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I took her for a walk on the playground: "Can you tell me how you two parted ways?"

“He used to go to evening self-study sessions frequently, and I could always guess which classroom he would go to. But when you can't guess anymore, you know that a distance has grown between you…”

"Could something have delayed you?"

"When you can't find a person anywhere in the world, can you still expect their heart to stay with you?" She said something that surprised me: "Jeep values money the most."

"Is he short of money?"

"As far as I know, his family is not well-off. His mother is bedridden, his father is an ordinary worker, and he has a younger sister in junior high school. It is not easy for such a family to support two students."

"But... when you and I went back to the countryside, weren't the shoes Da Jeep was wearing designer brands? And he even had a cell phone?" In 1998, very few students were able to use cell phones.

"So I'm even more suspicious that he was lying to me before! He said his father owned three companies, that his family was very wealthy, and that they bought a 500-square-meter villa in the best prime location in Pudong, Shanghai..."

This is indeed an outrageous lie.

"He never dared to invite me to his home. If I hadn't accidentally stumbled upon him visiting his sister in his dorm, I might have remained completely in the dark. You know, from the moment we started dating, Da Jipu controlled my bank account, and all my living expenses at school were managed by him. I didn't tell anyone he was using women's money because I wanted to save face for him. He said he could earn it back, he could earn even more money, and he wanted me to believe him! Do you know how I felt? I'm not afraid of poverty, but I can't stand lies!"

"So, when did you two break up?"

She looked at me, seemingly calm: "I brought it up last week."

"You suggested it?" I almost jumped up.

She stood up and shouted loudly towards the west playground: "To hell with love! What a load of bull!"

The sound quickly dissipated across the vast playground. Her small figure looked particularly lonely; she lowered her head, her back to me, and I wondered if she was crying.

Love is a mysterious thing; it cannot withstand deception and pretense. Once it turns sour, it is irreparable.

I went over to her and pulled her bangs aside. Her forehead was no longer as smooth as when I first met her; it seemed to be shrouded in a dark bluish-green mist, which looked ominous.

What are you looking at?

"Look at your forehead. When a person has troubles or misfortunes, nine times out of ten it's written on their forehead..."

"Nonsense!" she brushed my hand away. "Are you some kind of fortune teller or diviner?"

"When did you notice his unusual behavior?"

She paused for a moment: "Do you know there's a rich young woman in the School of Economics and Management?"

Let me think... I'd heard about her before in the cafeteria; she was the daughter of a high-ranking official, from a wealthy family. "Her name is Agate, right?"

“I saw lipstick marks and a strange perfume scent on the shirt of the Jeep. I’m not the kind of timid woman who would cry and yell at him with such things. At that time, I still believed that he was not the kind of person who frequented brothels. But one night, I went to buy something outside the South Gate and unexpectedly saw him and that girl standing in front of the Shanghai restaurant, shoving each other, almost face to face.”

I frowned: "Are you sure you're not mistaken?"

"That's right! How could I be wrong about him?"

"Then, is it a misunderstanding?"

"A misunderstanding?" She smiled bitterly. "I wish it were a misunderstanding! But when I got closer to him, I clearly heard him say: 'How can an apple compare to you? I was just playing around with her. That short, stocky girl is too small. Marrying her would affect our future generations. Only someone who pities her would pursue her...'"

Two cold tears slid down her round face. I know the pain in the heart of a stubborn person; these mocking words were more powerful than any poisoned knife, piercing her to the core.

"Apple!" We sat on the green grass of the playground, arms around each other, gazing up at the hanging moon, too sad to speak.

Youth is neither a glory nor a fault; it's just that we don't understand it. Perhaps only when the marks of life are etched upon us can we gradually grow up, like a pupa transforming into a butterfly. The moment the outer shell peels away from the body, it must be excruciatingly painful.

"Let's go back." I pulled her along, saying, "Losing you is his loss, really!"

We had just left when we heard the sound of a basketball bouncing on the court again. Looking back, we saw it was Mo Yan.

Apple said to me, "Aren't you going to say goodbye? This kid is nice. You didn't say goodbye to anyone when you left, and he's been thinking about you ever since, always asking if I've heard from you."

"Let's go!" I didn't want any more misunderstandings. Let him think I was resolute, that's fine too.

