The next morning, just as the sky was beginning to lighten, Fang Zhuo woke up. The thin curtains were drawn, blocking half the light. She poked her head out and saw that the dormitory head was already awake, tying her hair at the desk.

The girl made a gesture at her, indicating it was only seven o’clock. Then she picked up her suitcase, said a silent goodbye to Fang Zhuo who was still sitting dazed on her bed, and cheerfully headed out the door.

Fang Zhuo also got up, gathered her things, confirmed her supplies were all there, and quietly pushed the door open.

It was raining outside. After a whole night, the ground had become muddy and waterlogged, the air humid yet carrying a faint fresh scent.

Fang Zhuo opened her umbrella and went to wait below the boys’ dormitory building, standing by the flower bed and choosing an inconspicuous spot.

She had intentionally worn a dirty pair of shoes that needed washing when she left. Watching others tiptoe carefully around the puddles, she felt a kind of fearless glee, and stomped one foot right into a puddle.

The arc of water that splashed up flew high — and landed on a pair of white shoes that had suddenly appeared beside her.

Fang Zhuo froze. Her gaze slowly traveled upward from the shoes and met Yan Lie’s expressionless face.

He lifted his shoe and gave it a shake, but couldn’t shake the dirty water off. Instead, more rain soaked through the top of his shoe. Before he could even get out a “What do you think you’re doing —”, Fang Zhuo, having come to her senses, had already fled the scene of her crime.

“Fang Zhuo!” She heard Yan Lie calling her from behind. The icy rain mixed with wind stung her skin, and the umbrella in her hand flipped backwards, beyond her control.

A pair of hands reached from behind and steadied it, pushing the upturned canopy back into place above her head. His voice was resigned: “Don’t run around — I’m not going to scold you. Really.”

Fang Zhuo stopped where she was, her conscience pricking at her. She held the umbrella properly and headed toward the cafeteria, making a show of going to get breakfast.

She didn’t feel guilty for long. Another puddle appeared in the path ahead. That certain petty and vindictive someone immediately dashed forward and stomped hard, sending a spray of water onto Fang Zhuo’s shoes.

Rather cold.

Fang Zhuo looked up and said in an aloof tone: “Childish.”

Yan Lie laughed triumphantly beside her, as if he had just done something tremendously satisfying.

Since it was raining today, they couldn’t ride bikes. They had to walk to the bus station.

Coming out of the cafeteria, Fang Zhuo slung her bag over her back, wanting to free her hands for the umbrella. Yan Lie saw her struggling with the heavy backpack, its weight dragging her movements, and offered, “Let me carry it.”

He picked it up — and found it heavier than he’d imagined. “What do you have in here?” he asked, surprised.

“Books,” said Fang Zhuo.

Yan Lie glanced at the large white paper bag in her other hand.

“Also books,” Fang Zhuo said. “I like reading. What of it?”

Yan Lie said, with a meaningful look: “Clearly what you like is doing homework.”

Other people brought homework home as a token gesture — to show their parents, and to ease their own conscience. Fang Zhuo actually did hers.

Fang Zhuo asked: “How many clothes do you have in your wardrobe?”

Yan Lie paused, nearly convinced she was about to insult him, but her expression didn’t quite fit the role of a spokesperson for the wardrobe of a certain well-known character known for vanity.

Sure enough, she asked again, with complete sincerity: “You buy so many clothes — is it because you enjoy changing outfits?”

This question of the soul stumped Yan Lie.

Fang Zhuo, seeing him at a loss, felt a flicker of disappointment in his intelligence, and could only answer for him: “It’s so that when you have no choice but to get dressed, you still have at least a little bit of freedom in the choosing.”

Every point Fang Zhuo made landed in territory completely outside of Yan Lie’s expectations, leaving on his face a contradictory expression of half-understanding and self-doubt. So much so that even after Fang Zhuo had walked on ahead, he was still silently turning over this profound piece of wisdom.

