The class reunion happened to fall on one of Fang Zhuo’s days off, though the hotel was quite a distance from A University.

They had agreed to meet for dinner, but Yan Lie arrived at campus at ten in the morning, standing in the parking lot on the ground floor of the dormitory building and sending Fang Zhuo a message.

Fang Zhuo put on her shoes and hurried downstairs.

She tapped her access card and went through the gate, still looking around for him. Yan Lie heard the movement and leaned out from the shadows, raised his hand in a wave, and broke into a bright smile.

Yan Lie was the kind of person who seemed born for summer. Clear eyes, an unbridled temperament, an unguarded smile. The fierce, vital energy of the young. The phrase high-spirited and full of promise could have been coined for him. The kind of person who could easily stir a heart, and just as easily lead one astray.

The summer wind swept through from the other side of the parking lot, passed over Yan Lie, and drifted on to brush against Fang Zhuo.

Fang Zhuo walked over, raised one hand to shield her eyes from the light, and asked, “Why did you come this early?”

“I wanted to see you,” Yan Lie said. “You never come to find me.”

He had brought a parasol, and he strode over, opened it, and held it above Fang Zhuo’s head. As he tilted it toward her, he leaned in close as well.

Fang Zhuo asked, “Aren’t you hot?”

Yan Lie, with very little honesty, said, “Not at all.”

It was the height of summer, the season of the three hottest stretches. A City’s streets broiled under the sun, radiating a heat so intense it was almost unbearable. The warmth reflecting upward off the concrete alone was enough to make it feel oppressive, stifling, impossible to breathe through.

The two of them had come out too early — their classmates in the group chat had not yet stirred, and they had no choice but to wander aimlessly in the area for a while.

If there was one place that offered free air conditioning and was unlikely to disturb anyone, it was a bookstore. The school library happened to be closed that day, and Fang Zhuo still had some reference materials to track down, so she and Yan Lie simply headed to the Xinhua Bookstore nearby.

It was still well before lunchtime, and the bookstore had drawn a fair number of people escaping the heat. The indoor air conditioning was running at full blast, and clusters of residents had found spots against the walls, chatting in low voices.

The back of the first floor was a busy little supermarket. Taking the escalator up, the second floor was primarily devoted to textbooks and various learning tools for elementary, middle, and high school students. The two of them gave it a cursory glance and continued on to the third floor.

Fang Zhuo followed the signs to the shelf she was looking for, crouched down, selected two books, and turned around to find that Yan Lie had been following her the entire time.

Fang Zhuo hugged the books to her chest, feeling the sharp corners press against her fingers. She glanced around them and said under her breath, “We’re in public.”

“So what? Am I someone who needs to hide?” Yan Lie said. “I look decent enough. It can’t embarrass you to have me along as an accessory. Besides, I haven’t done anything.”

Fang Zhuo dropped her gaze, was quiet for a moment, and then said, “When you’re here, I can’t concentrate on reading.”

Yan Lie had his own particular way of thinking about things and was supremely good at finding comfort in them. He laughed a little, ruffled Fang Zhuo’s hair, and said breezily, “All right, then — I’ll go buy you a milk tea.”

Fang Zhuo walked out with her books and found a spot with good light.

The reading area was already full, so she ended up standing by the window, flipping through the pages.

Not all of the book’s content was familiar to her. She scanned the Zhuo Zhuo Lie Ri – Chapter headings, skimming quickly to locate the knowledge she needed.

She had just spotted a survey that closely resembled the assignment her teacher had given, and was about to check the planning framework laid out for it, when she heard someone call her name from ahead.

Fang Zhuo looked up at the vaguely familiar yet slightly distant face across from her, and for a moment could not place who it was.

The girl pulled at the corners of her mouth. The angle of that upward-tilting smile, combined with the slight downward pull of the muscles around her cheekbones, gave the awkward expression an edge of something sharp. She asked, “Where are you working these days?”

