Jiang Qiaoxi sometimes dreamed of his high school days.
Back then, the sky above him always had a layer of deathly gray. On cloudy days, a gloomy atmosphere settled over everything. On clear days, the sky was empty, without a ripple. Later, when Lin Qile transferred to their school, Jiang Qiaoxi suddenly noticed that the maples at the experimental high school turned red in autumn. After the rain, he looked up to find the sky clear, with birds soaring through the sunlight and long contrails left by passing planes.
During that time, Lin Qile always avoided him. She wouldn’t look at him and found ways to walk around him, as if they had never known each other.
Liang Hongfei was furious that Lin Qile had transferred into Class 18, the same class as Jiang Qiaoxi. However, Jiang Qiaoxi had achieved his goal of joining the provincial team and scored 209 points, ranking first in the province.
By November, he was set to attend the winter camp and participate in the national finals. At this crucial moment, even Liang Hongfei was cautious, not daring to affect his state too much. For the first time, Jiang Qiaoxi had managed to keep her in check.
Jiang Qiaoxi no longer enjoyed spending time alone in the small white building. Whenever he had free time, he returned to the Class 18 classroom, even if just to sleep in the back row.
When he woke up, he raised his head with tousled hair and saw Lin Yingtao sitting three or four meters ahead of him. From this angle, he could only see the constantly moving ballpoint pen in her hand, the slender neck above her school uniform collar, and a glimpse of her cheek, which had a faint golden arc when the sunlight from the classroom window shone on it.
Compared to elementary school, Lin Yingtao had become much more studious. She no longer played or chatted during class, nor did she daydream. She took notes meticulously, focused intently on the blackboard, and rarely hesitated or answered incorrectly when called upon by the teacher. Even during breaks, while other students rested or played, she sat in her seat reviewing her notes. Her quiet diligence seemed strange to Jiang Qiaoxi.
Only in certain unguarded moments, easily overlooked instances, did Lin Yingtao resemble the girl from the mountains again. When she turned back to talk with Yu Qiao sitting behind her, often joined by Cai Fangyuan, they gathered together, discussing who knows what. Lin Yingtao’s big eyes curved in a smile as she looked at Yu Qiao and Cai Fangyuan, her childhood friends, her hidden “Lin Yingtao” personality shining through.
But when she caught a glimpse of Jiang Qiaoxi, Lin Yingtao’s smile vanished. She turned back stiffly, like a squirrel retreating into its tree hollow, and resumed studying earnestly. Her world seemed so unwelcoming to him. It was as if Jiang Qiaoxi’s mere glance would steal away her acorns.
As the teacher lectured at the blackboard, Jiang Qiaoxi sat in the last row, head down, eyelashes lowered, impatiently gripping his fountain pen. When a breeze blew in, disturbing the stuffy classroom air, Jiang Qiaoxi suddenly looked up, gazing at her again.
“Do you want some candy?”
Once, in the old, low dormitory of the mountain work site, that little girl with pigtails had repeatedly tried to “tempt” him from behind.
“Do you listen to cassettes?” she asked timidly, then gathered her courage, “Do you read Mickey Mouse?”
“Do you want to pet a rabbit?”
Whether fetching water after class, during break exercises, going to the lab, or during P.E. class… Lin Yingtao always kept her distance from him in the crowd.
Sometimes Jiang Qiaoxi couldn’t understand why it was like this.
Even when studying in the small white building or attending night classes with the competition group, he still thought of Lin Yingtao from time to time. He wondered what she was doing, who she was smiling at when ignoring him, who she was foolishly chatting with, where she ate lunch and with whom, if she still loved those little snacks she used to keep in her pocket, whether she spent afternoons horsing around downstairs with Yu Qiao, strolling and listening to mp3s with Du Shang, sitting next to Cai Fangyuan watching him play games, or hanging out in Qin Yeyun’s class flipping through boring magazines.
Jiang Qiaoxi always felt that a thief’s hand had taken everything from him.
