Parasitic Child: Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Examination Grades

The results of the opening exams were out.  

An Yuan stared at Xiao Zhen’s report card for a long time, thinking to herself that, as expected, no miracle had occurred.  

Xiao Zhen’s results were identical to those from last semester’s final exams—his scores hadn’t changed at all. Not high, not low, perfectly average, right in the middle of the class rankings, with even his placement staying the same.  

This child, doesn’t he ever want to surprise his mother with something unexpected?  

Unwilling to give up, she grabbed Xiao Zhen’s exam papers and carefully checked the answers three times, then used a calculator to tally the scores three more times. No surprises. The teacher’s grading was flawless—Xiao Zhen’s mediocre score was exactly as it seemed.  

The parent group chat on her phone kept flashing. An Yuan clicked in.  

“Liu Xingquan did amazing this time, taking first place in the whole grade.”  

“I knew Liu Xingquan’s results would be flawless.”  

“Our Song Jiarui still has to work hard to get into the top 20 in the grade.”  

“My kid? Forget the top 20 in the grade—I’d be thrilled if they made it into the top 20 in the class.”  

“Xiao Luo, when are you going to share some tips with us? Your child is so outstanding—how do you educate them?”  

“Yeah, Xiao Luo, share some parenting wisdom!!”  

“Her son’s just naturally gifted.”  

Luo Qingxi sent a blushing emoji and replied, “Xingquan has always been very self-disciplined. I don’t do much.”  

The parents sighed in unison, lamenting their own children’s lack of diligence.  

“If my child were half as self-motivated as Liu Xingquan, I’d be laughing in my sleep.”  

“My kid is content with average results, but with how competitive things are getting, even being in the top 20 of the class isn’t a guarantee for the high school entrance exam.”  

The parents’ discussion made An Yuan uneasy. Xiao Zhen ranked 18th in the class again—not high, not low. Though 18th wasn’t a terrible score, as the group chat pointed out, being in the top 20 of the class wasn’t enough to ensure admission to a top high school.  

With the Yan family’s background, Xiao Zhen’s academic performance wasn’t crucial. Beyond school, his health and happiness were the priorities. But An Yuan had to admit that every time she saw the discussions in the parent group, she couldn’t help feeling a little unwilling to accept it.  

The unspoken competition among the parents stirred a quiet determination in her. My Xiao Zhen isn’t stupid at all. If he just lived up to his potential, he could blow them all away.  

But once again, Xiao Zhen’s exam results were mediocre. To An Yuan, it was stagnant, showing no progress. She stared at the report card for a while longer. People always said boys started to improve in middle school—when was her Xiao Zhen going to show that spark?  

Maybe they should hire a tutor?  

Her husband would probably say it wasn’t time to hire one yet.  

36 students in the class, and Xiao Zhen ranked 18th. Well, 18 is a lucky number, she consoled herself.  

She glanced at the parent group chat again before heading to Xiao Zhen’s room. “Have you seen your exam results?”  

Xiao Zhen nodded.  

“Cui Mingzhi came in third this time—not just third in the class, but third in the whole grade!” An Yuan exclaimed. “That Cui Mingzhi who plays games all the time!”  

“I know who Cui Mingzhi is.”  

“Xiao Zhen, look at your two best friends—Liu Xingquan is first in the grade, Cui Mingzhi is third.” An Yuan forced a smile. “Don’t you have any thoughts on that?”  

“I know they did well,” Xiao Zhen replied. “Liu Xingquan and Cui Mingzhi are consistent performers.”  

“…” An Yuan decided to be blunt. “And you?”  

Xiao Zhen answered, “I’m consistent too, and I think I performed well.” Only he knew how much effort it took to match his previous semester’s rank.  

“…” An Yuan felt like she couldn’t catch her breath.  

*****

Luo Qingxi glanced out the window. The gloomy sky was pouring rain.  

The school was empty—everyone had already gone home.

She glanced at her watch; the digital display read 6:10. Putting down her book, she sauntered into the girls’ restroom.  

The girl in the mirror, Luo Qingxi, was a delicate high school student. She stared at her reflection for a while, then patted her cheeks a few times, bringing a faint blush to her face. Muttering softly, she said, “What am I doing?”  

She slowly counted the steps as she descended the stairs. Time trickled by, measured by the rhythm of her heartbeat. Finally, she reached the hallway and checked her watch again—6:20.  

Ten minutes left.  

The rain drizzled steadily.  

Another rainy day.  

Three years ago, Ding Muli had gone missing on a day like this. Luo Qingxi still remembered how Ding Muli had dashed out of the classroom, eager to catch an animated show on TV. It aired every evening at 5:45, and Ding Muli was such a fan that she refused to miss even the opening credits. She’d been in such a hurry that she’d left her notebook behind. Luo Qingxi had called after her.  

