The high school reunion was set for Friday. After getting off work, Xu Sui went home to touch up her makeup. As she carefully outlined her lips in the mirror, she stared somewhat dazedly at the radiant face reflected back at her.

Who could have imagined that she used to hate looking in mirrors most, with her dull, acne-covered face that she often buried in oversized school uniforms.

Lowering her head to hurry past the chatting and laughing boys in the hallway, her peripheral vision always filled with that figure on the court that drew everyone’s cheers.

Often hoping no one would notice her, yet hoping he would notice her.

Xu Sui snapped back to reality and discovered her lipstick had gone slightly crooked. She pulled out a tissue and leaned toward the mirror to wipe off the excess lipstick.

At eight-fifteen in the evening, Xu Sui appeared at the Waiting for Autumn Hotel. When she pushed open the door, there were already over ten people inside.

When Xu Sui entered, she felt a bit nervous. In high school, her personality had been quite quiet and introverted, following the principle of “studying hard,” spending most of her time dealing with test papers, so she basically had no friends.

When she entered, everyone inside was stunned for a moment. The class monitor was the first to react: “Xu Sui, you’ve changed so much, very beautiful. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“I heard you’re working at Puren now. Can we come to you when we need medical care in the future?” someone interjected.

Xu Sui smiled and was about to respond when a head leaned forward, face beaming with smiles: “Pretty girl, do you still remember me? Sports committee member Wang Jian. Back then when no one signed up for the 3000-meter race at sports day, luckily you were kind and took on this event to save me. Come sit down quickly.”

“I remember. After all, my legs were useless for a week afterward.” Xu Sui joked.

Xu Sui walked in, and a hand reached out from among the girls: “Deskmate, come over here quickly. I saved you a seat.”

She looked over – it was her former high school deskmate. Not long after Xu Sui sat down, people continued arriving.

Through three years of high school and nearly ten years since, everyone had changed their appearance.

Topics shifted from student-era romantic tensions and who had shortened their skirts to cursing their bosses and who had gotten married.

Zhou Jingze, Cong Yirong, and several others arrived fashionably late. As soon as they entered, the atmosphere heated up. Someone teased: “Master Zhou came with the class beauty!”

Cong Yirong was smiling and about to respond when a weary voice cut in. Zhou Jingze kicked the nearest male student and chuckled lowly: “Go to hell, we just ran into each other at the entrance.”

After speaking, he raised his eyes to look at Xu Sui in the distance, his gaze domineering and direct. Xu Sui looked back at him too, their gazes tangling for a while.

She was the first to look away.

Xu Sui sat there chatting with her deskmate when suddenly a woman in a beige coat with thin-rimmed glasses, very fair skin, and light-colored boots walked in.

It was Zhong Ling.

Zhong Ling walked up to Xu Sui and greeted her, asking: “Is anyone sitting next to you?”

Xu Sui was startled for a moment, shook her head: “No.”

Zhong Ling sat down beside her. Xu Sui caught the faint scent of her perfume. She hadn’t expected Zhong Ling to come. They had lost contact after the college entrance exams, or more accurately, Zhong Ling had unilaterally blocked her QQ and deleted her campus network account.

Becoming friends with Zhong Ling had been a coincidence.

In senior year, after art students returned from their studies, the entire class had a major seating rearrangement and implemented a buddy system. As a music student, Zhong Ling needed to catch up on cultural subjects, so Xu Sui became her deskmate.

After getting to know each other, Xu Sui discovered that Zhong Ling’s personality was very similar to hers – both were gentle, sensitive, and slow to warm up. The only difference was that Zhong Ling’s personality was more melancholic, her thoughts full of negativity. She wore thick-framed glasses, often slept or daydreamed, lost in unknown thoughts.

Until one time their building had a blackout.

When the lights went out, the entire building erupted in jubilant cheers, nearly stomping through the floor. Someone took the opportunity to run to the window and shout, and someone even threw test papers on the ground to stomp on them in frustration.

The supervising English teacher knocked on the desk with a ruler amidst the crazy cheering, announcing: “Self-study for twenty minutes. If the power doesn’t come back, we’ll dismiss.”

