Chapter 50: Going Up to the Rooftop for Some Fresh Air

Having spent the entire day immersed in exams, Zhai Da was nearly drained of energy and spirit.

Fortunately, there was nothing more comforting than the home-cooked meals waiting for him. As he returned, Yu Xiaoli was already placing dishes on the breakfast table, while Lu Wei set out the bowls and chopsticks.

After washing his hands and putting down his backpack, he took his seat at the table.

Zhai Da ladled a bowl of soup for Mrs. Yu and said, “I got a notice earlier today. From now on, evening study sessions will be extended by half an hour, and morning sessions will start half an hour earlier. If you two get hungry before dinner, go ahead and eat first. I’ll just have whatever’s left when I get back.”

Yu Xiaoli frowned slightly. “More delays? Son, are you really planning to study seriously?”

Zhai Da glanced at his mother, silently thinking, *If not, what do you think Lu Wei and I are doing every night? Researching artificial humans?*

Yu Xiaoli earnestly added, “If you want, I can go to school and tell the teachers you won’t be attending evening study.”

She quite liked the atmosphere these days.

With the college entrance exam approaching, the gap between those who study and those who don’t would only widen. Under these new rules, many would likely skip evening study sessions.

If parents strongly insisted, even the school could only agree. Those who didn’t come likely either hired tutors or attended extra classes; others might just stay home to help with chores.

Zhai Da remembered that in his previous life, during the last month, at least ten students were absent from class. Some even started working early to avoid wasting time.

Among them were Wu Yue and Fan Junwei—Wu Yue worked as a waiter in his family restaurant; Fan Junwei’s whereabouts were unknown.

It wasn’t that their families didn’t value education; in three years, if they had shown any real interest in studying, they wouldn’t have been called back to work.

People in small towns differ from those in big cities—they value education but aren’t as rigid.

In the province of San Zhuang, many who lacked formal education still managed to earn good money.

Zhai Da originally intended to refuse Yu Xiaoli’s suggestion, but then reconsidered—it wasn’t entirely impossible.

The wool factory had been quiet lately, and Lu Wei finished work early. If he left evening study earlier, focusing solely on tutoring might be more efficient. If he learned even a little, he’d have at least six hours of free time daily.

“Alright then, when you have time, go talk to the school. But I’ll still be studying at home... with Lu Wei.”

Yu Xiaoli shot him a sharp glance but didn’t argue. Zhai Da’s study habits were a kind of Schrödinger’s cat to her—seeming like he was studying, but also not.

After dinner and washing the dishes, Zhai Da wiped his hands and looked toward Lu Wei’s room.

Usually at this hour, he’d call Lu Wei to tutor him.

But today, he had something else to discuss.

Time was short; he decided to change locations.

He knocked on Lu Wei’s door. The sweet tutor seemed prepared, already holding her notebook.

Zhai Da shook his head, saying, “Come walk with me?”

Yu Xiaoli, watching TV, perked up her ears.

Lu Wei was puzzled but nodded.

Together, they stepped outside, but instead of going down the hallway, they headed upward.

This peculiar residential building had only four floors; at the stairwell’s end was an iron door leading to the rooftop.

There wasn’t much on the rooftop. Long ago, an old man raised pigeons there, filling the air with stench, but neighbors eventually drove him off.

Without property management, the shabby complex was unmanaged. The door had a loosely hanging lock, just to keep the wind from blowing it open. Since middle school, when Zhai Da entered his rebellious phase, he occasionally came up here to pretend to be deep, lamenting the world’s cruelty, misunderstood by youth.

The month after reading “Three Chong Men” had been a particularly difficult time.

If those feelings were written down, the embarrassment would surpass even the contents of “Clown’s Love Letters.”

This building had few young residents; mostly elderly. Since no one raised pigeons anymore, Zhai Da was often the only one up here.

He reached for the lock but noticed a sticky note attached to it, faded with dust.

“Xiao Da, Mom loves you.”

Zhai Da was initially puzzled, then suddenly understood.

It was probably placed by Yu Xiaoli after he fainted during exams, a silent expression of concern.

