“I heard about the young man from different people, each time at second hand. They say a secret crush is a one-person performance. And yet, simply ‘hearing things,’ secondhand — that was enough for me to play out, in my own heart, one dramatic act after another.”

— Sherry’s Lab, The Ninth Year Through the Dream

The private room was loud and boisterous, someone wailing through “Born to Love.”

Xia Li slipped in without attracting anyone’s attention. She spotted Lin Qingxiao and Xu Ning in a corner and went over to join them.

Xia Li opened her bag. Xu Ning glanced inside. “The new volume of Soul Eater is out?”

Xia Li was wondering whether she ought to write a card for Xiao Yulong. She went through her whole bag but only turned up sticky notes from her pencil case, so she took a pen and wrote “Happy Birthday,” drew a little smiley face, and signed her name.

“Books,” Xu Ning and Lin Qingxiao said at the same moment.

Lin Qingxiao added, “I got him Yu Qiuyu, Xu Ning got him Wang Guozhen.”

Xia Li held up her Liang Shiqiu.

The three of them laughed.

“That should keep him copying quotes for a whole semester,” Lin Qingxiao said.

The flashing coloured disco lights overhead were suddenly blocked out.

Xiao Yulong squeezed over to them, grinning. “What are you all laughing about?”

Xia Li handed him the book with the sticky note attached. “Happy birthday.”

“…Another book. Can’t any of you be a little more original?” Despite his words, Xiao Yulong accepted it and gave a sincere, earnest thank-you.

His phone buzzed. He took the call, then told the three of them: “I sent someone out to get snacks — they’ll be here soon. You all have fun; I’m going to meet another guest.”

There was a fruit platter on the coffee table. Xia Li took a slice of honeydew melon and bit into it. She turned to study Lin Qingxiao. “Did you put on makeup?”

“I didn’t put on makeup — I just have lip gloss on, okay.”

“Your hair is curled too.”

“I was just trying out a new flat iron.”

Large KTV gatherings were, in truth, rather dispiriting — especially when a song-hog seized the microphone.

The saving grace was that the three of them had each other to talk to.

A short while later, two or three more people pushed through the door.

Lin Qingxiao glanced toward the entrance and abruptly sat up straighter, smoothing her hair.

Xia Li and Xu Ning drew out a pointed “oh” in unison.

“No wonder you agreed to come, even though you and Xiao Yulong barely know each other — it’s because Nie Chuhang’s here,” Xia Li teased.

“…Shut up.” Lin Qingxiao was uncharacteristically flustered.

In a small city like Chucheng, with so few schools and even fewer good ones, you could pluck any two students at random and find a connection — either they’d been in the same kindergarten, or the same primary school, or the same middle school.

Xiao Yulong and Nie Chuhang had been in the same class in middle school. And before the arts-sciences split, Nie Chuhang and Lin Qingxiao had been in the same class.

Nie Chuhang had a bookish, refined look about him and was quite tall. He had a scholarly air to him.

What exactly was going on between him and Lin Qingxiao was hard to say — the two of them had been vague and evasive about it, never quite acknowledging anything.

Lin Qingxiao watched the situation at Nie Chuhang’s end of the room and after a while stood up. “I’m going over to say hi.”

“Go on, little one. You don’t need to come back.” Xu Ning smiled sweetly.

“…Whatever.”

About ten minutes later, Lin Qingxiao returned. “Nie Chuhang and his friend want to buy us bubble tea — shall we go?”

“Wouldn’t that be a bit rude to Xiao Yulong?” Xia Li said.

“We’ll only be a little while.”

Xu Ning said, “I’m not going. I don’t know them well.” She held up her MP4.

“Then…”

Xu Ning said, “You two go. I’ll watch some anime on my own.” She shook the MP4.

Lin Qingxiao hooked her arm through Xia Li’s. “You have to come with me — I’ll be too awkward on my own.”

Xia Li picked up her phone and set her bag down by Xu Ning. “Keep an eye on this for me. I’ll be back soon.”

Tianxing Street wasn’t long — two shopping centres, a few fast-fashion shops like Sen-ma, Metersbonwe, and Jeanswest, and the rest were various eateries.

The bubble tea shop was right next door.

