◎Happy New Year◎

Chun Zao considered herself well-disguised, but still couldn’t withstand the wave of rumors. For most of the following half month, she would receive attention from different classes and different grades. Fortunately, her classmates were mostly girls, so the surroundings weren’t too chaotic. Apart from occasional teasing from a few nearby seat-numbered classmates, there were no further troubles.

The harsh winter arrived, Christmas and New Year’s Day following in succession, students’ thoughts all drifting toward the holidays. Although Yizhong was a public school, it had always emphasized comprehensive quality education with a rich cultural atmosphere and a strong sense of ceremony. Before the holidays, each floor and classroom was cleaned until spotless, decorated with themed stickers, hung with sequined curtains and paper chains, each class competing to outshine the others.

After Chun Zao helped Tong Yue change the class blackboard newspaper and filled in the flowing “Happy New Year” calligraphy title, she dusted off her hands, jumped down from the chair, wiped it clean, and moved it back to her seat.

Seats changed monthly, and Chun Zao now sat in the third group, no longer by the window.

But sometimes when returning to class in the afternoon or before evening study hall, she would still find hot drinks on her desk, different varieties—sometimes boxed milk, sometimes hot cocoa, sometimes ginger-date tea.

Whenever this happened, the front and back seats would all make hushing sounds, loudly calling it torture for single people.

Chun Zao objected to this: Don’t randomly enter our classroom.

Yuan Ye: When? Do you have evidence?

Chun Zao was speechless.

In the end, she was helpless, indulgent, at a loss: No evidence, I drank them all.

She complained again: I’m getting fat from this.

Yuan Ye: Are you? I don’t think so.

Without a scale at home, Chun Zao insisted mentally: Definitely.

The next day after school, they kept their appointment at the second streetlight as usual. After meeting, the boy wasn’t in a hurry to walk, borrowing the light to examine her carefully, a high concentration of seriousness creased between his brows. Seeing Chun Zao’s breathing become labored, she turned and ran. Only then did he take two quick steps to catch up, laughing: “You’re not fat.”

Chun Zao muttered, “Wearing so much in winter, you can’t tell anyway.”

Yuan Ye tilted his head to observe again: “Then, when spring comes, I’ll judge again.”

Chun Zao shrank like a snail, panicking in the small alley, hiding here and there: “Stop looking!”

“Okay—I won’t look.” He surrendered, slowing his pace, leisurely moving behind her.

Chun Zao turned: “Why did you stop walking? What are you doing behind me?”

Yuan Ye looked innocent: “Not looking, just looking at the back of your head should be okay, right?”

Hearing this, Chun Zao could only grit her teeth and reluctantly close the gap, moving back to his side, returning to walking side by side.

During the New Year’s mini-holiday, Chun Zao went home with Chun Chuzhen to reunite with their perennially lonely, empty-nest father for the holidays. The next day, they got up early to visit her grandmother, whose health had recovered. The little old lady now had a caregiver to help with daily life and was generally in good spirits. Visiting relatives and friends was like a relay race. It wasn’t until noon on the third that Chun Zao returned to the rental house, eager to get back.

Just after changing shoes, Yuan Ye appeared at his door, greeting her and her mother.

Chun Zao could feel his gaze slide over her body without lingering, but he didn’t immediately go back either, stopping there.

Chun Chuzhen put down her things and asked in surprise: “Little Yuan, you’re home?”

Yuan Ye hummed in response.

Chun Chuzhen joked: “These past few days during the holiday, we haven’t seen you go out.”

Yuan Ye gave a seamless reason: “It’s gotten cold.”

“That’s true.” Chun Chuzhen removed her thick neck warmer, concerned: “You should dress warmer too. Just wearing a thin sweater at home—did you turn on the air conditioning in your room? Don’t catch a cold and get sick during final exams.”

Chun Zao looked over, too. The boy was wearing a gray crew-neck pullover sweater. His hair seemed to have gone some time without cutting, appearing slightly disheveled, like unkempt summer grass, but it suited him. He leaned against the door frame, tall and thin, like those particularly young models in magazines.

Their gazes met halfway, tacitly and carefully, touching and immediately separating.

Yuan Ye smiled and answered Chun Chuzhen: “It’s on, not cold.”

Chun Zao, wrapped up like a polar bear, felt her ears warm as she gripped her backpack strap and returned to her room.

After Chun Chuzhen went to the market, Chun Zao closed her door, took out her phone, and firmly drew a warning line: Don’t be too obvious.

Yuan Ye:?

Chun Zao: Didn’t you hear my mom say you don’t go out on weekends anymore?

Yuan Ye: Auntie was just showing concern. You’re more guarded against me than she is.

