“I want to disguise every painstakingly engineered encounter as a chance meeting.”

— Sherry Lab, The Ninth Year Through the Dream

A key high school like Mingzhong, with its singular focus on academic advancement, rarely had many extracurricular activities. The sports meet was a rare chance to unwind.

Xia Li hadn’t signed up for any events. As head of the broadcast station, she would be responsible for the meet’s commentary and announcements.

The sports meet was set to begin at eight o’clock Thursday morning.

The broadcast station was set up among the spectator stands, close to the entrance.

Three long tables had been pushed together to hold the mixing console, microphones, and other equipment.

The broadcast station had deployed six people: two to screen submitted scripts, three to handle the actual broadcasting, and Xia Li to oversee logistics and coordination.

Before the sports meet began, Xia Li confirmed the workflow one last time with the broadcast station’s faculty advisor.

The advisor emphasized: “The three announcers need to divide their duties — someone has to be specifically responsible for announcing event schedules and check-in notifications.”

“Buy another case of water. Stock up on some throat lozenges too.”

The advisor nodded. “Nothing else then — everyone stay sharp and do your best.”

As eight o’clock approached, Xia Li ran through the key reminders with the announcers one more time, then quietly slipped around to the logistics area behind the long tables.

She sat down on the steps and pulled from her backpack a thermos she’d filled before leaving and a hot water bottle.

Back then, the idea of taking painkillers for menstrual cramps wasn’t really something people did — you just had to grit your teeth and get through it.

She hunched over, taking small sips of hot water and tucking the water bottle between her lower abdomen and her knees.

After a brief opening ceremony, the first segment was the athletes’ entrance procession.

Mingzhong’s leadership didn’t encourage anything flashy. The athletes marched in their school uniforms, their chants were conventional and unremarkable, nothing out of the ordinary.

Year after year, the marching formations served one purpose above all else: satisfying all manner of quietly stirring emotions.

The boys compared notes on which class had the prettiest sign-bearer; the girls suppressed squeals as their secret crushes’ classes filed past, pinching their best friends beside them instead.

“Walking toward us now is the final formation — Class Twenty of Year Two — though they are the smallest group in number, their unity is unbreakable…”

Xia Li quickly capped her thermos, set it aside along with the hot water bottle, and stood up.

The international class was perhaps the most — to borrow the phrase that appeared most often in march-in commentary — “dazzling sight of the day.” They weren’t wearing school uniforms; instead, they were all dressed in matching white athletic wear.

Class Twenty’s sign-bearer was Tao Shiyue.

Despite the chilly weather, she had on a white tennis skirt, her hair pulled back in a high ponytail. She looked tall and light on her feet, radiantly youthful in a way that couldn’t be ignored.

Xia Li’s gaze swept across the formation, and in the last row, she caught sight of Yan Sishi.

He was genuinely the tallest in the class — standing apart, conspicuous, the kind of person you spotted at a single glance.

They were all in white, yet somehow on him it was as if he wore frost and snow. His face still held no particular expression, his steps carrying a languid, barely-there energy. It was precisely that weary detachment that was so uniquely captivating.

Xia Li glanced at the school administrators standing at the main stage in front of the broadcast station, then did something she had never dared before — reached into her bag, aimed her phone at Yan Sishi, and quietly took a photo.

She was using a very cheap domestic phone with extremely poor image quality.

The blurry picture that came out, every pixel of noise a small regret of her own.

Even so, she held it like treasure.

All the classes had lined up on the field. Class Twenty had ended up at the far edge, and no matter how hard she tried, she could only make out an undifferentiated expanse of white — impossible to tell anyone apart.

Only then did Xia Li look away.

After remarks from the school leadership, the chief referee, and an athlete representative, the competition finally began.

Xia Li had reviewed the schedule and full athlete roster submitted by the organizing committee ahead of time. She knew Yan Sishi had entered four events in total: the men’s 100m, the men’s 800m, the high jump, and the relay.

The international class must really be that short on people, she thought, to keep shearing from the same sheep like this.

The first event was the 100m sprint.

Not long after the check-in announcement had been read, promotional committee representatives from various classes began filing in one after another to submit broadcast scripts.

Once the work started, Xia Li could no longer slack off.

She was in the middle of reviewing scripts when a clear female voice called out: “Xia Li!”

She turned. It was Tao Shiyue, walking over with a few girls from Class Twenty.

Tao Shiyue had changed out of the tennis skirt into athletic trousers.

