“Zhang, with the bow radical; Ke, with the wood radical.”
Twelve-year-old Zhang Ke was the only light in fifteen-year-old Bai Yi’s dark youth.
He stood up to the bullies for him, took his hand, and told him earnestly:
“I’ve never had a friend.”
“Then I’ll be your friend.”
An inevitable trip abroad brought the young boy’s feelings to an abrupt end.
Nine years apart. In the foreign wind and lights, the once restrained and guarded boy repeated Zhang Ke’s name millions of times. In his heart, he also painted that table of home-cooked food at Zhang Ke’s house and the warm glow of its lamp millions of times.
He held on to his promise, “I’ll definitely come back,” and let his longing guide him home.
On the day they reunited, sunlight from the art academy fell on Zhang Ke,
just like beneath the camphor trees on the school field all those years ago, when that small figure had protected him without hesitation.
This time, he would be the one to walk toward him, turning all the time they had lost into a lifetime spent side by side.
You were once my salvation. I will be there for the rest of your life.
