“Looking back, my high school years were far too dull. Y — the boy — was, in those gray and listless seasons, my anxiety, my anticipation, my sleepless tossing and turning, my constant fear of loss and gain. He was all my light.”

— Sherry Lab, The Ninth Year Past the Dream

The next morning, she gathered up the umbrella she had left to dry — smoothing each panel flat, one by one, then folding it neatly back into shape.

Xia Li had made a point of buying her own breakfast outside the school gates that morning. After the early study session, she didn’t go along to the canteen with Lin Qingxiao and the others. When the first wave of students rushed out of the classroom toward the dining hall, she picked up the umbrella and headed downstairs.

Someone from Class Twenty had mentioned that he was probably in the foreign teachers’ office, dropping off a script.

The anticipation she had nursed all morning — eager to see him — burst like a taut balloon with a sudden pop.

Xia Li was unwilling to give up. Rather than leaving the umbrella with someone else to pass along, she decided she would find another opportunity to come back herself.

Not long after, Lin Qingxiao returned from the canteen, a flower roll and a cup of soy milk in hand, and sat down in the empty seat beside her.

Lin Qingxiao poked a straw into her soy milk. “Nie Chuhang’s birthday is the week after next. Help me think of what to give him.”

“He’s not Xiao Yulong. Giving him a book would be too perfunctory.”

Lin Qingxiao gave a start and quickly glanced back — saw only empty seats — then reached over and swatted Xia Li’s arm.

After a moment’s thought, Xia Li answered earnestly: “A wallet, sneakers, a backpack, a wristband, a pencil case…”

“A backpack sounds like it could work. Will you come with me to Tianxing Street on Saturday?”

“Sure.”

“On his birthday, everyone’s going to karaoke. Are you coming?” Lin Qingxiao added. “I asked Xu Ning, and she said she has something on that day.”

“…Karaoke again.”

“There’s not much else to do. It’s freezing cold — it’s not like we can go for a walk in the park.”

In those years before murder mystery nights, escape rooms, and tabletop game parties had come along, high school students at a birthday gathering really had nowhere to go but the KTV.

“Do you need me there? I’ll go if you need me.”

“I need you, I need you.”

Just then, someone appeared at the classroom door looking for Lin Qingxiao.

It was Ouyang Jing, a friend of Lin Qingxiao’s from the arts class.

Ouyang Jing leaned in through the doorway and beckoned to Lin Qingxiao. “Xiaoxiao, come out for a second — I need to tell you something.”

“Come in,” Lin Qingxiao said.

“Is that okay?”

“It’s fine, the teacher isn’t here.”

Ouyang Jing came inside and sat down in the empty seat in front of Lin Qingxiao, greeting Xia Li as she settled in.

As a friend of a friend, Xia Li and Ouyang Jing knew each other, though they had never grown particularly close.

Xia Li ate her breakfast and couldn’t help stealing a glance at Ouyang Jing.

She was genuinely beautiful — the kind of beauty that drew you in and held you — and she spoke with an unhurried ease that gave her the warm, graceful quality of a female television anchor. No wonder she was a perennial fixture on the school’s list of beauty nominations.

“What’s up?” Lin Qingxiao asked.

“Nie Chuhang’s birthday…” Ouyang Jing began.

“What, you can’t make it?”

“No, no — I just wanted to ask…” Ouyang Jing glanced at Xia Li, seeming a little tongue-tied in front of a third person. “Nie Chuhang and Yan Sishi — they know each other a bit, right?”

“They were in the same intensive training for the physics competition, so loosely, yes.”

“I heard that Nie Chuhang invited Yan Sishi to go out for a meal last time, and he agreed to come.”

“…You really are well-informed.”

Ouyang Jing gave an embarrassed little smile. “Xiaoxiao, could you ask Nie Chuhang — do you think he’d invite Yan Sishi to come to his birthday gathering too?”

Xia Li couldn’t help looking at Ouyang Jing.

She had known that Ouyang Jing liked Yan Sishi, but being confronted with it so directly was quite another thing.

“It’s possible,” Lin Qingxiao said, “but whether Yan Sishi will actually say yes is hard to tell.”

“That’s all right — I’m mentally prepared for that.” Ouyang Jing sighed softly. “I’m actually a little jealous of you two. You get to do the drama production with Class Twenty.”

“Jealous of what? Of having to deal with Tao Shiyue all the time?”

Ouyang Jing laughed. “By the way, what role is Yan Sishi playing? The lead?”

“He said he’s not interested and doesn’t have the time — I doubt he’ll act in it.”

“You’re doing The Xi’an Incident, right? What a shame. He’d look amazing in a military uniform.”

“…There’s no hope for you.”

“Xiaoxiao, what are you playing?”

“I can’t be bothered acting. I’ll probably just help the arts committee with hair and makeup.”

“Do you need help! I can do the makeup for everyone.”

“You don’t have your own performance to prepare?”

