◎Wind Blowing Across the Wilderness◎

Chun Zao had two secrets.

The first was her treasure box—also called by her the “bird liberation zone.” She and her sister Chun Chang shared an adolescence that couldn’t be openly expressed. Since birth, Chun Chuzhen had been like an omnipresent gentle tyrant, unpredictable in mood, while their father was naturally lazy and weak, never interfering in politics, at most a slippery flatterer skilled at smoothing things over.

She differed from her sister in that Chun Chang’s way of venting dissatisfaction was writing. Since middle school, she had accumulated diaries stacked like mountains. Chun Zao liked to engage in hoarding and collecting, mostly strange and quirky things that would earn Chun Chuzhen’s disparaging comments about “collecting junk.” She used this as sustenance and stress relief.

Her second secret was equally simple:

She wanted to go wild outdoors.

This naturally contradicted Chun Chuzhen’s educational philosophy. She had always viewed “playing” as a terrible scourge. During the age when they should have been running wild outside, sunbathing, getting rained on, and smelling flowers, the sisters were sealed in their small space. Back then, both she and her sister lived at home, and their father suffered alongside them, even turning on the TV to watch a ball game required prior application.

Chun Chuzhen was a housewife. The family’s entire income depended on their father, who had worked in civil service at the district government for thirty years. She constantly complained that he lacked ambition and that promotion was harder than ascending to heaven.

Although they had never lacked food and clothing since childhood, Chun Chuzhen, who controlled the family finances, was so stringent with money that she could be harsh down to the decimal point. She and her sister’s allowances had to be begged for with tail-wagging, and every expense had to be reported in detail.

Later, when her sister went to college and became a part-time job maniac, taking the first step toward financial independence, she no longer had to endure their mother’s constraints. Her holiday social media was filled with mountains, seas, wind, plains, and green fields. Besides being envious, Chun Zao also benefited considerably. From that time on, she was determined to find ways to save money. As soon as she graduated from high school, she would throw all shackles behind her and rush unrestrained toward the golden coast and azure waves of her dreams.

“See the Sea Fund.”

This was the name she gave to her small treasury.

Besides the WeChat red packets or pocket money her sister sent intermittently, during the summer after the high school entrance exam, she was lucky enough to get her first job that she could handle.

It was from a pretty girl named An Yi in her middle school class. She came from a wealthy family but had consistently poor grades, failing to reach the passing line on the entrance exam. Without going abroad, she would have to attend vocational school. While Chun Zao ranked at the top, the two rarely interacted, but one day in late July, An Yi suddenly privately messaged her in the class QQ group: Chun Zao, are you busy during the holiday?

Chun Zao was previewing high school textbooks at the time and had relatively free time, so she replied: Not busy.

An Yi said: I have two high school boys from No. 2 Middle School who don’t want to write reading notes during summer vacation. They asked me to find willing good students from our class to write assignments for them. Want to take it? Consider it earning extra money, price is negotiable.

Chun Zao paused, pressed her lips, and tentatively asked: How much are you willing to pay?

An Yi quoted a figure: We can add more if it’s not enough.

Actually, the amount she mentioned was enough to drop the jaw of Chun Zao, who had been financially strapped for years, but she still cautiously replied: I’ll give you an answer this evening.

At four o’clock, An Yi approached her again, saying they could add a bit more to the price.

This time, Chun Zao no longer hesitated.

After getting the specific assignment, she searched for several masculine handwriting styles on her phone, practiced for two days, and officially began her assignment-writing career.

But she only took orders during long holidays.

After entering high school, subjects multiplied, coursework became as demanding as squeezing water from a sponge, and there was Chun Chuzhen’s rotating surveillance camera-like gaze following her everywhere—clearly no room for recklessness.

After the first year, that old classmate An Yi went to vocational school and transformed from a middleman to Chun Zao’s direct client. During the first-year winter break, Chun Zao took orders from her and her boyfriend.

