slightly.
Soon, the silent lab filled with the soft hiss of metal scraping on metal.
She left him be, lips still pressed tight, gathered her things, and slipped quietly from the lab, closing the door behind her.
And the instant the door clicked shut, she grinned from ear to ear.
"Not bad," he'd said.
His voice had been low, smooth as velvet.
He was complimenting her!
She couldn’t help skipping down the corridor and into the elevator, bouncing lightly on her heels.
Halfway down in the elevator, she suddenly remembered, the leaf was still tucked in her sticky-note pad. She never got to show him.
Next time, then.
When the elevator doors slid open, she shot out of the building, facing a campus gilded by autumn sunlight, and took a deep, exhilarated breath. Her heart fluttered in her chest like it had grown wings.
"Ahhh, " She stifled her whoop, bolting down the steps, grinning so wide she couldn't possibly rein it in, laughing all the way across the quad.