As soon as she finished speaking, the cheers and screams grew even louder, loud enough to lift the roof.

In the time it took the English teacher to use the restroom, the boys in the back row were already restless and chaotic. Led by Zhou Jingze, that group of boys grabbed the soccer ball at their feet, kicked open the rickety back door, and strode out.

Xu Sui was cleaning her messy desk by moonlight when the student behind her poked her back with a pen, wanting to borrow a ballpoint pen. Xu Sui took out a black pen from her pencil case and turned around, but her peripheral vision caught that broad-shouldered, tall and lean figure walking carelessly in a black T-shirt.

He was casually chewing gum, holding a silver lighter in his right hand, occasionally producing orange flames that illuminated the tattoo on the back of his hand.

Z&Heliotrope

Arrogant and wildly attractive.

The neighboring Class 4 had their homeroom teacher supervising, so they were being very well-behaved, spontaneously singing Jay Chou’s “Jasmine Orange” in chorus. Just as they reached “Rain fell all night, my love overflows like rainwater,” Zhou Jingze strolled up to Class 4’s back door with his hands in his pockets, knocked on the glass window, and smiled carelessly:

“Stop singing, let’s go play soccer.”

That black figure had actually already disappeared around the corner. Xu Sui lowered her eyelids and withdrew her gaze. Moments later, Zhong Ling leaned over and asked: “Skip class to go to the playground?”

As if possessed, good student Xu Sui actually nodded.

The two held hands and secretly snuck to the school playground. They found a clean patch of grass to sit on, watching the boys play soccer on the opposite court.

Summer nights were still somewhat stuffy, with unknown insect chirping all around. Xu Sui fanned her flushed cheeks with a test paper.

Zhong Ling suddenly spoke in a daze: “Do you know why I switched to studying art halfway through?”

“Why?” Xu Sui responded.

“Because of someone.” Zhong Ling’s gaze looked over.

Xu Sui sat on the grass, hugging her knees and following her gaze. Zhou Jingze had somehow changed clothes – he wore a fire-red jersey, black pants, Nike athletic socks, his calf muscles firm with smooth, beautiful lines.

Zhou Jingze dribbled a ball, constantly running forward like an agile leopard. Sweat dripped from his forehead, and he simply lifted a corner of his collar to casually wipe it, exuding an air of carefree recklessness.

Xu Sui rested her chin on her knees, her heart tightening as she tentatively asked: “Zhou Jingze?”

Zhong Ling nodded: “Yes.”

Xu Sui smiled. Of course, there was nothing strange about it. Everyone loved Zhou Jingze.

Later, whether out of trust or lack of someone to confide in, Zhong Ling told Xu Sui about her secret girlish feelings.

Zhong Ling said she had been secretly in love with Zhou Jingze since middle school. She knew that beneath that cynical face that always smiled at people was actually just a mask, hiding kindness and sincerity inside.

Switching to music halfway through high school, Zhong Ling had a huge fight with her father. It was a risky thing to do – first, she learned slower than other art students, and she lacked talent.

Others were already halfway there when she was just reaching the starting line.

But she didn’t regret it at all.

In art class, Zhong Ling could openly listen to him play the cello, secretly recording his “Serenade” on her phone to listen to repeatedly at home.

When Zhou Jingze was in class, he would occasionally call to her, “Hey, class time,” and although he couldn’t even remember her name, Zhong Ling’s heart would still race as she frantically stuffed test papers into her drawer and followed him out of the classroom.

“But he probably will never see me.” Zhong Ling’s eyes followed that running figure on the court, smiling bitterly.

Xu Sui held her hand and said softly with lowered eyes: “I understand.”

Zhong Ling looked at her with a strange expression.

After the college entrance exams ended, Zhong Ling never confessed to Zhou Jingze. Soon after, she deleted Xu Sui’s contact information. Xu Sui guessed that Zhong Ling hadn’t just deleted her – she probably wanted to cut ties with the past completely.

Sure enough, later Zhong Ling canceled her campus social network account, leaving her profile page blank.

