◎Coming Ashore◎

This year’s New Year passed amid the fierce onslaught of cold air currents. Yi City rarely saw snow, and winter made it especially damp and gloomy.

Throughout the entire Spring Festival, Chun Zao curled up in her bedroom studying. Even after leaving the New Year’s Eve dinner table, she didn’t linger in the living room, working day and night to organize, review, and consolidate knowledge points.

Accumulating materials, following current events, training in question types, analyzing mistakes, integrating sentence patterns, memorizing vocabulary…

How many rounds had it been? She couldn’t remember, didn’t count—like a ruminating animal.

Returning to campus at the end of February, she met up with Tong Yue. Her friend seemed to have had a rough vacation, too, looking completely drained. When Chun Zao asked about it, she said that ever since deciding to aim for Beijing Foreign Studies University, her parents had enrolled her in an expensive tutoring program—one course cost over 100,000 yuan.

Chun Zao was slightly shocked and encouraged her: “Then you need to work hard.”

Tong Yue was on the verge of tears: “Don’t add to my pressure.”

At this point, everyone was strung tight as a bow—any small disturbance could trigger a tsunami. The class atmosphere became increasingly oppressive. Breaks were hardly different from classes; when the bell rang, everyone collapsed, with barely a few heads still held high. The optimistic young English teacher occasionally played two or three motivational foreign films in class to help students adjust their mindset and balance work with rest.

Chun Chuzhen’s meal arrangements became increasingly elaborate, with nutrition balanced like a postpartum care center.

She often consulted Chun Zao’s opinions, asking what she wanted to eat, what she liked. Chun Zao couldn’t forget that night, harboring resentment, so she deliberately mentioned dishes with complex preparation—Japanese, Korean, Thai, and French cuisine—as an outlet for her feelings.

The woman listened earnestly. When unfamiliar with certain terms, she fetched paper, pen, and reading glasses from her room, put them on, and had Chun Zao repeat each dish, recording them all and posting the list on the refrigerator door, organizing it into her exam sprint meal plan.

Each time this happened, Chun Zao would also look away, conflictedly, her feelings mixed.

Thus, the senior year welcomed its first mock exam. This test was school-administered, and well-prepared Chun Zao successfully conquered the first barrier.

This was her first time achieving second place in the liberal arts class since entering Yi Middle School, though she tied with another male student who regularly topped the rankings.

But for her, this was already a breakthrough.

The top ten students were individually called to the office by their homeroom teacher. When asked about her ultimate college entrance exam goal, Chun Zao smiled faintly and replied modestly: “I want to stroll by Weiming Lake at night, not as a tourist.”

On the day of the hundred-day pledge ceremony, all senior students gathered in the auditorium.

As expected and deservedly, Yuan Ye took the stage as an outstanding student representative to lead the oath. The boy with sharp features and unsmiling expression wore his uniform neatly, walking unhurriedly onto the bright red platform, stopping behind the clusters of flowers at the podium.

Classmates unanimously looked toward Chun Zao.

This former center of gossip, the heroine of controversy, could only pretend to be calm and composed.

“Damn, he’s handsome,” Tong Yue sighed in admiration beside her.

Chun Zao also stared intently at Yuan Ye in the center of the venue, silently agreeing in her heart. Some people are born to be protagonists, naturally meant to be focused on, surrounded by flower seas, wrapped in applause.

To become a page of rich ink in many people’s youth notebooks.

But once his speech ended and the oath-taking began, those cotton-soft girlish feelings were swept away by the spirited fighting spirit.

Ten years forging the sword, today testing its edge.

Racing fish in competition, ultimately transforming into giant rocs.

Youth wielding the brush, commanding with vigor.

Fearless of wind and rain, we shall see clear skies.

…

The gymnasium echoed with uniform waves of voices, each one higher than the last.

The Shu Road was indeed not as smooth as Yang Pass Road—there were always ups and downs. After the second city-wide mock exam, Chun Zao’s mindset collapsed during the test due to the excessively high difficulty of the mathematics section. She panicked to the point of mental blankness, and when turning in her paper, the last two major problems were solved in complete chaos.

Returning home with a gloomy expression, she didn’t eat a grain of rice and suffered insomnia all night.

Chun Chuzhen ordered several takeout dishes she used to enjoy, but the girl only hid in her room, silent as a still life.

Sure enough, two days later, she received the results of this self-assessment—her ranking dropped three places, and her mathematics score was particularly disastrous.

The mountain path to her ideal northern destination suffered a major landslide, precarious and dangerous.