“Is this where we submit the broadcast scripts?” Tao Shiyue asked.

“Yes.”

Tao Shiyue handed over a thick stack, then smiled and asked, “Could you read a few extra ones for our class?”

“That wouldn’t be fair — everyone gets the same treatment,” Xia Li said with a smile.

“But you’re the station head! You could secretly give us a hand. We’ll treat you to a meal afterward?”

“The station head has to set an example above all else.” Xia Li’s tone was firm, yet warm — the kind that couldn’t possibly make anyone feel put out.

“What about bumping us up in the queue? Someone from our class has an event starting soon.”

“We take the event schedule into account when selecting which scripts to read.”

Tao Shiyue didn’t press Xia Li further. “All right then… try to pick at least two of ours, please.”

The sports meet had just begun, and enthusiasm was running high — scripts kept arriving in wave after wave.

The classmates handling submissions screened them, then passed them to the announcers.

For every script that passed, the reviewers noted which class it came from, trying to spread the attention evenly among everyone.

One reviewer pulled Xia Li aside for a good venting session: “Of this latest batch we just received, 80% are written for Yan Sishi from Class Twenty. Do these people think this is a confessional wall?”

Xia Li laughed. “Did you select any of them?”

“I picked one that wasn’t too saccharine.”

The script that wasn’t too saccharine had already been handed to an announcer.

The broadcast carried a crisp, articulate voice that rang out across the entire field: “About to step onto the track for the 100m sprint is Yan Sishi of Year Two, Class Twenty. The bleak autumn wind cannot slow your resolute stride; the scorching sun cannot block your determined spirit! You shall ride the wind, soar without restraint — we wish you first place. Go for it!”

Xia Li looked toward the starting line.

The athletes who had completed check-in were already lining up at the mark.

She hadn’t even had a chance to look properly when someone patted her on the back.

It was Lin Qingxiao, Xu Ning, and Xiao Yulong.

Xiao Yulong shook the plastic bag in his hand. “Brought some snacks for our hard-working station head.”

Xia Li was touched. “Thank you! Did you buy these? You shouldn’t have.”

“It’s just a few bags of chips.” Xiao Yulong scratched his head.

Xu Ning then produced two manga volumes and pressed them into her hands — something to pass the time when things were slow.

Not wanting to crowd around and disturb the announcers, Xia Li led them back to the logistics area a few rows behind.

Lin Qingxiao leaned close and asked quietly: “Are you doing okay?”

That morning, Xia Li had stopped by the classroom and mentioned her menstrual cramps to Lin Qingxiao.

“I’m okay,” Xia Li said. “I can manage.”

“You’re going to be here all day?”

“Yes.”

“Then tell us right away if you’re feeling unwell.”

“I will.”

Then the starting gun cracked through the air.

All four of them turned at once.

On the red rubber track, a white figure shot forward like an arrow released from a bow, flashing past the main stage in an instant.

In what felt like the blink of an eye, that figure had reached the finish line.

Xiao Yulong: “What the hell — who was that? That fast.”

Xia Li’s heart was pounding.

As if she herself had been the first to cross the tape.

She thought of the broadcast script — whoever had written it.

You shall ride the wind, soar without restraint.

Whatever Xiao Yulong and Lin Qingxiao were saying beside her, she didn’t quite catch.

She only saw a crowd gathering at the finish line, everyone pressing water bottles toward Yan Sishi.

Yet he seemed to accept none of them. He pushed through the crowd and walked away with his head down.

After the men’s 100m preliminary, came the women’s 100m preliminary.

Then the finals.

Lin Qingxiao took a phone call — the publicity committee needed her help — and the three of them headed back to Class Seven together.

Whether it was because the spectator stands had little shelter and the elevated position made the wind colder, the hot water Xia Li had drunk wasn’t helping anymore. The abdominal pain was growing worse.

The review and broadcast work were running smoothly without needing her constant supervision, so she said a few words to the others, told them to find her if anything came up, and went back to the logistics area to sit down.

She pulled her school uniform jacket up, hugged her knees tightly, and pressed her abdomen hard against the hot water bottle tucked inside her jacket.

After some time — she wasn’t sure how long — she heard the broadcast announcement for the men’s 100m final check-in.

The moment the starting gun fired, Xia Li quickly stood up and looked out toward the track.

Like a replay of the preliminary, that white figure arrived at the finish line with a light and swift ease that left no suspense at all.