It was he who ate at Lin’s small dining table every day, eating all the dishes everyone in the Lin family offered him. It was he whom Lin Yingtao clung to, going to and from school together, dragging him everywhere. It was he who, behind that big wardrobe, inside that small mosquito net, listened to Lin Yingtao holding her little sprite, sometimes laughing, sometimes choking up, telling him those seemingly endless secrets.
During break exercises, people lined up like chess pieces, each in their designated spot. Jiang Qiaoxi, being tall, always stood at the very back. He looked forward, gazing down at the back of Lin Yingtao’s head from afar.
So many people looked at Jiang Qiaoxi; he always drew attention. But she didn’t care about him.
Jiang Qiaoxi seemed to be having a nightmare.
Lin Yingtao opened her eyes and secretly watched him for a while from within his embrace. She observed his furrowed brow in his sleep; he looked unhappy, as if he were feeling wronged in his dream. It was rare to see Jiang Qiaoxi like this. The bed was so narrow, Lin Yingtao thought as she lay on her side. The walls of the rented room were cold; brushing against them made one shiver. Lin Yingtao, wearing a nightgown, moved closer and gently kissed Jiang Qiaoxi’s cheek.
Jiang Qiaoxi’s eyelashes were so long, casting a shadow that added a hint of childishness to his face. At first, he lay there, numb and motionless.
He opened his eyes and gazed at Lin Yingtao’s face for a long while.
Jiang Qiaoxi had lost so much; he often worried about it, burying those concerns deep in his heart.
Heaven isn’t fair to every child. While all are born, some are born to receive, while others must spend a lifetime making up for, holding onto, and healing. Jiang Qiaoxi wasn’t a happy person; his persistence in Hong Kong over the years was nothing more than an attempt to hold onto his cousin. Who would persist for the sake of pain?
Jiang Qiaoxi looked at Lin Yingtao’s face again. How had she appeared?
Perhaps even the heavens feared he couldn’t go on.
Lin Yingtao sat on the cushion, struggling to open Jiang Qiaoxi’s old black water bottle with Eisenhower’s quote printed on it. It was always difficult to open; she had to bend over and use all her strength to twist it.
“Why is this bottle always so tight?” she complained as she poured out some hot water to drink.
Jiang Qiaoxi sat on the edge of the bed, leisurely putting on a new T-shirt, sliding his arms in and pulling it over his head. He lowered his eyes to look at her. Since high school, Lin Yingtao would always carry a bunch of people’s water bottles to fill them up. Jiang Qiaoxi didn’t like that.
Everyone else’s bottles were easy to open, but Jiang Qiaoxi’s was exceptionally unfriendly. Lin Yingtao always had to put down everything else she was carrying to focus on dealing with his.
Of course, that was only if she was willing to do so.
They boarded the bus together, heading to the hospital to visit his cousin. Jiang Qiaoxi sat on the outside, his arm draped over the back of the seat in front. He half-leaned back, looking at Lin Yingtao sitting by the window.
She smiled with pursed lips, intently gazing out the window. After a while, she turned back, lowering her eyes with reddened ears under Jiang Qiaoxi’s gaze.
In high school, there were only a few times when they took the bus home together. Yu Qiao, Du Shang, and the others sat in front, while Jiang Qiaoxi and she sat in the back.
There were many students on the bus, all wearing the experimental high school uniforms. Jiang Qiaoxi would look at her like this, under everyone’s watchful eyes. Several times, Lin Yingtao, sitting by the window, lowered her head deeply in embarrassment, afraid of being seen by other classmates.
But they weren’t doing anything wrong. Jiang Qiaoxi had thought back then. They couldn’t do anything, yet he still felt extremely happy.
It was the same now. Even though they were going to the hospital to visit his bedridden cousin, Jiang Qiaoxi felt much lighter in his heart as he gazed at Yingtao’s face.
[Author’s note: Two Our Generation – Chapters from Jiang Qiaoxi’s perspective, I’ll stop here for now. I’ll add more and revise later.]