◎ Hearts in Youthful Resonance ◎

Chun Zao didn’t know how long she had been running, down layer after layer of dim, forest-white stairs. The iron door slammed shut behind her, and the night ahead was like thick, undissolvable asphalt. She panted, her nose and mouth blocked, her legs heavy as lead.

Finally—

She was pulled to a stop by the young man beside her, who pressed the back of her head and pulled her into his embrace.

“Stop, Chun Zao.” His slightly hoarse voice, along with his chin pressing against her forehead, and his burning body temperature, his rapidly rising and falling, blazing chest—through the pure white fabric of their school uniforms, it burned against her nose, her entire face, like an active volcano beneath snowy fields: “Don’t run anymore.”

Extraordinarily clean.

And extraordinarily warm.

Chun Zao began to cry torrentially.

The person embracing her seemed to sense this, tightening his grip and pressing her more securely against himself, completely enveloping her, seamlessly.

The world became very small and narrow, bearing her and containing her. She drew in the thin air between them and became like an infant in swaddling clothes who could only express needs and pain through tears, refusing to walk, refusing to speak, wanting no skills or talents.

She only wanted to grip the fabric behind his back with both hands, lean into him, and completely, utterly wail in heart-wrenching sobs.

When she was gasping for breath, finally, a trace of clarity returned to her consciousness. Chun Zao sobbed and said, “Don’t resent my mother.”

Because of those words she had used to attack him—those unguarded, thorn-like words.

Yuan Ye’s breathing grew heavier.

He separated them slightly, bowed his head, and found the girl’s wet face and eyes. “How could I?”

As her mother had said, she was the one who had given birth to her.

If not for her, how would he have ever met her?

In that instant, Yuan Ye felt some lingering fear and dread. He stared directly at her, his thick black gaze seeming to press down, flowing with high concentrations of cherishing, heartache, or perhaps other things.

Chun Zao became shy under his gaze, and fearing her tear-streaked appearance was too ugly, she turned her face away slightly.

Yuan Ye didn’t hesitate, lifting his hand to turn her face back.

His warm hand cradled her jaw, his warm breath scattered across her bangs.

His thumb gently caressed beneath her eyes, wiping away the tear tracks. His serious expression was like painting a gentle story.

Chun Zao could barely keep her legs steady under his meticulous and repeated movements.

She wanted to grip his wrist and make him take his hand away, but she restrained her fingers.

Strange longings surged within her body. From last year until now, they had always maintained an appropriate and proper distance—when had they ever been this close?

But she ultimately endured it: “That’s enough.” She lowered her lashes to avoid his touch, though very reluctantly.

Yuan Ye withdrew his hand as if waking from a dream.

“I say… You can run,” the nearby boy suddenly curved his lips. “Making you only write articles for sports day instead of reporting for track and field was wasting your talent.”

At such a moment, he still had the mood to joke. Chun Zao pretended to be angry and pounded his chest once.

Very mysteriously, along with this action, most of her painful emotions were also drained away.

The boy showed an expression of serious internal injury, turning his head to cough twice: “Could add discus throwing too.”

Chun Zao immediately broke into laughter through her tears.

She pursed her lips, took a deep breath, and observed their surroundings: “Where did we run to?”

Yuan Ye also looked around, frowning: “Should be… the opposite direction from school.”

He took out his phone from his pants pocket and glanced at the navigation: “Past the alley ahead is Pingchang Road.”

Chun Zao looked toward the alley entrance visible in the night—the city’s lights filled that area like a narrow door to another world.

She asked: “What time is it?”

Yuan Ye said, “Almost midnight.”

Chun Zao looked at him in surprise, her eyelids fluttering twice, then inexplicably began to laugh, her eyes bright as stars.

Yuan Ye smiled along: “What are you laughing about?”

Chun Zao found joy in misery: “I’ve never stayed out this late before. Lived seventeen years and never once.”

Yuan Ye fell silent.

Rationally, he should send Chun Zao back, back to that suffocating but safe room.

But instinctively, he understood she didn’t want to turn back now to face and deal with the wreckage after the storm.

In the end, he chose not to spoil the mood, nor did he want to force her to go to the opposite side.

He only asked: “Where do you want to go?”