Suddenly, a voice pulled Xu Sui back from her thoughts. She held a glass of sparkling wine, her eyelashes slightly raised: “What?”

Zhong Ling asked her: “I asked where you’re working now?”

“Puren,” Xu Sui raised her hand to take a sip of sparkling wine, feeling her mouth full of carbonation, “What about you?”

Zhong Ling rarely smiled: “I’m with the Rainbow Choir, as a violinist.”

“That’s good.” Xu Sui replied.

Beyond that, she didn’t know what else to say.

People gradually arrived. During the meal, there was naturally the inevitable toasting and subtle competition. When taking seats, Xu Sui deliberately sat far from Zhou Jingze, with Zhong Ling on her right and sports committee member Wang Jian on her left.

As the school’s celebrity figure, Zhou Jingze was naturally the center of conversation at first. Someone asked him: “Master Zhou, I heard that despite your young age, you already have four stripes on your shoulders and became a captain.”

“Young and accomplished, admirable, admirable.” The class monitor cupped his hands toward him.

Zhou Jingze held a square-mouth wine glass, swirled the wine inside, and casually pulled at the corner of his mouth:

“I’m unemployed now.”

Everyone except Xu Sui laughed “hahaha” and clinked glasses with him, their eyes envious: “So what? You’re just going back to inherit the family business, right?”

“Right, Boss Zhou, does your family’s company need any security positions? I’ll fill in.”

These compliments, more or less mixed with envy, Zhou Jingze remained casual. He didn’t plan to explain, nor was it necessary. He pulled his lips into a subtle arc and brushed the topic aside.

Sports committee member Wang Jian, sitting on Xu Sui’s left, was very enthusiastic, asking her if she wanted water one moment, then actively putting food in her bowl the next.

His enthusiasm left Xu Sui somewhat at a loss.

The class monitor happened to see this scene, and the group of loud voices started making noise: “Jian Jian, I’m so thirsty, pour me a glass of water.”

“Jian Jian, you’re playing favorites. Why are you only taking care of Student Xu?” a male classmate said in a high-pitched voice.

Wang Jian was fed up with these troublemakers and laughed while cursing: “Scram, don’t you all have hands and feet?”

The atmosphere was noisy when suddenly a rather cold, low voice with icy edges cut in: “Wang Jian.”

“Here!” Wang Jian was talking to others and reflexively answered upon hearing his name.

As soon as Wang Jian said this, the laughter grew louder, with some people laughing so hard they knocked their chopsticks against their bowls. The class monitor spat: “Are you fucking thinking you’re still on Master Zhou’s team, used to taking orders from him?”

“Exactly.” Wang Jian embarrassedly scratched his head.

Zhou Jingze picked up a beer bottle, knocked it against the table corner with a “clang” as the bottle cap fell to the ground. He handed it to Wang Jian, his sharp black eyes staring at him, still smiling at the corners of his mouth:

“Come, cheers to those days on the court.”

Wang Jian took it and drank half the bottle in confusion. For the rest of the time, Zhou Jingze seemed to target only him, finding various ways to make him drink.

As a result, Wang Jian made several trips to the bathroom and threw up three times.

Xu Sui was talking with Wang Jian when her phone screen lit up. She picked it up to see a message from Zhou Jingze:

【Try saying one more word to him.】

Xu Sui’s heart trembled. She looked up and across the distance, met a pair of deep, long black eyes.

Zhou Jingze’s gaze was unrestrained, possessive, looking straight over.

Only when someone beside him called out did Zhou Jingze temporarily let her off.

After dinner came dessert, with the decision naturally handed to the girls. Cong Yirong happened to be sitting next to Zhou Jingze. When she lowered her head to look at the menu, she casually played with her hair, and just as her hair was about to brush against Zhou Jingze’s arm, the man imperceptibly leaned away.

Missing completely.

Disappointment flashed through Cong Yirong’s beautiful eyes.

Cong Yirong moved her gaze to the menu, her coral-colored nail pointing to the large fruit platter: “How about ordering the large mango sago? I love this flavor most.”

