Cangmang Asks the Way 1: Guardian of the Lamp

The spring breeze of fifth grade should have brought hope and budding life, but when it blew on Cang Tianci, it only made him feel the hoarse strain of time being squeezed tighter. The training notice for the provincial children's cup championship was like a military order forging itself, further tightening his already limited energy, causing him to groan in unbearable pressure. From before dawn until nightfall, sweat, panting, and frantic running between the sports school and the classroom constituted his entire daily routine. His duties as vice class monitor had long since become a mere formality after the embarrassing moments of rushing into the classroom just as the bell rang.

At the start of the new semester, a significant change quietly occurred: due to school work arrangements, the beloved teacher Fang Wenhui was no longer serving as the homeroom teacher of Class 5(1). She was replaced by Zhang Zhengping, a well-known "iron-faced" teacher in the school.

Zhang Zhengping was about forty years old, thin and slender, like a ruler, and always wore a meticulously ironed Zhongshan suit. Behind his black-rimmed glasses were a pair of sharp, probe-like eyes that could always accurately detect any transgression in the classroom.

He was known for his rigorous scholarship and strict management, believing that "order is paramount." In his view, an excellent class should be like a precise clock, where every gear must operate accurately in its designated position. The first thing he did after taking office was to reiterate the "Class Quantitative Management Rules" that he regarded as gospel. From homework submission and classroom discipline to cleaning duties, everything was done in a structured manner with clear rewards and punishments.

He admires diligence and obedience, and is naturally wary of any behavior that might disrupt the collective's unity. He privately commented on his predecessor, Teacher Fang's more individual-focused, gentle guidance, saying it was "too emotional and not conducive to establishing the authority of the rules."

At this moment, the new homeroom teacher silently observed the operation of every "cog" in the class through his thick glasses. He naturally noticed that special individual—Cang Tianci. He admired his tenacity in struggling out of the muddy mountains, but was even more worried about the gap in order he had created. In several class meetings, when he earnestly emphasized that "the foundation of the collective lies in the responsibility of each member," his gaze would inadvertently linger slightly when it swept over Cang Tianci's empty seat or his face, which was visibly tired after training and sometimes even dazed. He wasn't unaware of the athletes' hardships, but he firmly believed that the dam of rules could not tolerate even the slightest flaw.

Zhang Zhengping's scrutinizing gaze made Cang Tianci feel the ever-increasing pressure. In this suffocating rhythm, his deskmate Lin Wanqing was the only peaceful haven in his chaotic school life where he could catch his breath. Her intelligence and composure seemed to wash away the heat and dust he brought from the training field. However, ever since he glimpsed the bruises on her arm while on duty, and the night the medicine box shattered in the dark alley, Tianci's observation of her became increasingly keen and secretive.

He noticed that the bruises on Lin Wanqing's arms seemed never to have truly disappeared. Old ones hadn't faded before new ones piled up, starkly contrasting against her pale skin. When she sensed his gaze, she would abruptly pull down her sleeve like a startled mimosa, a flicker of panic crossing her face as if her secret had been exposed, before retreating into an even deeper silence. Her instinctive avoidance and the deep-seated fear in her eyes spoke volumes about the ongoing harm, more clearly than any physical injury.

During a break between classes, a commotion nearby caught Tianci's attention. He saw Zhao Xiaohu and several followers huddled together, their eyes darting maliciously toward Lin Wanqing. Although he couldn't hear what they were saying, their deliberately loud laughter and exaggerated gestures were full of undisguised malice.

Tianci clenched his fist instantly, a surge of heat rushing to his head, and his body instinctively tried to stand up. Just then, he felt Lin Wanqing tug at his sleeve.

He suddenly remembered the delicate handwriting on the note she had secretly passed him: "Tianci, please don't argue with those pointless people. Your peaceful life is hard-won, and I... don't want to be the reason to ruin it."

Those words were like a bucket of cold water, extinguishing his impulse but causing him even more pain.

