"Reporter Jiang, long time no see"
Jiang Huaiqing's high school years were like being covered with a layer of washed-out white gauze, and all the colors had faded away. The seat by the window in the back row of the classroom was her exclusive territory. Looking past the stacked test papers, she always accurately landed on the upright figure in the third row diagonally in front of her - Zhou Ze.
He is the kind of person who is born to be chased by the sun. The curve of the jersey on the basketball court is lifted by the wind. The sound of his fingertips tapping on the corner of the table when solving the last big physics question. Even when the teacher calls his name, fine gold dust seems to explode in the air. Jiang Huaiqing secretly hid these fragments in the mezzanine of her notebook. Her handwriting was so light that she was afraid of surprising anyone, just like her heartbeat hidden in her chest, never daring to mess up the rhythm.
On the day she filled out her application, she looked at the university on the admissions brochure that she was determined to go to. Her pencil hung on the application column for a long time, and the force with which she finally dropped it felt like she had staked her entire youth on it.
On the university campus in September, camphor leaves paved a path like gold on the ground. She bumped into him in the corridor of the library. The cuffs of his white shirt were rolled up to his elbows. He was lowering his head to listen to the words of the girl who was traveling with him. The lines on his profile were clearer than in her memory. Jiang Huaiqing's breath suddenly paused. He hid the letter he had written and revised in his canvas bag, and the corners were wrinkled by his fingertips.
But the wind that afternoon was too turbulent, and it blew fragments that she shouldn't have heard. A few rows of bookshelves away, she heard someone smiling and asking Zhou Ze if he was interested in the girl who often came to see him. He did not deny it, but just laughed softly. The laughter was like a thin needle, which unexpectedly pierced the courage Jiang Huaiqing had saved for three years.
She retreated quietly, as if she had never appeared before. Later, the letter was pressed at the bottom of the box, and together with the unspoken name, it was locked into the old time.
When taking the postgraduate entrance examination, she chose a school in another city. After graduation, she joined a newspaper office and ran social news. She saw a lot of human emotions. Her life was like the reports she wrote, which were objective, calm, and rarely troubled. Until one interview with a listed company, she met Zhou Ze again at the door of the conference room.
He was wearing a suit and was much calmer than when he was young. When he glanced over, he paused on her face, as if he recognized her. Jiang Huaiqing's heart skipped a beat, but his face remained calm as he stretched out his hand: "Hello, Mr. Zhou, I am Jiang Huaiqing, a reporter from City Weekly."
He held her hand, his palm was warm, and his voice was low: "Reporter Jiang, long time no see."
The sound of "Long time no see" was like a pebble thrown into a deep lake, and the ripples spread out after so many years. Later she learned that what he didn't deny back then was a joke to help his friends; later he looked for her, but only saw empty seats; later he established a foothold in his father's company, and occasionally thought of the girl in high school who always sat by the window, as quiet as a painting.
It was just that the wind was too strong at that time and blew many words in the wrong direction.
Now that the lights were on in the city, he sent her downstairs after the interview. The evening breeze lifted her long hair, and he suddenly said: "Jiang Huaiqing, I seemed to have seen you in the library back then."
She looked up at him, and the streetlights cast tiny rays of light in his eyes, much like the setting sun on the high school court. This time, the wind was gentle, as if waiting for an answer that was too late.
Intention: None
