The summer when I was seventeen was always sticky, like orange candy melted by the sun.
I stood in front of the bulletin board holding a half-melted popsicle, pretending to look at the monthly exam rankings that had just been posted, but the corner of my eye drifted diagonally back uncontrollably.
Lin Yanzhi stood there.
The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to his forearm, revealing a clean wrist. He was lowering his head and talking to his deskmate, with a slight curve at the corner of his mouth. His broken hair was lifted a little by the wind, revealing his smooth forehead. The cicadas chirped so loudly that it seemed like they were going to boil the whole world, but I could only hear the sound of my heartbeat hitting my ribs - thump, thump, thump, like beating on a drum, for fear that someone would hear me.
The sweetness of the popsicle trickled down between my fingers. I hurriedly raised my hand to wipe it, but when I raised my head, I caught his sight.
As if I had been burned, I lowered my head suddenly and pretended to study my sugar-stained fingertips, but my ears were so red that they were almost bleeding.
Many summers later, I would think of that moment.
It turns out that I couldn't hide something on my mind from the beginning.
Intent: Start in late autumn and hide in midsummer