What a flawless piece of logic —

Yan Lie had walked the first half of the route to Fang Zhuo’s home before. He was a seasoned companion now, and rode the rural bus with her all the way to the base of the bridge, where they waited for the minibus going toward the villages and towns.

His mood was excellent all day — carrying her bag, holding the umbrella — and even after more than an hour had already been spent getting here, his steps were still light, his expression bright, and he was humming a song Fang Zhuo didn’t recognize.

They hadn’t waited long under the bridge when the rain stopped. After the dark clouds parted, a corner of pale blue sky was revealed. A soft, gentle sunlight pierced through, falling over the lush green hills of the countryside.

Moisture clung to the vegetation, exhaling a refreshing breath.

Yan Lie looked at the climbing vines on the hillside, and the unnamed white flowers blooming here and there among them, and asked Fang Zhuo with genuine curiosity what they were.

Fang Zhuo said helplessly: “How would I know? They’re just wildflowers.”

Yan Lie said: “Flowers that try so hard to bloom — how can you just call them wildflowers? They have their own names, don’t they?”

He always seemed to have these slightly strange, youthfully spirited thoughts. They sounded naive, yet not the least bit annoying.

Yan Lie took out his phone and pointed the camera at the flowers to identify them.

Fang Zhuo was curious about this feature too, and leaned her head over to look.

Unfortunately, the little loading circle on the screen spun and spun, and what finally appeared was a completely different, common flower.

“Looks like there’s more learning to do.” Yan Lie turned back and said, “The people in natural history magazines seem to know everything — how impressive.”

Fang Zhuo gave a simple “Mm” of agreement.

Yan Lie sighed at his phone: “Search engine, this just won’t do. You’re a disappointment.”

Fang Zhuo: “…”

Yan Lie gave a small laugh, put his phone away, and gazed toward the end of the road. “How much longer until it comes?”

“Should be soon.” Fang Zhuo didn’t know the exact time either. The last few times she’d come, she’d had fairly good luck — a wait of half an hour at most before the bus arrived.

“Doesn’t that mean it’s pretty boring when you’re here alone?” Yan Lie asked.

“Isn’t it also pretty boring when you’re home alone?” she replied.

“It is,” Yan Lie said candidly. “So I find other things to do.”

Fang Zhuo looked ahead for a moment, then turned to him, choosing her words carefully: “Why is there never anyone home at your place?”

Yan Lie raised an eyebrow and answered uncertainly: “Because they don’t come home?”

Fang Zhuo lowered her voice, as careful as the breeze slipping through the flowers behind them: “How long has it been like that?”

Yan Lie really wanted to laugh, but forced himself to keep a straight face and said gravely: “Sir, is this condition serious? Is it treatable?”

Fang Zhuo opened her mouth, hesitated, and said nothing. Yan Lie watched as she lowered her head, fixing her gaze on the puddle in front of her. Strange expressions slowly spread across her plain, clean face — she looked as though she might be angry.

A secluded mountain forest. A silent road.

A vast, hazy expanse. A wide and distant wind.

The rich green of the foliage set against the grey-blue of the sky.

Yan Lie loved this feeling. Peaceful, yet free from loneliness.

He also loved listening to Fang Zhuo speak — her voice clear and crisp and clean, as alive as the plants rooted in these hills.

When no answer came, he asked again: “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know how to respond to that.” Fang Zhuo said with sincere exasperation, “It’s maddening.”

This was part of why she didn’t particularly enjoy chatting with people — it felt as if they hadn’t come out of the same nine years of compulsory education.

Though in truth, they hadn’t.

Yan Lie blinked, and a second later burst out laughing.

His bright, easy laughter floated through the air. Fang Zhuo held herself back, but he showed no sign of reining it in.

She felt thoroughly mocked. The clouds on her face deepened and she snapped: “What’s so funny?”

Just then, an orange glare of headlights swept in from under the bridge. Fang Zhuo, red-faced and indignant, said: “I’m leaving. You can stay here if you like.”

Yan Lie quickly followed behind and boarded the bus. There were few people inside, and most of the seats were empty.