Fang Zhuo remembered who she was. Her fingers pressed against the book’s spine — worried she might warp the cover — and then relaxed the pressure as she replied evenly, “I’m still in school.”

“Oh, which school?” the girl said. “Someone told me they saw you working the register at a little supermarket somewhere — I assumed you were employed there.”

Fang Zhuo had no desire to answer. The girl made no move to leave, so Fang Zhuo said without much expression, “I work there part-time.”

“Oh.”

The girl seemed to want to say something more, could not find the words, and turned to go. After a moment she came back, hovering with some hesitation.

“I’m in A City now too,” she said. “Is university going well for you?”

Fang Zhuo looked at her, gaze cold and level.

The girl’s attempt at easy familiarity was not working. Her expression was on the verge of slipping, and she did not have enough composure left to pull it back.

“You were lucky — you transferred to A High later on.” She stumbled over her words, watching Fang Zhuo’s face for a reaction. “It sounds like your father looked out for you well…”

“Zhuozhuo.”

The girl was mid-ramble when the voice behind her made her flinch sharply. She turned her head slightly — and Yan Lie had already stepped past her.

“Here, darling — your milk tea.”

Yan Lie pressed the cup into Fang Zhuo’s hand and in the same motion draped an arm around her shoulder, then glanced up at the girl across from them with a silent question in his eyes.

Fang Zhuo only said, “My father couldn’t help me get into A University. Neither could luck.”

The girl was still staring at Yan Lie, and when those words landed she said in disbelief, “You’re at A University?!”

“Yes,” Fang Zhuo said. “Did you have anything else you wanted to ask?”

“No… I’ll go first.” The girl said hastily.

She turned to leave, took two hurried steps, then turned back and said in a short, clipped voice: “I’m sorry.”

Once she had made her escape, Yan Lie asked, “Who was that?”

“A classmate from before.” Fang Zhuo had lost all inclination to read. She finished the key passage she had been on, and closed the book.

Yan Lie thought back to the quiet, withdrawn Fang Zhuo who had first arrived at A High, and could piece together well enough that her time at her previous school had not been happy. Only she never spoke of it — as though it were a minor thing of no great consequence.

The tone in which Fang Zhuo mentioned it now was mild too: “I suppose I really wasn’t very likable back then.”

Always wearing worn, dingy clothes. Never able to keep up with her classmates’ ways of spending time. A daily rhythm that was relentlessly repetitive and dull. No interest in going along with what the group thought.

Her being so much older in spirit than her years had made her seem like she didn’t fit. And she was never accomplished enough to earn anyone’s admiration in place of belonging.

The younger people are, the less they understand how to conceal their cruelty — and often they do not even know what they want from it, only that they have chosen, out of some impulse, to exclude and be cold.

Life’s circumstances are never predictable. It was hard to imagine that two people who had once regarded each other with such indifference would meet again today like this.

Fang Zhuo thought, in a drifting sort of way, that she must have truly changed a great deal.

“That’s nonsense,” Yan Lie said, pulling her closer. “So many talented people at our school liked you — and you’re still not likable? What about me? Am I not a compelling enough example?”

“That’s only because I changed.” Fang Zhuo offered the assessment quite dispassionately. “If you had grown up alongside me, chances are you wouldn’t have liked me either.”

Yan Lie protested with indignation, “Dou E was wrongly executed, and so is your boyfriend.”

Fang Zhuo took a sip of her milk tea. The cold, sweet liquid brought her brain a moment of pleasure. Noting the time, she said, “Let’s go.”

Their old homeroom teacher had also set out early, and arrived at the hotel in a flurry of energy, calling on all the students scattered around the venue to come quickly.

The class group chat came alive for the first time in a long while — a stream of jokes and pleasantries.

Students began arriving in short order, sending back reports to those still on their way.

Group photos were passed around one by one, in all of which their homeroom teacher looked unflattering in her own particular way. This so vexed her that she retaliated with a string of reaction images and berated the boys for their abysmal photography and their appalling taste. After which she declared she was refusing to be photographed anymore.

