Hairpin

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I had thought the news of the spring outing might cheer Zero Aldehyde up, but it seemed not to. During the weekend math competition class, she grew silent as well. In class, the only sounds beside her were the scratching of pen on paper and her heavy breathing; after class, she disappeared into a bathroom stall. I glanced around at the lively crowd chatting, trading snacks, and sharing their troubles, sighed, and lowered my head to rethink the baffling number theory problem from the first half of the lesson.

Recess without Teacher Zero's little classes was surprisingly dull.

Class ended, and Zero Aldehyde began packing her bag.

“Don’t leave,” I said, unleashing the resentment I’d been holding in for days all at once.

“I…I want to go home…” she whispered.

“What for? To do more problems? Spending a little time with me won’t stop you, the math prodigy, from getting first place.”

“I…I’m not…” She shook her head desperately.

“Come on, let’s go shopping!” I hooked my arm through hers and pulled her toward the "New Thinking Department Store & Stationery" right at the school gate, ignoring her protests. Along the way, a few familiar classmates looked at us with puzzled expressions—but I didn’t care.

She laughed for the first time in a while. “So this is what you call shopping?”

“Uh, student shopping is just wandering stationery stores. By the way, you’ve been using that pen since school started, right? You should get a new one. Plus, this shop is so cute inside. They sell stationery, candy, snacks… I often come here when I’m feeling down… yeah, that’s it!”

“A little lady with good taste! That pen is the Spring Cherry Blossom limited edition,” the shopkeeper said from behind the counter as Zero Aldehyde picked up a pen from the shelf, examining it.

I wandered to the other side of the store and noticed ribbons and hair ties hanging on the wall. Suddenly remembering that Zero Aldehyde always tied her braid with the simplest black hair tie, I impulsively bought a navy blue satin ribbon hair clip. When she came out, I told her to close her eyes and clipped the ribbon onto her braid.

“Open your eyes!” I said. She stared in surprise into the mirror on the wall.

“It really suits you! Neutral warm and cool tones… both elegant and understated… just wear it like this and don’t take it off!” I clapped my hands.

She hesitated, as if about to say something, but in the end she nodded quietly, consenting.

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“Thank you.” Before leaving the shop, she glanced back at the mirror, looking both surprised and a bit unaccustomed.

“See? It looks good, right?”

“Mm…”

Outside, the sunset was perfect, an orange halo filtering through the fresh leaves of the plane trees lining the street, touching the tips of her hair. Despite her dull school jacket, she looked like she belonged to another world.

Suddenly, she took off the hair clip.

“Still… don’t like it?”

She didn’t answer. A slender middle-aged woman with short hair approached, her brows and eyes bearing some resemblance to Zero Aldehyde’s but more aged and gloomy. Probably… her mother.

“A-Auntie, hello.” I greeted as politely as I could.

“And you are?” The tone was sharp, like a disciplinarian’s.

“I’m… a classmate from the math competition class.” Zero Aldehyde said nervously, signaling with her left hand for me to leave quickly.

But the woman’s intimidating presence froze me in place.

“I saw it,” she said, ignoring me, yanking Zero Aldehyde’s right hand from her uniform pocket and snatching the hair clip.

“Getting vain now, huh? You come to school just to fuss over your looks?” She tossed the clip carelessly into a roadside trash can, then grabbed Zero Aldehyde like an eagle carrying a chick and walked away. “You used to listen when you were little, but now you’re getting more and more unruly.”

“Lately, too, you come home later and later. What nonsense are you studying in the self-study room? Then you come home with a sour face—who are you showing that to? What have I ever done wrong? I arrange everything for you, and yet I don’t know what you’re always thinking about…”

Then came Zero Aldehyde’s “I’m sorry,” a voice so familiar—forced calm, fighting back tears.

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They walked away. I remained rooted to the spot, unable to breathe, a chill rising along my spine.

“I… I’ll buy you another one,” I said awkwardly after school, when I finally caught up with her at the stairwell.

“Don’t waste your money.”

“Is your phone… still charged?”

“Half left, I left it in the study room. It’s safe.”

“…Also, don’t always be so enthusiastic toward me.” Suddenly, she became agitated.

I stood helplessly in the middle of the stairs, caught off guard by her cold words.

“Why… why do you always stay by my side? Why do you keep pestering me to talk? Why… why do you care so much about me…”

“…Is that… not allowed?” I replied softly after a long silence.

“I-I’m not worth it.” She left me with that, then hurried down the stairs. Realizing this, I rushed after her, but the few flights felt like an endless spiral nightmare.

In the end, I stood alone, dazed, in front of the academic building, my heart pounding violently as if it would burst from my chest. Senior students passed me by, fleeting shadows and fragmented words. I scanned them silently, longing to see her familiar figure.

I stood for a long time, until the clock on the screen reminded me to catch the last bus.

The spring wind carried willow fluff, pollen, and restless warmth as it came.