In those days, bubble tea shops weren’t the endless variety they would later become. The options were basically limited to silk stocking milk tea, Hong Kong-style milk tea, pearl, matcha, lemon seven-up, and lemon cola.

The tea was all made from powder, and the flavour was very sweet.

Xia Li didn’t care for it; she ordered an iced lemon soda.

The shop had a dine-in area. The four of them found a small table and sat down.

Xia Li’s only job was to give Lin Qingxiao some cover. She didn’t know Nie Chuhang or his friend well, so she barely joined in the conversation and spent most of the time distracted.

Until someone — she didn’t catch who — mentioned “Yan Sishi from Class Twenty.”

Xia Li’s ears went on full alert.

It was Nie Chuhang speaking: “…A few days ago the school organised a training session to prepare for the nationals in physics. They invited Yan Sishi to come as well.”

“But isn’t he in the international class?” Lin Qingxiao said.

“He is. I assumed the same thing as you — but the teacher said he won the physics competition national championship last year.”

“National champion in Year One?” Xia Li cut in, surprised.

Nie Chuhang nodded. “The teacher asked him to come share his experience and do some practice problems alongside us.”

“And the result?”

“He was the first to hand in his paper. All correct.” Nie Chuhang’s tone was plainly full of admiration.

Nie Chuhang’s physics was very strong — he reliably took first or second place in the subject for the year group. An assessment coming from him carried real weight.

“That’s pretty impressive,” Lin Qingxiao said.

“After the training session we chatted with him for a bit. He was consistently top of his year at his old school — he basically scored full marks in physics and maths every time.”

Xia Li couldn’t help asking: “With results like that, why transfer to our out-of-the-way city? Wouldn’t sitting the gaokao from Beicheng be easier, or going abroad?”

“That I really don’t know.” Nie Chuhang shrugged. “He doesn’t seem the type to open up easily — the topics we managed to discuss with him were all very surface-level.”

“Is he entering the competition this year then?” Xia Li asked again.

“He didn’t register in our province, so he can’t participate.”

“…What a shame.” Xia Li caught herself — that exclamation had come out rather too keenly. She quickly added, “The school loses out on a prize entry.”

Nie Chuhang agreed wholeheartedly. “He’d definitely win something if he entered.”

It was the first time Xia Li had felt this particular sensation.

So this was what it felt like to like someone — even hearing a stranger mention his name was enough to fill you with a quiet, hidden gladness.

They sat in the bubble tea shop for thirty or forty minutes before the four of them headed back.

With Nie Chuhang there, Lin Qingxiao was livelier than usual and sang two songs by Sodagreen to considerable applause.

When the evening broke up, Nie Chuhang left with Lin Qingxiao, and Xu Ning had family coming to collect her.

Xia Li’s student apartment was near the school, only two intersections from Tianxing Street — a ten-minute walk at most.

The three of them said goodbye at the corner.

Xia Li didn’t go straight back to the apartment. She detoured to Shangzhi Books and bought herself a second copy of Soul Eater.

Back in the apartment, she showered, washed the clothes she had changed out of, and hung them on the shared balcony to dry. Then she returned to her own small domain of a few square metres.

Small as it was, she had made it neat and ordered.

The bed sheets and pillowcase were ones she had chosen herself — white with small yellow flower sprigs. The desk had a tablecloth too, and her favourite books lined the wall beside it.

She brought her bag over from the hook behind the door and took out two identical copies of Soul Eater.

Not wanting to mix them up, she unwrapped the shrink-wrap on her own copy right then and there.

She picked up a pen and wrote her name inside, then turned to unwrap Yan Sishi’s copy.

They were identical books, and yet this one somehow felt both heavier and lighter.

She pulled open the drawer and took out a roll of book-covering paper and a craft knife. She measured it against the book’s dimensions and cut a piece to length.

She had a habit of covering her books.

This time, she was more careful and patient about it than she had ever been.

She covered it, then took out a fine-tipped felt pen in the same colour and wrote on the book’s cover:

For Y.

Such a small book — a single palm’s width. She held it and couldn’t bring herself to open a single page.

She stared at what she had written for a long time, then placed it back in the drawer with great care, alongside her diary.

During the national holiday, Xia Li went home for a visit.

