In early September 2008, high school began.

Jiang Yubai carried his backpack, wearing a student uniform, and walked through the international school’s gate.

He was assigned to Class A of the first-year high school. There were fourteen students in the class, including a girl named “Zhao Gefei” who often organized gatherings for the Chinese students in their class.

Zhao Gefei’s attitude toward Jiang Yubai was particularly special, and she even made a homemade lunchbox for him.

Jiang Yubai thanked Zhao Gefei for her kindness, but then shared the lunch with all his classmates to taste, winning universal praise. Yet he didn’t take even a single bite, which was quite disrespectful.

Zhao Gefei wasn’t discouraged.

She persisted for many days, until one of Jiang Yubai’s good friends informed her, “You make food for Jiang Yubai every day, exhausting yourself while annoying him. It’s like ‘poking a stick without getting any dates’—completely meaningless.”

Zhao Gefei suspected this message was relayed through a friend on Jiang Yubai’s behalf.

Because, given that friend’s Chinese language level, he couldn’t possibly use such a complex, profound, and rare folk saying as “poking a stick without getting any dates” so flexibly.

Zhao Gefei was also a person with pride.

She found Jiang Yubai and asked him directly: “Don’t you like women who are nice to you?”

Jiang Yubai countered: “Do you like men who are nice to you?”

Zhao Gefei raised an eyebrow: “Yes, of course.”

Jiang Yubai leaned against the railing, gazing toward the school entrance.

Zhao Gefei followed his line of sight and saw a disheveled middle-aged man collecting plastic bottles.

She frowned tightly, humiliated: “Are you making fun of me?”

On the contrary, Jiang Yubai didn’t want to make fun of anyone.

He was just wondering if attraction between people could be categorized into many types.

If his appearance underwent a dramatic change, his thinking and personality would inevitably change with it—each person’s characteristics and nature were all interconnected.

Jiang Yubai said briefly, “Thank you for the boxed meals you’ve made recently.”

Zhao Gefei stepped forward: “They’re not called boxed meals, they’re ‘bento boxes of love.’ You gave my love bento boxes to others, that’s wasteful, you know?”

But Jiang Yubai said, “If someone eats the meal, it’s not wasted. That person just can’t be me.”

His rejection was both tactful and direct.

Zhao Gefei asked with a hint of anger: “Jiang Yubai, don’t you know how miserable it is to have a secret crush on someone?”

Jiang Yubai didn’t answer.

Zhao Gefei could only say: “You win.”

She turned and walked away.

Jiang Yubai took out a thermos from his backpack and used the cup lid to hold half a cup of water.

He sat on a soft sofa at the end of the corridor, drinking water as if savoring tea. The cold wind made his hair slightly disheveled. A group of fifteen or sixteen-year-old boys came walking up the stairway—they were all Jiang Yubai’s friends. They surrounded Jiang Yubai like stars around the moon, discussing the group assignment the teacher had given them.

Someone asked Jiang Yubai: “What did Zhao Gefei say to you just now?”

Jiang Yubai habitually concealed his private matters.

He said, “Nothing much, I was passing by and just greeted her.”

*

A few days later, it happened to be the school’s horseback riding class, and Jiang Yubai and his classmates all went to the equestrian field.

The field was some distance from the school. After the students got off the bus, a cool breeze blew across the open grassland. The riding instructor led the students to the stable and allowed them to take one or two photos with the exposure closed.

Jiang Yubai was the most enthusiastic photographer.

He ran like an unbridled wild horse to a distance to take a panoramic shot, then ran back to the stable, slowly crouched down, and captured the spirited posture of the horses from a low angle.

Liu Pu from the next class stood nearby, asking Jiang Yubai’s classmates: “Is your classmate Jiang Yubai unfamiliar with horses, or… is he a photographer?”

A classmate spoke up for Jiang Yubai: “He’s two years younger than me, skipped grades. Young people like taking photos.”

“Can Jiang Yubai ride horses?” Liu Pu asked further.

The classmate pointed to a jet-black steed: “That’s Jiang Yubai’s horse, he’s raised since childhood, called ‘Lychee.’ Quite a few people in our class have entrusted their family horses to the school’s stable for professional care. It’s quite convenient.”

Before he finished speaking, several professional trainers appeared around the stable.

