Ch. 004| First Period
Gu Mingye moves through an ordinary school day and finds everyone — clerk, guard, classmates, teachers, a watcher across the street — looking past his face and at him.
March 16, 2065. Monday. 06:30.
Gu Mingye woke.
The alarm hadn't gone off yet. He'd beaten it by three minutes.
Sunlight slanted in through the window. Early-spring light, pale, thin. The living room was very quiet.
His mother hadn't come home.
He knew. The senior she was covering for clocked off at 06:00, and his mother wasn't done with her morning shift until 14:00.
He sat up in bed and reached over to turn off the alarm on the nightstand — he didn't want that sound ringing through a living room his mother wasn't in.
He got up.
There was breakfast money on the table, where his mother always left it. A bill weighted down under the water glass. No note today.
He didn't take the bill.
He went into the bathroom and washed his face. The Gu Mingye in the mirror looked the same as the usual Gu Mingye. No shadows under the eyes. No pallor in the face.
He lifted a hand and touched his left ear.
No vibration. No whisper.
But he knew he wasn't the same as the Gu Mingye from last night.
On his way out of the bathroom, he glanced into the living room.
When his mother came home from a night shift, she usually set her bag on top of the shoe cabinet in the entryway. Hung her coat on the hook behind the door. Left her nurse's badge by the charger at the edge of the table.
Today all three spots were empty.
When his mother covered the senior's late shift, she went straight from the hospital into the morning shift. She wouldn't come home first.
07:00. He left the apartment.
The alleys of the Old River District were quieter than usual on a Monday morning. The kids with early study sessions had already gone. The breakfast cart and the iced-tea cart weren't out yet.
Only the breakfast place at the mouth of the alley was open, and the smell of its scrambled-egg grease drifted out into the lane.
He passed it. Didn't go in.
Usually he'd order an egg crepe, extra scallions, milk tea half sugar. The owner knew his face. Today he didn't go in — because he knew that when she looked up at him, she'd look at him the way several people already had this morning.
He didn't want one more.
Out of the alley, over the little bridge across the old river embankment, past the Earth God shrine that nobody had worshipped at in thirty years.
The scorch mark under the censer caught the Monday-morning light. It looked a little fainter. Or maybe that was just what he wanted to see.
He didn't crouch.
Over the bridge, down Shuyuan Street, toward Shuyuan Station.
07:20. Shuyuan Station on the Rivermag Line. Platform three.
At commuting hour there were far more people on the platform than on a day off.
Every day Gu Mingye took the 07:20 Rivermag to school. Every day he sat in the third car, toward the rear, in a window seat. Every day he saw the same handful of faces — the middle-aged man with the briefcase, the office lady in the mask, the girl with the guitar case who was probably a music student.
Same people every day, same spots, same time.
The train pulled in.
The 07:20, on time.
Gu Mingye stepped into the third car.
The middle-aged man with the briefcase was standing there today too. Suit, grey tie. The coffee cup in his hand had the logo of the chain at the south end of Shuyuan Street printed on the paper — the same cup every day.
The man turned his head and saw Gu Mingye.
Stopped for half a second.
Switched the coffee cup to his other hand, went around Gu Mingye, and walked to the far end of the car.
Walked to the connecting passage to the fourth car. Out of the third, into the fourth.
Between those two cars there was usually a reinforced glass door. When the man pushed through today, the glass door drifted slowly shut behind him on its own.
From his car, Gu Mingye could see the man find a seat in the fourth and sit down. Set the coffee in the cup holder beside him.
He didn't look back again.
The doors closed. The train started moving.
Gu Mingye sat down in his usual window seat.
The third car was emptier than usual today.
The office lady in the mask wasn't there.
The girl with the guitar case wasn't there.
There was an old woman instead. Plastic bag in hand, looked like she was off to the wet market, maybe sixty. She sat two rows from Gu Mingye.
She didn't look at him.
But Gu Mingye knew she knew he was there.
The feeling was the same as the day-shift clerk's look at the convenience store yesterday.
The old woman was just better at hiding it.
07:30. The school gate.
