Andante of Wind and Poetry

It all began when Wendi improvised a poem at the morning assembly and used it to “rewrite” a dull speech. As punishment, he was assigned to one-on-one “correction” sessions with Ling Feng.

Ling Feng tried to bring order to Wendi's life in his own way: a proper schedule, neat appearance, and appropriately measured words and actions. But Wendi had his own way of “fighting back.” On the back of a sonnet he secretly wrote during study hall, he drew a chibi portrait of Ling Feng looking stern. In the empty music room at dusk, he played a soft melody Ling Feng had never heard before, while the latter was forced to “keep him company.” He would point to the sunset-drenched sky and say it looked like a magnificent fugue, and Ling Feng found himself unable to argue.

Conflict and closeness took root in their daily lives. Ling Feng realized that Wendi was slowly prying open the tightly sealed routine he had built for himself. He began to get used to that lively white figure by his side. When Wendi fell asleep with his head on the desk, Ling Feng would instinctively turn down the air conditioning. He would quietly make a note of the out-of-print poetry collections Wendi mentioned in passing, then use his connections to track them down.

And when those ever-smiling eyes of Wendi's took on a rare hint of quiet sadness one day, as they sat alone together on the rooftop, he softly asked, “President Ling, do you think there's no room for beauty beyond the rules?” Ling Feng clearly felt a corner of the fortress inside him quietly crumble.