“A secret crush is: I drown in your gaze ten thousand times, by my own volition — and am reborn ten thousand times.”

— Sherry Lab, The Ninth Year Past the Dream

They waited less than ten minutes at the school gate before the car arrived.

Yan Sishi pulled open the rear door. Xia Li climbed in, said “thank you,” and settled back.

Yan Sishi nodded, motioning for her to move over a little toward the left.

Xia Li startled, quickly shifted over, and Yan Sishi ducked his head and got in after her, pulling the door shut behind him with a quiet click.

She didn’t stop to wonder why he hadn’t taken the front passenger seat. The driver turned around and asked where they were going. “Chucheng Vocational and Technical College, the new campus,” she said quickly.

The new campus of the vocational school was near the border between the development zone and the main part of the city — about twenty minutes by car.

In reality, Xia Li had no mental space to think about anything else on the drive over, even with Yan Sishi sitting right beside her.

Phone calls came in one after another. First Zhu Xuan, then Xu Ning — both asking whether she’d found a car, whether the roads were congested.

There was even a call from Xiao Yulong, calling on behalf of his good friend, the student who had collected the costumes, to apologize for the trouble the mishap had caused her.

In this fashion, she spent the entire trip answering calls and monitoring the traffic, until the car arrived at the vocational school.

At the school gate, Xia Li lowered the window and stopped two passersby to ask for directions. The car found its way smoothly to the dormitory building where the six girls lived.

She pulled open the left-side door hurriedly and said to Yan Sishi: “Please wait a moment!”

The six sets of clothes hadn’t been folded at all. They’d been shoved haphazardly into a Xtep paper bag, stuffed to bursting. Xia Li, afraid the bag might tear, simply carried it in her arms.

Back in the car, as they drove out, Xia Li took the clothes out of the bag one by one, counting them, and folded each piece neatly.

The clothes were undamaged, thankfully — except for one, which appeared to have caught something on the collar.

She brightened her phone screen and brought it close to examine the spot.

Yan Sishi shifted slightly and reached past her, pressing a button on the overhead panel of the car.

The reading light came on.

“…Thank you.” Xia Li didn’t dare look up. Her face was faintly warm.

She wondered if he thought she was out of her depth — not even knowing there was a light up there.

Yan Sishi withdrew his arm. Xia Li, eyes still lowered, looked a little flustered as she turned her attention back to the stain.

The size of a pinky fingernail. It looked like a smudge of lipstick.

Worried that the shop owner would try to blame it on them when the clothes were returned, she took out her phone to photograph it as evidence.

But her phone — long overdue for replacement — produced nothing but blurry, unusable images in low light.

Xia Li looked up at Yan Sishi. “Could I borrow your phone to take a photo?”

Yan Sishi nodded. He slid open his phone from the front, tapped to the camera function, and handed it over.

At the time, the most popular phone at Mingzhang was the Nokia 5300 — red and white, with a beautiful design and strong entertainment features, beloved by boys and girls alike. That was what Lin Qingxiao used.

Yan Sishi’s phone was a Nokia N96, which had just been released in 2008. Black, minimal, clean-lined — perfectly in keeping with his character.

Xia Li held Yan Sishi’s phone and photographed the lipstick stain from two angles.

As she handed it back, she was aware of a faint warmth gathering in her palm. “…Could you do me one more favor and send those to me?”

“A text message would be easiest. My number is 139…”

They could have used Bluetooth. Xia Li hadn’t forgotten. She just wanted this.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Yan Sishi’s long fingers press the keypad. A moment later, her phone buzzed.

She opened her inbox. Both photos had come through.

She saved them, then forwarded them to the Rain Lattice shop owner with a note explaining that the stain had been caused by the vocational school girls.

“Did you get them?” Zhu Xuan’s voice was tight with urgency.

“I have them. We’re already on the way back.”

“That’s a relief.” Zhu Xuan exhaled. “I’ve already sent the ones who were ready ahead to wait at the auditorium. When you get back, the last six will go to get their makeup done and meet the others there. Call me if you can’t find anyone.”

She ended the call and looked at Yan Sishi. “…Thank you. I never would have made it without you.”

“It was nothing.”

