“One year, I went to a temple to burn incense for the New Year. I thought about it, and realized I didn’t want to entrust my wishes to the gods. Even gods have their limits. If I could, I would give all the wishes of these years to you. I hope you are full of joy and at ease, and that your life runs smoothly.”

— Sherry Lab, The Ninth Year Through the Dream

On the stroke of nine, Wang Chen arrived — precisely on time, missing by only thirty seconds.

The electronics market had just opened, and there weren’t many customers yet. Holiday sale posters were plastered everywhere.

At that time, electronics markets and mobile phone plazas like this one were quite disreputable. Shop owners routinely exploited the information gap — passing off inferior goods as quality products, swapping in used items for new ones, exaggerating features, or pushing low-value-for-money products.

There was a great deal of murky business involved. Anyone who came in without some specialized knowledge was simply there to get fleeced.

Xia Li believed that most people who walked in here would end up being led around by the nose.

But Yan Sishi was utterly composed and direct. He told shop owners to pull exactly what was on his list, and if they didn’t have it, he moved to the next shop. When a seller tried to convince him a different model was superior, he could rebut them in two sentences, cutting straight to the point.

Wang Chen murmured to Xia Li: “From now on, I’m bringing him along every time I buy something. It’ll definitely save a lot of money.”

Because they already had a list and weren’t wandering around without a destination, it took less than two hours to put together a complete desktop setup.

For the convenience of delivery, all the components were consolidated into one shop as much as possible.

That shop owner was reasonably accommodating and straightforward — Yan Sishi said what he wanted, and the owner produced it. In the end, since it was a holiday, he even threw in a discount, letting Xia Li take home the three-thousand-five-hundred-yuan configuration for three thousand two hundred.

Since Juzhu Township was far away, the owner charged an extra fifty yuan for delivery and installation, and agreed with Xia Li on the following morning for the drop-off.

As the owner was writing up the receipt and invoice, Xia Li said, “The things you send over — you won’t make a switch on me, will you?”

The owner laughed despite himself. “Don’t worry. Everything we send is brand new. We’ll unbox it right in front of you. If you still don’t trust us, take photos the whole time and have your male classmate here verify the goods. Fake product, we pay ten times the price — fair enough?”

When they were done, Xia Li said, “Let’s go to Tianxing Street. Lunch is on me.”

“Why? I didn’t even help you.”

“…” Xia Li sometimes really wished he wasn’t quite so guileless.

Fortunately, one of Wang Chen’s good qualities was that he didn’t dig too deeply into things. When Xia Li said he’d helped by being an imposing presence that kept the shop owner from overcharging her, he found this perfectly reasonable and accepted without a second thought.

The electronics market wasn’t far from Tianxing Street — only about fifteen minutes on foot.

On the walk over, Wang Chen pulled slightly ahead. Xia Li and Yan Sishi walked side by side behind him.

The three of them weren’t in the same class, and their everyday social circles and activities were different. The friendship was cordial but not especially close, so when walking together, Xia Li genuinely didn’t know what to talk about.

Fortunately, Wang Chen was very enthusiastic about sharing things within his area of interest. Xia Li heard he liked science fiction films, so she asked him to recommend a few.

With that, Wang Chen opened up completely, going from The Matrix all the way to 2001: A Space Odyssey, filling nearly the entire walk to Tianxing Street so that there was barely a moment of silence.

Xia Li and Yan Sishi barely said a word — they just chimed in occasionally when the subject called for it.

Walking side by side, Xia Li had one hand unconsciously gripping the shoulder strap of her backpack, her palm slick with light sweat, though her expression was perfectly unbothered.

The road wasn’t always even — the shoulder sometimes had bicycles or shop signs blocking the way. They’d step off the curb, go around, then step back up.

Up and down, straight stretches and detours…

Much like the winding, roundabout journey of her feelings all along.

She desperately wished this road would stretch on forever and never end.

When they arrived at Tianxing Street, Xia Li asked Yan Sishi and Wang Chen what they felt like eating.

When classmates gathered for meals, they usually ended up at KFC or McDonald’s, or occasionally at a steakhouse called “Howdy’s.”

“Whatever you prefer,” said Yan Sishi. “You decide.”

Xia Li asked Wang Chen.

Wang Chen said, “Didn’t a Ajisen Ramen just open? I haven’t been yet.”

“Shall we try it?” Xia Li looked to Yan Sishi.

Yan Sishi nodded.

They went in and sat down. The server brought menus.

Xia Li glanced at the prices and relaxed. She had mentally prepared herself to treat them — she wasn’t going to be stingy about it. She only worried about whether she had enough cash on her.

The three of them each ordered.