Fang Zhuo chose a window seat. Yan Lie sat down beside her and finally looked more or less normal.

He leaned toward her, eyes bright, looking animated: “Why don’t you reply to my texts? Is it also because you can’t figure out what to say?”

“No.” Fang Zhuo looked puzzled. “What’s there to figure out?”

Yan Lie pressed on: “Then why?”

Fang Zhuo hedged: “If you send something important, I’ll reply.”

“Why?” Yan Lie persisted.

Fang Zhuo grew impatient and told him the truth: “Texts are expensive.”

Yan Lie was taken aback. He clearly hadn’t anticipated that answer.

Was it that Fang Zhuo was tightfisted, or that their friendship wasn’t worth a single cent?

“You can use QQ,” he said, a little aggrieved.

“I don’t want to. That’s my uncle’s phone,” Fang Zhuo said.

“Then get your own phone,” Yan Lie said. “I have a hand-me-down that still works. The battery will just die if it sits unused — why don’t I lend it to you for now?”

“No!” Fang Zhuo said firmly. “It would slow down my studying.”

Yan Lie said, dejected: “Alright then.”

The vehicle passed a stretch of paddy fields, and the boy finally fell quiet, looking out through the window at the scenery.

He asked Fang Zhuo to swap seats with him, wanting the window seat, and then gazed with great interest at the thoroughly ordinary green fields.

Fang Zhuo watched his profile and thought of something from a long time ago.

She must have still been in primary school back then. The school required home visits, and the teacher went to find her based on the address in her file.

It happened to be raining those two days as well — except it rained much harder. The low-lying farmland had flooded, and all that could be seen from the road was muddy water. Some of the uneven paths had become unrecognizable, and anyone unfamiliar with the area might have stumbled into a tree pit.

The teacher got lost in the village and ended up in quite a state. He never found Fang Zhuo’s house and went back, then told the class: “What kind of a place is that?”

Fang Zhuo had been afraid of him at the time and said nothing. He had a somewhat sharp look about him and had never been particularly kind to her.

She didn’t know whose fault it was — she thought it might be that her home was in the wrong kind of place. She only half-understood the mockery, knowing only that it was something bad.

Later, a young female teacher walked out to her home again. Standing on a high ridge of earth, gazing out at the lush yellow expanse of rapeseed flowers in bloom, she said, “It’s beautiful,” then took Fang Zhuo’s hand and walked her home — and Fang Zhuo remembered that for a long time. Even the color of the dusk that day, and the silhouettes along the road, left a deep impression on her.

It was only a few years later that she understood: it wasn’t that the place was bad. It was that the person was bad.

Yan Lie’s voice pulled her back to the present. He made a frame with his fingers, pointing at the scenery rushing past outside, and said with a grin: “The ecology out here is wonderful — like something from an animated film. Any photo you took and posted online would probably go viral.”

“Would it?” Fang Zhuo said softly.

Why was it that everything she liked seemed to exist somewhere in Yan Lie as well?

Yan Lie entertained himself for a while before finally going into standby mode. When his battery ran out, his eyelids grew heavy and drooped. He leaned against the seatback and fell asleep.

He hadn’t slept long when Fang Zhuo shook his shoulder and woke him up, guiding her still-dazed companion off the bus.

Ye Yuncheng had been waiting at the entrance of the village the whole time, sitting on a small stool. Seeing that Fang Zhuo had come back today with an extra person in tow, he was startled for a moment, and hobbled over with his walking stick, not quite sure how to greet them.

Yan Lie heard Fang Zhuo call out “Uncle,” and instantly snapped wide awake. He broke into a standard, polished smile and quickly said: “Hello, Uncle! My name is Yan Lie — Fang Zhuo’s classmate. In our last monthly exam, I ranked first in the class and top three in the whole school. Our goal is to progress together!”

Fang Zhuo: “…?” Is that really the format for an introduction?

To her surprise, Ye Yuncheng’s manner warmed immediately upon hearing this. He grabbed Yan Lie’s hand and said excitedly: “Hello, young man!”