◎Freedom’s Sweet Treat◎

When she was very young, Chun Zao once owned a goldfish. That day, her mother had taken her out to buy groceries. There were always small stalls selling flowers, birds, fish, and insects at the entrance of the market. When Chun Chuzhen ran into an acquaintance and stopped to chat, Chun Zao squeezed into the group of children, crouching down to look at the little turtles and goldfish.

Seeing that all the other children had one, she pleaded desperately, crying with tears streaming down her face, until Chun Chuzhen finally let go of the hand that was about to drag her away and agreed to buy one. When the vendor asked if they wanted a tank too, Chun Chuzhen scoffed, “What fish tank do we need,” and declared, “She definitely won’t be able to keep it alive.” The little girl with teardrops adorning her eyelashes gripped the knotted plastic bag tightly with both hands, carrying that little fish home all the way, not daring to move a muscle, her arms aching and stiff.

Until the goldfish was poured into a porcelain bowl.

At the time, Chun Zao didn’t understand fish-keeping techniques. Thinking it needed to bask in the sun like a kitten, she placed it on the balcony.

When she went to check on it in the evening, the goldfish was already dying, floating belly-up, eyes vacant, its translucent fins drifting weakly, only its mouth still opening and closing.

Chun Zao panicked and started crying again, until finally her sister came over after hearing the commotion, comforting her and telling her she had a way to save the little fish.

She carried the fish bowl to the sink, turned the faucet to its smallest setting, and told Chun Zao to wait patiently.

After doing all this, her sister returned to her room to do homework, while Chun Zao found a stool, propped herself up high beside the sink, and prayed for the little fish.

Drip.

Drip.

Water droplets fell one by one, creating ripples and bubbles. Chun Zao quietly stayed there, witnessing this process repeat over and over.

She didn’t know how much time passed, but the burning red sky outside turned into deep blue velvet, and that fish slowly straightened its body, returning to its lively state.

As if witnessing magic, Chun Zao’s eyes widened.

When she grew a bit older, Chun Zao learned the principle behind it – the dripping water could increase the oxygen content in the water, which was why the little fish could “come back to life.”

This night, the magic was reenacted.

That “○” was an oxygen bubble that suddenly appeared in a sealed aquarium, floating on the surface, just waiting for her to swim close and enjoy it.

The moment she connected using the password, Chun Zao’s heart raced wildly.

Then came deep emotion.

Complex feelings flooded out like a dam bursting. Her nose tingled with soreness as she took a deep breath and headed straight for the long-awaited MV.

She didn’t get greedy either, only playing it three times before contentedly closing her phone.

After tossing and turning for a while, Chun Zao lifted the quilt, tiptoed out of bed, first returning her phone to its original place, then tearing off a sticky note she had just bought tonight, taking out a marker to write:

Thank you.

Stroke by stroke, blowing dry the ink marks to show sincerity.

As for this “treasonous correspondence” in her hand, she wavered for a long time between destroying the evidence and keeping it as a memento. Finally unable to bear throwing it away, she tucked it into the white tin box deep in her drawer.

The box contained quite a few miscellaneous items: ticket stubs from amusement parks and movie theaters, Gothic accessories and quirky pins she never dared wear publicly, seashells and small ornaments friends had brought her from travels, and thick stacks of domestic and foreign landscape photos she had cut from newspapers and magazines. These were all the few brilliant spots of color in her life. Whenever she went out, even when she could simply swipe her ID card or QR code for entry, Chun Zao still insisted on going to the window to get tickets, not minding being teased by Tong Yue as “middle-aged.”

She inserted the note into the bottom layer of the tin box, carefully covering it thoroughly with other things before feeling safe to close the lid.

Leaving the chair, her thigh was bumped by the backpack hanging on the chair back. Chun Zao looked down and spotted the empty drink bottle in the side pocket.

Staring at it for a moment, Chun Zao pulled it out, keeping the pink bottle cap, sat back down, and carefully wiped it clean with tissues, then stored it in the tin box as well.

The next day, before five o’clock, Chun Zao opened her eyes to the beeping of her digital watch.