Wang Chen had been talking non-stop for the whole walk and seemed to have finally run out of steam. He slumped back in his seat and stared blankly into space for a moment.

After a bit, he seemed to come back to himself and asked Yan Sishi: “When you go to Singapore, when are you planning to leave? Departing from Jiangcheng, or going back to Beicheng first?”

Yan Sishi said, “The 3rd. From Jiangcheng, connecting through Hong Kong.”

“No direct flights from Jiangcheng to Singapore?”

“Right.”

Wang Chen said, “Then I’ll book the same flight as you.”

Yan Sishi nodded.

Xia Li asked, “Are you going for an exam?”

Wang Chen said, “Yes. The SAT. Three sittings have been arranged for the first half of the year. June 6th is the last one. Honestly, I don’t have much confidence — I’m just going to give it a try, get a feel for the atmosphere.”

Xia Li sipped her lemon water and said nothing for a moment.

These things felt very far away from her.

For her, right now, it was as remote as matters from another world entirely.

And perhaps — Yan Sishi had always been someone from another world.

Near the end of the meal, Yan Sishi stood up, told Xia Li and Wang Chen to keep chatting, and headed to the bathroom.

Before long he returned to his seat. Xia Li, seeing that they’d mostly finished, rose first and went to the front counter to pay.

The server checked the system. “That table has already been paid for.”

Xia Li blinked and understood.

She went back to the table, and the three of them picked up their bags and left the restaurant.

Xia Li fell half a step behind, walking alongside Yan Sishi, and said in a low voice, “I said I was treating.”

He had likely done it out of habit — not letting a girl pay.

But she didn’t feel particularly pleased about it. If anything, she felt a little deflated.

Yan Sishi looked down at her.

After a moment, he said, “Sorry — then let you buy me a drink.”

Xia Li quickly nodded.

Her mood, which had been like a kite fallen to the ground, suddenly caught the wind and soared back up.

There was a bubble tea shop just across the street.

Xia Li ordered what she always got: frozen lemon seven-up.

Wang Chen went through the entire menu but found everything too sweet and said he’d just drink water.

Yan Sishi was hesitant for a moment as well, but in the end he said, “Frozen lemon seven-up.”

Xia Li’s lashes fluttered.

She restrained herself and didn’t look at Yan Sishi.

She knew that boys generally didn’t like sweet drinks very much. Of everything on the menu, the lemon seven-up was the most refreshing and light choice. There was nothing remarkable about it.

She knew that. But still, she couldn’t stop her heart from hammering wildly.

The order-taker said: “Two frozen lemon seven-ups, that will be…”

Xia Li opened her wallet and drew out a twenty-yuan bill to hand over.

She collected her change and took out a small watermelon-patterned coin purse from her bag, tucking the coins inside.

After a short wait, two frozen lemon seven-ups were passed over from the pickup counter.

Xia Li took one, pulled out two straws, and handed one to Yan Sishi.

Yan Sishi said “thank you,” took it, pressed his fingertip to the top of the white straw, and pushed it down into the cup.

Transparent seven-up. Pale green slices of lime. Bubbles rising in a quiet stream.

That cup in his hand was, in Xia Li’s memory, the early summer of 2009.

Everyone had other plans for the afternoon, so they parted ways here.

Tianxing Street was a pedestrian street — no motorized vehicles. The three of them walked together toward the main road ahead.

Wang Chen needed to catch a bus at the intersection ahead and left first.

Xia Li was heading back to the apartment near school, and Yan Sishi was waiting to be picked up. Both of them needed to cross to the other side.

The crosswalk light turned green. The two of them crossed together.

In a small city like Chucheng, traffic lights for pedestrians really only controlled vehicles with more than four wheels. They were barely halfway across when a three-wheeled motorcycle came buzzing straight at them.

Yan Sishi’s free hand caught hold of her elbow and gave a light tug forward. “Careful.”

He then stepped half a pace back and moved to her right side — the side the vehicle was coming from.

The motorcycle rattled past, leaving behind a burst of engine noise and a sharp reek of exhaust.

Once on the other side, Xia Li glanced at Yan Sishi, then quickly looked away. “Are you waiting here for your ride?”

“Yeah.”

“…Then I’ll head off. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Xia Li didn’t look back even for a second, just walked forward along the shoulder of the road, all the way to the turn at the corner ahead, where she stopped.

Standing beneath the shade of a tree, she turned and looked back. Yan Sishi was just pulling open a car door and getting in.

Only then, at last, could she hold back no longer. She crouched down right there on the roadside, burying her face into her folded arms.

She reached up and pressed her fingers against the skin of her own elbow.

In the past, when going out with classmates, any boy with a modicum of awareness would naturally walk on the side closer to traffic. It wasn’t anything particularly special.

But this was Yan Sishi.

