“Xue’er, Jinse, look! This is Wangran’s graduation photo. Doesn’t he look handsome?” Ye Hai pointed to the framed picture in the display window.
“Class 12, Senior Year, 2019 Cohort, Song County No. 1 Middle School Graduation Photo,” Zhao Jinse read softly, then rubbed her eyes.
“Song County? Jinse, didn’t you graduate from Song County No. 1 Middle School?” Li Xue’er suddenly exclaimed.
“Yeah, and I was in Class 11. Class 12 was right next door,” Zhao Jinse replied at once.
“Jinse, you and Wangran are really fated to meet. You’re from the same place, so you must have lots to talk about,” Ye Hai said with interest.
“Really? I don’t see it that way. Song County has plenty of people. Wouldn’t that mean I’m fated to meet lots of them?”
“Don’t deny it. Even your names are connected. One is the beginning of a poem, the other its ending. One at each end, how romantic! When you introduced yourself to me, I thought the names sounded familiar. I just looked it up, and they come from Li Shangyin’s poem ‘The Jinse,’” Ye Hai said, growing more and more excited.
Zhao Jinse’s face turned red. She was blushing.
“And you were in neighboring classes, too. Maybe you already knew each other back then, or ran into each other all the time. Isn’t that right, Ren Wangran?”
Ye Hai and Li Xue’er couldn’t help staring at Ren Wangran, who was busy in the kitchen. The bashful Zhao Jinse slowly turned to look at him too…