On several other occasions, he noticed Lin Wanqing gazing in a certain direction outside the school gate after school, her eyes revealing a deep worry and even fear beyond her years. When she noticed Tianci watching her, she would immediately and hastily lower her head, her movements as she packed her schoolbag trembling almost imperceptibly. He once tried to ask, "Wanqing, are you... at home..." Before he could finish, she shook her head violently, her voice barely audible yet carrying a resolute evasion: "No... nothing. I... I have to hurry home." Then she would hurriedly sling her old schoolbag over her shoulder and limp away, almost fleeing, disappearing into the crowd.

These fragmented pieces, like scattered puzzle pieces, sketched a vague yet worrying outline in Tianci's heart. He could sense the immense pain and helplessness hidden beneath Lin Wanqing's calm exterior—something different from the poverty and oppression of Xiqiao Village he knew, yet equally chilling. He wanted to do something, but the heavy training, his own struggling studies, and Lin Wanqing's unyielding silence all left him feeling powerless. He could only suppress this worry, trying his best to exchange academic insights with her in their limited interactions, humbly seeking her advice, or handing her a note that read, "Don't be afraid, I'm here," after she was hurt by Zhao Xiaohu's words. This was the only clumsy warmth he could offer at the moment.

However, their increasingly frequent interactions, which went beyond the typical interactions between deskmates, and Cang Tianci's complete absence from class duties due to training, all caught the attention of their homeroom teacher, Zhang Zhengping. He understood the importance of the provincial competition to Cang Tianci, but his absence from his duties as vice class monitor was also a fact. He worried that this would set a bad example and weaken class cohesion.

After a somber meeting of class officers, Zhang Zhengping kept Tianci behind. The air in the office was cold and businesslike. "Tianci," he pushed up his black-rimmed glasses, "the provincial competition is a big deal, and the school supports your training. Your efforts are evident to your teachers." He then changed the subject, "but the core of the vice class monitor position is serving your classmates, which requires time and energy. You are currently unable to handle both. This is a requirement of your duties, not a denial of your personal qualities."

Tianci's heart sank suddenly.

"We'll discuss this again when you return with honors and when your time and energy allow." Zhang Zhengping extended his hand. "Let me keep the armband for now."

The small armband, which once carried Teacher Fang's expectations and my own glimmer of hope, was gently removed. A sense of loss, like a cold, leaden weight, weighed heavily on my heart.

The news spread, and Zhao Xiaohu's grin stretched almost to his ears, unabashedly flashing his famous victory sign to his followers. Lin Wanqing, sitting in the front row, heard the news, her hand holding her pen trembled, the tip drawing a long, desperate line across her workbook. She quickly lowered her head, her eyelashes trembling like wounded butterfly wings, desperately suppressing the tears welling up in her eyes. That silent figure, wiping the blackboard and checking the doors and windows, had built a sense of security in her heart far more precious than any title. Its disappearance was like the removal of an invisible pillar from her world.

The resignation from their posts did not sever the bond that had quietly tightened between Cang Tianci and Lin Wanqing amidst the thorns of their studies. On the contrary, as they faced the pressures of time and the scrutiny of the outside world together, this bond conveyed a silent warmth.

Lin Wanqing remained her quiet deskmate, but her intelligence shone through in subtle ways. She keenly observed Tianci's predicament, struggling in the shadows. One day after school, as the school was quieter, she quietly pushed a small note filled with neat handwriting about study methods onto the corner of Tianci's desk, her voice so soft it was as if she didn't want to disturb the dust: "Tianci, this... is a clumsy method I usually use... take a look... maybe it will save you some time?"

He unfolded the slip of paper, on which were listed in a clear and orderly manner:

• Take a quick look before class: Spend three to five minutes quickly reviewing the new lesson and circling any questions you have (listening to the lesson with questions in mind will greatly increase your efficiency).

• In class, focus on the key points: Follow the train of thought and use both your hands and brain! Only memorize the core words, formulas, and points of doubt (understanding is more important than copying).

• Quick review after class: Before leaving school/training, spend ten minutes quickly reviewing the key points of the day (to reinforce memory).

• Unearthing Treasures from Wrong Answers: Create a wrong answer notebook! Write down the reasons for the mistakes (unclear concepts? carelessness? incorrect methods?), and redo them regularly (wrong answers are the ladder to progress).