If she couldn’t achieve this, how could she possibly meet and reunite with Yuan Ye at the summit?

Mom’s words were right—only she could be responsible for herself.

Unprecedented negative pressure, like a golden bell jar, trapped Chun Zao inside.

Her condition became increasingly obsessive and taciturn. Her appetite became poor. For half a month straight, she only hastily ate a few bites before returning to school or her room, burying her head in desperate study, doing papers and problems over and over again, visibly pale and thin.

Chun Chuzhen tried every way to stimulate her appetite, but she couldn’t muster any interest.

Worried, Chun Chuzhen called her elder daughter while Chun Zao was at school, reporting her younger daughter’s unusual condition and hoping she could take time during the May Day holiday to take her sister out for a walk, to relax and chat.

Chun Chang shot back: “Isn’t this all your fault?”

Chun Chuzhen felt some regret but remained stubborn: “What did I harm? The urgent matter now is to adjust your sister’s mood first. There’s less than a month before the big test, and I’m afraid she won’t even make it to the college entrance exam like this.”

Naturally, Chun Chang wouldn’t refuse.

On Labor Day, with clear skies and beautiful flowers, Chun Chang came to the rental apartment and forcibly dragged her younger sister, who had gotten up at five to study, out the door.

She charged ahead without explanation. Chun Zao had to put down her pen with no room for refusal.

Chun Chang didn’t ask about academic performance, only: “Little sister, think about where you want to go? Park? Mall? An amusement park or arcade is fine, or we can eat whatever you want. How about some hell ramen?”

“Can’t we come out after the college entrance exam…” With the major moment of her life counting down, Chun Zao had no leisure mood, her mind full of anxiety and urgency: “Right now I just want you to let me go back to study.”

Chun Chang glanced at her, dissatisfied: “Will you die from studying two or three hours less? Listen to your big sister today.”

Chun Zao didn’t respond, her fine eyebrows knitted tight in the sunlight, absent-minded.

Chun Chang noticed: “Since we’re already out, don’t think about those problems or vocabulary anymore, okay? Relax properly. Right now, don’t think of yourself as a college entrance exam student, Chun Zao, and don’t think of me as your sister either.”

Chun Zao was confused: “Then what?”

Chun Chang dropped the bombshell: “Think of me as little Yuan, on a date with you.”

With her sister’s joke and interruption, Chun Zao finally let out a few relaxed laughs and even raised her fist to hit her.

Chun Chang also achieved her goal, raising the corner of her mouth and dodging sideways.

After the playful scuffle, Chun Zao calmed down and began thinking about how to spend this rare afternoon of freedom. Finally, she turned to look at her sister: “I do have a place I want to go.”

Chun Chang hadn’t expected her final choice would be a coffee shop. Like every coffee shop in this city, its appearance wasn’t outstanding, and the taste probably wasn’t exceptional either. Especially since she was a working drone who drank coffee like crazy on weekdays, she had already developed immunity to numbness.

But she still performed with extremely enthusiastic and earnest expression and tone, stopping at the counter: “What do you want to drink? What do you want to eat? Sister will order for you right now! Pick whatever you want! We can get one of everything!”

Chun Zao had little interest, casually choosing a macchiato and a sandwich.

While her sister waited for the order, she walked to the postcard wall where she had once left encouraging words for herself, wanting to revisit that day’s vigorous impulse and steady her military spirit through the low valley.

The postcards hanging on the wall were denser than when she came two years ago, layered and interwoven like an increasingly lush tree, constantly sprouting new leaves of poetry and dreams. The bird that once left colorful feathers could always migrate back here to relive past songs.

Chun Zao stopped in her tracks one meter from the wall.

Most cards on the wall were simple designs, so her patch of pure blue sea wasn’t hard to find. But at this moment, another postcard with the same image was placed next to hers, overlapping, side by side.

Her heart seemed electrified, a premonition surfacing. Chun Zao hurriedly lifted the adjacent card to check the content on the back.

“I will always accompany you until the seawater turns blue.”

When her eyes reached the simple circle signature at the bottom, Chun Zao couldn’t believe it, thunder rolling through her heart. She instinctively turned around, her gaze sweeping every peaceful, bright corner of the coffee shop, every face, instantly understanding, also feeling as if she were submerged from head to toe in salty seawater.

When Chun Chang found her carrying the tray, she couldn’t help but stop.

She couldn’t understand why her sister would suddenly face a wall in tears, covering her face and sobbing.

But she didn’t ask a single question, didn’t step forward, just stood there letting her vent, her expression gentle.