The moment he said it, he began to regret it. This was a very irresponsible question. He was the one who had caused her to flee in the middle of the night with nowhere to go. She had never had experience staying out overnight, yet he was handing the choice and decision-making power to her.

But the girl showed no hesitation or confusion, answering quickly: “Could we…”

Yuan Ye: “Mm?”

“Just walk.”

Just walk.

Walk toward the light.

Walking would be enough.

It didn’t matter where they went.

As long as he was beside her and she was beside him, both within each other’s sight.

“Walking together with you would be enough.”

Yuan Ye’s nose suddenly stung intensely but briefly.

His Adam’s apple moved slightly as he restrained himself, responding quietly with “okay,” saying nothing more, and took her hand.

The young man and woman interlocked their fingers, walking slowly along the roadside where there were almost no pedestrians, only traffic.

Summer night breezes drifted, carrying the quiet, dark fragrance of gardenias.

And also a sense of sultry heat and bewilderment, with nowhere to go.

“So this is what Yishi looks like at night…” Chun Zao’s eyes darted around, as if engraving a new world, a magnificent grand garden.

“Yes, there aren’t many people.”

On the non-motorized vehicle lane, occasionally, there would be office workers on shared bikes flashing by, or passersby with either leisurely or anxious steps.

And they would receive some strange looks.

Because of their school uniforms, because of this late-night hour.

Chun Zao acted as if she didn’t notice.

After a long time without anyone passing by, she said softly:

“It’s like the world only has the two of us left.”

She breathed deeply: “How wonderful.”

So free, so peaceful—even the air was impossibly clean.

Yuan Ye’s hand suddenly felt lighter. Looking over, the girl had already leaped onto the low barrier made of stones along the flower bed.

“Look, I’m as tall as you now.” She walked on tiptoe, and to maintain balance, she stretched out her other free hand horizontally.

Dark green leaves brushed past Chun Zao’s pant legs. She tilted her head to look over from an almost level angle, like a light snow goose.

Yuan Ye cooperatively raised his hand higher.

Their arms hanging at their sides thus stretched out. They swayed as they walked, like a bridge that was floating but also unbreakable.

Chun Zao began humming a song—the specific melody was unclear, but it was particularly light and cheerful.

Yuan Ye watched her intently, not taking his eyes off her.

Inexplicably, he thought of EVE from WALL-E—that plump, smooth, pure white, incredibly cool female robot who had come from light-years away, searching and wandering everywhere on the already decayed Earth. And he would emerge from rubble and corrupted ground, eventually falling for her.

The amplitude of their arm swings grew larger and larger.

So did the smiles on their faces.

Traffic and light strips were like a galaxy. They held each other tight and danced in space.

Ignoring all orders and all humans.

—

Near two o’clock, they walked onto a very long bridge and leaned against the railing to gaze at the water flowing below.

The river at night was like black silk embedded with jewels, spreading out and undulating in the wind.

The young man’s and woman’s hair flowed in the breeze.

The river wind was fierce, coolly filling their school uniforms. Chun Zao inappropriately yawned.

She immediately covered her mouth, but Yuan Ye still caught her.

He asked: “Are you getting sleepy?”

Chun Zao shook her head, stubbornly saying: “Not at all, it’s just that the wind feels so comfortable.”

Yuan Ye remembered her drowsiness after evening self-study today, and the emotional overload from the argument afterward, immediately determining: “You need to rest.”

Chun Zao frowned in warning: “Don’t even think about making me go back.”

Yuan Ye laughed: “What do you take me for—an undercover agent your mom planted beside you, or an accomplice?”

“Hmph,” Chun Zao rested her chin on the railing and muttered: “Anyway, I don’t want to go home.”

Yuan Ye fell into a dilemma.

He still had two months before turning eighteen, and Chun Zao hadn’t either. Eighteen was like a threshold, like a necessary checkpoint and verification before a product left the factory, sealing them inside high walls, unable to truly connect with the outside world.

He hesitantly opened his mouth: “We… probably can’t get a hotel room.”

Chun Zao instinctively asked back: “Get what room?”

Yuan Ye fell silent. How should he break it down specifically to explain without seeming so strange, presumptuous, and inadequate?