The trainers repeatedly explained the key points of movement to the students. They emphasized repeatedly that before mounting a horse, one must first wear safety protective equipment.

The students all looked quite obedient, with no troublemakers. Just as the trainer was about to praise everyone, a sudden piercing scream was heard.

The trainer whipped his head around to see a student named “Liu Pu” opening a wooden door and climbing onto a young, relatively temperamental white stallion.

The white horse raised its head with a long neigh and galloped wildly across the field.

Liu Pu screamed frantically: “Ah! Help! Teacher! Save me! Save me! This horse is so strong! I can’t hold on!”

The more panic-stricken Liu Pu became, the more frenzied the white horse grew.

A thought flashed through the trainer’s mind: “Someone’s going to die.”

Two trainers quickly mounted horses and rushed toward Liu Pu’s location.

The students were in chaos, buzzing with discussion.

Meanwhile, Jiang Yubai took out his phone and dialed 120 for emergency medical services.

Shortly after he finished the call, Liu Pu fell from the horse’s back. Jiang Yubai shouted at him: “Don’t stretch out your hands! Curl into a ball!”

Liu Pu was so nervous he almost vomited—how could he hear Jiang Yubai’s words?

Liu Pu’s entire body stiffened like a zombie with both arms extended, landing stiffly on the ground. After a few seconds, he burst into agonized wailing: “My hand is gone! My hand is gone!”

The riding instructors brought a first-aid kit and gathered around Liu Pu to rescue him.

There were four instructors at the scene. Following the “fracture first-aid” procedure, they simply immobilized Liu Pu’s limbs to prevent him from unconsciously struggling.

Liu Pu’s voice gradually weakened, and someone anxiously asked: “Liu Pu isn’t going to die, is he? He’s only sixteen.”

Zhao Gefei said loudly: “Jiang Yubai called 120, Liu Pu won’t die!”

The ambulance had not yet arrived, and the field’s dedicated on-duty doctor hadn’t appeared either—that doctor was staying in the rest area on the eastern side of the field. The trainers were still administering fracture first aid.

One trainer found time to call the rest area, but no one answered.

Jiang Yubai looked toward the eastern rest area.

The next second, he mounted a horse and galloped away.

He rode a glossy black horse, with the vast green grassland spreading before his eyes. His classmates’ exclamations echoed behind him.

Jiang Yubai pulled the reins tight, fearless and determined, only wanting to find the doctor quickly.

The rest area drew closer and closer. He slowed down in time, circled to the back of the rest area, and across a low wall, he spotted the doctor napping on a lounge chair.

Jiang Yubai sat astride the horse, like a prince from afar. He called out clearly: “A classmate of mine just fell off a horse. I’ve called 120, and the trainers are all waiting for you, doctor.”

The doctor immediately woke up. Looking at his phone, he asked anxiously: “It’s only one forty in the afternoon, aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

“We arrived early,” Jiang Yubai explained. “While the trainer was lecturing, my classmate secretly climbed onto a horse.”

The doctor glanced at Jiang Yubai, then wheeled over a small electric scooter. He shouldered his medical equipment, rode the scooter, and rushed toward Liu Pu.

Jiang Yubai led the black horse across the rippling grassy field. From a distance, he saw the doctor kneeling beside Liu Pu. A few minutes later, the ambulance arrived, and today’s horseback riding class had to end early.

Jiang Yubai raised his hand to stroke the black horse’s mane. The black horse raised its head and stamped its forehooves forcefully.

This black horse was named “Lychee.”

“Lychee” had just turned seven, in its prime, and was an extremely expensive purebred horse. Shortly after it was born, it caught the eye of Jiang Yubai’s father. His father gave it to Jiang Yubai as a birthday gift.

The young Jiang Yubai was overjoyed.

He often spent half a day in Lychee’s stable shoveling fodder, sweating profusely. He had heard that horses are gregarious animals, don’t recognize owners, and are friendly to everyone, but his Lychee was different—since Lychee grew into a majestic, tall, and powerful horse, it would take on an “I’m noble, you’re not worthy” attitude in front of all humans.

The reason Jiang Yubai entrusted Lychee to the school’s stable was also to let it learn some manners from other classmates’ horses.

However, Lychee’s performance earlier was excellent. It carried Jiang Yubai to the rest area with the determination of a warhorse, undisturbed by the shouts of the classmates.