Far more people had gathered at the finish line now, nearly swallowing Yan Sishi’s figure entirely.

A moment later, he walked out from the crowd, carrying only his own white athletic jacket.

He walked along the edge of the track, ignoring the people who had filtered onto the field trying to strike up a conversation with him, and headed toward the passageway between the sports ground and the academic building.

That passageway ran directly below the broadcast station.

Xia Li’s heart rate quickened.

Without giving herself more time to hesitate, she reached into a cardboard box nearby for a bottle of mineral water, pulled the hot water bottle from inside her jacket and tossed it aside, then ran quickly toward the steps that led down to the passageway below.

She stepped off the last stair just as Yan Sishi walked into the passageway.

Xia Li greeted him with composed calm: “Hey.”

Yan Sishi’s footsteps paused.

“You didn’t sign up for any events?” Xia Li asked deliberately. She didn’t want him to sense that she had come specifically for him.

“Just finished.”

“Which event?”

“The 100m final.”

“Want some water?” She extended the bottle toward him quite naturally.

Yan Sishi hesitated a moment, then reached out and took it. “Thank you.”

A draft of wind cut through the passageway. The grass along the base of the wall rustled softly.

The young man’s white shirt puffed up slightly in the breeze, then settled back.

People passed by; the sound of their laughter and chatter seemed to come from somewhere very far away.

In her eyes, there was only him.

She thought: she would probably remember this scene for a long time.

The wind. The dim passageway. The young man in white.

And her heartbeat, rising and falling like tides.

Xia Li was a little afraid of breaking the quiet of this moment. When she spoke again, her voice came out gentler: “Are you heading back to the classroom?”

“Yes.”

“I’m here waiting for a classmate.”

Yan Sishi nodded.

He paused briefly — as if making sure she had nothing else to say — then said, “I’ll be off then.”

Xia Li said “okay.”

She watched Yan Sishi’s retreating figure disappear out of the passageway. Then she immediately slid down against the wall and crouched there, arms wrapped around her knees.

Partly because her heart was racing. Partly because the pain in her abdomen was nearly unbearable.

She desperately needed a moment to recover.

After a while, she heard light, unhurried footsteps approaching.

They stopped in front of her.

Xia Li looked up. Startled.

It was Yan Sishi.

He was looking down at her from above.

In the falling shadow, Xia Li looked up at him from close range. Because of the backlight, his eyes looked deeper than they usually did — like a lake that had gathered the colors of dusk.

She was stunned, unsure why he had come back.

At last she said: “…It’s nothing. Maybe I’m a bit cold.”

“The wind is strong here. You can wait somewhere else.” Yan Sishi’s voice was flat, without much inflection.

But in the next instant, something dropped toward her.

Xia Li instinctively reached out to catch it. When she had it in her arms, she realized — it was his athletic jacket.

“Here, put that around you.” Yan Sishi said.

“…Don’t you need it yourself?”

“I’m going back to get my school uniform.”

Xia Li stood up, both arms cradling his jacket.

A complicated surge of feeling rose in her — as though something were blocked in her throat and she could barely hear her own voice when she spoke: “…Thank you… how should I return it to you?”

“Just drop it off whenever you pass by our classroom.”

Yan Sishi glanced at her once more — seemingly to confirm she was alright — then said, “I’ll be off then.”

Xia Li nodded.

His figure moved in the direction of the sports field.

“…Aren’t you going back to the classroom?”

“Getting my phone from Wang Chen first.”

So that was why he had come back.

Xia Li watched Yan Sishi climb the stairs on the side of the passageway until he disappeared.

The jacket in her arms — she wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.

It carried a faint, cool fragrance, the one she had smelled before: that crisp scent of white snow.

Xia Li slid her arms into the sleeves and put the jacket on.

It was enormous — it felt like it could wrap around two of her with room to spare.

So she took it off again, grabbed the collar, and looked at the label inside the back of the neck.

The size was XL185.

She herself stood at one hundred and sixty-three centimeters tall, with a slight frame.

Xia Li climbed the stairs back to the broadcast station.

She didn’t put the jacket on — she simply folded it and held it in her arms.

This was clearly a boy’s jacket, and at that time in Mingzhong, a girl wearing a boy’s jacket carried implications that could absolutely withstand scrutiny.

She didn’t want to become the center of attention because of it.

She sat on the steps, holding the hot water bottle and Yan Sishi’s jacket.

That clean, cool fragrance surrounded her.

In this moment, she felt as though she could die without regret.