He smiled to himself, feeling a warmth in his heart.

Pushing open the iron door, the view suddenly opened up.

A breeze blew that night, and the girl behind him nearly collided with him.

Lu Wei was too slender and slightly unsteady, instinctively clutching his shirt.

Zhai Da took her hand.

The cool, delicate touch reminded him of a word: “soft palms.”

He gazed at the empty rooftop with a sense of nostalgia. For him, this was the first time back since dealing with the “tenant caught running a business” incident four or five years ago.

Back then, he had sat alone with a beer for an hour, watching the sunset grow cold and the people around him drift apart.

It proved that no matter how grand the car you drive home in, without the right people waiting, it means nothing.

Returning to old haunts was ultimately a futile gesture of adulthood.

Zhai Da climbed onto the small protruding structure near the stairs, about one and a half meters high, then helped Lu Wei up. They sat side by side.

Lu Wei stared at the distant city lights, momentarily captivated, wondering if coming earlier might have allowed them to see the sunset.

She hugged her knees tightly, resting her chin on them.

Only a girl with long legs and a flexible body could manage that pose.

Zhai Da admired her legs for a moment, then the night view, and asked, “You’ve been tutoring for a few days now. How’s it going?”

Lu Wei snapped back to reality. “Pretty good. You’re progressing quickly and have a strong memory.”

“Do you think if I keep going like this, I can get into college?”

Lu Wei answered firmly, “Definitely.”

“What about a first-tier university?”

“The chances are high.”

“And a top-tier university? The ones with numbers?”

This time she was more cautious: “You’d have to work harder and rely on some luck and performance.”

Zhai Da nodded in agreement.

Of course, considering the chaos and quota mismatches caused by the new 2008 regulations in their first year, that probability could increase significantly.

“I initially thought, if you tutor me, I’d pay you...”

Lu Wei immediately said, “I don’t want money.”

“I know. You dislike money, think it’s dirty? That’s the strangest personality trait I’ve ever heard. Someone like me finds it unbelievable.”

Lu Wei didn’t respond. The tall girl curled into a small ball.

Zhai Da leaned back, supporting himself with his hands: “So now I’m not planning to pay you. I have another idea: you help me with science, and I’ll help you with literature. How about that?”

Lu Wei looked puzzled.

Zhai Da pointed to himself. “My Chinese is pretty good, especially writing essays. English is mostly vocabulary memorization, and I have a unique method. With some tools, your learning efficiency will improve a lot.”

Lu Wei shook her head. “Studying that... is useless.”

“Nothing is useless to learn.”

“Why? Won’t it waste your time?”

Zhai Da reached over Lu Wei’s ear.

With a flick of his fingers, a folded A4 card appeared in his hand, as if pulled from thin air behind her ear.

A small magic trick, actually hidden in his oversized school uniform sleeve.

Lu Wei was surprised, but unfortunately, the system still didn’t notify him that his “close-up magic” was successful.

Zhai Da smirked and placed the card in Lu Wei’s palm.

“Open it.”

She glanced at it. It read: “Compulsory Subject Level Test Instructions.”

It was the very document Ding Rong had distributed at school today.

Unfamiliar with the 2008 new regulations, Lu Wei was bewildered by much of the content and didn’t know where to look first.

Zhai Da pointed to a line in small print: “Exam registration and information modification deadline: April 15. For details, please visit the San Zhuang Provincial Examination Institute official website.”

Still, she didn’t understand what it had to do with her.

Zhai Da sincerely said, “You know, the college entrance exam is everyone’s right, right? Haven’t you heard news about university security guards getting admitted, or a 40-year-old man taking the exam for the twentieth time?”

“Just so happens, this year is the first under the 2008 regulations. The authorities anticipated problems, so all procedures related to the exam—registration, deadline changes—have been greatly extended.”

For the first time, there was a flicker of emotion in her usually impassive eyes.

“Lu Wei, let’s take the college entrance exam together this year.”

A gust of night wind blew.

The girl’s thoughts were more tangled than the strands of hair across her forehead.