◎Chasing Wind and Sun◎

Since the tenant next door had changed, this was the first time Chun Chuzhen had seen both kids from home appear together in the entryway after evening study hall.

She was somewhat surprised: “You came back together?”

Yuan Ye waited beside for Chun Zao to change her shoes first and was about to speak when Chun Zao quickly answered: “We ran into each other downstairs.”

“Oh.” Chun Chuzhen didn’t ask further, only instructed: “Come out to eat after putting down your backpacks. The porridge is getting cold.”

Chun Zao responded with a sound, returning to her room with an expressionless face, not glancing at Yuan Ye again during the process.

Her heart was about to leap out of her throat.

Before bed, she logged into QQ as usual and discovered the boy had sent her a message fifteen minutes ago.

Yuan Ye: Not bad, Student Chun Zao. Not only are you good at ghostwriting, you’re also good at acting.

Chun Zao: “…”

Connecting this to tonight’s “stationery store waiting for someone incident,” she smiled without quite smiling, staying quiet for a few seconds, then turned to her side and punched her pillow twice before she could calmly reply.

She gave a specific reason: Better to avoid trouble than invite it. I was afraid my mom would misunderstand and overthink.

The boy’s message came immediately: Misunderstand what?

Chun Zao was speechless again.

What was wrong with this person? Did he have to make everything so clear?

She took a deep breath: Last time you clearly stated in front of her that you wouldn’t help me with math, and she was a bit upset. I was afraid she’d misunderstand that we’re saying one thing and doing another, secretly learning from each other behind her back.

Making things up turned out to be such a shameful thing.

After sending it, Chun Zao covered her eyes with her hands. After a while, she put them down. Fortunately, the other party neither doubted nor pressed further, and was already making concluding remarks.

Yuan Ye: I see.

Chun Zao agreed: Mm, that’s right.

Whether it was really like that, what it was actually like – perhaps only the person involved truly knew. However—

The conversation from tonight at the stationery store was still burned into her heart. She couldn’t help but want to ask clearly about this question that had trapped her since the first week of school.

Back then, she and Yuan Ye were still half-strangers, so she was cautious, worried about being presumptuous no matter what she asked.

But tonight seemed different. He had come to the stationery store to find her and waited for her at the entrance, giving her sudden confidence, as if she held a magnetic card that could access his inner world – beep once, and she could board his bus of memories.

So she asked: Why aren’t you participating in competitions anymore?

The chat window fell silent.

After a long while, Yuan Ye returned with a few light and breezy words: Because I want to take the college entrance exam, I want to be the top scorer.

Said as casually as eating or drinking water, Chun Zao was struck by his confident arrogance, like a fishbone stuck in her throat. Finally, alright, I wish you success. Going to sleep, good night.

The other party seemed to sense her mood and entered typing mode again.

Chun Zao stopped there and waited patiently.

Yuan Ye said: If I get provincial first place, maybe my mom will see it.

Chun Zao froze.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t speculated about Yuan Ye’s birth mother’s situation, or even considered the worst – the kind of eternal separation between heaven and earth, life and death. But now it seemed she had spilled too much melodrama in her mind.

It might also be that Yuan Ye appeared too independent and carefree, often making people forget he was still a teenage boy the same age as herself, who also needed the familial attachment that ordinary people couldn’t strip away.

Without experiencing someone else’s situation, any comfort would seem dry. Chun Zao slowly typed: If that day comes, everyone will see it. Everyone will cheer for you. In ancient times, you would have flowers pinned to your clothes, riding horses through the streets for people to admire.

Yuan Ye asked: What about you?

Chun Zao’s heartbeat quickened: Of course.

She began making promises: I’ll even give you a gift.

—Actually, she had zero clues. She didn’t even know if he would need it by then.

It was just that, at this moment, Yuan Ye was very much like a young male lion lying on his back, exposing the bowl-sized scar on his belly. She suddenly didn’t know how to approach and comfort him, even looking felt like an offense.

