I went to the bedroom and saw Sam still sitting at the desk, reading. I wondered if he'd been scolded by Mom.
"Sam, dinner's ready," I said. This Black boy had been staying at our house for several days now and didn't seem the least bit reserved. "Okay, Zihan," Sam replied, grinning like a gorilla as he walked over. "Zihan, these math problems are way too hard. I can't believe you Chinese students solve such difficult problems," Sam said, following me to the living room and looking at me with disbelief. "This is still easy? These are just from the textbook. Wait until tomorrow's exam—then you'll know what 'hard' really means," I said, feeling a bit smug. Let him steal the spotlight now.
"Oh my god, I'm done for," Sam said, rolling his eyes and flopping onto the sofa, pretending to tremble dramatically. As he shook, the rod-like object in his basketball shorts kept bouncing around. I felt a wave of discomfort. If this bitch ever got hard, how thick and long would that penis be? Could his French girlfriend even handle it? Wouldn't it pierce right through her stomach?
"Sam, um, you should pay attention to your appearance at home. For example, wear more appropriate pants. It's part of Chinese culture to respect adults at home," I said. "What counts as appropriate, Zihan? I'm not wearing anything revealing. In South Africa, I only wear shorts at home," Sam said, ending his theatrics and sitting up to look at me, spreading his hands.
"Just… don't expose your private parts too much," I told him bluntly. What if Mom saw? Damn "nigga."
"Huh? What?"
Sam stood up and swung his lower body back and forth, causing that thing to sway along with the motion. The soft cotton basketball shorts couldn't withstand the bouncing pressure, and that thing thrashed wildly inside the pants. "Mmm..." My mother came out of the kitchen carrying a pot of food, clearing her throat at the doorway with narrowed almond-shaped eyes. "Mom, let me help you," Sam said straightforwardly, rushing over to assist her. "Go get the rice. I can handle this myself," Mom glanced at Sam before walking to the living room table to set the dish down. She probably didn't see Sam's strange behavior earlier, I thought, sweating nervously for him.
Sam brought the rice from the kitchen, and Mom sat on the sofa opposite me and Sam. Although Sam kept sharing various stories and observations, Mom didn't laugh at all tonight. In the somewhat quiet atmosphere of dinner, after helping Mom clean up, Sam and I returned to the bedroom to continue studying.
"Sam, did you remember what I told you before dinner? At home, you need to dress appropriately and not expose private areas. It's a basic rule in Chinese culture."
I glanced sideways at him, convinced that Mom must have seen Sam's odd behavior, which made her feel awkward. This annoyed me a bit. Staying at my house as a guest, living under someone else's roof, and this "nigga" still couldn't behave properly.
"Zihan, I'm sorry. I know I was wrong. I think it must have been because of me that Mom was upset," Sam said with a dejected expression. "Don't do it again. Let's focus on doing well in tomorrow's exams. If we get good grades, Mom will be happy."
I smiled at him as I spoke. Seeing him like this actually made me feel pleased, but also a little sorry for him. After all, being in a foreign land and living under someone else's roof isn't easy. Fortunately, Sam is capable and helpful, though some of his habits are unacceptable in Chinese culture.
"I understand, Zihan," Sam replied before quietly starting to review his materials. He didn't even glance at his phone all evening.
"Knock, knock. Zihan, you have exams tomorrow. Both of you should rest early," Mom said, tapping on our bedroom door. "Okay, Mom," Sam echoed my response. Hearing Mom's footsteps ascending the stairs, I turned to Sam and said, "Sam, I'm going to wash up first. You can come when you're done reviewing." After speaking, I went to the wardrobe to find a change of clothes. "Mm," Sam glanced at me before looking back at his book.
In the bathroom, a faint harmonica melody drifted through the vent. "Who's still playing the harmonica this late? It sounds quite nice," I thought. The melancholic tune made me think of Mom's face. Dad often travels for work, and Mom misses him dearly—misses his company, I suppose. After all, Mom loves posting on TikTok, uploading her most beautiful moments to social media. I guess she wants someone to affirm her too. Still, I don't blame Dad. He loves Mom deeply and has never scolded her, let alone hit her.
Every time Dad returns from a business trip, he buys something for Mom, and she seems genuinely happy.
But sometimes, can material abundance truly bring spiritual fulfillment?
I don't think that's necessarily true, especially when it comes to extraordinary mortals—those who seem detached from worldly affairs. Whether they are women or men, I feel their inner worlds are exceptionally vast, requiring an infusion of considerable energy to truly enrich their existence.
