After the holiday break in October, Bei Yao found a love letter in her desk drawer after evening self-study.

A pink cover sprinkled with gold powder—it looked beautiful and thoughtfully made. Although Sixth Middle’s management wasn’t as strict as Third Middle’s, early romance was still prohibited. Young boys and girls rarely confessed openly, and even writing love letters required considerable courage.

Bei Yao glanced at the cover, which bore a boy’s name—Han Zhen.

The handwriting was bold and free-flowing, especially beautiful characters.

Bei Yao knew Han Zhen—a tall boy from Second Year Class 1. In the last unified exam, he’d ranked several places ahead of her. Bei Yao was seventh in their grade, Han Zhen was third in the grade and first in Class 1.

Bei Yao put it in her schoolbag. Beside her, Wu Mo, who was doing homework, paused her pen and looked up teasingly: “Bei Yao, a love letter from Han Zhen. Aren’t you going to read it?”

Bei Yao turned to look at her. The classroom’s fluorescent lights were bright, reflecting in Bei Yao’s clear eyes, blooming with scattered points of light—a startling beauty. Wu Mo gripped her pen tighter: “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

Bei Yao’s small face was serious: “Wu Mo, I respect your privacy. Please respect mine too.”

Wu Mo felt somewhat embarrassed. Almost all of second year knew that the school flower Bei Yao had a good temperament. Her grades were excellent, and she never hesitated to explain problems to classmates. Her pair of almond eyes were clear and beautiful, her long lashes soft. When she smiled, the sweetness reached people’s hearts.

Such a person rarely spoke harsh words, so everyone liked her. But today she was like this—clearly reproaching Wu Mo for looking at her private matters.

Wu Mo put down her pen: “I didn’t see it on purpose. His name was written right on the cover. How is that my fault? I was just joking. Do you have to be like this?”

Actually, that love letter had been secretly placed deep inside Bei Yao’s desk. If Wu Mo hadn’t looked deliberately, she wouldn’t have seen it.

Bei Yao didn’t know if the letter had been opened, but as Chen Feifei had said, Wu Mo had changed a lot. Growth shaped many people’s characters—like Fang Mingjun and Chen Hu, who kept getting better. Wu Mo, however, had clearly deteriorated.

Bei Yao didn’t argue with Wu Mo. When Chen Feifei came over, she left with her.

During evening self-study, students were gradually packing up to leave. Wu Mo felt extremely uncomfortable, as if something was weighing on her heart.

She knew that since the “online romance” incident, the three roommates had been deliberately distancing themselves from her. Wu Mo thought—why were they distancing themselves? Did they look down on her, thinking she was greedy for money and that’s why she got scammed? Thinking more seriously, did they think she was “unclean”?

Wu Mo felt both ashamed and wronged. Why? She was also a victim. How could they treat her this way? She didn’t trust her roommates, always feeling that one day they’d talk about it, and then her reputation would be ruined.

There were four people total in the dorm room. Wu Mo was most envious of Bei Yao. Even though Bei Yao’s family circumstances were the worst, she had good relationships, a face everyone envied, and being dormmates, they knew best how good Bei Yao’s figure was. Bei Yao possessed almost everything Wu Mo most envied externally. She couldn’t understand how Chen Feifei and Yang Jia could stand beside Bei Yao without any grudge and like her so much. Didn’t they feel inferior?

When the classroom lights went out, Wu Mo had been about to return to the dorm, but the more she thought, the more unsettled she felt.

She had a “bad reputation” while Bei Yao was “pure and innocent.” Moreover, the people who liked Bei Yao were all very good people.

She turned her steps toward the school’s camphor tree grove.

She had read that love letter.

Under the camphor trees, a tall, upright young man waited anxiously.

Wu Mo said: “Han Zhen?”

The young man turned around, revealing a youthful, refined face. He was truly good-looking, fitting the aesthetic of campus girls this era—clean and refined, with a gentle smile.

Han Zhen found her somewhat familiar: “May I ask who you are?”

“I’m Wu Mo, Bei Yao’s roommate.”

Han Zhen’s face reddened. He’d imagined many possibilities—that Bei Yao would come or wouldn’t come—but hadn’t expected her roommate. He could only politely say: “Hello.”