A few minutes later, new photos appeared, with visibly improved results — heavy filters and well-calibrated beauty adjustments left the teacher quite satisfied, and she agreed to continue serving as a human backdrop for their check-in photos.

When Fang Zhuo and Yan Lie reached the private room, there were already over twenty people inside.

Zhao Jiayou caught sight of Yan Lie and shouted out a greeting. A cluster of people immediately surrounded him and pulled him off to a corner to talk.

Wei Xi came wriggling through the crowd as well, hauling Fang Zhuo over to a neighboring table, where she leaned in close to whisper in her ear.

More than a year had passed, and their homeroom teacher seemed not much different from before. She had even put on makeup for the occasion of coming out to see them, and looked considerably more radiant than she had during those third-year days.

A few of the boys ordered a case of beer. The teacher had two glasses, then found herself besieged with conversation, recounting stories from high school and dwelling on memories with a great deal of feeling.

She pointed to several of the students and described the worries she had carried for each of them back then, touching the stray hairs at her temple with a rueful expression: “My hair was falling out in handfuls at the time. It’s a good thing the lot of you had a little conscience — you didn’t let me down after everything.”

Those she named laughed a little shyly, raised their drinks, and offered her a toast.

“This year’s class was a very sensible group of students — really quite good. All that fretting on our part wasn’t for nothing.” She stretched to look across the room, found Yan Lie in the crowd, and pointed at him. “And a great deal of it was thanks to Lielie. He helped me enormously. Teacher may have given you a hard time on occasion, but teacher is genuinely proud of you.”

Yan Lie smiled and said, “Because you’re also a teacher I deeply respect.”

The teacher pressed her lips together firmly, clinked her glass toward his across the room, and nodded, visibly moved.

Wei Xi nudged Fang Zhuo with her elbow, slowly curling her open hand into a fist, closing her fingers one by one, and asked, “Sister, please tell me — how did you manage to win over a quality man of iron like that?”

A few of the girls nearby leaned in, also declaring they wanted to hear the lesson.

This was a difficult question for Fang Zhuo to answer. But faced with the sincerity and longing in their eyes, she could not bring herself to say she had no idea. After racking her brain for a while, she said, hesitantly, “In… indulgence?”

Wei Xi pressed herself against Fang Zhuo’s arm and implored, “Indulging a man of iron? Is there any specific operational guidance for that?”

Fang Zhuo thought back through it all and managed to scrape together something resembling advice. “Occasionally agree to some of his more unreasonable requests. Try to understand his more childish ideas. And if he gets upset, coax him a little, I suppose.”

Wei Xi imagined this in her own context and said, with great suffering, “You’re asking me to walk straight into steel and take the blow head-on… I can’t do it!”

“Fang Zhuo!” The teacher called her name from across the room.

Fang Zhuo went over in a few long strides.

The teacher took her hand, looking at her through slightly glazed eyes, and said, “It’s so good to see this. I’ve been following that short video series every day. Your uncle has his own shop now, and business is going well. You can study with peace of mind.”

As she spoke, she grew visibly moved, the corners of her eyes growing damp. “To tell you the truth, teacher always knew you would be all right — because you’re the most resilient student I’ve ever seen. After enduring that stretch of things, it’s time for this world to give back what you worked so hard for.”

Fang Zhuo nodded and said sincerely, “Teacher, there’s actually something I’ve been wondering about for a while.”

The teacher said, “Go ahead.”

Fang Zhuo asked, “That video looked so unflattering — how on earth did any of you recognize me?”

The room erupted in laughter.

“You looked full of spirit!” the teacher declared. “In teacher’s eyes, you are the most beautiful!”

Fang Zhuo laughed along with everyone else.

The teacher had drunk enough to be rather buoyant, the warmth of the wine rising to her cheeks. She was collected by her husband after they left the hotel.

Before going, she turned back to face everyone one more time: “Every one of you has a brilliant future ahead. That is what I became a teacher to see. But never stop pushing yourselves further — you have a long road still to travel.”