Back in middle school, my Chinese teacher took a great liking to me, saying I had the potential to become a writer. That filled me with immense pride. Who knows—maybe one day, given the right opportunity, I could actually become one.
"Since Dad has provided us with stable material security, I'll offer Mom stable emotional support. After all, I promised Dad I'd take good care of her."
With that thought, a faint smile touched my lips as the warm water from the showerhead cascaded from head to toe, bringing a sense of complete relaxation.
Returning to the bedroom, I saw Sam still busy writing something. "Sam, haven't you finished reviewing yet?"
I sat on the edge of the bed, blow-drying my hair. "Hehe, Zihan, I'm done now. I'm going to take a shower," Sam said, pulling his clothes from the wardrobe before closing the bedroom door and heading to the bathroom.
Is he really that intense about reviewing? I couldn't help but feel a bit impressed by Sam's dedication.
About ten minutes later, Sam walked back into the bedroom with a bright smile on his face, looking genuinely happy. "What's got you so cheerful?" I asked, finding myself infected by his visible joy. "Nothing much, just that the hot shower felt really good," Sam replied, his eyes wide and his lips curved into a grin. To think he could be this thrilled over something as simple as a hot shower—I stared at him, speechless.
"Go to bed early tonight and get up early tomorrow to head back to school."
I said, "Okay, Zihan, goodnight, my Zihan." Sam was drying his hair, kissed his dark paw, and gestured toward me. "Ugh," I cursed silently, feeling goosebumps all over.
I slept well that night, and we woke up on time. Mom had already prepared breakfast. "Zihan, Sam, eat well and do your best on the exams." For some reason, Mom seemed especially happy today, as if a wall in her heart had been pushed down overnight, revealing a vast, clear sky beyond.
"Okay, Mom," Sam nodded to her with a smile. We caught the last bus to school and arrived in the classroom.
Soon, more and more classmates filled the room. Zhang Min walked in. Teacher Zhang looked especially beautiful today, wearing a short-sleeved shirt and a gray knitted skirt that fell just below her knees. Surprisingly, she was also wearing those killer black stockings and black high heels. She still carried her pointer and held a book against her chest.
Staring at her full chest, I wondered if she was married. Even though I added her on WeChat at the start of the semester, Teacher Zhang rarely posted anything—just a few patriotic messages on national holidays.
"After morning reading, we'll start the exam. Use this time to review what you need to memorize. No whispering. For math, just go over the sections I taught you. Start reviewing now."
After saying this, she sat at the podium and began flipping through her lesson plans.
"Teacher Zhang, I don't understand this question." While I was focused on my own review, Sam actually went up to ask Zhang Min a question. What a diligent student.
They spoke in hushed tones, with Sam nodding repeatedly, looking like a model student.
"Sam, do your best on this exam. It's okay if you don't do well—it's your first time, after all." After Sam returned to his seat, Zhang Min walked over to give special encouragement to this "Nigerian" student from South Africa.
"No, dear Teacher Zhang, I'll do my best to make you proud," Sam clenched his fist, his eyes fixed ahead with determination.
"Giggle, that's the spirit. I believe in you." Zhang Min's smile was truly captivating. I stole a glance at her, but she was sharp and immediately caught my eye. I quickly looked back at my book.
"Zihan, do your best too." Zhang Min walked over to my desk. I saw a pair of delicate, fair hands tap lightly on the table, accompanied by a faint, refreshing fragrance that lifted my spirits. "Okay, thank you, Teacher Zhang," I nodded in response, avoiding further conversation.
"Teacher Zhang, I don't understand this question either." The soft, childish voice of our class monitor, Li Xiaojun, came from behind me. The faint fragrance shifted from in front of me to behind, lingering in the depths of my mind, making me curious to uncover its source.
Zhang Min was explaining the problem to Li Xiaojun behind me. Her mature voice, though not quite as soothing as my mom's, stirred something in me. "Something's off. I'm not myself," I thought, forcing myself to dive back into the sea of knowledge.
After answering Li Xiaojun's question, the faint fragrance gradually faded away until it disappeared completely.
"Zihan, Teacher Zhang's chest is so big—I just saw it," Sam whispered in my ear as he leaned over the desk. "Cut the crap," I snapped back at him. This guy was still talking about this in the classroom right before the exam, and to make matters worse, he was talking about my teacher, Zhang Min.
"Seriously, I was bending over and accidentally caught a glimpse of something white through the collar of her shirt. What a sin, what a sin—Amitabha," Sam said, sounding genuinely regretful. "...Aren't you supposed to pray to Jesus?"