Wu Mo said with slight embarrassment: “Bei Yao saw your… She didn’t come. Bei Yao studies quite hard. Please don’t disturb her, okay?”

Han Zhen said disappointedly: “Mm, I understand. Studies come first.”

Wu Mo said: “Actually, it’s not just that. You know, quite a few people like Bei Yao.”

Han Zhen looked up, listening to her.

“But Bei Yao feels most of that liking is shallow, just liking her appearance. Would you really dare to confess to her face? The kind where you’re not afraid of anything, where everyone knows?”

Han Zhen came from a good family and had been well-raised since childhood. He made up his mind and cleared his throat: “Alright.” He pressed Wu Mo further, “Would she agree if I did that?”

Wu Mo’s heart jumped: “Definitely. She told me she likes brave and determined people.”

Han Zhen said: “I understand. In three days, there’s the autumn marathon competition. Could you please help me pass on a message? Ask her to wait for me at the finish line.”

Back at the dorm, the other roommates had already finished washing up.

Chen Feifei said: “Wu Mo, why are you back so late? The auntie almost locked the door.”

Wu Mo felt somewhat guilty and didn’t dare look at Bei Yao: “My stomach hurt. I used the restroom in the academic building.”

The other girls didn’t suspect anything. After chatting briefly, the dorm lights would be uniformly turned off.

When the lights went out, in the dimness, Wu Mo looked at the graceful shadow opposite her and bit her lip lightly. This was her first time doing something bad. Her heart pounded, and she couldn’t help feeling jealous that someone was willing to go all out for Bei Yao.

After all, after all, Han Zhen knew he’d be disciplined for it.

~

The autumn marathon was a tradition among C City high schools. Besides First, Third, and Sixth Middle, other high schools also participated. Because it was grand and lively, schools gave a day off.

October was probably the month with the most holidays besides winter and summer breaks.

At Third Middle Second Year Class 9, when the sports committee member brought over the registration form, Jin Ziyang said: “I signed you all up.”

Pei Chuan, who was working on a test paper, looked up and spoke: “Not going.”

Jin Ziyang said: “Why not? It’s so lively. Even if you can’t finish the whole course, having beautiful girls hand you water and cheer you on looks pretty cool.”

Besides, Brother Chuan’s arm muscle lines were really good-looking—super manly when exercising.

Pei Chuan didn’t explain. He lowered his head and continued working on his chemistry paper.

Jin Ziyang and the others didn’t know he had no lower legs. Athletic pants year-round concealed his disability. When they first met Pei Chuan, they only knew this young man was wealthy, lived alone, was very free, but didn’t know his past.

Pei Chuan seemed like a person without family. When Jin Ziyang and the others accidentally asked about his past, he’d become especially cold.

Over time, everyone knew family and the past were his taboo subjects and became smart enough not to bring them up anymore.

Zheng Hang said: “I’m going. Sign me up.”

Jin Ziyang responded: “Got it!” He poked Ji Wei in front, “Brother Wei, going or not!”

Ji Wei shifted his shoulders and pushed up his glasses, resisting: “How many times have I told you not to call me ‘Brother Wei’? It sounds like… I’m not going. I need to preview English Chapter 3. I can definitely do well this time.”

Jin Ziyang laughed wildly and patted his shoulder. Knowing the thin Ji Wei didn’t like these activities, this time he didn’t make trouble and didn’t write down his name.

Pei Chuan looked at the chemical equations on the paper. Beside him, Jin Ziyang and Zheng Hang were heatedly discussing the autumn sports meet. He fell silent, unable to absorb anything on the paper.

Yet he knew he couldn’t exercise like a normal person. Last time at the basketball game, he’d skipped class for three days, his residual limbs red and swollen, barely able to get out of bed.

His body simply didn’t allow him to do many things. He could only listen to others talk about it.

~

In October’s autumn colors, Third Middle’s ginkgo trees began turning yellow. The young girl wore a crimson inner garment, two straps crisscrossed and tied behind her neck. Over it she wore Sixth Middle’s school uniform jacket, the red inner garment making her facial skin appear fair.