Since the class beauty had spoken, everyone expressed no objection. Who doesn’t like accommodating beautiful women? Just as Cong Yirong was about to call the server to order this, Zhou Jingze leaned back in his chair and suddenly spoke, his voice low:

“I’m allergic to mango.”

Xu Sui’s eyelids trembled.

Cong Yirong exclaimed, her red lips opening and closing: “Oh, you’re allergic? Then I’ll order something else.”

This small episode passed, and the group planned to move to the top floor private room. The class monitor stood up, tapped his glass with chopsticks: “Male and female comrades, you can now go change into our Tianzhong school uniforms and Class 3 name tags. After opening the time capsule mailbox, we’ll take a group photo.”

“Don’t mention it. I specially dug out the school uniform from the bottom of my closet at home. Guess what? The zipper won’t close.”

“Time is a butcher’s knife, specifically hacking at my face.”

“Today we’re reminiscing about youth. Let’s call the theme ‘Seventeen.'”

Seventeen – what beautiful yet fleeting words, the age SHE sang about as “both anticipating and afraid.”

Xu Sui and Zhong Ling were relatively slow. When they came out, there was no one left in the changing room. Zhong Ling turned on the faucet, and water gushed down.

Tianzhong’s school uniform was a very typical Chinese school uniform – neither the blue and white from idol dramas nor the uniform skirts from Japanese dramas. Their uniforms were baggy and old-fashioned, even somewhat tacky.

But wearing them now, they looked quite nice.

Xu Sui tied her hair while looking at herself in the mirror – bright black eyes, fair skin, light red lips, fine hair on her forehead, high ponytail, navy school uniform with an orange stripe in the middle of the sleeves, like a bright stroke.

Zhong Ling looked at Xu Sui in the mirror and suddenly asked: “Are you together with Zhou Jingze?”

Xu Sui’s hand holding her hair paused, then dropped as she said softly: “Sort of, but how did you know?”

“His eyes, the way he looks at you,” Zhong Ling smiled, then said pointedly, “Besides, I remember you’re the one allergic to mango.”

Xu Sui nodded. Zhong Ling felt a prick in her heart. Seeing a boy she had secretly loved for so long remember another girl’s allergy gave her an indescribable feeling.

“Can you help me keep it secret, in front of classmates… mainly because things between him and me are complicated right now.” Xu Sui said.

“You’re lucky.” Zhong Ling nodded, turned off the faucet, pulled out a tissue to dry her hands while walking out. As if remembering something, she looked at Xu Sui:

“Not all secret loves get to glimpse daylight.”

After speaking, Zhong Ling turned and left.

Xu Sui fell silent. So she had always known.

After washing her hands, Xu Sui also left the changing room.

Soon after, there was a “bang” from a changing room stall as the door was kicked open. Cong Yirong walked out, one hand on her white bra clasp, clothes not yet properly worn, the mirror reflecting the resentful, angry expression on her face.

“Sisi, guess what she’ll write in the time capsule for ‘to myself in ten years’?” Cong Yirong asked the girl beside her.

“Write what?”

“A shabby-looking, poor and ugly insecure girl from student days would naturally hope to escape all that,” Cong Yirong’s eyes rolled, “Let’s read her letter aloud later.”

She wanted to embarrass Xu Sui.

After changing into school uniforms and pushing open that door, Xu Sui felt somewhat dazed, as if truly returning to the student days of wearing uniforms, constantly writing test papers, and occasionally daydreaming during breaks.

Zhou Jingze wore loose school uniform with open collar, holding a beer can, his wrist bones clearly prominent. Others must have said something crude, as his face wore a dissolute smile.

On the left side of his chest was a name tag, stroke by stroke carved with:

Grade 1 (Class 3) Zhou Jingze

Still that arrogantly wild young man.

As if they had truly traveled through time.

Only when the class monitor spoke did she come back to reality. She found an empty spot on the sofa to sit, and as Xu Sui leaned down to get a can of drink, her hand just reached out when icy fingertips touched the back of her hand.

Xu Sui looked at him.

Zhou Jingze looked at her too.

“Old rules – let’s play games. Losers get truth or dare. Truth means reading what cringeworthy things you wrote ten years ago.”