Chun Zao denied it: No way.

Yuan Ye: Then, should I go out now?

Chun Zao remained stubbornly silent, staring at her phone without typing.

Within two minutes, there was indeed movement in the living room. Chun Zao pushed open her door to check—the boy was already changing shoes in the entryway, his black down jacket hanging open, clearly dressed to go out.

“Hey!” she called from the doorway.

He looked over: “What?”

Chun Zao stammered, beating around the bush: “You’re… going out?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets, his tone flat, emotions unreadable: “If I stay home any longer, someone’s going to have a breakdown.”

Chun Zao: “…”

“That’s not what I meant.” Difficulty and grievance surged together, her nasal cavity slightly sour, “You’d better not go out.”

She added vaguely: “It’s cold outside…”

Yuan Ye saw her suddenly changed expression, frowning: “Come here.”

Chun Zao ran over awkwardly: “What?”

Yuan Ye took a palm-sized Brown Bear hand warmer and charging cable from his jacket pocket: “Here.”

Chun Zao took it—that cute brown bear face was particularly warm, as if it had just finished charging. She choked up, suddenly not knowing how to respond, while the boy’s gentle coaxing had already fallen:

“I’ve been waiting three days, how could I go out?”

“I was tricking you into coming out.”

“This is a New Year gift.”

“Boring.” She freed one hand and heavily hit his arm once, venting her turbulent emotions.

“Does anyone accept a gift, then immediately hit the gift-giver?”

“Yes. Me.”

“Impressive.”

“Go back to your room.”

“Okay.”

“Take off your shoes.”

“Okay.”

“Into your room.”

“Mm.”

…

Laughing while deliberately dawdling, being “escorted” back to his room by the girl following close behind, they said goodbye to each other from inside and outside the door frame.

Yuan Ye took off his jacket and sat down steadily at his desk. He wouldn’t use these underhanded climbing-up-the-pole tricks anymore—they made her feel bad. Thinking of opening QQ to explain a few more things, the girl’s message had already arrived.

Chun Zao: Sorry, I didn’t prepare a New Year gift for you, yet I’m making all these demands.

Yuan Ye’s brows softened: I received your gift.

Chun Zao: What?

Yuan Ye screenshot her New Year’s Day wishes, highlighting it: This.

Chun Zao: How does that count?

Yuan Ye: Best gift of the year.

Chun Zao sent a crying cat emoji.

Yuan Ye lifted his lips. He might be a bit psychologically twisted—substituting the cat head with her appearance made him want to laugh. He held back and quoted this emoji in reply: This, too.

Chun Zao:?

Yuan Ye teased her: Second-best gift of the year, your tears of emotion.

The girl’s mood indeed cleared in one second, with explosive tendencies: Get lost.

This year’s Spring Festival came earlier than usual. After final exams in mid-January, Yizhong’s first and second years quickly emptied, leaving only third-year students still struggling.

On New Year’s Eve, Chun Chang returned home. Spring Father picked up Grandmother, and three generations of the Chun family rarely gathered together at the end of this year.

Dusty from travel, Chun Chang had just put down holiday gifts when Chun Chuzhen dragged her to the kitchen to help prepare the New Year’s Eve dinner, being bossed around quite a bit.

Chun Zao also wanted to help but was directly shooed away by her mother: “Go aside, it’s all oil smoke. Keep your grandmother company watching TV, or go read in your room. Don’t get in the way here.”

Chun Zao could only listlessly return to the sofa, peeling tangerines for her grandmother watching CCTV-1.

Chun Chang, selecting vegetables, pretended to be dissatisfied: “Why?”

Chun Chuzhen’s tone was leisurely: “Don’t you know she’s taking the college entrance exam? You’re such a grown-up, still competing with your sister.”

Chun Chang counted on her fingers: “Still a year and a half away. Are you kidding me?”

“Is a year and a half very long?” Chun Chuzhen glanced at her, handing out a steaming soup ladle: “Go stir the braised chicken pieces, don’t let them stick to the pot.”

Chun Chang resentfully took over.

When the whole family stood around the table, clinking glasses in unison, their chorus of “Happy Spring Festival—” echoed through the dining room, bursting with New Year atmosphere.

After arriving home, Chun Chang hadn’t even had time for water. Now she drained the red wine in her glass in one gulp, uncorked the bottle to pour again, and asked her sister if she wanted some too, getting swatted on the hand by Chun Chuzhen like shooing away a mosquito.

“What—” Chun Chang put down the wine bottle: “Family violence on New Year’s.”

“You drink yours, no one’s stopping you. Don’t turn your sister into a little alcoholic before she’s of age.”

“Just having fun for New Year’s, you’re no fun.”