Qingcheng Municipal Second High School. A three-story old building, the exterior tiles that early kind of cream color, scrubbed grey now by the air. There was a big banyan at the gate, a lot like the one over by the embankment. Only this one was shorter, and it had been trimmed.
Uncle Zhang in the guard booth was reading the paper inside, the same as always.
Gu Mingye walked over and nodded to him.
Uncle Zhang looked up, saw him, stopped for half a second, and went back to the paper.
No nod back.
Most days Uncle Zhang said "morning."
Not today.
Gu Mingye didn't stop. Through the gate, across the yard, up to the second floor, to the Class 2-3 room.
Morning study period.
The room had less energy on a Monday morning. Half of them slumped over catching up on sleep, half copying out the homework they hadn't finished last night.
Gu Mingye's seat was the third row by the window.
He walked over, set down his bag, sat.
The one who usually sat to his left was Ah-Zhe. Every morning Ah-Zhe played music off his phone and shared one of his Bluetooth earbuds with Gu Mingye. A different song every day — Ah-Zhe was the kind who listened to a lot of indie bands.
Ah-Zhe was there today. Slumped over the desk.
The sound of Gu Mingye putting his bag down wasn't all that soft.
Ah-Zhe didn't lift his head.
Usually Ah-Zhe would say "morning, Mingye," or just push the earbud over.
Today he didn't lift his head.
Gu Mingye glanced at the side of Ah-Zhe's face — he was really asleep, not faking it. Eyes shut, mouth half open, breathing even.
He sat down, took out his English textbook, turned to the unit they were doing today.
One of Ah-Zhe's earbuds usually came across around this time. Today both were in Ah-Zhe's own ears, the cord pulled out from his coat pocket. Listening alone.
Gu Mingye didn't reach over to tap him. Didn't lean in to see what he was playing.
Xiaowen, in the third row on the aisle side, was another one who usually talked to Gu Mingye. Today she looked up, saw him, stopped for half a second, and went back to copying homework.
The same half second as the man with the briefcase in the train car.
The same half second as Uncle Zhang the guard.
Gu Mingye got the English book turned to the right page, sat in his seat, and looked out the window.
Out the second-floor window was the alley behind the school, and at the end of it the elevated Rivermag track. The morning light came slanting in off the overpass and fell across the desks, a thin wash of it.
He didn't take out his phone.
His mother had said even one character would do. He hadn't sent anything.
He opened the chat and looked at the cursor blinking there for a while. Typed one character, then deleted it. Right now he didn't know what to send.
08:00. English class.
Teacher Li came in, set down the lesson plan, and started taking roll.
"Li Jianhong."
"Here."
"Lin Fangqi."
"Here."
"Zhang Zheming."
Ah-Zhe lifted his head, mumbled "here," and went back down.
Halfway through the list, Teacher Li paused.
On the roll, Gu Mingye's name should have been right after "Zhang Zheming" and before "Chen Yijun."
Teacher Li glanced at the sheet.
"Chen Yijun."
"Here."
"Huang Jiaying."
"Here."
Gu Mingye heard his own name get skipped.
He didn't raise his hand.
Raising it wouldn't have helped.
Teacher Li finished the whole list, closed it, and looked up at the class.
"Today we're doing Unit 5, Article 2, the one about environmental conservation. Turn to page 87."
Teacher Li's gaze went from the front rows to the back.
It passed over Gu Mingye's seat without stopping, without slowing.
Someone trying to dodge would skirt it, would give themselves away in that one beat of stopping. Teacher Li's eyes were flat, steady, like they were sweeping over an empty chair.
Gu Mingye turned to page 87.
He knew he hadn't been called today because Teacher Li had turned past that page.
And that if he answered with his own hand up, nobody would hear it.
Not the way they used to, anyway.
09:00. Break between periods.
Students poured out of the room and the hallway got loud.
Gu Mingye stayed in his seat. Didn't move.
Ah-Zhe was still slumped over. Xiaowen had gone off to the school store with the girl next to her. Five or six people left in the room.
He looked up, toward the front door of the classroom.
Out in the hall, Teacher Lin from the science department happened to be passing.