Bei Yao was breathing hard, looking into Third Middle’s campus.

Their class’s last period on Tuesday was P.E., so Bei Yao took the bus to Third Middle. Third Middle hadn’t dismissed yet.

She breathed a sigh of relief and walked into campus along the yellowing ginkgo trees.

The dismissal bell rang, and students poured out. Bei Yao had no choice but to avoid them. Third Middle also required school uniforms—one purple and white set, one blue and white set—but she’d never seen Pei Chuan wear them.

The blue and white dolphin was printed on her shoulder. Walking further ahead was a quiet academic building. Bei Yao, afraid Pei Chuan had already left, hurriedly took out her phone to call him.

The other end picked up quickly. The young man’s voice was deep, sounding somewhat cold: “Bei Yao.”

“Mm, it’s me. I’m at that place in your school with lots of ginkgo trees. Do you have time to come over?”

“Alright.”

Pei Chuan hung up and told Jin Ziyang and the others: “You guys go eat first. I have something to do.”

Without looking at their expressions, he walked toward the school’s ginkgo grove.

Naturally Jin Ziyang and the others wouldn’t go to the cafeteria. Several of them put arms around each other’s shoulders: “How about going to ‘Qingshi’ to eat? Haven’t been in a while.”

“Let’s go. Later we’ll call Brother Chuan. It’s Old Shen’s evening self-study—we’re skipping.” Old Shen was mild-tempered and the “bullying target” of bad students. Several people laughed and headed out.

Pei Chuan walked to the ginkgo grove.

The ginkgo trees were half yellow, half green, branches and leaves falling. She sat on a large rock with a backpack on. Probably exhausted, she rested both hands on her knees, panting.

The young girl wore school uniform pants. Because the pant legs were too long, she’d rolled them up a section. Sitting down exposed her exceptionally slender ankles.

Her legs hung in the air, bangs gently swaying in the breeze, ginkgo leaves falling affectionately beside her.

There were still people on the basketball court who hadn’t left. Several boys stopped playing ball, all secretly watching her. Exhausted with her backpack, she didn’t know.

Pei Chuan’s gaze dropped.

“Pei Chuan!” Bei Yao called with a smile. Her trailing tone was very soft—in some people’s eyes a bit coquettish, but actually her voice was gentle, like soft southern dialect.

Pei Chuan walked over. She didn’t jump down. Sitting on the large rock, she still wasn’t as tall as him.

Bei Yao took out a simple lunch box from her backpack. When Pei Chuan looked over, her cheeks reddened: “My mom made dumplings and five-color rice cakes. Today is the Double Ninth Festival.”

Sure enough, in the metal lunch box, steamed dumplings and five-color rice cakes split the space evenly.

The presentation wasn’t particularly good, and it had gotten somewhat cold.

She gestured for him to take it. Pei Chuan accepted: “You ran here?”

“No, I took the bus.” She said with a smile—just that she’d run from school to the bus stop and from the stop here after getting off.

Pei Chuan looked at the contents of the lunch box—things that people like Jin Ziyang would certainly disdain. His heart held an absurd speculation. Bei Yao wasn’t clear about his current life, so she cared for him the way she had as a child.

She might have heard “Third Middle’s Pei Chuan” from others, but for Bei Yao, this was just an unclear concept. In her heart, he was still the Pei Chuan who hadn’t left.

She didn’t know he’d once nearly stepped into the abyss with one foot.

He gripped the lunch box, his gaze falling on the little panda on her backpack.

Bei Yao saw it too. She asked him: “Was this one from you?”

Pei Chuan didn’t deny it: “Mm.”

Bei Yao was extremely puzzled: “How did you know my little panda was broken?”

Meeting her crystal-clear eyes, he could only lie: “The original one was broken? I happened to see this one and thought it looked like yours. I just bought it casually.”

His tone was steady. Bei Yao didn’t doubt him.

To her at sixteen, eavesdropping was truly a very distant thing.

Her tone was sweet, full of affection: “Thank you. I really like it. I won’t let it break again.”

Something in his heart jumped uncontrollably, as if all the madness of that night had found its home in this smile. He stood a bit farther away, afraid she’d hear his heartbeat.

