Zhou Yiyi's draft paper is always filled with formulas, and Xu Ruobai's notebook contains half a row of unfilled words. When the high school wind blew the test papers across the corridor, they stood at the intersection under the sycamore tree, holding admission brochures in opposite directions in their hands.
She was a top science student in the top three of her grade. She had solved countless mechanics problems at her fingertips, but she couldn't tell how much she felt for him hidden in her longing for North China University of Technology. He preferred the sunshine in the liberal arts building, and wrote all the years with his pen on the manuscript paper. His goal was to go to the liberal arts college in the south. But when she couldn't solve the physics problem, he always handed her a note with ideas for solving the problem - the time he should have spent memorizing ancient prose.
The night before the application deadline, the traffic lights went off between them. Zhou Yiyi counted the whitened corners of his sleeves, which were traces of reagents when he accompanied her in the laboratory; Xu Ruobai looked at the physics competition badge on her schoolbag and remembered that she once said, "There is a tenderness in your words that I don't understand."
