·
The two of them quickly abandoned their plan to strike it rich collecting rubbish. They had, in fact, already gathered a few bundles of spent fireworks shells — but when they looked up, they found an elderly sanitation worker in an orange vest staring at them with aggrieved confusion, as though to say: Is there really someone competing for this scraps route?
The two of them didn’t have the nerve to continue and ended up giving all the shells they’d gathered to the old man.
It was not yet nine o’clock when He Youyuan rode Li Kuiyi home. They wove through crowds and buildings, the bike wheels rolling across the streets and alleyways of the city. Perhaps because it was almost the new year, the streets were bright and festive, every face carrying a smile — as though the new year meant a new beginning, and everything unknown was a long-awaited sense of completeness.
However, when they were still about two kilometers from Li Kuiyi’s home, He Youyuan stopped and said he’d been riding too long and his legs were sore — he wanted to walk the rest of the way with her.
Li Kuiyi thought he had indeed been riding far too long, and with her weight on top — it would have been strange if his legs weren’t sore. Noticing a vendor along the roadside, a woman with a headscarf pushing a three-wheeled cart selling roasted sweet potatoes, she went over and bought one. She asked for two bags, broke the potato in half, and gave one half to him.
He Youyuan took it with one hand and pushed the bike with the other. When the golden, steaming flesh melted on his tongue, he couldn’t help but glance sideways at her. He saw her with her schoolbag on her back, one hand tucked in her pocket and the other holding the hot, steaming roasted sweet potato, walking beside him in a slow, unhurried sway. Her figure gradually merged with a certain image he had once sketched in his mind. In that instant, he felt something warm and deeply settled in his chest — an extraordinarily fitting feeling, as though everything were exactly as it should be. Quickly, it spread through his entire being, wrapped in a rough, unadorned sweetness.
This sweet potato is just too sweet, he thought.
They were walking so slowly, yet twenty minutes later they had arrived at her door. He Youyuan began to regret it — he should have stopped three kilometers away.
Li Kuiyi stood at the entrance to the compound, thinking it was only polite to ask about him, and so she inquired: “Your legs — are they still sore?”
Not at all.
Right now, his entire being was hopelessly sweet.
He Youyuan looked at her and smiled, his voice noticeably softer than usual. “They’re sore. Probably won’t be able to get out of bed tomorrow.”
Li Kuiyi nodded and attempted to offer comfort. “Well, that’s fine then — school’s not in session tomorrow.”
He Youyuan: “…”
You only care about whether there’s school, is that it?
“You have no conscience. Who do you think got their legs this sore?”
Li Kuiyi’s cheeks grew slightly warm, but she looked at the night scene in the distance rather than at him. “Well, you didn’t have to take me.”
He Youyuan’s hair was ruffled by the winter night wind, revealing the unguarded, vigorous spirit of youth. He watched her in silence for several seconds, then his throat tightened abruptly: “Well… if I wanted to keep taking you — how long would that be allowed?”
Li Kuiyi still didn’t look at him. She only felt a sudden warmth flare in her chest; she quietly bit down on her lower lip, and in a place out of sight, her fingers curled and clenched, gripping the seam of her school trousers.
Why does he ask questions even harder than advanced mathematics?
She didn’t know whether she should give him an answer, or what answer to give. Her brain was unable to process a question so delicate and subtle. It slipped into blankness, and only a few surviving brain cells continued to function, barely enough to let her kick the ball back to him: “Didn’t you say… you’re going to intensive training? So… obviously you won’t be able to take me then.”
“Oh,” he laughed softly. “So that means — I can take you up until I leave for intensive training?”
Li Kuiyi heard how he’d interpreted it and panicked. She quickly turned her face back toward him. “That’s not what I meant!”
But He Youyuan was utterly shameless and said with certainty: “Yes it is.”
“Don’t twist my words!”
“I didn’t twist anything — you taught me this.”
“I never taught you that!”
Seeing herself about to lose the argument, Li Kuiyi — flushed with embarrassment and indignation — issued one last feeble denial and then turned and ran off without looking back.
She didn’t stop until she reached the dark stairwell of her own building. The motion-sensor light in the hallway had broken, and the surroundings were pitch black — no one could see her. She raised the back of her cool hand and pressed it against her hot cheeks.
She was completely at a loss.
She liked Fang Zhixiao, and could be best friends with her, sharing everything; she liked Liu Xinzhao, and could write her long journal entries — because they were the same gender, they naturally offered each other a tender, intimate form of affection. But He Youyuan was different. He was a boy. In all sixteen years of her life up to this point, no one had ever taught her how to build an intimate relationship with a boy — she and her father were not close, either.
Entering into an intimate relationship with someone of the opposite sex made her feel — a little unsafe.
Why did she have to like him? She absolutely hated this feeling.
Li Kuiyi stomped her foot hard in protest, as if trying to jolt the broken sensor light back to life — but of course it didn’t work. She had no choice but to feel along the wall of the stairwell and make her way upstairs.
2015 arrived on schedule. Li Kuiyi lay in bed listening to the sound of fireworks and firecrackers booming from somewhere far, far away — she couldn’t tell if it was real or imagined, or perhaps just the echo of the fireworks display she’d watched a few hours earlier still reverberating in her ears.
She rubbed her ears, rolled over, and picked up her phone from beside the pillow, beginning to reply to New Year’s greetings one by one.
“Happy New Year!”
“Happy New Year to you too!”
“Happy New Year, ha!”
He Youyuan had sent her one as well, timestamped precisely at midnight on the dot.
He Youyuan: Happy New Year!
