On the first day of high school, the seat next to Lin Yi was empty.
In the second week, a girl named Yu Yu sat over.
She gets distracted when she bites the cap of her pen. She has a slight dimple in her smile. She is poor at math but her compositions are beautiful. She is a wanderlust and can get lost even in the cafeteria.
Lin Yi broke off half a piece of eraser and gave it to her, and taught her function questions that she didn't understand. He brought a box of hot milk and put it on the corner of her desk every morning. He didn't know what it was, he only knew that she was everywhere in his peripheral vision.
From the wind in September to the heating pipes in winter, from under the cherry blossom trees to the shared umbrellas on rainy days, from the side-by-side seats in the library to the leaves sandwiched between the pages of the book on Ginkgo Avenue - in the three years of high school, they spent the best years of their lives becoming like each other.
There is no third party, no family obstruction, and no bloody misunderstanding. Some are just clumsy and warm daily life between sixteen and seventeen-year-old boys and girls: passing notes in textbooks, band-aids with rabbit patterns, voice stories when they were insomnia before exams, and "I like you" spoken on New Year's Eve.