After a round of games, everyone chose to read their written wishes, but when actually reading them aloud, everyone laughed together because the statements were both cringeworthy and passionate.

“When I grow up, I want to save the world.”

“Hope to ride Noah’s Ark around the universe.”

Girls’ wishes weren’t so fantastical, mostly “a good job and someone who loves me” or “hope to become prettier and richer.”

Xu Sui remembered this time capsule activity was initiated by the class monitor in senior year. She had been sick and absent that day, didn’t submit anything, and after college entrance exams, she hadn’t contacted others, so she forgot about it.

Until the second semester of freshman year, they organized a gathering and the class monitor urged Xu Sui to submit a letter. Xu Sui was particularly busy then, hastily wrote a letter and sent it over.

In the second round, Xu Sui lost in the first game. She also chose the safe option: “Read the letter.”

She should have written some sentences about hoping for world peace and stable life.

The culture committee member found Xu Sui’s letter from the pile of envelopes, saw a sun drawn on the envelope that was then crossed out, and soon another sun appeared beside it, looking puzzled.

She opened the envelope and read somewhat hesitantly:

“ZJZ, hello, I’m Xu Sui, also your classmate. Such an old-fashioned thing as writing a confession letter – you’ll probably laugh at me—”

Xu Sui’s heart skipped a beat. She had actually sent the wrong letter – that letter she’d never sent, repeatedly revised, had somehow appeared here.

She instinctively wanted to ask for the letter back, but it was too late. The surrounding discussion and gossip grew louder. Cong Yirong and others even leaned over to look.

Everyone laughed “hahaha,” someone said: “Someone must have sent the wrong one, sent a confession letter by mistake.”

“ZJZ, who’s that? Zhao Jianzheng, someone has a crush on you!”

“Wow, writing letters is indeed pretty old-fashioned.” Someone mocked.

The surroundings were noisy – no one cared what the letter’s content was. Singing, whistling, and clinking glasses drowned out the letter’s content.

Suddenly, with a “crack,” Zhou Jingze directly grabbed a glass wine cup from the table and smashed it hard to the ground. Glass shards flew as he sat there, elbows on his thighs, raising his eyelids to look at everyone present, his eyes suppressing hostility and deep dark emotions, his tone slow:

“Very funny?”

The scene immediately quieted. They didn’t know why Zhou Jingze suddenly got angry, but they still didn’t dare speak.

The culture committee member began reading the letter again. There were still scattered voices around – they didn’t take it seriously, but hearing the end, the room became so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Everyone stopped talking, unanimously falling silent.

The culture committee member’s voice was naturally pleasant. Whether she was emotionally affected or something else, she read earnestly and with feeling, her tone gentle, word by word:

ZJZ, hello, I’m Xu Sui, also your classmate. Such an old-fashioned thing as writing a confession letter – you’ll probably laugh at me.

I like your figure in the fire-red jersey, wearing wristbands, sprinting into goals to win screams. I like your arrogant candor, speaking about dreams on stage. I like how you smoke silently when angry, then grit your teeth to finish what you started.

I even like your furrowed brow, like your casual smile when teasing people carelessly.

On good weather days I think of you, seeing sunsets I think of you too. White test papers are you, blue T-shirts are you.

I’m the one who gets a sore neck from stealing glances at you during Monday morning assemblies, the one listening to you play cello on the roof during storms.

No one knows my entire youth was you.

What can I use to keep you?

When you played cello before, I wanted to become the ordinary, common shadow you could see with just a lowered head.

Wanted to become the ice mist clinging to the carbonated drinks you love after playing ball – easily dispersed but existing in your memory.

Later you became a pilot, flying tens of thousands of feet high, crossing deserts, passing air routes, seeing the vast universe. I wanted to become a star, one you might glimpse during routine flights.

Even if dim and unremarkable.

They say secret loves in youth have no name, so I only dared write your name in abbreviations.

Not Z, J, Z, but Zhou, Jing, Ze.

This is my countless practice calling your name – this time I finally brave enough to say it aloud.

Zhou Jingze, I like you.

Did you hear?