*

Liu Pu’s “horse-falling incident” came to an end.

Two weeks later, with his left hand wrapped in bandages and his right leg in a cast, he resiliently returned to campus.

His classmates welcomed him like a hero, which brought him great comfort.

However, Zhao Gefei from Class A told him that Jiang Yubai was the first to call 120. Jiang Yubai had also ridden a horse to the rest area to find the doctor. Girls from Classes A and B all screamed for Jiang Yubai’s handsomeness and bravery.

Jiang Yubai never mentioned this in front of Liu Pu, nor did he even let Liu Pu treat him to a meal.

Liu Pu had to admit that Jiang Yubai was righteous, broad-minded, calm, rational, and never sought to exploit his good deeds, just like a great hero described in martial arts novels. He had initially been quite resistant to Jiang Yubai, but later inexplicably integrated into Jiang Yubai’s social circle, bringing Classes A and B closer together.

Soon, students from both Classes A and B discovered that when Jiang Yubai visited various venues, he often carried a camera to photograph the surrounding scenery.

It wasn’t unusual for a rich second-generation to be into photography; what was unusual was that Jiang Yubai’s good friend inadvertently revealed that all of Jiang Yubai’s photos were taken for a specific girl to see.

Which girl?

Everyone’s curiosity reached its peak.

Until they saw Lin Zhixia at the school gate.

It was a clear weekend, just after the students had attended a lecture. As they exited the campus, they happened to see Jiang Yubai holding Lin Zhixia’s backpack strap while Lin Zhixia playfully tugged at Jiang Yubai’s sleeve. The two appeared extremely close.

Monday morning, just as Jiang Yubai stepped into the classroom, someone immediately asked: “Hey! Jiang Yubai, bro, you’re dating a girl from another school?”

Jiang Yubai denied it: “I’ve never dated and don’t want to.”

His classmate persisted: “Who was that beautiful girl by your side at the school gate on the weekend?”

Jiang Yubai said with dignity: “She’s a classmate from my elementary and middle school. I’ve known her for six years and am her friend.”

Everyone exclaimed, “Wow, childhood sweethearts!”

Childhood sweethearts.

Such a simple idiom made Jiang Yubai momentarily lose focus.

At that time, Jiang Yubai had just entered his second year of high school.

He had lived in Beijing for a full year.

During this year, he and Lin Zhixia were separated by distance and developed a habit of video chatting.

Lin Zhixia had also solemnly declared: “Jiang Yubai, wait for me. Next year I’ll go to university in Beijing, and we can meet often. I’m so looking forward to it. I can see your family’s horse in person; it looks so cute.”

Jiang Yubai believed her.

However, after Lin Zhixia started university, her studies became increasingly busy.

In Lin Zhixia’s laboratory, researchers had to turn off their phones. So she often had her phone off. She no longer answered Jiang Yubai’s calls, didn’t reply to his messages, and was offline on QQ.

The photos Jiang Yubai sent her disappeared like stones sinking into the sea. She completely vanished from his world.

For years, Jiang Yubai had often heard Lin Zhixia say, “You are my best friend.” He had almost been brainwashed by Lin Zhixia, always aligning everything with the concept of “friendship.”

He suffered from insomnia due to Lin Zhixia’s sudden coldness.

The pillow seemed to emit the fragrance of strawberries.

The word “strawberry” took on a bewitching hue.

In the dead of night, Jiang Yubai suddenly sat up, picked up a pen, wanting to write a letter to Lin Zhixia, but after struggling for a long time, he couldn’t squeeze out a single word, as if he had returned to elementary school overnight.

He recalled a line of poetry Lin Zhixia had told him: “Love makes it hard to begin writing; only after a thousand revisions does the heart find peace[1].”

The meaning of this poem is that, because of affection, writing becomes difficult; only after countless revisions does the heart feel somewhat secure.

Jiang Yubai sat quietly at his desk until two in the morning, with only one sentence on the letter paper: “Long time no see, Lin Zhixia.”

He had overestimated his writing speed and underestimated his feelings.

The moon hid behind the clouds, the pitch-black night without a trace of light. Negative emotions of frustration and restlessness consumed Jiang Yubai.