After several rounds of wine, Chun Zao lowered her head under the table to check her phone, wanting to see if Yuan Ye had sent her any messages. She didn’t know how he was doing at home now. She was very worried, restless, and uneasy, but couldn’t bear to speak up rashly and accidentally touch more of his pain.

“Chun Zao, eat,” Chun Chuzhen noticed her daughter had been buried in her phone on and off. “Why are you always looking at your phone? Did I not cook well this year?”

Chun Zao quickly stuffed her phone back into her fleece pajama pocket, took a sip of coconut juice, having lost interest in the table full of delicacies.

Chun Chang loved opposing their mother: “Probably.”

Chun Chuzhen became suspicious, picking up a chopstick of sweet and sour ribs to taste: “This is pretty good.”

Spring Father’s flattery came naturally: “Your cooking is the best. If you’re second, no one under heaven dares claim first.”

“Exactly!” With support, Chun Chuzhen puffed out her chest: “Anything Chun Zao finds not tasty must be what her sister helped make.”

Chun Chang put down her chopsticks, loudly protesting: “What? Mom, saying that isn’t fair. Which dish did I touch? I wanted to try some innovative cooking—would you let me?”

The whole table laughed. Chun Zao was infected by the harmonious atmosphere, her heavy mood lifting accordingly, and she smiled along.

After eating and drinking their fill, Chun Zao helped clean up the kitchen, then sat in a row with her family on the living room sofa. Her parents cracked sunflower seeds while Chun Chang leaned against the coffee table, performing her annual fixed program—opening paper-shell walnuts by hand, then picking them clean to feed to Grandmother and her sister.

Chun Zao took a piece, holding it in her mouth for a long time before chewing and swallowing.

Watching her mother intently, seeing her captivated by the singing and dancing on screen, she opened her phone.

Seeing her sister constantly distracted and restless, Chun Chang felt it necessary to remind her, leaning over to whisper: “What, waiting for a blessing text from the handsome Yuan?”

Chun Zao’s ears burned as she quickly turned off her phone screen, her voice like mosquito buzzing: “No.”

Chun Chang didn’t know the specific content of her distress, only saying: “If he doesn’t send you one, you send him one.”

Chun Zao mumbled: “It’s not…”

She didn’t argue—what her sister said made some sense.

So she stopped struggling over whether sending him blessings at the right moment would naturally allow her to inquire about his current situation. She simply couldn’t bear it, urgently wanting to know his circumstances, his mood, at this moment of family reunion that might not be so complete and beautiful for him. Otherwise, she would remain suspended in mid-air, unable to settle.

Chun Zao carefully typed a line: Are you having a happy day today?

Three minutes later, Chun Zao took a deep breath, suppressing the complex emotions that wanted to surge from her nasal cavity, wanting to cry and laugh at the same time, repeatedly reading Yuan Ye’s reply:

Yuan Ye: If today starts counting from now,

Yuan Ye: I’m very happy.

Author’s Note:

[Office Mini-Drama]

Class 1 homeroom teacher, getting water, walked to Class 3 homeroom teacher’s desk, sipped tea, coughed: “Hey, Teacher Chen.”

Chen Yuru, grading essays, looked up: “What?”

Class 1 homeroom teacher: “Have you heard? That Yuan Ye from our class is supposedly dating a girl from your class? Is it true or false?”

Chen Yuru: “I heard. But I don’t see any abnormalities in her study state.”

Class 1 homeroom teacher: “How’s that girl?”

Chen Yuru: “Very good, top five in our class, incredibly hardworking and steady, never makes teachers worry.”

“Oh…” Class 1 homeroom teacher was thoughtful: “I’m not some old fossil. Two kids, no inappropriate behavior at school, mainly… this Yuan Ye, he’s college entrance exam champion material, you know.”

Chen Yuru: “So what? Are you looking down on my student?”

Class 1 homeroom teacher: “No, no, just worried about the kids’ studies being affected. You must be worried too, right?”

Chen Yuru: “Final exams are coming up, let’s wait and see.”

Chen Yuru put down her pen: “I’m worried your class’s boy will affect my student’s grades.”

Class 1 homeroom teacher: “…Mm… then let’s see after final exams.”

Chen Yuru glared: “Right, if her grades drop, I’m coming for your student first.”

Class 1 homeroom teacher: “Sure, you come, I’ll personally deliver him to you.”

Chen Yuru: “Fine, but still, better if there’s no such time.”

…

[After Final Exams]

The two teachers exchanged looks at class rankings and grade rankings, then looked at each other, simultaneously sighing in relief.

Next semester, they’d talk again. For now, go home and have a good New Year.

Over.