Chun Zao asked: Don’t you keep in touch with your mom?

Yuan Ye: She went abroad.

Chun Zao wanted to say that overseas calls and video chats were possible even from foreign countries, but obviously, time differences and distances could sometimes become the cruelest way to sever relationships. The earth was split by the equator into two semicircles – some people still indulged in old gardens while others had already leaped into another forest sea.

Chun Zao didn’t ask more.

Of course, the boy across the wall didn’t say more either.

Finally, she swore earnestly: It’s okay, you still have many friends who care about you, like me. I absolutely will never lose contact with you.

She would always pay attention to him.

Witness his triumphant ride to high honors, when spring breezes brought success, forever the outstanding branch in the Herb Garden.

The boy became serious, though it might also have been childish joking.

He said: Swear it.

Chun Zao felt some regret for digging a pit for herself, but still gritted her teeth: I swear. If I lose contact with you, my math will never get above 140.

Yuan Ye probably laughed: So harsh on yourself?

Chun Zao huffed angrily: What else then?

—

During this week of anticipating the sports meet, time became both long and swift. Finally, the resounding “Sports Meet March” echoed throughout the campus, and each class of the first and second years could go in groups to the sports field. The students’ queues flowed like streams, converging the green field into a blue and white ocean.

The boiling sea of heads finally quieted after the principal took the stage to speak.

Chun Zao stood in the formation, shading her eyes with her hand to look into the distance.

The blue flag at the front of the formation fluttered in the wind, carried by their PE representative Song Jin’an, while Tong Yue stood beside him, wearing eye-catching Princess Yaoyao cosplay costume, her makeup sparkling like the Little Mermaid. When the leaders carried placards past, wolf whistles and howls from boys along the way rose and fell.

After dismissal, the few boys from Class 3 moved desks and chairs to the campus avenue, placing them in the area marked for their class.

Four desks put together formed everyone’s temporary camp, with cases of mineral water and energy food stacked beside it.

Chun Zao put her canvas bag on the table, unscrewed her thermos lid for a sip of water, and quickly entered combat mode.

She took out several cheering manuscripts she’d prepared in advance and handed them to two other “temporary colleagues.”

Also, writing drafts were Chinese class representative Wu Manzhen and an introverted boy named Tao Xie from their class.

“I wrote these last night. Take a look, and if there are no problems, we can submit them to the broadcast station first to give our class an advantage.”

Wu Manzhen looked toward the track: “What’s our class’s first event?”

Chun Zao took out her phone to check the group chat: “Shot put.”

“I think they’re fine.” After a quick scan of two pages, she handed them to Tao Xie: “Take a look, see if there’s anything that needs changing.”

Tao Xie was sloth-like, always half a beat slower than others. After a while, he said: “Pretty good, I have no objections either.”

“Who’s going to submit them?”

A boy organizing sports supplies raised his hand: “I’ll do it!”

He took them and hurried off energetically.

Chun Zao continued writing diligently here, while Tong Yue, who had been cheering and watching from the inner field for an hour, returned covered in sweat. Her cheeks were flushed red, and the gauze decorations she wore had stuck to her collarbone. She grabbed a bottle of water and gulped it down, then exploded: “Where the hell is Song Jin’an? Why am I the only one cheering and pacing the runners?”

The class monitor flipped through the event schedule: “Next is the 100 meters. He probably went to warm up.”

“So he’s slacking off when there are events, huh? I’m going to trip him on the track.” With that threat, the girl grabbed several more bottles of water and charged back aggressively.

Everyone else was torn between laughter and tears.

100 meters.

Chun Zao, who was pressing down her pen cap, had her thoughts captured by these three words.

Was Yuan Ye participating in the 100 meters this year?

Thinking this, she turned her head toward Class 1’s area, not far away. Under the camphor tree’s shade, their class’s organization didn’t seem much better either – several students were discussing matters with anxious expressions, and he wasn’t among them.