Teacher Lin taught biology, the science teacher for his class. Mid-thirties, glasses, hair tied back low. Strict, usually, but not a bad person. Every exam she printed two extra sets of practice problems for the students who put in the work.
Teacher Lin reached the front door of Class 2-3.
Stopped.
Her hand came halfway up, as if to brace against the door frame, and drew back.
She looked into the room.
Her gaze was the same as everyone's all morning.
Not on Gu Mingye's face. On him.
She stood in the doorway about three seconds.
Gu Mingye met her eyes.
Teacher Lin blinked once.
She didn't come in. Didn't say hello. Didn't ask Gu Mingye if he was all right.
She gave one small nod — a very slight movement, like she was confirming something to herself.
Then she turned and walked off.
Gu Mingye watched her back disappear down the far end of the hall.
He looked down and took the biology textbook out of his bag.
Biology was next.
Teacher Lin was someone who would walk into the room.
12:00. Lunch.
The cafeteria was in the basement, self-serve. Usually Gu Mingye ate with Ah-Zhe and Xiaowen, and Ah-Kai joined sometimes.
Today Ah-Zhe had taken leave and gone home after morning study. Xiaowen hadn't come to the cafeteria — word was she'd gone to the school store with an underclassman for the new wheatgrass smoothie. No idea where Ah-Kai had gone.
Gu Mingye carried his tray to the usual six-person table and sat.
Nobody else at the table.
The two seats across, where Ah-Zhe and Xiaowen usually sat. Empty today.
The two seats beside him, where Ah-Kai and another classmate sat. Empty too.
Gu Mingye started eating.
The lunch was the cafeteria's standard set. Braised chicken leg with vegetables and corn. He ate two bites and realized he wasn't actually hungry, that he'd only sat down because it was noon and you were supposed to eat.
Halfway through, a group of girls at the next table burst out laughing.
He didn't look up.
And no classmate passed his table to say hello.
Usually someone would.
The cafeteria was crowded; kids from other classes walked through, and when they spotted someone they knew they'd call out. Not today.
He finished, took his tray to the return area, set it down. Turned, walked out of the cafeteria.
In the stairwell he happened to run into Teacher Lin from biology. Beside her was a middle-aged male teacher Gu Mingye didn't recognize, in a suit.
Teacher Lin saw him and stopped for half a second.
Exchanged a glance with the man in the suit.
The man in the suit's gaze fell below Gu Mingye's shoulders, held for a moment, like he was matching something against something.
The same as all the looks this morning.
But this man in the suit, Gu Mingye had never seen before.
Not from the school. Or — from the school, but someone Gu Mingye didn't know.
Teacher Lin and the man kept going down the stairs without speaking to him.
Gu Mingye went up, toward the second-floor classrooms.
12:30. Out of the cafeteria building, into the courtyard.
The courtyard sat in the lane between the school and the apartment building across the street.
Crossing it, Gu Mingye looked up at the old apartment across the way.
On the second floor, a curtain had been pulled open a crack.
In the gap, someone was standing.
He couldn't make out the face. Couldn't make out the gender. Couldn't make out the age.
He could only see that the person was standing there.
Looking toward the courtyard.
Looking at what, exactly — Gu Mingye couldn't say.
But he was sure the person was looking at him, not at anything else in the courtyard.
At him.
Gu Mingye held the gaze with the gap in the curtain about two seconds.
The curtain closed.
The person inside was gone.
Gu Mingye stood in the courtyard and watched that window about ten seconds.
The curtain didn't open again.
The bell for the first afternoon period rang. The students of Class 3 began moving toward the rooms. Gu Mingye turned too, and went up the stairs.
On the second floor he looked back down at the courtyard once more.
The curtain on the second floor across the street was shut, the same as before.
But he knew the person inside was still there.
Counting from the man in the Rivermag car at 07:20 to the person in the window across the street at noon — a whole morning, and he'd lost track of which number this was.
【Ch. 004 End · The old house in the Old River District, Qingcheng → Shuyuan Station on the Rivermag Line → Qingcheng Municipal Second High School】
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