“Mine’s a solo piece — it won’t take up much time.”

“We’ll see when the time comes.”

Ouyang Jing, satisfied, stood up. “Then I’ll be off. I’m counting on you to talk to Nie Chuhang.”

Lin Qingxiao nodded.

Xia Li lifted noodles with her disposable chopsticks as a faint curl of steam drifted up to warm her cheeks.

Inside, though, there was a faintly cool, slightly sour sensation — like swallowing lemonade over ice.

When the first class began, rain started outside again and didn’t let up all morning.

Morning broadcast exercises were cancelled. Xia Li picked up the umbrella and went downstairs again.

Standing at the door of Class Twenty’s classroom, she peered in through the glass window. At the very back by the window, in the third seat from the last row, Yan Sishi had his head down, asleep.

Xia Li hesitated, but in the end decided not to ask someone to wake him — she didn’t want to disturb him.

It wasn’t until the last class of the afternoon had let out that Xia Li hurried to the broadcasting station, umbrella in hand.

Heading down the staircase and rounding the corner, she dodged a few oncoming students and made her way to Class Twenty’s door — and nearly collided with someone who was walking out.

Xia Li stopped short. She looked up — it was Wang Chen and Yan Sishi.

She was so startled she could barely form words. She thrust the umbrella out toward him, stiff and blunt. “Th-thank you.”

“Do you still need it?” Yan Sishi asked quietly.

Standing face to face, she realized he was even taller than she had felt him to be before. She couldn’t bring herself to lift her eyes and meet his gaze.

“…No, I brought my own umbrella today.”

Only then did Yan Sishi take it from her.

Wang Chen stared at her. “Hey, haven’t we met before?”

“…At the Jufule restaurant, that time we had a meal together.” Xia Li said it again, half laughing, half exasperated.

“Oh, oh, right.” Wang Chen seemed to finally remember. “I think I asked you the same question last time.”

“…”

She was grateful for Wang Chen — his presence gave her racing heart a moment to catch its breath. “Are you two going to eat?”

Yan Sishi gave a soft “mm.”

Xia Li stepped back two paces, not wanting to intrude, said goodbye, and went on her way to the broadcasting station.

Her mood was wonderful for the rest of that evening.

Even the political science self-study session — normally the most sleep-inducing hour of the day — felt almost pleasant.

The cast for the drama was finalized. The leads with the most lines began memorizing their scripts day and night.

With a packed schedule and little time for rehearsals, Zhu Xuan had asked everyone to be off-book by the first full run-through, to avoid wasting time — so the date for the first all-cast rehearsal was set for two weeks out.

Before that, Nie Chuhang’s birthday arrived.

The KTV for the gathering wasn’t on Tianxing Street — there was a new place that had just opened near Chucheng College of Arts and Sciences, celebrating its launch with a half-price promotion across all time slots, which was an excellent deal.

Xia Li met up with Lin Qingxiao, and they headed over together.

By the time they arrived, the room was already lively.

In the dim lighting, Xia Li’s eyes immediately went searching for Yan Sishi — she had heard from Lin Qingxiao that he had agreed to come to the party.

But she didn’t spot him. Instead, her eyes found Ouyang Jing almost immediately.

Back then, most girls at Mingzhang Middle School didn’t know how to do makeup. The arts class girls were an exception — students of dance, performance, and broadcast presenting had exams, recitals, and competitions to prepare for, and had long since learned to dress themselves from magazines like Ruili and Yizhou while the rest of them were still going about bare-faced and makeup-free.

Ouyang Jing was sitting at the song-request console. She wore a white high-neck top beneath a burgundy cashmere pinafore dress, her hair in a gentle wave.

In a flash of brighter light, Xia Li caught a glimpse of her face — the makeup was barely-there, just the faintest blush dusted across her cheeks, natural as if the warmth of the room had simply risen to color them.

She was genuinely stunning.

Even as another girl, Xia Li found herself staring.

Lin Qingxiao looped her arm through Xia Li’s as they walked over. “Yan Sishi isn’t here yet?”

Ouyang Jing turned. “Not yet.”

“You look so beautiful today.”

Ouyang Jing gave a shy smile and asked Lin Qingxiao, “Want to pick a song?”

“Let me see what’s already queued up.”

Xia Li took a can of cola and settled into the long sofa, listening to Lin Qingxiao and Ouyang Jing sing. But she couldn’t quite settle — she was restless, inattentive, her gaze drifting again and again toward the door.

She wasn’t even sure what she was hoping for. Even if Yan Sishi showed up, the most she could realistically do was say hello.

Eight o’clock came and went with no sign of him.

Ouyang Jing couldn’t bear it any longer. She pulled Nie Chuhang aside and asked if he could call Yan Sishi — just to find out if he was still coming.

“I don’t have his number,” Nie Chuhang said. “Does anyone here?”

He went around the room. Everyone shook their heads.