Turning back, Ding Muli had flashed a bright smile. “Qingxi, can you drop this off at my house? I’m in a rush!”  

That was the last time Luo Qingxi saw her.  

Her disappearance sent shockwaves through the school. Despite a thorough police investigation, no trace of her was ever found. She seemed to have vanished like a drop of water evaporating into thin air. Her parents were nearly driven mad searching for her, and for a time, fear gripped both students and parents. For an entire year, all schools in the city mandated that students leave in groups of three or be picked up by their parents.  

Even now, Luo Qingxi could vividly recall the way Ding Muli had looked back at her, her slightly tanned face lit by mischievous eyes narrowed in a sly grin—the same expression she always wore when plotting something. Ding Muli had been her closest friend, someone she believed she’d cherish forever. They had even hooked pinkies and promised to remain best friends, no matter where life took them.  

And then, she was gone, like a breeze slipping through an alley.  

Three years already, Luo Qingxi thought. Now I’m in high school.  

Her watch now displayed 6:30.  

Yan An appeared at the entrance of the school building. The rain poured heavily as he reached out to catch the falling droplets, a boyish grin spreading across his face. His smile had always been captivating. When he turned to look at Luo Qingxi, his eyes sparkled with the reflection of the overcast sky.  

“Luo Qingxi? You’re just leaving now?”  

“Yeah, lost track of time reading in the library.”  

Luo Qingxi walked over, making it seem like a casual encounter. She opened her umbrella, and the boy beside her did the same with his black one. They stepped into the rain in silence. For the next 23 minutes, their paths would overlap.  

No more, no less—give or take two minutes at most.  

This was the result of countless calculations on Luo Qingxi’s part.  

They walked side by side, keeping a subtle distance. Luo Qingxi carefully stepped along the stone-paved path, watching as playful ripples spread beneath her feet. The rhythmic patter of rain on their umbrellas filled the air. Slowly, her gloom from the rainy day began to lift.  

Under the umbrella, it felt like a tranquil world apart. She noticed raindrops sneaking under Yan An’s umbrella, landing on his jet-black hair. The droplets clung to his strands, glimmering before either falling or sliding further down.  

Yan An walked slightly ahead, his chiseled nose visible under the umbrella. Even in his loose school uniform, he had the tall, stately bearing of a cypress tree. Luo Qingxi watched him, her mind swirling with questions she had carried for three years.  

But as the words reached her throat, they circled around and sank back down. All around them, only the sound of rain and their footsteps splashing through puddles could be heard.  

“What do you want to ask me?”  

Luo Qingxi was startled. It took her a few seconds to realize Yan An had spoken. Her expression must have given away her thoughts, prompting his question. All the lines she had rehearsed dissolved, and she blurted out, “Yan An, do you know what today is?”  

Yan An didn’t turn back. His eyes remained fixed on the path ahead. “I know.”  

“…”  

“Three years ago today, Ding Muli disappeared.”  

Ding Muli had been their classmate in middle school.  

Luo Qingxi bit her lip and murmured, “I miss her.”  

“Everyone misses her.”  

She stared at the rippling puddles beneath her feet, her reflection showing a hesitant, sorrowful girl.  

“You have more to ask, don’t you?” Yan An didn’t turn around but seemed to read her expression.  

“I want to ask about three years ago, when Ding Muli left.” Luo Qingxi found herself speaking, the words cold and direct. “Someone saw you talking to her.”  

“…”  

“What did Muli say to you back then?” The moment she let the question escape, an emptiness and a pang of regret settled over her. 

Yan An stopped in his tracks.  

Is he angry? Luo Qingxi tightened her grip on the umbrella handle, her palms breaking into a sweat.  

“It’s been three years.”  

“…”  

“Ding Muli asked me if I could give her a ride on my bike. She was in a hurry to get home.” Yan An turned around. Luo Qingxi saw the sorrow and regret in his eyes. “I refused. That was the last time we talked.”  

“…”  

“If I had agreed to give her a ride, maybe she wouldn’t have…” His voice trailed off into silence.  

“It’s not your fault,” Luo Qingxi said. “I’ve just… I’ve spent the past three years wondering what happened to Ding Muli.”  

“I should’ve given her that ride.”  

“Middle schoolers aren’t supposed to take passengers,” Luo Qingxi interrupted. “If I had stopped her and walked home with her, she wouldn’t have disappeared at all.”  

“…Or maybe both of you would have disappeared.”  

“Well, there’s no way to know. I think it’s more dangerous for a middle schooler to give someone a ride on a bike.”  

They looked at each other for a moment. Yan An spoke slowly, “Have you been holding onto this question for three years?”  