Her husband was already saying “Yes, yes, we know,” and ushered her away with a gentle arm around hers.

The group debated where to go next, and in the end, as the evening heat of the day began at last to ease, they walked together along the flood-control embankment for a while.

Later still, the students from out of town had to head back. The celebration wound down from its high point and came to a quiet close.

Yan Lie put up the parasol again and took Fang Zhuo’s hand for the walk home.

In Yan Lie’s bedroom, the succulent he had once brought back from school had long since been repotted — divided into separate little ceramic pots that now filled the entire windowsill.

He had specifically taken the time to learn how to care for succulents: how to regulate watering, how to manage sun exposure.

He brought Fang Zhuo over to look, and pointed to the small straw-woven figure stuck in the soil. “It’s on its way out.”

Fang Zhuo thought to herself that it had always been on its way out — it was just that he had trimmed it and extended its life a little.

“It’s a bit of a shame,” Yan Lie said, carefully touching the faded red cape. “This is something that belongs to both of us.”

Fang Zhuo made a sound of agreement.

Yan Lie said, “So you’d better give me something new soon. Something that won’t fall apart, something I can keep for a long time.”

Fang Zhuo wore a puzzled expression. The first thing that surfaced in her mind was an advertising slogan: A diamond is forever, one stone to last through time.

But she could not afford a diamond. And she had never quite been able to accept the premise that carbon was worth that kind of money — Yan Lie was probably better off not getting his hopes up.

She said carefully, “I… I could give you a specimen? Those last forever too.”

“A specimen?!” Yan Lie blinked, startled. “You could give me a scarf, a love letter, or really anything else at all. A specimen… Teacher Fang, I’m having trouble following the logic there.”

“Oh — oh, right.” Fang Zhuo caught herself and quickly tried to salvage it, scrambling for an explanation. “I meant — dried flowers. Because they’re pretty.”

Her clumsy recovery made Yan Lie laugh out loud.

Fang Zhuo knew perfectly well where his weak points were, and continued: “Just like you.”

“Thank you,” Yan Lie said, predictably moved. “In that case, a dried flower specimen — I’ll like that too.”

Fang Zhuo nodded. “All right.”

The two of them sat in front of the windowsill, letting the evening breeze drift over them in silence.

The last thin line of red faded from the horizon, and the night sky went fully dark.

Fang Zhuo said, “Wei Xi asked me today why you like me. The truth is, I’ve never quite been able to work that out either.”

Yan Lie was leaning with his arms on the table, his face turned toward her, his gaze soft. He smiled and asked, “And what do you think it is?”

Fang Zhuo was quiet, her fingers gently turning one of the small green leaves.

After a moment, she said, “Surely it can’t be that I’m easy to get along with?” When she had first met Yan Lie, she had been rather cold, as she recalled.

“Because you’re lovely,” Yan Lie said. “And romantic.”

The word romantic seemed to amuse him. He added, “The kind of romantic that only I can understand.”

Fang Zhuo felt he was making fun of her — and doing it quite openly.

“I imagine a fair number of people would actually find it appealing.”

The cape of the little straw figure was caught by the breeze and lifted upward, like a tiny figure with nothing left to fear.

Yan Lie’s voice was quiet and unhurried, warm with a laugh: “Do you know what I was just thinking about?”

Fang Zhuo asked, “What?”

Yan Lie raised one hand and pointed vaguely toward some high point outside the window. “Can you see the moon out there?”

Fang Zhuo looked in the direction he indicated.

But tonight there was no moon at all.

“If you were one face of it, and I were the other — turning with the pull of gravity, each of us with our own waxing and waning. When the sky is heavy, when you’re unhappy, I can tuck you away where no one can see — so only I can ever reach you.”

Yan Lie’s long fingers traced the outline of a shape in the air, blurred and unfinished.

“Wherever you are, I will always know.”

“You are the other half I cannot do without.”