Nie Chuhang, who appeared to have spent what little emotional sensitivity he possessed entirely on Lin Qingxiao, seemed completely oblivious to anyone else’s anxiety — and only made things worse: “He’s always kind of been a lone wolf. Bailing at the last minute isn’t that unusual for him. The only person he’s really close to from his class is Wang Chen.”

Lin Qingxiao shot him a look. “Stop talking.”

Nie Chuhang looked mildly baffled.

Ouyang Jing’s expression dimmed; she gave a quiet, rueful smile.

And in that moment, she was not the only one who felt the sting of disappointment.

The air in the private room felt close and stifling. Xia Li couldn’t sit still.

Of course, she knew perfectly well it had nothing to do with the air.

While Lin Qingxiao and Ouyang Jing sang a duet of “If Things Had Been Different,” Xia Li quietly slipped out of the room, grabbing her jacket and phone on the way.

She pushed open the KTV’s front doors and a sharp gust of winter air hit her full in the face. Chucheng had distinct seasons — its winters were unapologetically cold.

She shivered hard, quickly pulled on her down jacket, and shoved both hands into her pockets.

Head bowed against the cold wind, just as she was about to walk on, she lifted her eyes — and saw a figure standing by the roadside.

Something inside her soared loose, like a balloon slipping its string.

Xia Li nearly cried out.

She looked again, carefully — confirmed it was Yan Sishi — and pressed down the elation that had surged almost to her throat. She walked over. “Yan Sishi.”

He had been standing at the curb. A taxi was idling in front of him. He heard his name, turned to look, then turned fully around to face her.

He was wearing a long black down jacket over black trousers, with a gray hoodie underneath. The dark colors made his skin look pale and cold; in the night air, his eyes appeared deep and unreadable, the whole of him even more difficult to approach than usual.

“Did you just get here?” Xia Li asked.

“Mm…”

The taxi driver leaned out at that moment. “So are you going or not?”

“Never mind, I won’t be needing the ride,” Yan Sishi said. “Sorry to trouble you, driver.”

The driver muttered something, stepped on the gas, and drove off.

Xia Li was puzzled. “Were you about to leave? Aren’t you going to go up and say hello?”

“I don’t know which private room. I forgot to ask Nie Chuhang for his contact information.” Yan Sishi offered a brief, flat explanation.

So he had come — but couldn’t find the room, and had been about to turn around and go home?

Xia Li couldn’t help herself. She pressed her lips together to hide a smile.

Yan Sishi glanced at her at that moment.

It was hard to read anything at all in such a light, passing glance.

But Xia Li felt the warmth rush into the tips of her ears. “I’ll take you up?” she said quickly.

Yan Sishi nodded. “Thank you.”

The two of them turned and walked back.

Xia Li was fairly certain luck had taken her side, just a little. If she hadn’t felt like slipping out for some air on a whim — would tonight have ended in nothing but disappointment?

She didn’t know how to do her makeup. But she had made a point of washing her hair before she left home, and she’d worn her favorite outfit — a white sweater and a white down jacket. Her skin was fair; white was the color that suited her best.

Even a feeling that no one else would ever know about didn’t deserve to go unacknowledged.

The night was very quiet. She could hear the dry leaves scraping against the pavement as they fell.

It was Yan Sishi who broke the silence. His voice was like white mist breathed out and then dissolved — heard in the cold wind, it always carried a faint, indistinct quality. “Everyone’s already there?”

Xia Li knew perfectly well why it sounded indistinct. Her own heartbeat was nearly loud enough to drown everything else out.

She said “mm.”

At the entrance, she reached out to pull open the door. But Yan Sishi was a step ahead of her.

He held the door and gestured for her to go in first.

Her step faltered, as though the ground beneath her had softened.

As she walked through the door, she caught the scent of him again — something like fresh snow — and his warm breath was so close it seemed to hover just above her head.

For one instant, she held her breath entirely.

Her last glimpse before she moved forward was of his hand, steady on the door handle, the bones of his wrist sharply defined beneath pale skin.

The KTV was done up garishly. The hall leading in was strung with blue and red LED lights, and even the elevator inside was the same. Standing there, side by side with Yan Sishi as the elevator rose, felt unreal. The brief weightlessness of acceleration made her dizzy; the air seemed compressed, unable to find its way properly into her lungs.

She didn’t dare turn her head to look at him. Her hands, buried in her jacket pockets, were damp with sweat. She kept her eyes down, tracing and retracing the black leather boots on his feet.

How was the air in here so suffocatingly warm?

At last, the elevator doors opened.

Yan Sishi stepped out first, then held the doors back with one arm, waiting for her to exit.

He was possibly the most considerate boy she had ever encountered. These small things — he did them naturally, as if they required no thought at all, as if they were simply how things ought to be.

And in this moment, she felt a quiet, sinking ache.

Because the care he showed — it must be the same for everyone, without exception.