Fang Mu extended his arm and helped him up.
Meng Fanzhe's legs remained fairly limp, and it was only with effort that, shaking, he managed to stand upright and wipe the dust off his clothing. Still, his body continued to tremble, as if at any time he might topple to the ground.
Fang Mu sighed and then helped him over to a nearby stone bench. There Fang Mu withdrew his thermos from his backpack and handed it over.
Meng Fanzhe took several deep gulps of water. Gradually his breathing became calm.
"Thank you," said Meng Fanzhe. Then he took out a tissue, carefully cleaned the rim of the thermos, and handed it back to Fang Mu.
Sitting down beside him, Fang Mu grabbed a pack of cigarettes, removed one and put it in his mouth and lit it. Then, after thinking about it, he took a second, lit it, and offered it to Meng Fanzhe. Following a moment's hesitation, Meng Fanzhe accepted, though when he took a puff he immediately began to cough.
"You don't smoke?"
"No."
"Waste of tobacco." he said with a chuckle.
How familiar their words sounded, reminding Fang Mu of something that had happened long ago.
For some reason, his spirits suddenly fell.
The two of them sat in silence, Fang Mu taking drag after deep drag of smoke, Meng Fanzhe staring at his gradually shortening cigarette as if in a daze.
After a long time, Meng Fanzhe finally spoke. "You must think I'm crazy."
"Beg your pardon?"
Meng Fanzhe flung his cigarette away. "You must think something's wrong with me."
"Why would you think that?"
"Why else would you not ask me what I was just doing?"
"Um, all right then. What were you just doing?" Fang Mu found this mildly ridiculous.
"Man!" Meng Fanzhe laughed. "I really wasn't doing anything. I guess I just wanted to experience the feeling of fear for a moment." He looked over at Fang Mu, feigning a laid-back smile, as if he hoped Fang Mu would think he was cool.
Fang Mu laughed and lit another cigarette.
Meng Fanzhe continued to look expectantly at Fang Mu for a while, as if waiting for him to say something like, "So that's what was going on?" or "Man, you really must have been bored." But after sitting in silence for a time, Fang Mu suddenly looked up and asked:
"What are you afraid of?"
Meng Fanzhe's eyes went wide as he stared at Fang Mu. The look on his face seemed to say, 'How did you know?'
Of course I know , thought Fang Mu. Why else would I have pushed you while the professor was taking roll?
If a person is terrified of something, and when confronted with this thing, displays extraordinary fixation and sensitivity towards it, a sudden disruption of his attention will cause his fear to be instantly eliminated. But of course, this lasts only for the instant.
Meng Fanzhe was probably afraid of roll call, so when it was taken, his fear would manifest as total absorption. The more afraid he became, the less capable he was of responding. So when Fang Mu pushed him just as his name was being read, his attention was diverted from the roll call to Fang Mu, and naturally he was able to answer.
Meng Fanzhe's expression changed from surprise to dejection. Hanging his head, he said nothing.
"What are you afraid of?" Fang Mu asked.
When Meng Fanzhe looked up, Fang Mu could see the weakness in his eyes. He stared at Fang Mu for a long while. Smiling softly, Fang Mu casually returned his gaze.
Slowly, the look in Meng Fanzhe's eyes became friendlier, more trusting.
"I'm..." he began, scratching his head, "a little afraid of the roll call." He laughed. "It's pretty weird."
"You know where it comes from?"
"Not a clue." Meng Fanzhe gazed off into the distance. "I also don't know when it started—only that it scares me. As soon as someone begins taking roll, I get nervous, and the more nervous I become, the less I'm able to say ‘ Here ’ . Often I'll jump to my feet, flush with agitation, but unable to say a word, while the whole class stares at me." He dropped his head and his voice abruptly fell. "A lot of people
R. C. Farrington, Jason Farrington