An Yi was studying tourism. Compared to the nine Buddhist deities she had to respectfully serve daily, doing An Yi’s assignments was enjoyable. She often secretly worked by lamplight, searching while solving problems, vicariously traveling famous mountains and visiting lakes and seas. She became “Xu Xiake” in black and white text.

This feeling was wonderful.

Chun Zao had always thought that besides heaven knowing, earth knowing, you knowing, and me knowing, no outsiders were involved in these transactions.

Including her bestie and older sister, she had never shared this.

How could she have anticipated that Yuan Ye would become an off-stage audience member witnessing the crime scene directly?

At this moment, her face was flushed blood red, her hair almost burning. This shame was no different from a public execution.

She could only surrender, her heart pounding and sliding to its knees, confessing: “Yes, I did go to that internet cafe and helped people write assignments.”

Yuan Ye squinted slightly, helpless: “You made me spell it out this.”

Chun Zao didn’t dare look at him anymore: “There were reasons…”

Yuan Ye asked: “Are you very short of money?”

It didn’t look like it at all. Her family situation didn’t suggest it, nor did her usual food, clothing, and expenses. After all, just the rent for this apartment was quite expensive.

Chun Zao shook her head: “No, I have a small treasury.”

Yuan Ye raised an eyebrow.

Having come clean, Chun Zao decided to reveal everything: “So that after senior year summer, I can go anywhere to play without looking at my mom’s face, and can buy whatever I want.”

“I see.” Yuan Ye nodded thoughtfully.

Chun Zao repeated: “Yes, that’s it.”

Yuan Ye lowered his hand from his lips, his gaze falling on the loose-leaf notebook in front of her: “Could I take a look at your notes?”

Chun Zao was stunned, then agreed, passing her notebook over.

Yuan Ye quickly flipped through several pages, the air current lifting his jet-black bangs. His expression was extremely serious, which also made Chun Zao’s heart warm. After a while, he put down the notes and looked toward Chun Zao’s bedroom:

“What about the others? History, politics, geography, English, Chinese—all are fine.”

Chun Zao didn’t understand his meaning: “What do you want these for?” Wasn’t he a science student?

The boy smiled slightly, being deliberately mysterious: “To help expand your small treasury.”

Chun Zao’s eyes widened.

The boy picked up his phone, swiped a few times, and spread it flat for her to see.

The screen showed a second-hand goods trading app interface: “Some high-scoring students sell PDFs of their notes on here, individual subjects or comprehensive sets. Your notes are so neat and beautiful, not earning this money would be wasteful.”

This was the first time Chun Zao knew of such a revenue stream. She browsed the links Yuan Ye showed her with some surprise.

She looked up and asked: “Would people buy them?”

“Of course,” Yuan Ye lifted his chin: “Look at those comprehensive notes set from someone who scored 680 on the college entrance exam—over 300 people want it. They must have sold at least half.”

Chun Zao asked again: “Have you sold any?”

Yuan Ye said, “I did it when I graduated from middle school.”

“Why didn’t you continue?”

“Later, I started creating problems.”

“What problems?”

“Olympic math problems, specifically supplied to educational institutions.”

Chun Zao knew nothing about this: “Can you make money from that too? Like here, twenty or thirty yuan per set?”

Yuan Ye laughed at her words: “Probably more than that.”

Chun Zao became a curious baby: “How much then?”

Yuan Ye said, “Five thousand for creating one problem set.”

Chun Zao: “……………………”

“Really?” This income gap made her incredulous; she almost thought she was hearing things.

Yuan Ye: “Really.”

Her chest hurt, her heart aching. Flames of jealousy burned through her.

She asked: “It has to be competition students, right?”

Yuan Ye: “Yes, and they need gold awards.”

“Oh…” Confirming it had nothing to do with her, Chun Zao kicked away those speculative thoughts and focused on currently viable benefits: “So how should I do this?”