Had he gone to compete? Chun Zao turned back to look at the sports field. Students were scattered everywhere on the red plastic track and the dark green grass. Whistles, songs, and voices merged into one. The white light was blinding, and with shrub branches, leaves, and fluttering flags in between, finding a specific target was harder than reaching heaven.

“Hey, Chun Zao, look at these two lines I wrote – are they okay?” Wu Manzhen suddenly called her.

Chun Zao came back to her senses, leaned over to look, and praised lavishly: “You could be called the contemporary Bing Xin.”

Wu Manzhen laughed coquettishly: “Then I’ll go submit it.”

“Sounds good.”

“Give me those two of yours, too.”

“Mm.”

About fifteen minutes later, Song Jin’an, who had run until his face and neck were red, was escorted back by several classmates. The boy collapsed into a chair and tilted his head back, using water to splash his face and hair.

“What place?” everyone gathered around to ask.

The dripping wet Song Jin’an made a “V” sign: “Second.”

Tsk, the class monitor booed him.

Song Jin’an stretched out one leg as if to kick the air: “Look who my competition was!”

“Who?”

“Yuan Ye from Class 1.”

Chun Zao, who had been laughing along with everyone, had her smile freeze at the corners.

She had indeed missed it. Did he look the same running as last autumn, like a swift shooting star cutting through the track, silver saddle and white horse? Even though she hadn’t paid much attention to him then, she would still stare transfixed at the teenager’s lightning-fast tension.

Song Jin’an tried to save face for himself, pinching his thumb and index finger to show a tiny gap: “Just a little bit behind, okay?”

A girl who had watched the whole thing whispered: “You were way behind him.”

Song Jin’an glanced at her: “Don’t crush my confidence. I have my signature event at 10:30.”

“Which one?”

“4×100. Last year, I ran first in the final leg.”

The class monitor immediately fawned over him by massaging his shoulders: “Right, rest up quickly. We’re still counting on you to win honors for our class.”

Song Jin’an lazily smiled and told him to use more strength.

Class 1’s PE representative, Zhang Chenxi, was an old acquaintance of Song Jin’an. Coming down from the track, he happened to pass by and heard him boasting there, so he stopped, bouncing a water bottle: “Song Jin’an—”

“What?”

The boy sat up straight in his chair and drained the remaining half bottle of water he’d used to splash his face.

“This year’s relay race first place won’t be yours to take. You should just fight for second and protect third.”

“What do you mean?”

“Our anchor is Yuan Ye,” his provocative tone was insufferably smug: “The same Yuan Ye who just left you in the dust in the 100 meters. He’s already over there warming up and getting ready, while you’re sitting here drinking tea like a lord.”

Song Jin’an was speechless. He glanced at his electronic watch and began some personal attacks: “Warming up at 10 o’clock? I think he’s not warming up, he’s attracting bees and butterflies by the field.”

Everyone burst into laughter.

“Well, he has the looks for it.” Zhang Chenxi was a Yuan Ye fanboy: “Even if you did 300 push-ups over there, probably no one would watch.”

“Get lost.” Song Jin’an threw the empty bottle at him.

Zhang Chenxi dodged with a quick step, scratched his shoulder, and sauntered back to his class leisurely.

After the laughter and commotion, the area quieted down again, but Chun Zao’s chest was pounding wildly with the surprise of loss and recovery. Yuan Ye still had events – she needed to take action, too. She couldn’t just wait around stupidly anymore. She wanted to cheer him on and witness his prowess on the field again.

Once they reached senior year, under intense pressure, they might not have such opportunities anymore.

Chun Zao wouldn’t allow herself to weigh things further. Being cautious enough, she looked left and right, tore off a blank sheet of loose-leaf paper, pressed it down with her pencil case, and bent her head to write on it.

She changed her handwriting – after all, this was her “specialty,” and no one would be able to tell.

After all, with her way with words, the probability of her manuscript being selected by the broadcast station approached 100% – this was her unique confidence.

For him, she was willing to be a traitor for ten minutes.