Xia Li reached up and turned off the reading light.

One arm around the pile of clothes, the other hand holding her phone — there in the darkness of the car, she couldn’t stop herself from smiling.

The crisis had been resolved.

And she had gotten Yan Sishi’s phone number.

Nothing could make for a more perfect day than this.

The car stopped at the school gate. Yan Sishi got out first.

Xia Li leaned forward and started to shift toward the door, still holding the bag of clothes. Yan Sishi reached out — offering to take it from her.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s not heavy — I’ve got it,” she said quickly.

How could she explain to him — that she felt this shabby paper bag was somehow an imposition on him.

But Yan Sishi, without a word, simply took hold of the bag’s handles.

The weight left her arms instantly.

Xia Li quickly got out of the car, and Yan Sishi shut the door behind her with his other hand. His voice was as even as always. “Shall we go.”

Yan Sishi walked at a measured pace, but his height gave him an effortless stride. Xia Li had to quicken her step just slightly to keep pace beside him.

The whole way, she silently prayed: please don’t let the bag tear.

They crossed the campus and arrived at the old teaching block.

Upstairs, in the spare classroom that had been converted into a dressing room, Lin Qingxiao and five girls were still waiting.

The moment the door opened, those five girls — standing together with such wide, earnest eyes — made Xia Li think, involuntarily, of children waiting for a parent to come home.

She couldn’t help laughing. “Got the clothes!”

Lin Qingxiao was already urging: “Quick, quick — everyone go change, then come straight back to get your makeup done.”

Yan Sishi handed over the bag. Xia Li took it and thanked him again.

Yan Sishi said it was nothing, and told her to go get changed quickly.

There was no time for more. The clothes were distributed by size as best they could manage — those where sizes didn’t quite match would have to choose the larger. The one with the lipstick stain, Xia Li kept for herself.

All six of them went together to the washroom at the end of the corridor, changed, then bundled back into their thick down jackets and hurried, shivering, back to the classroom.

The costume was a Republican-era female student uniform — blue jacket, black skirt. It was the autumn version, and even so, wearing it was cold.

By the time she got back to the classroom, with the immediate crisis behind her, Xia Li finally had the headspace to notice that Lin Qingxiao’s friend Ouyang Jing was there too.

Under Ouyang Jing’s white long down jacket, she was wearing a bamboo-green dress for a folk dance performance. Her makeup and hair were already done — her hair pinned up, her full and attractive forehead on display.

Lin Qingxiao and Ouyang Jing divided the remaining six girls between them — three each. Xia Li was assigned to Ouyang Jing.

Before sitting down at the makeup mirror, Xia Li glanced around the room.

Yan Sishi was no longer there. He had probably gone to the auditorium to find Wang Chen.

Xia Li sat down in the chair. Ouyang Jing took a few hairclips and pinned back Xia Li’s fringe, exposing her forehead.

“Did you just wash your face?” Ouyang Jing asked.

“Yes. I was running around and got a bit sweaty.”

“Your skin is a little dry. Can I put some toner on you first — it’s my own, is that okay?”

“Sure, whatever you think is best.”

After the toner, Ouyang Jing applied a little lotion to hydrate, then a primer.

“Your skin is so nice,” Ouyang Jing said. “You never really break out, do you? Not a single blemish mark.”

“Seems like I don’t, much.”

Ouyang Jing pressed a small pump of foundation onto her fingertips and dotted it evenly across Xia Li’s face. “And your face is so small — such a saving on products.”

Nobody minds being complimented by a beautiful person. Xia Li couldn’t help smiling.

Though Ouyang Jing was, in some sense, a “rival,” Xia Li felt no impulse to compete with her. Every time she saw Ouyang Jing, her only thought was how beautiful she was.

For a crowd-scene performer, the makeup didn’t need to be elaborate — just filling in the eyebrows and adding some lip color, using shadow and highlight to define the features enough to show up under stage lighting.

As for her hair — Xia Li’s reached to her collarbone, with a natural center-parted fringe that was soft and a little airy. Not too dark either; in good light, it looked chestnut. Not long enough to braid like the other girls, so Ouyang Jing used a wide headband to pin it back instead. The effect was perfectly in keeping — the image of a progressive female student of the Republican era.