…

This trip seemed remarkably effective.

The returning Chun Zao no longer refused food. She emerged from her confused predicament, began rebuilding her mindset, put down internal friction, and reasonably arranged and planned her final round of review.

After entering May, pomegranate flowers blazed bright, and temperatures soared. Each day after the third mock exam felt like entering a loop—fast as lightning, yet tediously long like an era buried by mountain fires and lava. Amid the restless anxiety, there was also hope for new life ready to burst forth.

One night in the final week before the college entrance exam.

The entire grade spread the word, gathering in corridors, by flower beds, under tree shadows. Like a spontaneously organized thousand-person choir, for prayer, for pilgrimage, worshipping the youth’s highlights and finale. At this moment, in this scene, regardless of dimness or brilliance, restraint or flamboyance, everyone could become their truth and faith.

The first window went dark, and the entire campus transformed into a completely black island in seconds.

Several clusters of test papers fell like snowflakes from above, like the opening ceremony, with melody flowing from the speakers.

The light-polluted city center rarely saw starry skies, but the uniformly distributed glow sticks gathered tacitly into a terrestrial Milky Way, brilliant and grand.

In the blazing evening wind, young voices began singing in unison:

“The most beautiful wish

Must be the craziest

I am my god

In the place where I live”

Some stretched their throats to howl, some swayed their bodies humming, the bright and stirring lyrics reverberating in all directions between the teaching buildings.

This was a concert belonging to everyone—each person was both audience and protagonist. The world seemed to rain golden warmth, and everyone was moved to tears.

Chun Zao and Tong Yue stood side by side, hand in hand, pushed to the front of the railing by the crowd.

They kept exchanging smiles, rhythmically waving their glow sticks, infected by the atmosphere, singing with all their might.

Through the surging crowd, she saw Yuan Ye standing out from the crowd behind the diagonal railing.

The boy remained the brightest moon in the night. His lips didn’t move, he didn’t sing along, just curved his mouth slightly, gazing in her direction without shifting an inch.

“You don’t care about my past

You saw my wings

You said only after being burned by fire can a phoenix appear.”

Chun Zao also stopped singing, raised her hand high, rapidly waving the light point in her hand, responding to him.

In Yuan Ye’s increasingly brilliant smile, a larger arc bloomed at her lips too, her eyes sparkling, nose tingling with emotion.

“The direction against the wind

It is more suitable for flying

I’m not afraid of thousands blocking me

Only afraid of surrendering myself.”

…

June 7th, ready to go.

Without giving everything, how could they face years of studying by the window, and those bitter reading times of ups and downs in the sea of books and problems?

The last stroke of the English composition fell, Yuan Ye capped his pen like sheathing a sword. The boy took a light breath, flipped pages to check carefully, also quietly awaiting the bell.

Thus, the judgment of grades had ended.

But he still had an unfinished vow.

The proctor collected the test papers, and noise gradually emerged outside the exam room.

Yuan Ye stood up immediately. Classmates from the same exam room chased after him, wanting to pull him along to leave school and compare answers, but he ran out of the classroom as if deaf to their calls.

Students surging toward the main road and school gate were like fish from a broken net, dense and dark, some darting, some swimming slowly, occasionally splashing up free, jubilant waves.

But Yuan Ye was the only one going against the current—the lean boy like a white boat, cutting through the crowd, fast enough to be unstoppable.

Chun Zao and Tong Yue’s exam rooms were on different floors. They found each other, grabbed each other, both showing satisfied smiles.

Tong Yue winked: “Looking at your condition, you did pretty well~?”

Chun Zao was confident: “After all, the last subject was English.”

Tong Yue clicked her tongue, straightening her chest: “I think I did okay, too.”

Chun Zao glanced at her: “How about… comparing some answers?”

Tong Yue immediately crossed her arms, begging for mercy: “NO—spare me.”

Chun Zao couldn’t help but smile, thinking she could get her phone back when she got home, her steps down the stairs becoming light and hurried.

She and Tong Yue walked out of the building side by side.

Pale golden sunlight swept across the girl’s bangs and eyes. She was still joking, but at a glance, her pupils suddenly contracted.

In the backlit afterglow, the boy almost crashed into her, carrying wind fierce enough to make her stagger backward.

The next moment, she was embraced.

So unhesitating.

Still so burning, so tight, able to immediately squeeze out her tears.

The ship finally came ashore.

At his ever-constant harbor.

Author’s Note:

“I will return to your side at the first opportunity.”