But the girl understood in the next moment, her face warming slightly: “Oh,” her gaze flickered: “Right, hotels don’t let minors check in.”

Yuan Ye quietly responded, “Mm.”

Yuan Ye squinted slightly, then brightened: “If you don’t mind, I could…”

Chun Zao seemed to read his mind, picking up his words: “Take me to Chengkang Gate, to that internet cafe you often go to. Age doesn’t matter there, right?”

“Do you still remember?” She propped up her head: “Last New Year’s Eve, I said I wanted to watch you play games.”

Yuan Ye replied: “I remember.”

“My dream is about to come true.” The girl’s expression was inexplicably excited.

Yuan Ye was moved, the corners of his lips lifting slightly: “What kind of dream is that?”

After getting off the bridge, Yuan Ye called a ride-hailing car to take them to one of the few places that would shelter them this summer night.

Due to his rather high looks, the front desk guy had a deep impression of Yuan Ye, this regular customer, but seeing him at this hour, and with a girl, he was inevitably surprised: “Wow, handsome guy, haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Are there any private rooms available?” Yuan Ye got straight to the point.

“Yeah, second floor, turn left, private room number 4,” the spiky-haired internet cafe manager looked at Chun Zao, then glanced at the time on his screen: “Wait… coming to surf the net after 2 AM, you guys are something. Even if you don’t have school tomorrow, you don’t need to be like this.”

Yuan Ye did not explain, being concise: “Don’t worry about it, just open a double private room for me.”

The spiky-haired guy shouted “OK” and began operating on the computer beside him.

The main hall was filled with secondhand smoke and a mixed crowd. Some people were dozing off with their heads down, others still had excited, drug-like eyes, and some noticed this pair of fresh, clean high school students who seemed like they absolutely shouldn’t appear here, looking up in surprise from behind flickering monitors.

Yuan Ye pulled Chun Zao quickly through the main hall, walked to the second-floor private room, and latched the door.

Under the fluorescent light, the red dual inferior sofa was stained and mottled, with sponge filling visible through the tears. Yuan Ye glanced at it, his brow slightly tightening. Points he usually didn’t much care about became particularly bothersome at this moment.

Just as the girl was about to sit down, he stopped her, took off his backpack, pulled out several thin lecture handouts, and spread them on top: “Sit.”

Chun Zao saw the dense, elegant handwriting on them and was surprised and refused: “No way, don’t you have any reverence for learning?”

Yuan Ye answered straightforwardly: “No.”

Chun Zao: “…”

Chun Zao said nothing, picked them up one by one, stacked them neatly, and said unhappily: “Put them back.”

Yuan Ye quietly accepted them for two seconds and stuffed them back into his backpack.

“I’m not the Princess and the Pea.” Chun Zao plopped down and leaned over to look for the main unit and power switch below.

The sofa beside her sank as Yuan Ye also sat down on her outer side, then leisurely leaned sideways, watching her head move around cluelessly with unconscious amusement.

Chun Zao found nothing and whipped her head around to meet the boy’s indescribable expression.

“Where’s the power button for this machine?”

Yuan Ye pressed the desktop external power source next to the monitor, demonstrating for her: “Princess Pea, this way please.”

Chun Zao was speechless, clicking open her machine, then putting on the headset.

She moved the mouse, familiarizing herself with the system and programs for a while, immediately heading for music software, then opening 4399 mini-games, beginning to pick through casual games like dress-up, nail art, restaurant management, pet raising… If the graphics weren’t good-looking, she’d close them and try the next one.

After a moment, sensing something was wrong, Chun Zao glanced sideways and discovered the boy’s computer desktop was still on the initial interface after startup—nothing was open, and he wasn’t wearing headphones either.

He was leaning back slightly, observing her with an expression that was almost laughing.

“Can you play your games?” Her face instantly burned.

Yuan Ye nodded: “Okay.” He symbolically opened the FPS game he used to play often, still watching her from the corner of his eye.

“Right now, immediately, this instant.”

“Mm.”

“Put on your headphones, too.”

“Okay.”

