"Passing By"
Does it refer to the motion between objects? (through)
Or the process one has experienced? (course)
Or perhaps the movement between people and objects? (pass)
Upon reflection, the word isn’t overly complex, yet it holds nuances I struggle to grasp—precisely because of these uncertainties, I’ve loosely thrown it at my current situation. If pressed to explain, it would become:
"Xia Mo walked past me without a word, her steps unwavering, passing by in a way that felt utterly strange—"
Truthfully, I never expected her to acknowledge me after what happened. In fact, I’d prefer her ignoring me. Yet I couldn’t block the surrounding stares of disdain. It seemed whether we were dating or not, I’d face this unfair treatment—all because of what we once shared.
The rumor spread astonishingly fast. By the second day of exams, the entire student body knew. Still, it moved slower than I’d imagined—likely pieced together from our abnormal silence over the past two days. Regardless, such gossip was never good.
During those exam days, whispers about us filled my ears. Only on Monday, back at school, did the pressure ease slightly. But now, outsiders’ overly imaginative gossip multiplied. Rumors even claimed I’d been playing around behind Xia Mo’s back—that I’d cheated on her, forcing our breakup.
Within an hour of arriving for morning readings, I’d already heard thirteen different versions of our story. I never considered debunking them; whether I even could was another matter. In this situation, no one would believe a word I said.
In short, my school life these past four days had become this bleak. I didn’t dare hope for mercy—only that the next tragedy wouldn’t surpass the last. But let’s return to the earlier topic: the utterly mundane matter of "Xia Mo passing by me."
After morning readings, our class study monitor called me out. Our balding homeroom teacher apparently wanted to see me—likely because I’d bombed the exams. I’d dropped over fifty ranks. With grades like mine, there wasn’t much lower to fall. Any past progress had been pure luck, a fluke on a good day.
The walk to the office always felt treacherous, especially as a failing student. Failing exams was deeply shameful here—in this school, in this country. Some thick-skinned souls might shrug it off, but not me.
Muttering prayers to any deity who’d listen while tallying potential punishments, I finally reached the office hallway. There, walking toward me, was the other protagonist of this story—Xia Mo.
She’d just exited the office, a troubled expression on her face, yet she politely bid farewell to the teachers inside. *Seriously, are you overdoing the model student act?* I, meanwhile, was the type who’d never even knock before entering an office—let alone exit properly. I usually just fled.
She couldn’t have failed exams like me. Xia Mo carried a stack of homework—about forty notebooks—and she managed fine. Not that I’d offer help. I lacked the will, the right… or perhaps just felt relieved.
When she spotted me, her steps halted. I’d foolishly hoped to catch surprise or anger on her face. But her gaze held no ripple of emotion—like she wasn’t even looking at a person.
It was the stare one gives an inanimate object. Xia Mo had reduced me to a thing—or perhaps not even that.
*Did she not care about yesterday? Impossible.* I knew she held grudges. After what happened, she couldn’t forget. So she was honoring our agreement: becoming someone utterly unrelated to me…
I wasn’t stupid enough to speak. I simply shifted from standing to walking. She did the same—but her steps were slightly quicker. We stayed silent, each waiting for the other to pass, then rushing away the moment we did. The second our shoulders brushed, I darted into the office.
My heart churned with unease and a strange, inexplicable thrill—as if a long war had abruptly ended. I couldn’t decipher my own feelings, naively assuming hers mirrored mine.
After a few deep breaths, I approached my homeroom teacher’s desk. It was piled with science materials and exercise books—all STEM subjects.
The office was nearly empty. A few teachers I vaguely recognized sat nearby, plus a girl I’d only met a handful of times. She looked up from a stack of papers and waved. *Since when were we friends?* We’d only exchanged a few words as fellow environmental committee members, meeting briefly every Friday after school. She was the cheerful, effortlessly social type—the epitome of a "real-life player." We were nothing alike.
"Think there’s something fishy about these exam results? They feel… off," a voice drifted from the sofa near my teacher’s desk. Several teachers were chatting, their topic making my skin prickle. As a student summoned for failing, I felt awkward overhearing this—especially since my homeroom teacher wasn’t here. His belongings sat untouched; he must have stepped out. I’d wait and listen to their gossip.
"Off? You mean about the top rank?" a young teacher in her twenties asked, puzzled. *Top rank?* Xia Mo had held first place since entering this school. What was surprising? Had she broken another record?
"What else could it be? Sure, it’s weird that so many underperformers suddenly aced their tests. But Xia Mo… she plummeted beyond the top hundred! Doesn’t that strike you as bizarre?"
*What?* My mind short-circuited. Xia Mo failed? Dropped a hundred ranks? What kind of fall was that?
If ordinary students never touched the top ten, they’d never know the agony of plummeting from a peak. It must shatter a person. (Though I’d never experienced it—I’d never even brushed the top hundred.)
*Was that why she’d been in the office just now?* So she had bad days too. Strangely, relief washed over me—more than sympathy. It was rude, selfish… but I needed this small joy to drown my guilt. I wasn’t sure if I’d caused her failure, but forcing happiness was the only way to breathe.
"Could she have been unwell during exams? I’ve never seen her make such a huge mistake before. And this exam was crucial—maybe the pressure got to her?" the young female teacher pressed. The silver-haired man she addressed taught history in Xia Mo’s class. I recognized him from substitute lessons; he didn’t know me.
"Impossible. She aced the first three subjects on Day One—all perfect scores. The problem started on Days Two and Three—"
The old teacher drained his pu’er tea, as if swallowing his frustration. *Day One went well?* Then something must have happened in the following days…
Wait… That’s connected to me?!