In front of her, he wasn’t good at smiling, yet his eyes softened involuntarily. Compared to all exaggerated, frivolous smiles, it seemed much more wooden, yet much more genuine.

Bei Yao had to leave soon. She had evening self-study.

Pei Chuan didn’t see her to the school gate. Watching her walk away, for the first time he felt that deceiving her over a year ago was the biggest mistake he’d made in his life.

Third and Sixth Middle weren’t far apart, yet couldn’t see each other. There wouldn’t be a second girl who’d go to such trouble to bring him food.

She’d grown so beautiful. Anyone with the slightest pride would know that being good to a cripple like him was a kind of humiliation to herself.

Yet she walked through the ginkgo grove, her back pure and happy, seemingly not feeling humiliated at all.

After she’d gone far, Pei Chuan returned to the classroom and ate clean every dumpling and five-color rice cake she’d brought.

~

At night at “Qingshi,” on the fourth floor KTV, Pei Chuan leaned by the window smoking.

They’d all skipped tonight’s evening self-study. Looking from Qingshi, you could see Sixth Middle’s academic building lights successively brightening.

He suddenly had an impulse—to go see her life now. Just a distant glance would be enough.

Jin Ziyang said: “Qingshi should add a dance hall, that would be awesome. Brother Chuan, coming to drink?”

Pei Chuan turned back. The KTV was chaotic and wild. In the distance, Sixth Middle was a patch of bright tranquility.

Pei Chuan said: “I’m going down for a walk.”

He walked from the darkness toward Sixth Middle. At Sixth Middle’s school gate, he encountered Wu Mo.

Pei Chuan’s gaze didn’t waver. Wu Mo’s heartbeat accelerated for a moment: “Pei Chuan!” She jogged over. “You—why did you come to Sixth Middle?”

Only then did Pei Chuan stop. Thanks to his good memory, he remembered this roommate of Bei Yao’s.

His personality was quite cold. Wu Mo didn’t know why, but facing him she was much more nervous than facing Han Zhen. Under the young man’s dark eyes, her face slowly reddened and her tone softened: “Last time, thank you for helping me.”

She bit her lip, stealing glances at him.

Pei Chuan said indifferently: “Mm.” He paused a moment, asking her, “Are you in class?”

Of course they were in class. She was the biology class representative—the teacher had asked her to help get something, which was why she’d left the classroom. However, the young man’s gaze looked toward their academic building. Wu Mo’s heart sank.

She probed: “Are you looking for Bei Yao?”

Last time, the message that Ding Wenxiang was a scammer came from Bei Yao.

Pei Chuan neither confirmed nor denied. He didn’t like people who answered questions with questions and had no patience with Wu Mo. He simply walked around her.

Wu Mo felt very uncomfortable inside.

She’d been dreaming these past few nights—dreams of Pei Chuan’s appearance at Qingshi. His casual tone had scared Ding Wenxiang into fleeing. Probably in everyone’s high school years, this kind of cold, cool, powerful young man was more unforgettable.

Wu Mo’s heart had awakened to romance. Her understanding of liking was far clearer than the innocent Bei Yao’s. The sourness in her heart almost fermented into poison. Why, why was it Bei Yao again?

A fire in her heart made Wu Mo run forward several steps: “We’re in class. Bei Yao is helping the teacher grade papers.”

His footsteps stopped.

Wu Mo said in a light tone: “You’re Bei Yao’s friend, right? I’ll quietly tell you—there’s a surprise the day after tomorrow.”

“The day after tomorrow is the autumn marathon. The class heartthrob Han Zhen from Class 1 is going to confess to our Yao Yao. Yao Yao accepted his love letter, but many people don’t know about this yet.”

The young man looked back. In the pitch-black night, his eyes were even darker than the night itself.

Pei Chuan said: “She accepted it?”

Wu Mo’s fingers clenched inside her school uniform as she said: “That’s right. Have you seen Han Zhen? They’re quite well-matched. He really likes Yao Yao. He clearly knows confessing that way will get him disciplined, and how many people finish the marathon each year? Just this sincerity alone must have moved Yao Yao.”

The young man was silent as a mountain. After a long while, he didn’t go to the academic building and turned to leave the school gate.

