Chapter 8: The Breakup

Saturday night passed swiftly, as if in the blink of an eye, more than half of the weekend had already slipped away. On Sunday morning, though there was no need to rise early for morning self-study like on regular school days, the discomfort of waking early still remained. Such was the life in the final year of high school—every moment meticulously scheduled, each day brimming with challenges and opportunities.

Sunday’s morning self-study differed from regular class time; it began with the second period at 8:30 and lasted until school ended at 11. For seniors accustomed to intense study routines, this had become an ordinary affair.

Sunday afternoons finally offered students a brief respite. This time was usually set aside for self-study or rest, allowing everyone a chance to relax their bodies and minds, gathering strength for the evening’s self-study sessions. Some spent the entire afternoon on their phones, others headed to internet cafes to play games, some gathered at nearby milk tea shops with friends, while others quietly read in classrooms—each finding their own way to unwind.

Yet by 6:30 that evening, everyone had to return promptly to school for evening self-study. This was an indispensable part of senior year, a critical period for students striving toward the college entrance exam. At the start of evening self-study, phones were supposed to be collected by teachers, who placed a designated storage box on the podium. But this was only for show; students handed over their backup phones while keeping their primary ones on hand for personal use.

Like usual, Zhang Qin handed over one phone upon entering the classroom but kept a backup device on him. He understood that while being without a phone might be inconvenient, it helped him focus better on his studies. Half a month prior, Zhang Qin had been caught using his phone during class, becoming a cautionary example. His phone was confiscated by the subject teacher, and before afternoon class, the homeroom teacher brought a hammer and smashed both Zhang Qin’s and another student’s phones in front of everyone.

After that incident, Zhang Qin spent 300 yuan to buy a new, simple-function VIVO Y67, capable only of logging into QQ and WeChat. His other backup phone was an even older Meizu E2, which he also handed in to show his resolve.

Now, Zhang Qin no longer indulged in his phone. He realized that only through his own efforts could he change his circumstances. He had chosen the path of sports, hoping to gain admission to a good university through diligent work. Thus, every time he entered the classroom, he immediately immersed himself in study, continually improving both his academic results and athletic skills.

Just as the last class began, the homeroom teacher hurried into the classroom, face marked by a mixture of seriousness and anticipation. Standing at the podium, he glanced around the class before clearing his throat to hold the weekly class meeting.

Usually, these meetings took place during the final period on Monday afternoons. But because the class attended sports training during the last two afternoon periods daily, this meeting was rescheduled for that evening.

The teacher began, “This week’s meeting mainly concerns safety issues. Everyone must be vigilant—don’t end up like Li Zhen, who got injured with only two months left before the physical exam.”

He paused, continuing, “Also, I want to stress again: those of you who ride electric bikes, be careful on the roads. I don’t want to see anyone hurt because of careless riding.”

His tone grew sterner. “Moreover, I must remind some students whose scores are still in the sixties or seventies: such results are far from sufficient for the upcoming physical test. Don’t slack off during training—put in your full effort and strive for good results.”

After covering the main points, the teacher’s expression softened as he began sharing stories from his university days.

“Actually, I was once a university student too, and in the physics department,” he smiled. “But despite teaching physics now, I was quite the athlete back then.”

The students perked up, eager to hear about his sports training experiences.

Meanwhile, beneath his desk, Zhang Qin was quietly chatting on his phone with someone—the girl he had been dating online since high school.

“Can you stop doing this?” she said.

“Always deleting me as a friend.”

“What exactly do you want?”

Zhang Qin already sensed how this would end, but he wanted to give it one last chance. He firmly believed that a relationship existed for marriage, and he never wished to toy with anyone’s feelings, always treating love with seriousness.

“Don’t bother me anymore, okay? At this rate, who’d want to come after you? Just get lost,” she replied.

Seeing the message, Zhang Qin glanced at their previous chats and let out a self-mocking smile. Over the past month, he had hurt himself a dozen or twenty times, broken up hundreds or thousands of times. Why hold on to someone so determined to leave? He had long let go of the relationship in a past life, but since it was his first love, he was still struggling in these final moments.

“All right! As you wish—I won’t bother you anymore,” Zhang Qin said, then swiped his phone, deleting all contact—QQ, WeChat, and phone numbers—and added them to the blacklist.

Thus ended that past love story, though not all blame lay with him. It was over, and he had long come to terms with it. Looking at the flood of green notifications, he thought how foolishly devoted he had been in his youth.

Walking home after school, Zhang Qin opened his phone, launched the QQ Music app, and connected his Bluetooth earphones. He recalled how painful it had been at this time in his previous life. Now, he felt no pain, but this was to find peace for his former self. From now on, he would focus all his energy on the college entrance exam. He remembered that in his previous year, there was a spot reserved for the top athlete in the province to enter Tsinghua University. Since that was the case, he would strive for that spot.

Walking down the street, listening to the music flowing through his earphones, he bid farewell to his past self.

Under the neon light boxes, slightly intoxicated, I understand that all is retribution.
Pain and loneliness have shackled me.
The last tear slips down my cheek.
Though we promised once to walk together,
Staring back, I see no future.
There is no forever,
No more reliance from now on.
No more expectations or dependence.
Unexpected turns leave us helpless.
Better to part with dignity than quarrel endlessly.
Take this as the best arrangement.

Though we loved so deeply,
Something was missing.
Yet facing separation, we refused to lower our pride.

Though we loved so deeply,
Something was missing, yet we refused to submit to parting.
Love is each other’s sunshine, fresh air,
But your words cut like a blade.

Your heart learned to disguise and shut itself,
Becoming an unintentional weapon that wounds us both.
Whether love or hate, we should let go early.
After all, we once embraced and dreamed of the future.

The story ends with regrets on the last page.
We are no longer each other’s entire world.
The story has changed and cannot continue.
The next chapters remain blank in regret.
Hope turns into disappointment.
How much time must pass before separation becomes the conclusion?

We were too stubborn, explanations too strained.
Some people are destined only to be part of growth.
Such reckless love cannot simply be forgotten.
Memories weigh heavy still.
Perhaps forgiveness takes longer than imagined.

Such reckless love cannot be forgotten so easily.

Though we loved so deeply,
Something was missing,
Yet facing separation, we refused to lower our pride.

The story has changed and cannot continue.
The next chapters remain blank in regret.