The next day when I saw Da Jipu, he was no longer as cheerful and talkative as before; he seemed embarrassed and left with his head down. I felt an indescribable sense of regret. I had once given them all my best wishes, but now the leaves were yellowed and the people were different.

This autumn is bleak.

1998 was a turbulent year, and the most talked-about topic in the fifth student canteen was the recently concluded World Cup. The boys, munching on their food, couldn't suppress their envy of Zidane's meteoric rise, while others lavishly praised the young Owen, Raul's inexperienced volley, and Beckham's perfect arc. Apple, her head almost buried in her bowl, could still hear the surrounding praise for Baggio, Stojkovic, Maldini, and Laudrup. Finally, she couldn't resist anymore, throwing her arms around herself and engaging in a lively debate, enthusiastically commenting on the fierce competition of the French summer. I watched her, arms propped up, laughing—still so straightforward and carefree! Nothing, not even the collapse of the sky or heartbreak, could diminish her love for life; she'd even gossip about it.

Section 104: A Thick Fog (2)

Just as the verbal argument reached its climax, a chorus of boos rose from the cafeteria. Everyone turned to look, and there stood a girl in a glamorous Gucci outfit, craning her neck at the entrance. Her extravagant attire clashed starkly with the unassuming student cafeteria. I nudged Apple in the back: "Isn't that Agate?"

She pretended not to hear: "Even if Emerald comes, it's the same, let's eat!"

"Are you full?" I asked, glancing at her lunchbox, which was now only filled with vegetable soup.

"Are you full? Let's go!" We went to the sink together to wash our lunchboxes.

As I passed Agate, her disdainful, mocking expression and hostile glances were very unsettling. Worried that the two of them might clash, I grabbed Apple and hurried away.

"Hey!" Agate called out to her, "You're Apple?"

Apple tilted her head back and glared at her, trying her best to suppress the urge to get angry.

"I just wanted to see it for myself. Seeing you puts my mind at ease."

"What do you mean?" Apple glared angrily.

The girl sneered, "Are you a snail? Those two legs must be retracted into your shell. It's rare to find someone chasing after such a short and stout girl!" She brought her bright red lips close to the apple's side and whispered in its ear, "I feel like throwing up when I see you!" Then she turned to leave.

Apple leaped up, and with a crisp "smack," a slap landed squarely on Agate's powdered face. Just as Agate was stunned, clutching half her cheek, the lunchbox she was holding landed squarely on Agate's face. Her makeup was ruined; half her face was covered in a rather pretty red handprint, the other half in dark brown vegetable soup, dripping onto her expensive Gucci outfit. Agate's eyes immediately reddened, bloodshot, and she lunged forward like a wolf, howling and tearing at Apple's face.

Apple's legs weren't long, but she was strong. She kicked me so hard I was knocked to the ground and sat there for a long time. "What are you standing there for?" she yelled, grabbing my hand and running away. "A mad bitch bites the hardest! Are you waiting for her to throw a tantrum so you can hit her back?"

When she reached a secluded spot, she breathed a sigh of relief: "Thank goodness! They didn't chase after us."

I asked her, "We're from the same school. If you sever ties with her today, what if she retaliates tomorrow?"

"I'm afraid of her?" she gasped, stomping her foot against the wall. "That little hussy is acting tough in front of me! I really want to kick her to death!"

Trouble soon followed.

As everyone knows, this wealthy girl from the School of Finance and Economics is the niece of the vice president of University A. That afternoon, Apple received a major demerit. Not only her, but my scholarship this year was also inexplicably stolen; my excellent grades in all subjects were replaced with ugly symbols, the red pen on them displaying a dogmatic, sarcastic expression with a gaping maw. Apple apologized to me, and I smiled at her, saying, "It's okay, don't think about her, you should be happy!"

"Yes!" she clapped her hands and said, "Let's go, let's go to the food stall for beer tonight, it's on me!"

I was about to persuade her when she said something that left me speechless: "Are you going or not? If not, I'll go by myself."

"I'll go!" I quickly agreed.

The South Gate Night Market was bustling until late into the night, filled with the sounds of clinking beer glasses and vendors hawking grilled meat. Thick smoke billowed from the small ovens, carrying for miles around. My name is Apple; she was already dozing off at a small table, beer bottles piled up at her feet. Her little face was flushed, and she mumbled intermittently, "Damn it, I hate it when people say I have short legs. This jerk is definitely my nemesis..."