When all six of them were done, they set out together for the auditorium, along with Lin Qingxiao and Ouyang Jing.

All the drama students were crammed into the corridor.

In the chaos, Xia Li fought her way through to find Zhu Xuan and Xu Ning.

Xu Ning came forward and pulled her into a hug. “I don’t know what I would have done today without you.”

Xia Li smiled and patted her back. “As long as the show goes smoothly. That’s what matters.”

Once they were all accounted for, Xia Li joined the opening scene — the student march. She stood on her toes, trying to see over the shifting crowd of heads.

She spotted Wang Chen, but there was no sign of Yan Sishi.

Wang Chen was in a three-piece wool suit, his hair slicked back — looking nothing like his usual slightly awkward self, which gave him a rather comical air. Even this close to curtain time, he was still poring over his script, lips moving silently. Genuinely dedicated.

Before long, it was the turn of The Xi’an Incident, fifth in the program. Xia Li was far too nervous to think about anything else.

Under Zhu Xuan’s direction, everyone lifted their banners and filed onstage. The slogans rang out with surprising force.

The class heartthrob playing Zhang Xueliang entered, spoke with the students, and pledged to provide a satisfactory answer.

Xia Li’s memory of this scene was hazy afterward — it seemed to be over almost before it began. Only the nervous sweat and the weak feeling in her legs felt entirely real.

Everyone filed back offstage to the wings.

And there Xia Li saw him — Yan Sishi — at the doorway where the backstage connected to the corridor. He stood with one hand in his down jacket pocket, leaning against the door frame. Behind him: the bright blaze of the corridor. Before him: the dim shadowy depths of the backstage area.

He was standing at the threshold between the two — and that silhouette was one of total, unreachable distance.

She stared at him for a long time without realizing it.

The play that had taken so long to rehearse seemed to dissolve in the blink of an eye.

The applause came. All the principal cast members went back onstage to take their bows, and then the whole group moved in a large, noisy wave out of the backstage area.

“Let’s take a photo!” Zhu Xuan called out enthusiastically.

Everyone agreed.

They made their way to the brightly lit hall at the entrance to the auditorium.

Arranged by height, Xia Li ended up in the front row, slightly off-center.

Rows forming behind — four in total, tallest at the back. The boys went to the very last row.

Zhu Xuan handed her camera to a friend from another class.

The friend took a test shot. Zhu Xuan looked at it and shook her head. “Boys, come around front and kneel in front of the first row!”

Xia Li’s heart lurched into overdrive.

Wang Chen and Yan Sishi — who had been standing in the back row — came around to the front and crouched down just to her diagonal left.

She lowered her eyes and looked: the dark hair, and from above the collar of his down jacket, a small glimpse of pale, white skin on the back of his neck.

She pulled her gaze back immediately.

Zhu Xuan made a few final adjustments, then returned to her spot in the lineup.

The person with the camera: “Ready — three, two, one…”

Everyone: “Happy New Year!”

Xia Li opened her eyes as wide as they would go. She didn’t dare blink for even a second.

A chance like this — to be in the same photograph as him — might never come again for the rest of her life.

The shutter clicked. Something fixed itself in her heart along with the image.

Afterward, the English teacher and two foreign teachers joined them for a few more group photos.

Then everyone broke into smaller clusters for their own shots. Xia Li, Xu Ning, and Lin Qingxiao took a photo just the three of them.

During this time, Xia Li noticed that several girls had worked up the courage to approach Yan Sishi and ask if they could take a photo with him.

He said no to every one.

Perhaps tired of the attention, he eventually said a word to Wang Chen that he was going to the washroom, and left.

Once the photos were done, everyone started heading back to change out of their costumes and go in to watch the rest of the gala.

Lin Qingxiao said she was going backstage to check on Ouyang Jing, and headed off first.

Xu Ning had been going to walk with Xia Li, but was pulled away at the last moment by their homeroom teacher, Mr. Zhuang. She told Xia Li to go ahead to change; they’d meet back at the classroom.

Xia Li stopped by the washroom, then turned to go — and noticed, at the top of the steps by the main entrance, that the long banner from the first scene had been left there by someone, wadded into a tangled heap.