I rolled my eyes at him. "When in China, do as the Chinese do. That's what my mom taught me," Sam said with a pious expression. "Uh... really?" I cursed him silently in my head. Yeah, right—do as your sister does.
The exam proceeded as scheduled. We had two tests in the morning, and I returned to the classroom to take a nap. Sam was called to Teacher Zhang's office for some reason I didn't know.
Half an hour later, Sam came back with a big smile on his face. "What did Teacher Zhang want?" I asked, exhausted and slumped over my desk, surrounded by classmates napping. "She told me not to stress about the math exam. She knows we come from a Western education system where middle school math is pretty basic," Sam explained. "That's it? Why did it take so long?"
I was puzzled. "Well, she was really curious about what math is like where we're from, so I explained it to her," Sam said, shrugging as if he were more helpless than I was. "Uh, okay. Keep it down—everyone's sleeping, and we still have exams this afternoon," I said, gesturing for Sam to take a nap too. "Ugh, it's so boring. I'd rather go to the office and chat with Teacher Zhang while reviewing math," Sam replied. I couldn't help but feel he was getting a bit carried away as he grabbed his math textbook and headed out of the classroom.
"..." I closed my eyes and started my nap.
The afternoon exam went ahead as planned. During the math test, I glanced over at Sam and saw him biting the cap of his pen. Looking at his paper, he hadn't answered many questions. This wouldn't do—if Mom found out, Sam would definitely get scolded.
I subtly slid my test paper a little closer to him, but Sam didn't seem to get the hint. He remained frowning, still biting his pen cap.
"Hmm..." I hummed softly. Only then did Sam look at me. I gestured for him to copy a few answers, but he shook his head. His reaction actually made me give him a thumbs-up in my mind.
Alright then—a true warrior dares to face the bleak reality of life!
My mind already pictured him bowing his head in apology before Zhang Min and Mom, looking utterly miserable. The afternoon only had one math exam. After it ended, Sam went to play basketball, while I played badminton with Li Xiaojun. "Zihan, how do you think you did on the midterm exams?"
Li Xiaojun jumped up to hit the shuttlecock back. Even though I'd seen her in a swimsuit before, wearing her school uniform now added a touch of innocence and youthful energy.
"Not bad," I replied, returning her shot. "Zihan is the best—you're definitely going to be first in the school this time," Li Xiaojun said gently, looking at me. Her gaze made me feel a little strange.
"I don't know, but I have you, right? Maybe you'll do much better than me," I said, though I was confident I would definitely score higher than Li Xiaojun. "No way, Zihan is sure to be first," Li Xiaojun bounced up to return the ball, her youthful breasts nearly bursting out of her pure white summer uniform with each jump—and they felt surprisingly substantial.
"Let's not talk about that. How did Sam get your WeChat, Class Monitor?" I was curious. How on earth did Sam manage to add the class monitor on WeChat?
"Giggle, I asked her some English questions, and then she said she'd add me on WeChat to explain them better. So I gave her my WeChat ID, and she added me," Li Xiaojun said happily. To be honest, Li Xiaojun genuinely loves studying and works hard at it.
"I see, so that's how he managed to invite the beautiful and charming class monitor out for a swim," I said, thinking to myself that Sam really had some tricks up his sleeve. "Giggle, I wanted to go swimming too. I've been swimming since I was little, but yesterday, for some reason, I suddenly got a cramp. It was so strange," Li Xiaojun said helplessly. "Yeah, just a coincidence. It's fine," I reassured her. "Mm-hmm, giggle. Sam is actually pretty fun—he's humorous and really willing to teach me English. He must have done well on this English test."
Li Xiaojun's fair face and bright smile made her look like a youthful goddess of beauty, captivating me seven parts and intoxicating me three.
"Well, English is his native language after all," I said. After playing for a while, Sam came over to call us. "Zihan, Class Monitor, I just won a game, and someone treated me to drinks. Here, one for each of you," Sam handed us two bottles of mineral water. "Sam, you're amazing," Li Xiaojun said, looking every bit the adoring fan. She didn't seem to mind at all that Sam was a "nigga."
"Hehe, I play ball a lot at home. Playing with those students here is a piece of cake," Sam said smugly, looking so pleased with himself that I wanted to smack him with a slipper.
"Alright, alright, let's go. We'll miss the bus if we don't hurry," I urged them, or we'd really have to walk home.
Passing by the basketball court and onto the plastic track of No. 1 Middle School, the evening glow cast long, beautiful, and harmonious shadows of the three of us as we headed home.
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