It rained for several days straight. Xu Ning and Lin Qingxiao had no interest in going out and preferred to stay home on the internet.

There was no computer at Xia Li’s house. To go online she had to go to a nearby internet café. Small-city regulations were still quite lax back then, and minors could use a virtual ID card to log on.

Xia Li kept a NetEase blog she cared for with some devotion. During the holiday, when she had time, she would log in and update it — writing a new entry, changing the layout.

The blog was called “Sherry’s Lab,” because she had given herself the English name Sherry: partly a phonetic translation of her name, and partly because she privately adored Haibara Ai.

She updated the blog, watched a film, and refreshed the playlist on her MP3 player.

While downloading songs, she thought of Yan Sishi’s silver iPod, and found herself drifting into wondering — what kind of music would he like?

For adults, national holidays meant an unending round of banquets and mahjong.

Xia Li was inevitably swept into the social obligations. Xia Jianyang and Jiang Hong had little cultural education, and their lives had always been unremarkable and colourless. Xia Li was the most presentable thing they had to show for themselves.

At dinners with colleagues and friends, Xia Jianyang couldn’t resist a few boastful remarks: My daughter goes to Mingzhong — the arts experimental class, no less!

Today’s dinner was with Luo Weiguo.

Their home was too modest, and Xia Jianyang worried Jiang Hong’s cooking wouldn’t be good enough to do their guest justice, so he had booked a private room at a restaurant.

Xia Li hated this kind of occasion, but she had no choice.

The private room grew hazy with smoke as the drinking wore on.

Luo Weiguo held a cigarette between his lips, looked over at Xia Li, and smiled. “You remember that young man you rode in the car with last time — Director Huo’s grandson?”

“…Yes. Do you still deal with him often, Uncle Luo?”

Luo Weiguo waved his hand. “He’s a bit above my level. His family has hired proper help for him — even the car that picks him up and drops him off is arranged. I only went that day because I happened to be in Jiangcheng on business and was asked to bring him along. Oh, he started at Mingzhong this semester — haven’t you run into him?”

“I have… we’ve barely spoken, though.”

Luo Weiguo shot a glance at Xia Jianyang. “Your daughter is far too well-behaved and doesn’t know how to work a situation. You’ve already met — go out of your way, be warm and friendly! Do you know who that family is? Director Huo only has the one grandson. He donated an enormous sum to Mingzhong just for that boy to have a place to study — set up the whole international department for him. Once you’ve gotten in with someone like that, you gain another connection. One word from him carries far more weight than anything I can do as a deputy director in charge of factory affairs. Isn’t that right, Old Xia?”

Xia Jianyang laughed and agreed repeatedly: “Absolutely, absolutely!”

Xia Li felt as though she had swallowed a fly.

She had never disliked Luo Weiguo so intensely before.

It was as if whatever quiet, pure feeling she had kept to herself had been smeared with the accusation of scheming calculation.

The calculating hearts of adults were truly nauseating.

As it turned out, when they got home after the dinner and her half-drunk father was soaking his feet, he looked up and asked: “Daughter, do you really know that Director Huo’s grandson?”

Xia Li said nothing.

“If you do, get to know him better. It can’t hurt.”

Xia Li couldn’t hold it in. “If you want to get to know him, go do it yourself.”

She walked back to her bedroom in a few quick strides and slammed the door shut.

Xia Jianyang and Jiang Hong stared at each other, speechless.

Xia Li was always well-behaved and gentle. She had never lashed out at her parents like this.

The monthly exams arrived in quick succession.

In Year Two, there were four major examinations per semester, including the mid-terms and finals. All of them replicated the gaokao timetable and standards, with students from across the entire year group reshuffled and seated according to ranking.

The international class did not participate in the monthly exams — they had their own separate assessment process.

Lin Qingxiao mentioned to Xia Li that Nie Chuhang was quite disappointed about this: he had been hoping to measure himself against Yan Sishi in the monthly exams.

The top-ranked examination room for the arts stream happened to be on the first floor.

After each paper, when Xia Li handed in her exam and left the room, she would habitually glance in the direction of Class Twenty.

It was mealtimes, and yet not once did she see Yan Sishi come out of the classroom with anyone to go to the canteen.

Had she been there at the wrong time?