"Clang—"

As the last bottle fell to the ground, she was completely unable to stand up.

I didn't want to persuade her. If getting drunk could make her forget all her troubles, I hoped she would get completely wasted. But Apple, with her eyes closed, suddenly turned around, shook an elderly man with a white beard at the table behind her, and shouted, "Beautiful lady! I'm drunk! I want to cry! But I can't!"

I quickly pulled her away, paid the bill, and helped her towards the school gate: "Let's go back! The school will close soon!"

"Ruoxi, you're really not a good friend! You promised to come drink with me, but you haven't touched a single cup." Her tongue was already tied, her eyelids rolled up and then closed heavily again.

I replied casually, "Of course I can't drink. If you pass out, I can still get you back, but if we both pass out, who will take you back?"

She started singing in a garbled, incoherent way, one song after another, occasionally blurting out, "Is Andy Lau a man or a woman?" Already quite drunk, she became increasingly sluggish, and I could barely drag her along. Suddenly—a man rushed out from the shadows around the corner, quickly approaching Apple. He was very strong; after hitting her, he immediately ran, disappearing into the alleyway opposite the south gate.

Section 105: A Thick Fog (3)

The apple grew heavier and heavier, and kept sliding down...

"Ah—" I exclaimed.

She was stabbed in the abdomen, and bright red liquid gushed out, staining her white velvet hoodie.

"Apple!! Don't scare me!"

No matter how I called her, she didn't respond and collapsed limply at my feet. What could I do? It was a pitch-black midnight, the streets were emptied of pedestrians, and all the surrounding shops were closed.

"Wait a minute!" I saw the newsstand five steps away still lit, and the people inside were about to close it. "Wait! Please!" I rushed over and pounded on its window. "I need to make a phone call! Someone's injured! I need to use the phone!"

A kind newspaper vendor opened the window and handed me a white telephone. My hands, holding the receiver, trembled uncontrollably, the blood on them staining the white surface: "Mo Yan! I'm looking for Mo Yan!! Quick! Please call him for me!"

"Mo Yan! Answer the phone!" The boys' dormitory was noisy. After a while, the sound of slippers dragging on the floor could be heard as someone walked towards the phone, and the sound of someone switching hands, but it wasn't Mo Yan.

“I am Mo Yan’s roommate. He is not here right now. You can leave your name and I will pass it on to him when he returns.”

"Please tell him," I was on the verge of tears, "that I am Lan Ruoxi, and that he should come find me as soon as he gets back. I'm at the night market outside the south gate of the school. Please hurry!"

The call ended. I held the apple, which was limp as mud, and a chill ran down my spine and up to my neck.

The dim yellow light from the streetlamp fell on the prayer beads on my wrist, but they seemed to be in hibernation, no different from ordinary beads, offering no help whatsoever...

The operating room light was on; Apple's stomach needed stitches.

I paced back and forth in the hospital corridor.

"Do you know who did this?" Mo Yan stared blankly at the rusty window frame on the windowsill, his eyes bloodshot.

I bit my nails, unable to calm down: "I suspect someone, but it's possible they are, or it's possible they aren't."

What do you mean by "it's possible, but it's also possible it isn't"?

"The one who did it was a man, but I suspect it was a woman who ordered him to do it."

"Did you get a clear look at what the assailant looked like?"

I frowned and racked my brains, but couldn't think of anything: "No. It was too dark, I couldn't see anything."

“That’s an unsolved mystery,” he sighed, gripping the windowsill tightly with his fingers.

Should we report this to the school's Public Security Bureau?

"How do you report it? You're the only eyewitness, and even you can't describe what the assailant looked like... You know our school's police department, how many of them actually work for students? If you beg them, they won't get anything done, but you'll have to give them gifts and spend thousands of dollars first."

I remain silent.

What if the apple leaves lasting side effects?

He always gives me difficult questions, but I can't answer any of them.

"How will we pay for this surgery?"

Yes! The surgery fee! That's the most urgent thing. My bank card has almost no balance left after paying tuition.

I went to the medical duty room and dialed a long-distance number: "I'm looking for Mingyang..."

Besides him, who else can I turn to for help? Suddenly I realized how helpless I am in this world. Without him, I would be in dire straits and unable to support myself.

"Is the issue of payment resolved?" Mo Yan asked cautiously as I put down the phone.

"Mm." I nodded.