She bent down, picked it up, shook off the dust, and tucked it under her arm. As she walked toward the old teaching block, she began unfurling it from one end, rolling it into a tidy bundle.

From behind her, a clear voice called her name.

Xia Li stopped.

No matter how many times she heard it — whenever she heard Yan Sishi’s voice, her heart missed a beat.

Yan Sishi came over. “Has Wang Chen already left?”

“I think he went to change with some of the boys from our class.” She looked up and caught a quick glimpse of him. “Are you going to the old teaching block to find him?”

Yan Sishi nodded.

The two of them walked side by side.

Xia Li said nothing — just kept rolling up the banner.

She sensed Yan Sishi glance at what was in her hands. “I thought it would be a shame to throw it away,” she said. “I want to keep it.”

Yan Sishi turned his head then, and looked down at her — a slightly lowered gaze.

This one pause lasted noticeably longer than his usual offhand glances during conversations.

In the dark of the night, his eyes were clear and deep, offering nothing to read.

Her own eyes dropped at once. Her breath went ragged — shallow, then too deep.

Why was he looking at her like that? Did he find this behavior a little affected?

At last, Yan Sishi looked away. His tone was no different from usual. “You seem to really like this drama.”

Xia Li quietly let out the breath she’d been holding. “…It’s more that I like the people who did the drama together.”

And the moment she’d said it, she felt it sounded wrong — her heart immediately clenched with a jolt of anxiety. She had meant nothing specific by it, so she rushed to clarify: “…I really value my friendship with Class Seven students. They’re all wonderful people.”

This wasn’t an empty sentiment. It was what she genuinely felt.

In middle school, she hadn’t really had any close friends. The real ones had all come from Class Seven.

She had transferred to Chucheng in her first year of middle school, moving from a small town in her home county. Perhaps because she’d seemed a little provincial then; perhaps because she still had a trace of the local accent; perhaps because her reserved nature had been mistaken for aloofness; or perhaps because despite all that, she kept scoring in the top three on every exam —

For whatever reason, another girl had it out for her.

That girl spread rumors through the dormitory — that she was unclean, a rural girl who left sanitary products carelessly around; that her bra was a hand-me-down from her mother; that she’d been talking badly about their entire dormitory to girls in other rooms.

And soon enough, the whole dormitory was freezing her out.

When she got into the top-tier Mingzhang High School, the girl who had targeted her ended up at the ordinary Yizhong. The other dormitory girls — she hadn’t been curious enough to track where they went.

Coming to Mingzhang — and especially after the class was divided — had shown her what it felt like to truly fit in. Every person in the class was good to her. Especially the girls. Especially Lin Qingxiao and Xu Ning.

Yan Sishi said nothing more, only gave a quiet “mm.”

Xia Li also fell silent.

Before she’d quite realized it, they had arrived back at the old teaching block.

In the classroom, Wang Chen had already changed and was standing in front of a mirror, waging a battle with the hair gel.

Xia Li tucked the rolled banner into her bag and went to the washroom to change out of her costume.

By the time she came back, Yan Sishi and Wang Chen had already gone.

Xia Li found a chair and sat down, texting Xu Ning.

Xu Ning replied that she’d be there shortly.

Xia Li held her phone and opened the inbox — scrolled to the text she’d received in the car earlier that afternoon — and saved the number.

When it came to entering a name for the contact, a deeply private joy stirred in her, one she had no desire to share with anyone.

She was even afraid of someone seeing her phone and asking questions. She couldn’t bring herself to save the full name. Just a single letter: “Y.”

At that moment, noise erupted outside.

Xia Li looked up, disoriented.

A girl burst into the classroom, flushed with excitement. “Someone’s downstairs confessing to Yan Sishi!”

Xia Li quickly locked her phone screen and slipped it into her jacket pocket.

She stood up and went out with the others to see what was happening.

She stood on the dark outdoor corridor and leaned over the railing to look down.

There, in the clearing beneath the statue of Mingzhang’s founding principal, two figures stood: Yan Sishi — and opposite him, a girl in a long white down jacket, her hair pinned up.

It was Ouyang Jing.