Or was he simply the kind of person who never ate, living instead on morning dew and quiet contemplation?

After the final paper — English, on the second day — Xia Li finished packing up her things when Lin Qingxiao came over and asked whether she and Xu Ning wanted to go out and eat something.

Xu Ning said, “You two go. My dad’s coming to pick me up.”

Xia Li walked out with Lin Qingxiao. Lin Qingxiao suddenly grabbed her arm and gave a small tilt of her chin.

Xia Li followed the gesture — and there at the second window of Class Twenty, Nie Chuhang and Yan Sishi were standing together.

Her heart did something like a ping-pong ball dropped on a tabletop — bouncing with a light, quick, buoyant energy. Xia Li performed her best imitation of idle curiosity: “Are you going over to say hi to Nie Chuhang?”

“Obviously.”

Lin Qingxiao walked over and tapped Nie Chuhang on the shoulder.

Nie Chuhang turned around. Yan Sishi followed his gaze.

Lin Qingxiao: “Hi.”

Nie Chuhang: “Hi!”

Xia Li looked at Yan Sishi. “…Hello.”

Yan Sishi: “Hello.”

Lin Qingxiao froze for a moment. “…You two know each other?”

Xia Li gave a slight nod, then quietly pinched Lin Qingxiao’s arm. She understood and didn’t press further right then.

Lin Qingxiao turned to Nie Chuhang. “How did the exam go?”

Nie Chuhang: “I’m not sure about the last big question in physics. I was just asking our top student here. What about you?”

“So-so — are you eating dinner? We were going to go out for a proper meal.”

Nie Chuhang looked torn — physics on one side, a girl on the other. A difficult choice.

He thought for a moment, then turned to Yan Sishi. “Have you eaten, top student? Come with us — we can keep working through it together. If I don’t figure this problem out, I won’t sleep tonight.”

Xia Li assumed Yan Sishi wouldn’t agree.

From what she had observed, he was almost always on his own. During breaks he never joined any clusters of people. Whenever she passed Class Twenty with her geography practice sheets tucked under her arm, he was invariably sitting at his own desk — reading, listening to music, or sleeping.

His only friend appeared to be the “black-framed glasses” boy she had seen with him at the snack stall that one time.

So it came as a genuine surprise when Yan Sishi gave a nod, and then said: “Let me call a friend.”

He pushed open the window and called into the room: “Wang Chen.”

The reply came from “black-framed glasses” himself.

Yan Sishi said: “Coming out for dinner?”

Wang Chen nodded. “Sure.”

Before he had even finished speaking, a girl’s voice rose from inside the classroom: “Yan Sishi, are you all going out? Let us come too!”

It was Tao Shiyue. She had been chatting with another girl, but the moment she heard Yan Sishi and Wang Chen talking, she spun around and called out.

Yan Sishi said: “Sorry, it’s a bit inconvenient today. Another time.”

His tone was, as always, too flat to betray any feeling.

Xia Li felt inexplicably as though she had swallowed half a green orange.

Not because of that “another time” from Yan Sishi, but because of the easy familiarity with which Tao Shiyue had spoken to him.

At that moment Tao Shiyue glanced through the window and out, catching sight of Lin Qingxiao. “Oh. Another time then.”

She had presumably seen Lin Qingxiao.

Lin Qingxiao gave a near-inaudible sound of amusement beside Xia Li.

A group of five set off toward the school gate.

Lin Qingxiao and Nie Chuhang walked side by side at the front, caught up in their own conversation.

Right behind them was Wang Chen, who walked with his nose buried in a thick volume with an entirely English cover, never once lifting his eyes from the page.

And so, by some natural gravitational pull, Xia Li and Yan Sishi ended up walking at the back, side by side.

Yan Sishi wore the Mingzhong autumn school uniform jacket with the zip undone, a white shirt underneath that traced the lean, unhurried lines of his frame.

The exit from the teaching building was busy with people.

Two students who were apparently in a hurry came charging toward them from the opposite direction.

To avoid them, Yan Sishi stepped half a pace toward Xia Li’s side.

Xia Li’s heart nearly stopped.

In that instant, her breath caught a thread of something clean and cool.

That faint scent — like opening a window in winter to find the whole world white with snow.