After the New Year, everything shifted into fast forward.
To prepare for the high school entrance exam, the school piled on the workload for ninth graders—every day was either class or testing.
The schedule was packed tight. Since I left early in the morning, didn’t come back at noon, and didn’t get home until ten at night after evening study sessions, the only time all week I could sit down and actually eat and talk with them properly was Sunday afternoon.
Once I learned that the top fifty students in the county would have their tuition and fees waived, I threw myself into studying even harder.
My grades were near the top in our small town, but across the whole county, there was no shortage of talented students, and I didn’t dare let up.
Because school let out so late, Zhou Haiyan would pick me up at the gate. After we got home, we’d eat the late-night snack Mom Zhou had prepared together, then he’d keep working overtime while I sat beside him and studied.
Sometimes I’d study myself into exhaustion and fall asleep face-down on the table, and he’d silently carry me to bed, then straighten up my school supplies so I could just grab my bag and go the next morning.
From the depths of winter through the height of summer, I read through my textbooks again and again, worked through book after book of practice problems.
As I’d hoped, I placed tenth in the county on the entrance exam and got into the best high school in the county. The school waived my tuition and fees for all three years, and promised additional scholarships if I performed well on the college entrance exam.
When Mom Zhou heard the news, she hugged me and praised me, saying I was clearly born to be part of the Zhou family, just as sharp as Zhou Haiyan had been back in the day.
A few days later, once the joy of it had settled, I suddenly realized how fast and hard I’d been running these past six months—so many things had been quietly changing around me, and I’d only just noticed.
Over the two-month summer break, Mom Zhou’s bouts of illness became noticeably more frequent.
She used to only hang the wind chimes under the tree on the fifth of each month. Now, she hung them any day the date contained a five.
Her dancing grew more and more frequent.
Sitting quietly with Zhou Haiyan at the doorway, keeping watch together, had gradually become a kind of habit.
Except now, when Mom Zhou read, she cried harder and harder. At night she leaned more and more on sleeping pills to fall asleep. She ate less and less, losing her appetite entirely, and stopped even going to the market—as if she’d lost interest in everything.
Eventually, everyone realized something was wrong and wanted to take her to see a doctor, but she refused.
Zhou Haiyan, Officer Fu, and I took turns pleading with her desperately, but she wouldn’t budge.
Then one day, somehow, Mom Zhou suddenly gave in.
Officer Fu found the doctor.
The diagnosis: moderate depression.
I vaguely guessed it had to do with the uncle’s death—Zhou Haiyan’s father.
Even though almost no one in this household ever spoke of him, his shadow lingered everywhere all the same.
The snow that falls over the course of a person’s life—we can never see all of it. Everyone endures their own solitary winter within their own life. There was nothing I could really do, nothing I could help with, not even the most basic act of truly understanding what she felt.
Thankfully, Mom Zhou cooperated well with the doctor’s treatment and gradually began to improve.
And so, I started high school.
The First High required boarding, but students got a break every two weeks and could go home for two days.
The school was quite far from home, about twenty kilometers, with no direct bus route—it required two transfers.
To make it easier for me to get to school and to take Mom Zhou to her follow-up appointments, not long after the semester started, Zhou Haiyan bought a motorcycle.
Pure black. Very cool.
It suited him perfectly.
Especially when he sat astride it, his long, powerful legs casually planted on the ground, his whole presence radiating an easy nonchalance.
There was a unique quality to him, somewhere between a raw, youthful edge and a fully grown man.
Catching me staring, he arched an eyebrow. “Well? Pretty cool, isn’t it?”
I instinctively denied it. “Not really. You’re one bleach job away from being a full-on street punk.”
He shot me a sideways glance. “I was talking about the bike.”
“……”
I tightened the straps of my backpack, trying to ease my own embarrassment.
Once I got on, he helped me put my helmet on properly.
He kicked up the stand, and the bike straightened, wobbling slightly.
He said, “Hold on tight.”
I did as told.
The bike started moving, and the sudden thrust made my arms tighten around him.
Beneath his skin, the muscles were firm and warm.
A thought flashed through my mind: his waist is so slim.
I’d never ridden a motorcycle before. After the initial nervousness passed, I slowly relaxed, the wind rushing past my ears feeling wonderfully free.
Growing bold, I let go and spread my arms wide, mimicking a pose I’d seen in movies.
Before I could even fully enjoy that reckless freedom, a child darted out in front of the bike—he braked hard and fast, and my body pitched forward uncontrollably.
My chest slammed into his hard back, the pain making me cry out, tears springing to my eyes instantly.
Because of puberty, I’d noticed my body developing quickly lately, and my chest especially hurt at the slightest touch.
Let alone an impact that hard.
“Did you hit something?”
I was in too much pain to answer.
A moment later, the bike pulled over to the side of the road.
Zhou Haiyan pulled off his helmet, and seeing my tears only panicked him more. “Where did you hit just now?”
My mouth moved, but nothing came out. It felt like something inside me had grown thin and raw all at once—a sudden, sharp wave of embarrassment and sensitivity closing in on me.
His voice sharpened with urgency. “Talk to me.”
His burning gaze felt like it was searing right through me.
My face flushed a deep red. I closed my eyes and said, giving up entirely, “My chest! I hit my chest, okay? There, happy?”
“……”
“……”
He froze, and realization dawned on him. He fell silent at once and turned away, putting his helmet back on.
His voice came out flat and dry. “Right, well—brother didn’t mean it.”
“……”
For the rest of the ride, I’d learned my lesson and held tightly onto his waist—but maybe it was the heat, because my whole arm felt like it was practically cooking.