“Yes.” Luo Qingxi felt relieved, like a knot in her heart had finally been untied.  

“Tell me you didn’t spend the past three years thinking I was the culprit in Ding Muli’s disappearance.”  

“Of course not!!”  

They continued walking. With her burden lifted, Luo Qingxi’s mood lightened. The conversation opened up, and they started reminiscing about Ding Muli, recalling the little moments from three years ago.  

Where could Ding Muli have gone?  

Both of them firmly believed one thing: Ding Muli was still alive.  

Luo Qingxi said, “I’ve been thinking… maybe aliens took her.”  

“Huh?”  

She pointed at the sky. “There are so many stars up there. Maybe she’s living happily on one of them right now.”  

“…Do you realize how rare it is for a planet to support life?”  

“There are trillions of stars. Maybe one does!”  

“The stars you see at night are what they looked like thousands of years ago.”  

“Don’t use your limited imagination to judge alien technology,” Luo Qingxi said, striding up to Yan An, her face flushing red. “She’s definitely alive, somewhere on the other side of the galaxy.”  

Yan An chuckled at her serious expression. “Yes, she’s alive, living on a planet called Sparkling Star.”  

“What kind of name is Sparkling Star?”  

“Every year, Sparkling Star selects its citizens. The requirement is that everyone has to sculpt a 10 cm tall little horse. The best sculptor gets chosen.”  

“Wait, why is that such a weird selection process?”  

“The selection is divided into groups of ten. In the end, the best horse wins. The best sculptor becomes the Sparkling King of that year. The winner gets to build a giant glowing horse statue. It’s the planet’s greatest wonder. Everyone on Sparkling Star worships the horse god and offers it sacrifices.”  

“What kind of bizarre planet is this??? And why a horse of all things?!”  

“Ding Muli will live happily there, and when the glittering horse is complete, she’ll return.”  

They continued their lighthearted conversation as they walked. The rain began to let up, and Luo Qingxi folded her umbrella away. The fine drizzle brushed against her skin like soft feathers, a sensation she always enjoyed. The sun peeked out from behind the clouds, casting a faint golden glow. Even the tiny raindrops seemed to carry a gentle warmth.

At the street corner, they stopped to wait for the traffic light.  

Suddenly, Yan An tossed his umbrella aside and dashed into the middle of the road.  

Luo Qingxi didn’t react in time. She saw Yan An pick something up from the road as a car sped past, barely missing him. The driver stuck his head out the window and shouted, “Do you have a death wish?!”  

Yan An apologized to the driver and quickly ran back to the sidewalk.  

He opened his hand, revealing a small bird. It had beautiful green wings, drenched by the rain and looking pitifully bedraggled.  

“It’s hurt,” Yan An said.  

“Yan An, what kind of bird is it?” Luo Qingxi asked curiously.  

Yan An shook his head.  

They gently prodded the bird. It looked weak and fragile, trembling in Yan An’s palm, its tiny chest rising and falling.  

They took it to the nearest pet hospital. The vet took one look and shook his head, delivering grim news: “It won’t survive the night.”  

Neither Yan An nor Luo Qingxi could bear to abandon the little bird. It was still warm, occasionally letting out soft chirps, its tiny heart still beating.  

In the end, Yan An decided to take it home.  

They parted ways at the street corner and went home separately.  

That night, Luo Qingxi sat at her desk doing homework. She kept thinking about how decisively Yan An had thrown aside his umbrella. He saw the bird, ran into the road, and picked it up without hesitation.  

Most people would stop and think for a few minutes before deciding whether to save a bird.  

Yan An really is an odd person.  

Pushing aside her notebook, she thought about the bird. She picked up a small wooden pendant, turning it over absentmindedly in her hand. It was a smooth, dark piece of wood, adorned with intricate patterns—delicate leaves and stars encircling four flowers. She had fallen in love with it the moment she saw it. The vendor who sold it claimed it had calming properties, so she wore it around her neck. The smooth texture always soothed her whenever she touched it.  

“That idiot Yan An,” she thought, “he could’ve lost his life out there. Then I’d have witnessed my classmate’s death. That’s terrifying!”  

In the end, the bird was saved at the risk of his life.  

Silently, she prayed that the bird would survive, because it had almost cost Yan An his life.  

She hoped it would recover and fly freely into the sky again.  

The Next Day  

During a break between classes, Yan An grinned as he pulled out a paper box. The green-winged bird hopped around inside, full of energy, nothing like the weak creature from the day before.  

“The bird survived…”  

“It’s all thanks to the hot water bottle I gave it,” Yan An said proudly. “Oh, and I looked it up in a book—I found out what kind of bird it is.”  

“Yan An, what’s it called?”  

“It’s called a Green-Winged Short-Legged Bulbul.”

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