Li Kuiyi’s fingers paused. She typed back: “Mass-sent?”
The moment the message went out, she regretted it and pressed down on the message bubble to recall it — but he had already replied.
He Youyuan: I’ve never mass-sent a message in my life.
Nonsense.
Li Kuiyi huffed: “Last time during the Lunar New Year, you…”
As she was typing, her hands suddenly stopped.
In a flash, like lightning striking, she understood at last what that line — “Mass sent. No need to reply” — had meant back then.
Could it be that he had already liked her at that time?
While she sat there in a daze, his next message arrived.
He Youyuan: So you’re not going to reply this time either?
The moment Li Kuiyi saw that message, she turned her phone face-down, pulled the blanket over her head, and pretended she hadn’t seen it. After a while, she emerged from under the covers, took a deep breath, deleted what she’d been typing, and started over.
“Happy New Year!”
He Youyuan: Good. Now I’m happy.
If you’re happy, then you’re happy — why say it out loud?
This person is truly so infuriating.
Li Kuiyi turned her phone face-down again, not wanting to talk to him anymore.
On the first day of the new year, Li Kuiyi slept until past ten in the morning. Perhaps because she’d slept too much, her mind was foggy rather than rested, as if a thin transparent membrane separated her from the rest of the world. She drifted to the bathroom on unsteady feet and was mechanically brushing her teeth when there was a knock at the door.
She spat, rinsed, and came out of the bathroom to answer it. Xu Manhua also came out of the bedroom and made her way to the door at the same time.
Since there was an adult present, Li Kuiyi just opened the door. She looked up to see a young woman in a postal service uniform.
“Who are you looking for?” she asked, still bewildered.
The postal worker asked: “Is this… Ms. Li Kuiyi?”
“Ah… that’s me.”
“You see,” the postal worker said with a smile, “you subscribed to a full year of Harvest magazine — China Post is now delivering it to your door.”
As she spoke, she opened her delivery bag and produced a thick magazine, handing it to Li Kuiyi.
Xu Manhua squeezed in and took the magazine for a look. “What is this?”
Li Kuiyi was completely baffled. “I didn’t subscribe to any magazine. Is there some mistake?”
The postal worker pulled out her phone and confirmed the address and recipient: “No mistake — Yujing Yuan Compound, Building 19, Unit 2, Floor 3, Apartment 303, Ms. Li Kuiyi.”
Li Kuiyi scratched her head. “But I really didn’t subscribe. Is there any way to find out who made the order?”
“There’s no way to know that. The books were sent directly from the Harvest editorial office. Perhaps you could contact the magazine’s customer service to find out.”
Li Kuiyi thought: could it be someone she knew, who had subscribed for her and kept it secret as a surprise?
But who would be so mysterious about it?
Yet also know her so well.
The bewilderment gradually gave way to delight. Li Kuiyi smiled at the postal worker and said, “Alright, I’ll ask the editorial office. Thank you for bringing it over — Happy New Year.”
“Of course — it’s our job. Happy New Year to you as well. By the way, Harvest is a bimonthly publication — six issues per year in total, plus four full-length standalone volumes. China Post will continue to deliver them to your door. Enjoy your reading.”
After sending the postal worker on her way, Li Kuiyi slipped back into her dazed state, took the magazine from Xu Manhua’s hands, and ran her fingers over the cover.
Fresh. Gleaming. A literary journal.
Who, on the very first day of the new year, had given her such a perfect gift?
Li Kuiyi couldn’t help but let the corners of her mouth lift. She looked up and found Xu Manhua watching her with a suspicious expression.
“It must be Fang Zhixiao who subscribed it. Definitely.”
She said this as she nodded to herself and closed the security door, then ducked into her own room.
She sat down at her desk, carefully opened the magazine, and scanned the table of contents from beginning to end to see if there were any authors she was interested in. The fresh pages gave off a faint scent of ink that drifted around her nose, and her breathing softened along with it.
It definitely wasn’t Fang Zhixiao. She simply cannot keep a secret — if she’d subscribed it, she would have sent a message at five in the morning asking: did the book arrive?
It probably wasn’t He Youyuan either — he didn’t seem to know her exact home address.
The person who knew she liked reading magazines, knew her exact home address, and had the thoughtfulness to do this — there was probably only one person: Liu Xinzhao.
And just recently, she had seen her buying a magazine at that little book stand.
Was it really her?
The answer, while not entirely surprising, was still beyond what she had expected.
She was just her teacher.
Did she have to be this good to her? She had so many students — was she only this kind to her alone? She couldn’t possibly subscribe a magazine for every student. Then why was she so good to her? Just because she wrote journal entries for her?
Whenever matters touched on feelings and emotions, Li Kuiyi tended to spiral in confusion. Her hands trembling slightly, she picked up her phone and sent Liu Xinzhao a message.
“Teacher Liu, was it you who subscribed Harvest magazine for me?”
Liu Xinzhao replied quickly: “It was. Do you like your New Year’s gift?”
Seeing her confirm it, Li Kuiyi’s eyes welled up, and suddenly she didn’t know what to say. Ask her why she had done it? That seemed inappropriate. Thank her? It seemed inadequate.
But all she could offer was that inadequate thanks.
“Teacher Liu, thank you — I love it, I really, truly love it.”
“I’m glad you love it. Children who love to read deserve to be rewarded! Keep reading, my Li Kuiyi whom I am so proud of.”
Li Kuiyi let the tears fall.
She hadn’t wanted to cry at a moment like this. But when a person realizes they are being loved — they simply cannot help it.