Wu Mo’s second time lying with this matter, she wasn’t as panicked as the first time.

She watched the young man’s tall, slender back, feeling an unclear longing. If he believed it, he’d either voluntarily withdraw or aggressively compete. Either way, only Bei Yao or Han Zhen would be hurt.

Wu Mo returned to the classroom. Looking at her deskmate Bei Yao quietly studying with lowered eyes, for the first time she felt some anticipation.

The day after tomorrow at the autumn sports meet, when Han Zhen confesses, whether Bei Yao refuses or not, there’ll be gossip. Will you make Han Zhen look foolish in front of all the schools, or agree and get disciplined together with him?

~

The autumn marathon was extraordinarily lively.

Banners were raised. Most students not participating would help out. Volunteers put on their school uniforms, wore their school badges, and took buses up the mountain.

Evergreen Mountain was lush. A track had been artificially cleared, later fitted with railings. The railings were sturdy. Usually people often climbed the mountain, which was later used for hosting the autumn marathon.

From the mountain’s base to its peak embodied the marathon’s spirit of perseverance.

Everyone who participated and reached the finish line received a reward from the organizers, so every third year’s autumn marathon was extraordinarily lively. However, because Third and Sixth Middle were close, they had many participants. Other schools were far away with fewer people coming.

Student council president Shi Tian walked at the front, calling first and second-year volunteer students to board—such activities didn’t include third-years.

Shi Tian was exhausted to death, muttering: “Why is a third-year like me still doing this? There are so few volunteers this year. I had to draft people and lost all popularity.”

In Bei Yao’s dorm, Bei Yao happened to be on her period, so could only choose to be a volunteer.

Though usually quiet, she also liked this kind of liveliness.

Yang Jia and Chen Feifei joined the marathon, planning to walk the whole course casually to get a commemorative medal. Chen Feifei even hung a water bottle around her neck. Bei Yao took it off for her: “You don’t need this. It’ll be tiring. Volunteers prepare glucose water at regular intervals. If you’re thirsty, remember to get water.”

“Okay. Yao Yao, you have to cheer for me.”

Before getting on the bus, Wu Mo went over to Shi Tian. She requested: “President, could you let Wu Mo and me go to the mountain top? We really want to go up and see. Please!”

Shi Tian was easygoing. Thinking how Bei Yao had helped so much last time, adjusting a volunteer position wasn’t a big deal: “Alright, but be alert. Anyone who can run up isn’t having it easy. Help support them.”

Wu Mo quickly said: “Of course, of course.”

The bus took students to the mountain base.

Volunteers boarded another bus, taking the bus up the mountain early. The other participants assembled.

A loudspeaker announced: “Students, please pay attention to competition matters. The entire route has six checkpoints. At each checkpoint you reach, go up and get a ribbon. Performance is recorded by ribbon count and time.”

Jin Ziyang and Zheng Hang, who’d been planning to secretly ride bicycles up: “…”

The competition was a sea of people.

Actually Evergreen Mountain wasn’t steep. On the contrary, a place that could serve as a marathon checkpoint—this mountain wasn’t high and was most level. It was just that the route was long, testing endurance, no different from other marathon competitions.

Zheng Hang turned his head, surprised: “Brother Chuan?”

Pei Chuan nodded at them.

“You’re running too? But you didn’t register. Even if you win, there’s no reward.” No reward, no honor—then what’s the point of running?

Pei Chuan looked up at the mountaintop: “Just running casually.”

Volunteers took their positions, preparing at supply points with thermoses and paper cups.

October’s morning mountain wind was somewhat cold.

A whistle sounded. Students charged out cheering.

All competitions start with full passion, not knowing what awaited them was such length and loneliness.

Pei Chuan slowed his pace.

The October wind brushed his short hair and exposed arms. The crowd dispersed. At first there were many people around, but after getting the second ribbon, people gradually thinned.

He panted, the residual limbs in contact with the prosthetics beginning to ache faintly, urging him to give up.

But whether from unwillingness or something else, his pace didn’t change and he continued.

Han Zhen was a normal person. His speed must be faster than his own. Understanding this, Pei Chuan chose not to drink water.

