Chapter 029: The Love Letter

The boys of Class 5, Grade 10 had a regular pastime during breaks: leaning over the railing. Their classroom was on the second floor, right above Class 3 of Grade 12. Whenever the bell rang, the seniors would file out for some air, gathering in the corridor below, chatting and joking.

It was still the tail end of summer, the heat lingering, and the girls dressed lightly. A few from Class 3, Grade 12 favored round-neck t-shirts, and when they bent even a little, their collars would fall open, revealing a flash of fair skin. The boys of Class 5, peering down from above, could not help but gasp in admiration, their eyes feasting on the scene.

Back in the day, Zhang Tan had enjoyed this spectacle as much as anyone. Even now, he wouldn't turn down such a privilege.

He had just stepped out of the classroom, ready to claim his spot at the railing, when Cao Yuchuan slapped his shoulder repeatedly, gesturing with excitement, “Hey, Detective! Look, beauties, beauties!”

Following his lead, Zhang Tan looked up and saw Liu Luyao and Zhou Chengcheng from Class 2, Grade 10, approaching with laughter and easy smiles. It was no wonder they had once been voted among the four great beauties of Grade 10; their every glance was charming, their smiles enchanting. The boys of Class 5 were instantly captivated.

Zhang Tan was not as obvious in his interest. He was more puzzled, for their building ran east to west, its classrooms facing south, each end with a staircase. Class 5 was at the left stairwell, Class 2 at the right; students typically used their own stairs, rarely crossing to the other side. He wondered briefly what brought these two girls to this corridor, but the thought faded—after all, people were free to walk where they wished.

He leaned on the railing, following the others in watching the girls pass by. Just as Liu Luyao brushed past, he felt her steal a glance at him. Never one to miss such signals, Zhang Tan raised his brows and sent back a teasing, provocative look.

Immediately, Liu Luyao turned away, continuing on with Zhou Chengcheng as if nothing had happened. At the turn of the stairs, both girls cast a quick glance back in his direction, then disappeared around the corner.

“Hey, Detective, did you feel that?” Cao Yuchuan asked, quivering with excitement.

“Feel what?”

“They were looking at me, weren’t they?”

“You’re imagining things.”

“You’re just jealous. Admit it, you’re jealous.”

Jealous? Zhang Tan thought to himself, with your round cheeks? What girl would look at you—maybe at me, but not you. Still, he saw no need to shatter the boy’s fantasy; he patted Cao’s shoulder and said, “Maybe they really were looking at you. Seize the chance while you can.”

“I’ve been watching them for a while. When I get back, I’ll write a love letter!” Cao Yuchuan clenched his fists, clearly smitten. “Oh, by the way, which class are they from?”

“Class 2, Grade 10. Liu Luyao and Zhou Chengcheng.”

“How do you know that? Which one has the short hair?”

“Zhou Chengcheng.”

“I’m definitely writing a love letter when I get back!” Cao repeated, as if steeling himself.

“I support you in spirit,” Zhang Tan replied absentmindedly, turning to lean over the railing. The girls from Class 3, Grade 12 were nowhere to be seen.

With no show to watch, he headed back to the classroom. Seeing him leave, the love-struck Cao Yuchuan hurried after him. “Detective, how do you write a love letter? I’m not good at it.”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t bother with a letter. I’d stop Zhou Chengcheng on the path and say, ‘Hey, how you doing?’ Get to know her, ask her out to dinner, maybe a drink. Keep the conversation going, and by the third meeting, you’ll be booking a room at Shuangdun Town.”

“That’s a bit much.”

Zhang Tan, with an air of weary authority, counseled, “Cao, chasing girls requires daring, attention to detail, and a thick skin. If you’re vague or hesitant, you’ll never succeed.”

“Have you ever tried?” Cao asked, half-skeptical.

Zhang Tan sniffed haughtily, resting his chin in one hand as he gazed out the window. “Those days are like drifting clouds, all in the past.” His expression was a blend of nostalgia, regret, and reminiscence, his eyes as deep as the night sky.

He caught a blurred reflection of himself in the window, posing with as much artistic flair as he could muster. If a perfect score was a hundred, he thought, he deserved ninety. The missing ten points were for the inappropriateness of the occasion—his only audience being Cao Yuchuan. The gesture, he acknowledged, was wasted on the wrong crowd.

“Then help me write the love letter,” Cao pleaded, clearly awed.

“Not a chance.”

Love letters, in the future, had long since been retired. In these modern times, everyone just used WeChat to hook up; who had the patience to write anything by hand?

But during Zhang Tan’s own school days, love letters were the main bridge of communication between boys and girls. From middle school onwards, he’d often written them for others. His first customer was his deskmate, a girl whose name he recalled only vaguely—Zhang Yuemei, or maybe Zhang Yueji.

Zhang Yuemei was a certified “bad girl”—already flirting with boys in middle school, with a reputation to match. In their third year, she fell for a boy and asked Zhang Tan to draft a love letter for her. Incidentally, Zhang Tan excelled at essays in middle school; some had even been showcased as model compositions.

Zhang Yuemei didn’t ask him for nothing—she promised payment: she would teach him how to kiss.

Yes, how to kiss.

She said she would demonstrate personally, guiding Zhang Tan through the mysteries of the art.

Oh my god!

Good heavens!

Back then, Zhang Tan was still an innocent boy—how could he resist such temptation? Besides, Zhang Yuemei’s reputation might’ve been terrible, but she was beautiful—seductively so, and she knew how to wear makeup. As her deskmate, Zhang Tan had long wished it was him she wanted to flirt with.

So he poured his heart into that love letter.

“At night I cannot sleep in peace; I’ve prepared twelve roses, each one representing my love for you. Your affection has quietly drawn me in. Lost and helpless, I hold the roses—there are twelve months in a year, and for every month I wait, a rose will wilt. Your smile intoxicates me—your faults, your virtues, the way you pout when angry—they leave me breathless. Like the roses in my hand, suffocating and fading away…”

He was, in truth, too young to know what love was, and writing a love letter was hardly as easy as an essay.

That year, the album “Most Beautiful” by Yu Quan was all the rage. Zhang Tan had scrimped and saved his pocket money to buy the cassette. On a whim, he borrowed the lyrics from the title track, weaving them into the love letter.

The sentiment was so thick it might make one cringe, but back then, such passionate declarations were the trend.

When he handed the letter to Zhang Yuemei, she gave him twelve thumbs up on the spot.

And she kept her promise, teaching him how to kiss.

It was a dark, windy night…

Ahem—it was actually midday, under a cloudless sky, the sun blazing down. The playground was empty, and in a secluded corner by the wall, Zhang Yuemei took his hand and pressed him against the bricks…