Under her stare, Yuan Ye casually started a game. He turned off all in-game sounds, absent-mindedly clicking and switching weapons in his character’s hands. Before long, he was glancing at Chun Zao’s screen and her side profile illuminated by the glow. With no heart for battle, he just climbed and ran around randomly in the city’s residential areas. Soon, he was shot dead by other players.

“Ah!” The girl who had also been sneaking peeks at him exclaimed, “You died?”

Yuan Ye turned his head: “Mm.”

“Just like that? So fast?” She seemed incredulous: “The round is over?”

“Mm.”

“Always calling others noobs, I thought you were so amazing.”

“?”

His skills having been questioned, Yuan Ye was instantly fired up, restarting a round and jumping straight into the death city.

He turned on all sound effects, concentrating on listening for audio cues to locate enemies, demonstrating his superior long-range headshot and close-range combat skills.

The female voice beside him that had been alternately amazed and startled gradually fell silent.

Yuan Ye turned his head and found Chun Zao had already pushed her keyboard under the monitor, was lying on the desk edge with her eyes closed, apparently asleep.

On screen, the character who had been desperately running from the poison suddenly stopped among the yellow stones and withered grass.

Yuan Ye stared at the girl’s peaceful face for a while. Seeing her murmur in her sleep and scrunch her shoulders, he quickly used the back of his hand to feel her arm exposed beneath her short sleeves. Her skin was cold as ice in the air-conditioned internet cafe. He looked at himself, then searched left and right, finally stopping abruptly, trapped in this terrible environment, this terrible air. Everything was awful.

A voice in his heart began cursing and shouting at him.

His thoughts were quickly swallowed, dissected, and overwhelmed by helpless pain.

He had overestimated himself.

Having the courage to resist didn’t seem to mean having the ability to resist. He was originally a person with nowhere to go. The freedom he had once taken for granted had completely turned into soft shackles at this moment.

Just for one night, he couldn’t provide her with a warm, comfortable harbor.

But if they returned there, how would his presence allow her to face herself?

Yuan Ye, you’re so useless.

That bone-deep despair almost made him weep.

The woman’s questioning face and words from hours ago repeatedly surfaced, voice by voice, time after time, still ringing in his ears.

Worried about disturbing Chun Zao, he could only rely on subtle and prolonged breathing to suppress and buffer this torrential, sudden-rain-like self-doubt and self-loathing.

The wailing of his character’s death in his headphones brought Yuan Ye back to his senses. He carefully removed and set down his headphones.

Light poured over the young man’s silent face. He was forbearing and irritated, repeatedly running his hands through his hair.

Finally, finally, after sitting in silence for who knows how long, as dawn approached, Yuan Ye clenched his right fist.

His bones made slight sounds from the pressure before he seemed to make a decision and reached out to pat the girl beside him twice on the shoulder.

Chun Zao woke up startled, sleepy-eyed. After a moment, realizing where she was, she couldn’t help but drowsily ask: “What time is it?”

“It’s almost dawn,” the boy’s face leaned over, serious but gentle: “I’ll take you back.”

“No! I don’t want to go back.” She recoiled in terror, sad mist immediately gathering in her eyes: “I don’t want to go back…”

They both knew what going back would mean.

Yuan Ye grasped both her arms, his heart also breaking: “Chun Zao, you have to go back. You still need to go to school. I…”

The young man’s throat caught slightly: “For now, there’s no way…” No way to take you on a real journey, to give you a place where you can breathe freely.

He continued with difficulty: “What your mom said tonight wasn’t pleasant to hear, especially what she said about you—I disagree with ten thousand percent. But what she criticized about me, I think, was right.”

Tears dripped from her chin as Chun Zao’s lips began to tremble.

At this moment, she truly realized and guessed what he was about to say—the inevitable separation he had no choice but to speak of.

They both knew.

Not covering it up wouldn’t change having to face it. When the white cloth was lifted, there were two tender hearts pressed tightly together, bleeding and resonating.

“Listen to me, go home. After you go back, I’ll move away. Don’t argue with your mom anymore because of our situation, and don’t be sad or troubled by any external factors. Focus on preparing for exams, just keep walking the path you wanted to walk before,” Yuan Ye stated as calmly as possible, though his eyes couldn’t help but redden: “I’ll do the same. After the college entrance exam ends, I will return to your side first thing.”