The light in the room was dim. She pressed herself against the door to listen for a while, then carefully opened the door and ran to the bathroom, preparing to return the “thank you note” to Yuan Ye in the same manner.

Chun Zao stood stunned at the sink.

Yuan Ye didn’t use a mouthwash cup. She had never noticed this before.

Are all boys this rough?

But when her gaze fell on the all-black electric toothbrush with its blinking base, she contradictorily felt that this person was quite refined.

The plan wasn’t going as smoothly as expected. Chun Zao decided to retreat to her bedroom first. Just as she was about to leave, the bedroom door next to the bathroom opened from inside.

Chun Chuzhen came out, grabbing her hair, looking exhausted.

Chun Zao froze.

The woman was half-lowering her head, not yet noticing her daughter standing there.

Chun Zao steadied herself and decided to take the initiative, calling out “Mom” without emotion.

As if hearing something, Chun Chuzhen suddenly looked up, immediately becoming alert.

She glanced at her phone: “It’s not even five o’clock yet. Why are you up so early today?”

Chun Zao replied flawlessly: “I was in a bad mood, so I didn’t sleep well.”

Chun Chuzhen paused, a flash of discomfort crossing her face: “Well, since you’re up anyway.”

She gestured toward the sink: “You wash your face first.” Then headed toward the kitchen.

Chun Zao didn’t object, only quietly slipping her clenched right fist back into her pants pocket.

Returning to her bedroom, she destroyed the small note while tying her ponytail and formulating a new plan, thinking about how to express gratitude in other ways.

She could only approach him face to face.

Plan B made progress. Although Yuan Ye, as usual, didn’t eat breakfast at home, he got up somewhat late today. When Chun Zao sat at the table eating her rice ball, there was no movement from the room diagonally across.

After finishing breakfast and returning to her bedroom, Chun Zao selected a math handout, deliberately dawdling while closely monitoring the movements next door to intercept at the right moment.

6:45 AM.

The alert Chun Zao immediately grabbed the test papers from her desk, shouldered her backpack, and called out to Yuan Ye, who was changing shoes.

The boy slowly straightened up, shouldering his single-strap bag, and turned to look at her.

He had just finished washing up, his bangs still damp at the tips, making his eyes appear particularly bright.

Chun Zao waved the math test paper folded twice in her hand: “Can you wait for me? I have a challenging problem I want to ask you about.”

Yuan Ye showed no surprise at this: “Sure, let me see.”

After speaking, he bent down to put his right foot into his sneaker, moved it around twice, seeming to feel the shoe wasn’t fitting properly, then bent down again to untie the laces.

When he retied his shoelaces, his lower back showed amazing flexibility, a section of his long, fair nape fully extended, the visual effect resembling a swan gliding on lake water.

Chun Zao suddenly felt a bit uncertain about how to approach.

The boy straightened up, his eyes questioning why she still hadn’t come over.

Chun Zao walked over: “Let’s talk on the way, time is tight.”

Yuan Ye followed her out the door.

The stairway of the old, small, broken building was too cramped – if they walked together, even the air might not be able to pass through. Chun Zao gave up on side-by-side communication and wasn’t in a hurry to get to the point.

After confirming they were out of Chun Chuzhen’s sight and hearing range, she turned to look at Yuan Ye: “You should be able to guess, right? I’m not asking about math problems.”

The boy’s originally casual gaze fixed on her face.

Ripples of laughter appeared in his eyes: “Mm.”

“I know,” he said.

The speech Chun Zao had prepared early suddenly got stuck.

Because of being looked at like this.

Yuan Ye’s distance was reasonable and proper, but the strange thing was, when he focused his attention on you, you would feel he was very close, even somewhat intimate. The perfectly measured curve at the corner of his lips displayed “active business mode.”

This face, this expression – no one could maintain eye contact for more than five seconds. Chun Zao detected the subtle burning reaction in her chest and cheeks, hastily looked away, continued walking forward, and said formally: “Thank you for letting me use your wifi last night.”

“No problem,” Yuan Ye didn’t mind: “You didn’t use it for long anyway.”