He capped his pen tightly, walked back to the spacious bed, and took out a “Human Observation Diary” written by Lin Zhixia, turning to the chapter “Exploration and Reflection on Quantum Field Theory.” Seeing a large section of dense physical formulas, drowsiness immediately struck, and fatigue poured over his head like a waterfall.

He finally fell asleep.

Despite how much Jiang Yubai liked Lin Zhixia, he couldn’t read her physics manuscripts.

In the hazy dream state, Jiang Yubai remembered a classmate once asking him: “Jiang Yubai, don’t you know how miserable it is to have a secret crush on someone?”

He hadn’t known before.

Now, he seemed to perceive a hint of it.

*

In short, the year Lin Zhixia came to Beijing for university, Jiang Yubai lost contact with her for several months.

Jiang Yubai inquired with more than a dozen people, and everyone told him that Lin Zhixia was thriving in her university life, highly valued by her teachers, and the senior female students in the same laboratory building all praised her endlessly.

Lin Zhixia was living happily and fulfilling—a true genius should be in the right environment.

Jiang Yubai couldn’t describe his feelings.

Every night before sleep, Jiang Yubai would open the quantum field theory notes Lin Zhixia had given him—this was his sleeping aid and also a way to pursue memories.

One night, after reading a page of notes, Jiang Yubai had a bizarre dream.

He dreamed that Lin Zhixia and he maintained a friendship until both had white hair and hunched backs. Leaning on canes, they walked on a tree-lined path, and Lin Zhixia said: “Thank you for accompanying me to ninety years old. You are a friend for my lifetime, much more important than a partner. Why have you, like me, never dated?”

Dream Jiang Yubai replied: “This matter, you will never understand.”

Lin Zhixia asked: “Never?”

Jiang Yubai kept it mysteriously to himself.

*

The next morning, after Jiang Yubai woke up, the dream remained vivid in his memory.

He remembered the mottled, swaying tree shadows, the age spots covering the backs of hands, the portable electronic canes.

As if possessed, he put on his clothes and stood before a clean full-length mirror. The youth in the mirror was just sixteen, tall with long legs and black hair.

He roughly pulled open his collar, revealing a large expanse of strong chest. Youth was preserved in this moment, and he again recalled last night’s strange dream.

Today was the weekend, so no classes were needed. After breakfast, Jiang Yubai went to his family’s stable to feed the horses.

He brought a bucket of feed mixed with carrots, strawberries, pumpkin, and apples, but the black horse named “Lychee” still proudly stood in the corner, seemingly not at all welcoming Jiang Yubai’s arrival.

Jiang Yubai called softly: “Lychee.”

Lychee stamped its hooves in place.

Jiang Yubai lifted the heavy wooden bucket with one hand: “No appetite? I’ll go then.”

Lychee almost burst out of the stable.

Jiang Yubai placed the bucket in the feed trough.

In “Romance of the Three Kingdoms,” Red Hare and Dilu could understand human nature.

But “romance” is, after all, “romance.” In reality, the steed Jiang Yubai raised by hand ate nonstop like a piglet. No matter what Jiang Yubai said, the horse didn’t stop eating.

Jiang Yubai didn’t care whether Lychee could understand.

He just needed a listener for his innermost thoughts.

Although Jiang Yubai had many friends, he almost never opened his heart to others, possibly because his growing environment was also inclined toward solitude. After all, solitude is the norm in life.

Jiang Yubai’s parents were very busy, and his grandparents often taught him, “One should never be without vigilance.” Since last year, he has participated in company management training courses. With the increase in experience and age, his trust in adults was gradually declining.

In his first year of middle school, Duan Qiyan often cursed Jiang Yubai for being scheming, having a bad heart, and not being a good person.

Lin Zhixia always argued logically with Duan Qiyan. She said Jiang Yubai was the best person in the world, her eternal best friend.

Jiang Yubai asked Lychee: “How long do you think ‘forever’ is?”

Lychee finally finished a bucket of feed. It stretched its neck, approaching Jiang Yubai.

Suddenly, the chestnut horse next door let out a neigh, discovering that Lychee had eaten a lot of good things while it hadn’t received the same feed.

Jiang Yubai pressed the bell, and the staff responsible for managing the stable hurriedly came to give the chestnut horse extra food.

Jiang Yubai casually opened the gate, and Lychee slowly walked out.