Yuan Ye took back his phone, saying casually, “You don’t need to do anything. Just let me borrow your subject notes for a while.”

Chun Zao blinked: “Any high school notes work?”

“Yes, all welcome.”

“Then what?”

“I have a second-hand trading account and scanning software on my phone. I’ll help you scan PDFs, create compressed file packages, and handle the transactions for you.”

“I don’t need to do anything?” Chun Zao thought something was off: “But I still get the money in the end?”

“Aren’t the notes yours?”

“But—” No, she remained vigilant, not falling into Yuan Ye’s logical trap: “Notes are made for studying, but I never thought of other uses. Plus, scanning them one by one must be very troublesome.”

Did he think she was stupid?

She had gone to print shops to scan essays as samples in elementary school—how could she not know how tedious it was?

The girl’s complex thoughts were written all over her face.

Yuan Ye suppressed his laughter, calmly playing with the pen in his hands, and revised his offer: “I’m not taking anything. Eighty-twenty split, twenty percent for me as a service fee. How about it?”

Chun Zao considered briefly, then made the deal.

After moving all the notes from her room and stacking them into towers, Chun Zao divided them equally into two piles beside the table, then dusted off her hands and looked at Yuan Ye: “That’s a lot. It’s not too late to regret now.”

Yuan Ye glanced over: “This is nothing.”

He flipped through her other notes. The girl’s handwriting was typical small script, neat enough to serve as calligraphy practice. Main points and priorities were marked with ink blue or burgundy red pens, and some headings were highlighted with markers. Each page had page numbers marked in the bottom right corner, with colored sticky note tabs on the sides noting knowledge point summaries for different periods, making them easy to find.

After admiring them briefly, Yuan Ye’s eyes shifted from the pages and found the girl still glancing over here intermittently, seeming to want to say something.

“Do you want to say something?” He closed her notebook.

“What scanning software do you use?” She held up her phone: “I can download one to help you, that way it’ll be more efficient.”

“No,” Yuan Ye’s reason was flawless: “It’s easy to get mixed up.”

“…”

Chun Zao exhaled lightly and long through her nose. She couldn’t concentrate on reading anymore. After a moment, she put down her book and pouted: “Yuan Ye.”

“Mm?”

“Why are you so good to me?” She looked like she was about to cry, her eyes slightly red, but trying hard to hold back.

“…”

He suddenly felt somewhat at a loss, unable to answer this question. Maybe it was because she asked so directly, her gaze exceptionally pure, or maybe because that unique answer had long been dormant within him, difficult to voice.

It was growing day by day, expanding, devouring his reason and thoughts. It wasn’t unbearably heavy, nor was it full of holes. He had enough rationality to pull it back from the cliff edge when it swayed precariously, preventing it from falling too early at her feet and startling her.

So Yuan Ye calmly spoke:

“Maybe it’s that thing often said online… ‘having been rained on yourself makes you want to hold an umbrella for others’?”

“What nonsense.” The girl burst into laughter through her tears, obviously fooled by this answer.

Yuan Ye curved his lips slightly and decisively began scanning the notebooks in front of him.

He created a separate album and saved them as images.

Seeing him enter busy mode, Chun Zao stopped disturbing him and went to her room to find “Dream of the Red Chamber” for her fourth reading.

Yuan Ye focused on copying her materials into his phone, also reading every word and sentence of her beautiful descriptions. His gaze suddenly stopped on a certain page: “Wind blowing across the wilderness, even tender young grass breaks through dust and gravel, painting itself with new green—green, a color full of hope, spreading peacefully. Countless grass blades weave into anchors cast toward the other shore, ferrying the entire wasteland to spring.” Staring at this passage for a long time, Yuan Ye exited the scanning software and opened the camera instead, in silent mode, photographing this page completely.

Everything else could be sold.

But spring must remain private.

Author’s Note: Qibaosu is someone who knows how to create romance (starting to praise myself)