If she were to be punished, she had already endured it the moment she learned she’d missed his 100-meter race.

Chun Zao wrote “Submitted by Grade 11 Class 1” at the end, deceiving herself, then hid this cheering manuscript with ulterior motives under the other sheets. She also nervously clutched her selfish thoughts and pretended to be calm as she stood up: “I’m going to sit here until I turn stupid. I’ll go watch some competitions. Do you have any finished ones? I’ll take them to the broadcast station on the way.”

—

Yuan Ye had nearly strained his eyes looking by the track without finding half a shadow of Chun Zao. Instead, Tong Yue’s mobile game character cosplay was particularly conspicuous – a small green bundle busily moving back and forth between the waves of people and the brilliant sun.

During this time, he had thought of calling out to her to ask where Chun Zao was, but this friend was very outgoing and acted quite openly, with familiar classmates all around her. He was afraid of bringing her unnecessary trouble.

He endured and endured.

Zhang Chenxi brought over an unopened bottle of mineral water, hooking his shoulder: “Bro, here you go.”

Yuan Ye took it, unscrewed the cap for a sip, then handed it back to him.

“Why are you making me deliver water to you?” Zhang Chenxi looked around strangely – in previous years, there were too many girls competing to hand him water at the sidelines.

Yuan Ye said: “Because I’m thirsty, of course.”

But the girls surrounding both sides just to catch a glimpse of him were still in groups, even some from the first year, holding up phones like they were chasing stars.

His popularity hadn’t declined either.

Zhang Chenxi was even more puzzled: “No girls giving you water?”

“Didn’t ask for any.”

“Why?”

“Can’t explain it to you.”

“…”

Seeing his thick eyebrows slightly furrowed, not joyful in the slightest despite winning the 100-meter race, Zhang Chenxi quickly coaxed: “Brother Yuan – what’s with that expression? I, your PE rep, didn’t pressure you. Relax, friendship first, competition second.”

Yuan Ye said nothing more.

Soon, the referee teacher blew the whistle, signaling the boys to go onto the field and find their starting positions.

Yuan Ye stopped at his position, restlessly ran his hands through his hair a couple of times, did final warm-up movements, and, while flexing his wrists, didn’t forget to scan the entire venue.

Unknown girls at the sidelines clenched their fists, boldly calling his name: “Yuan Ye – go for it!”

His classmates also waved and whistled at him.

Only she wasn’t there.

He offered them an extremely faint smile.

Suddenly, the broadcast rang out with standard, well-articulated recitation:

“This is a submission from – Grade 11 Class 1 -“

“You are like the spring wilderness, growing freely.”

The boy’s pupils suddenly contracted, and his shoulder-stretching posture also stopped as he looked toward the temporary broadcast station set up beside the flag platform.

The announcer was a female host, her voice coming from the speakers there, echoing throughout the venue:

“Also like the morning falcon, soaring in the vast sky.”

“The rising morning sun clothes you in splendor, the surging flags sing and applaud for you.”

“The wind-chasing, sun-pursuing youth never stops – fly, Student Yuan Ye, rush toward your finish line and distant horizon -“

The tall teenager in the center of the track stood there, listening, doubting, speculating, deducing, finally showing a slight smile. He was certain this was not their class’s cheering manuscript style. As he savored those words and turned his head to search again, this time he finally saw the presence he’d been anticipating the whole time. The girl was buried in the crowd, not shouting, not making big gestures. He couldn’t even see her smile clearly, or the slight movement of her lips, but he knew—

She must be saying “go for it” to him.

The referee teacher shouted “On your marks—” and the whistle pierced the sky.

Yuan Ye took the final baton belonging to him and shot out like an arrow released from a bow. Watching his rapidly distancing figure, Song Jin’an on the side was completely dumbfounded. What was wrong with this guy? He was running even harder than in the 100 meters – who could catch up with that?

Author’s Note: May I ask if having me write about you two is part of your little couple’s roleplay? (Already gone mad)