Jiang Yubai led Lychee for a walk in the garden. He said concisely, “Lin Zhixia’s physics notes are like a celestial book. I can’t understand them.”

Lychee lowered its head, letting Jiang Yubai pat its head.

Jiang Yubai continued: “Had a dream last night. I remained friends with Lin Zhixia until we were ninety, stayed single all my life, and only felt free as death approached.”

Lychee breathed heavily, shaking its head left and right. Jiang Yubai deliberately misinterpreted its actions: “Are you trying to tell me that reality and dreams are opposite?”

He formally praised: “You’re right.”

He patted Lychee’s mane: “As expected from a champion horse I raised by hand.”

*

Shortly afterward, Lin Zhixia finally called Jiang Yubai.

Lin Zhixia said she had been too busy lately and hadn’t intended to neglect Jiang Yubai.

Lin Zhixia agreed to Jiang Yubai’s request to “meet at least once a month.” She became a regular visitor at Jiang Yubai’s home.

Jiang Yubai kept a little cat named “Strawberry.”

Lin Zhixia liked “Strawberry” and was also very interested in “Lychee.” When she and Jiang Yubai strolled in the garden, Lychee would obediently follow behind them, its hoofbeats becoming light and slow.

The cold wind of early autumn tousled Lin Zhixia’s long hair. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and sat on a bench.

She opened her backpack and happened to find a box of cookies, so she asked: “I brought strawberry cookies today, would you like some?”

Jiang Yubai nodded slightly.

Lin Zhixia took out a cookie: “Ah, open your mouth.”

Jiang Yubai’s lips remained tightly pressed.

Lin Zhixia tilted her head: “Do you want to eat or not?”

Lychee also tilted its head along with her.

Jiang Yubai turned his face to look at Lin Zhixia.

She blinked, extending her hand forward, the cookie touching his lips. He took a bite, and crumbs of the strawberry filling scattered on the corner of his mouth.

Lin Zhixia was about to use her fingertips to wipe his mouth, but suddenly felt a bit embarrassed. She handed him a napkin: “You better do it yourself.”

Jiang Yubai took the napkin.

Lin Zhixia casually found a topic: “How are you doing at school?”

“Attending classes according to schedule,” Jiang Yubai summarized, “Pretty good.”

Lin Zhixia seemed to see through his thoughts: “Did something happen? Tell me, I’ll help you find a solution.”

Jiang Yubai retreated to advance: “I can’t waste your time.”

Lin Zhixia was indeed very smart. She immediately understood Jiang Yubai’s deeper meaning: “Don’t worry, I won’t lose contact with you again. I’ll give you my laboratory’s landline number. If you can’t find me, call the landline…”

Jiang Yubai handed her his phone, and she immediately input a series of phone numbers.

The autumn sunset was setting, its remaining light falling into his eyes, making his gaze warm and clear. Lin Zhixia stared at him, entranced, while he revealed, like telling a story: “I had a dream recently.”

“What dream?” Lin Zhixia’s curiosity was piqued.

He completely recounted the dream of the ninety-year-old Jiang Yubai and Lin Zhixia he had seen.

In just a few words, Lin Zhixia was stunned: “Really?”

She said, “I feel something’s not quite right.”

Jiang Yubai asked in return: “Don’t you want to be friends with me for a lifetime?”

Lin Zhixia wanted to speak but stopped herself.

Jiang Yubai remained polite and restrained. He promptly changed the subject to avoid making Lin Zhixia uncomfortable.

Jiang Yubai was only sixteen this year. His emotional experiences were as pure as a blank sheet of paper, and so were Lin Zhixia’s. He wasn’t sure whether his feelings for Lin Zhixia could be considered “true love”—everything has two sides, and emotions are especially a double-edged sword. He would keep the good side for Lin Zhixia and digest the bad side himself. Those delusions related to irritability, frustration, jealousy, and possessiveness were all suppressed to the lowest point.

Such a secret crush wasn’t too miserable because it was positive and sunny in itself.

Within just a few seconds, Jiang Yubai understood. He stood up from his seat and said to Lin Zhixia, “It’s getting dark, let me take you back to school.”

He extended his hand toward Lin Zhixia, and she grasped his fingers. He pressed her fingertips, then hesitantly let go. They walked side by side in the evening’s afterglow, their shadows overlapping, as if they had never been apart.