• Pick up pearls from fragments: While training, eating, or walking, silently memorize words, formulas, or recall knowledge points (accumulate knowledge little by little).

• “Necklace” before bed: Lie in bed with your eyes closed and go through the day’s knowledge in your mind like stringing beads (forming a knowledge network).

This is hardly a "clumsy method"; it's clearly a sophisticated mind-guiding technique that directly targets the key to efficient learning. Tianci was overjoyed and immediately adopted it as his guiding principle. A quick glance before class gave him a target for listening; grasping the key points in class freed him from the fatigue of copying; a quick review after class and digging for treasures in wrong answers welded the knowledge into his mind; utilizing fragmented time to "pick up pearls" and "stringing necklaces" before bed squeezed every minute of his time to its fullest potential.

The results were solid and remarkable. His learning efficiency leaped forward, his understanding deepened, and his memory became stronger. His grades steadily improved, and in the midterm exam, his name boldly broke into the top six of his class! He and Lin Wanqing, who consistently ranked at the top of the grade, quietly drew closer through silent understanding and shared struggle. This strength of moving forward side by side quietly laid the foundation for them to jointly knock on the higher and narrower door to the Jixian No. 1 Middle School's Junior Class in the future. This tacit mutual assistance was a rare warmth in Tianci's cold training life, and a glimmer of light he was determined to protect.

However, the close relationship between two equally outstanding but uniquely disadvantaged teenagers was bound to be jarring in the complex environment of Jixian No. 1 Primary School, where understanding was not always easy. It also became the perfect target for Zhao Xiaohu's heart, which was soaked in the venom of jealousy.

Since when did the air around Cang Tianci and Lin Wanqing become thick and unfamiliar?

At first, there were only a few strange looks. But those gazes were no longer pure; they were mixed with too many things she couldn't understand, things that made her feel uneasy. It was as if something invisible had separated her from her classmates.

The walk home from school felt incredibly long. She always kept her head down, hoping to disappear into the crowd and get back to that little corner where she could catch her breath as soon as possible.

Whenever whispers arose in the classroom, Lin Wanqing's straight back would stiffen slightly. She felt a silent weight pressing down on her, so she dug her fingertips into her palms and focused all her attention on the textbook in front of her—the only world she could fully control and which no one could infringe upon.

She instinctively tugged at her sleeve, trying to cover the more noticeable bruise on her wrist—a mark left by her father, Lin Jianmin, when he angrily dragged her off her chair last night after she knocked over her chopsticks at the dinner table. Home, for her, was a colder abyss than the rumors at school. She lowered her head, as if trying to shrink into the dust, only her trembling shoulders betraying her silent collapse.

Cang Tianci's reaction was like a volcano about to erupt. Whenever malicious gossip reached his ears, he would suddenly look up, his sharp, knife-like eyes locking onto the source of the sound, especially Zhao Xiaohu's face, which was filled with malice. His clenched fists bulged under the desk, the knuckles making a slight cracking sound, and a violent killing intent almost broke through the cage of reason.

Just then, the eldest brother's voice boomed like thunder: "Your fists must be strong, your eyes must be sharp, and you must see the way forward."

What is the "road" before us? Is it Zhao Xiaohu's hateful face?

No.

He could almost see the consequences of that punch: being banned from training, receiving a disciplinary notice in his parents' hands, and facing even fiercer retaliation from Zhao Xiaohu's family... But what truly gripped his heart was Lin Wanqing's panicked and terrified eyes. With that punch, all the rumors would be confirmed, she would be forever nailed to the pillar of shame, utterly destroyed.

His fists might bring a moment of pleasure, but they would push both of them into an even deeper abyss.

All the weighing of options, calculations, and resentment ultimately transformed into a cold piece of iron, sinking into the depths of his heart. He understood that his retreat at this moment was not out of cowardice, but for the sake of long-term protection. He bit his lower lip tightly, letting the burning anger repeatedly scorch his chest, eventually forging it into a cold, unbreakable will.