Her cheeks blazed like water boiling over, and a sustained, tumbling roar of feeling inside her refused to subside.

The next morning, Xia Li went directly by bus to Juzhu Township.

Around midday, the shop owner sent someone to deliver the computer. They unboxed it in front of Xia Li, assembled it, powered it on for a test run…

Xia Li naturally wasn’t going to trouble Yan Sishi to help verify the goods, but she photographed the entire process as documentation all the same.

That afternoon, she also contacted the telecommunications provider to come set up the internet connection. It wasn’t until dinnertime that the computer was finally online and fully functional.

The following day, Xia Li went over again to help download some essential software, registered QQ accounts for both Jiang Hong and Xia Jianyang, and taught them the most basic operations — single-clicking, double-clicking, that sort of thing.

Then she used that computer to create a document: a usage tutorial for each piece of software, written with her parents’ level of understanding in mind.

Only once she started writing the tutorial did she realize how complicated it actually was. Without noticing, it took up an entire day of her time.

During the May Day holiday, the factory workers were off, and the cafeteria wasn’t feeding many people.

After Jiang Hong finished with the cafeteria, she brought over a few dishes for Xia Li on the way.

She came back to find Xia Li still at work and said, “Come eat first. This isn’t urgent — when you have time, come over and teach us again.”

Xia Li didn’t move from the computer. “Almost done — is there a printer anywhere nearby?”

“Your dad’s department, security, has one. Go eat first, then take it over and ask him to print it for you.”

Xia Li saved the document and transferred it to her USB drive.

Over the meal, Jiang Hong inevitably asked her the usual questions about her studies and life at school.

Xia Li said everything was fine.

“Your Uncle Luo’s son has his high school entrance exam next month,” Jiang Hong said conversationally.

“Do you think he’ll get in?”

“Luo Weiguo has already made arrangements for the development fee. If he doesn’t pass, they’ll just pay their way in.”

“At our school?”

“Right.”

“He must be really wealthy then,” Xia Li said, pressing her lips together.

“Didn’t Director Huo from our factory donate a large sum of money to your school? As long as Luo Weiguo says a word, it won’t cost him much at all.”

Xia Li said nothing.

Jiang Hong sighed. “It’s just the way things are — different people, different fates. Your Uncle Luo knows how to work the system, so he gets on a little better than we do.”

“…Do you envy him?”

Jiang Hong laughed. “Envy what? I have a sensible, well-behaved daughter like you — I don’t envy anyone. Look at Luo Weiguo: he’s done so well for himself, but Luo Wei is such a useless kid, like a creditor come to collect a debt. And Director Huo has money, right? He found his daughter a husband from Beicheng — even wealthier than the Huo family. But what good is it? His daughter still got sick…”

Xia Li’s eyelid twitched. “…What illness?”

Director Huo’s daughter — wasn’t that Yan Sishi’s…

“That I don’t know. Director Huo’s grandson moved back here to study, didn’t he — I’d guess that’s all because of this.”

Xia Li suddenly felt deeply uneasy. “Where did you hear this?”

“There are no secrets in a factory. A lot of people here know about it. Some of the older employees watched Director Huo’s daughter grow up, so they know the Huo family well. Back when the Huo family held the wedding banquet in Chucheng, they even got to meet Director Huo’s son-in-law — said he was truly a fine-looking man…”

Xia Li pressed for more details, but Jiang Hong had already reached the limits of what she knew.

After dinner, Xia Li stopped by the security department, printed out the tutorial she’d made, handed it to Xia Jianyang, and then caught the bus home.

Midway through the ride, Xia Li took out her phone and lit the screen.

In the darkness, the dim white glow of the screen fell across her face.

She scrolled through her contacts all the way to near the end and stopped at the entry filed under “Y.”

Since getting his phone number, Xia Li had not sent him a single message.

She opened the messaging interface, pressed the keys on the phone’s keypad, and for a long time, letter by letter, typed out: The computer has been set up and is running normally. Thank you for your help.

Only after sending it did she realize she hadn’t signed her name. She quickly sent a second message: This is Xia Li.

Then she immediately realized the second message was entirely unnecessary. Given what the first message said, who else could it be from?

Being nervous makes people do foolish things.

A moment later, the phone buzzed.

“Y” had replied: I know. You’re welcome.

Even through the text, it was easy to picture Yan Sishi saying these words in that detached, flat tone — the impression he had always given: cool and aloof, a white moonlight perched on a cold ridge, far beyond reach.

The road outside was bleak. The streetlights cast a dim, wan glow. The bus jolted and rattled along.

Xia Li leaned her head against the window, as if traveling through some absurd dream.

She didn’t know why, but she felt profoundly, inexplicably sad.