…?

Chun Zao’s brow furrowed with a slight sense of being “monitored”: “You know how long I used it?”

“My phone has notifications, in the upper left corner of the screen, there’s an indicator,” Yuan Ye explained matter-of-factly, then suddenly became serious at the end: “About fifteen minutes?”

Chun Zao: “…”

Her neck felt a bit stiff. Chun Zao swallowed and admitted: “Mm.”

Why, why did he record her usage time? She asked alertly: “Do I need to pay?”

Yuan Ye couldn’t help but laugh.

“What are you thinking…” His tone carried laughter, the ending drawn out with a touch of laziness, mixed with the fresh morning air, tickling her eardrums.

Chun Zao said quietly: “I thought…”

The boy beside her was always honest: “I was just curious what you were looking up.”

The ups and downs of last night were vivid in her memory. Chun Zao pressed her lips together for a moment: “What do you think?”

The boy fell quiet, then after a moment, he guessed: “An animated short? Three songs’ worth of time? It couldn’t be study materials.”

While speaking, he discreetly observed the changes in the girl beside him.

Chun Zao unconsciously smiled at the corners of her mouth. She stared straight ahead at the bike shed, filled with electric scooters of varying ages, scattered and uneven.

But her mood was smooth: “Not three songs. One song, I watched it three times.”

She stopped walking.

Yuan Ye had been led by her from the beginning, too lazy to pay attention to the route, so he also stopped.

The two stood still for a few seconds.

Yuan Ye was the first to ask: “Why did we stop here?”

Chun Zao pointed at the bike shed: “Don’t you need to get your bike?”

Yuan Ye paused for a second. He put one hand in his pocket, first the right side, finding nothing, then switched to the left, taking out his bike key.

He quickly located his mountain bike among the row of vehicles, effortlessly dragging it out with one hand and bending down to unlock it.

The two continued walking toward the community gate.

As they neared the main entrance, Chun Zao said in advance, “My friend is waiting for me at the stationery store, so I won’t walk with you.”

Yuan Ye responded “okay,” no longer delaying, and threw out the suggestion he had been weighing in his mind the entire way: “Haven’t you considered getting your own SIM card?”

That he was actually still thinking of solutions for her was unexpected. Chun Zao answered honestly: “My ID card is with my mom.”

“Are you serving a prison sentence?” Even the usually steady boy looked somewhat incredulous.

Chun Zao wasn’t particularly embarrassed, pressing her lips into a bitter smile: “Pretty much.”

Eating, sleeping, and attending classes – every other moment was difficult to navigate. It wasn’t much different from being in prison.

Yuan Ye pondered briefly: “I have a spare card. I could lend it to you if you need it, but,” he paused, “it’s at home, I can only get it this weekend.”

“That’s not necessary…” Chun Zao looked down at her shoe tips. It was too much trouble – she couldn’t feel comfortable accepting one favor after another from others.

Moreover—

Although her interest in this proposal was at least 80%, she still immediately comforted herself: fifteen minutes of oxygen was already sufficient.

Freedom was like an addictive sweet treat. Even knowing it had an expiration date, she couldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t become greedy.

“Hmm—” Yuan Ye’s hesitant nasal sound drew her gaze back, and she saw him looking troubled: “Keeping the hotspot on all the time… also drains the battery quite a bit.”

Chun Zao was surprised: “You didn’t turn it off yet?”

Yuan Ye took out his phone from his school pants pocket, glanced at it, then held it flat in front of the girl – it was his personal hotspot interface: “Not yet.”

His tone was relaxed, but Chun Zao became anxious: “Turn it off quickly.”

Yuan Ye was startled by her urgency, suppressing a laugh as he swiped a couple times and put the phone away: “Done.”

Chun Zao’s cheeks puffed slightly as she exhaled.

“Think about it.”

Looking up slightly, the boy’s bright eyes were still looking at her, his expression sincere.

Chun Zao hesitated, wanting to speak but stopping, lowering her eyes again.

In her silent, prolonged hesitation, his patience remained:

“What will you do next time you need it?”

“Would you dare to knock on my door?”