The third checkpoint, the fourth checkpoint…

Four-colored ribbons wound around his arm. Gradually, this road became one person’s solitude. He wasn’t first place—it was just that marathon distances stretched out, so there were fewer people to see. Yet sweat soaked his black hair and lashes. His residual limbs hurt, making him groan.

His residual limbs were probably rubbing raw.

He panted, looking toward the mountaintop direction, continuing wordlessly.

At the fifth checkpoint, he took the ribbon and casually wrapped it around his arm.

The volunteer saw sweat had soaked his clothes: “Have some water, student. Don’t rush.”

He didn’t respond, running toward the mountaintop.

People with prosthetic limbs could play ball, run, box. But when the pain made him almost unable to stand steady, he finally understood—disability was always disability.

This road was lonely, without companions, without anyone witnessing. Only the mountain wind occasionally brushed his temples. Sweat flowed down. Different from others’ exhaustion, his was more pain.

Yet Pei Chuan thought—though his life and body were lowly, his heart’s intention wasn’t lowly.

One hundred meters from the last checkpoint, he saw her.

Bei Yao sat at the volunteer table, wearing a volunteer badge on her shoulder, dressed in Sixth Middle’s uniform. Beside her were several male and female volunteers from other schools.

There were quite a few people at the finish line, all craning their necks expectantly. She lowered her eyes, carefully pouring water and mixing glucose. Other people went forward to hand water to students who’d finished the whole course.

Bei Yao looked up and saw Pei Chuan.

Fifty meters away, his steps were very slow, like the nursery rhyme they sang as children—snails always climbed upward bit by bit bearing their load.

He wasn’t a snail, yet was arduously running on an axe foot.

Actually by then his steps were already abnormal.

Stumbling and frightening—the only support was willpower. Beside him, those who ran to the finish line, none struggled like him. His arms were covered in sweat, like someone pulled from water.

Even Wu Mo at the volunteer finish line widened her eyes. Wh—what? How could Pei Chuan be so exhausted?

The last twenty meters. He couldn’t run anymore, could only grit his teeth and walk step by step.

Walking toward her.

Pei Chuan actually didn’t ask for much—just for her to hand him a cup of water would be enough. But it seemed he couldn’t even cross this little distance.

Shi Tian turned her head. Bei Yao was bending to duck under the protective line set up by people. Shi Tian was frightened: “Bei Yao! What are you doing! Don’t go over there!”

Bei Yao ducked onto the track. She didn’t answer Shi Tian.

Nineteen meters, eighteen meters…

She ran toward Pei Chuan.

A volunteer crossing the line to run onto the track had never happened before. Shi Tian would never have imagined this person would be the obedient, well-behaved Bei Yao.

Her long hair draped over her shoulders, slightly curled ends blown by the wind. Following the track, running over—two meters, one meter. She was like a falling butterfly, light, carrying summer’s fragrance.

She stretched out both arms, catching the young man’s body that nearly collapsed the next moment.

This was their first embrace in twelve years.

The young girl’s slender, soft arms embraced the young man’s lean waist. Her hair smelled fragrant, like gardenias, and like lilacs. His legs hurt terribly, his lips were cracked—embracing her kept him from falling.

Under his palm, that section of waist was very soft, different from his own, impossibly soft, so slender it seemed frail and pitiful. This was his first time touching a girl’s body.

The young man’s palms were scalding. He said nothing, his whole body soaked.

“Pei Chuan.” Bei Yao was both heartbroken and angry. “Why did you participate in this!”

He leaned in the young girl’s arms, his voice impossibly hoarse: “Like it.” Because I really like you so much.

But Bei Yao thought he meant he liked this sport. She was furious, tears almost bursting out in anxiety: “Not caring for yourself like this—it serves you right if it hurts you to death!”

He actually didn’t refute or get angry, saying in a low voice: “Mm.”

He closed his eyes slightly. The October mountain wind was cool.

On the mountain path were only him and Bei Yao. Seventeen meters remained to the finish line. Behind her, countless people craned their necks watching.

She’d ducked under the protective line, giving him the first embrace of his life.

In the young girl’s arms was fragrance, was softness, was tenderness—the perfume he could never forget for the rest of his life.