They all say that youth is like a heavy rain. Only after you have been exposed to it can you understand what a sunny day is.
But Meng Qing felt that her youth was more like the air conditioner in Nancheng No. 1 Middle School that could never be repaired—sultry, long, and drowsy.
Until the boy named Zhou Yang sat on her right.
He is the kind of quiet boy who talks little. He often lies on the table to catch up on his sleep after class. When the bell rings, he always sits up straight and listens carefully.
The old watch on his wrist had a worn white strap, but he had never taken it off.
Meng Qing didn't know since when, her eyes always drifted across the narrow aisle unconsciously.
Maybe it was when he turned his head to lend her a pen on the first day of school; maybe it was when he walked through the crowd at the sports meeting and handed her a bottle of water; maybe it was the night when the monthly exam results came out, when he texted on his phone, "Top 10 in history grade, awesome."
The heartbeat comes quietly, like ginkgo leaves slowly turning yellow in autumn. It is difficult for you to tell the specific day it occurs.
But they are all too young and too cautious.
Her heartbeat was hidden in the whispers in the class group chat, and in her fingertips that felt slightly hot when she heard his voice.
And his approach was hidden in the glass of warm water that he helped her pick up, and in the pretense of casually asking, "Is your birthday in March?"
This is a story about "slow".
Two imperfect people clumsily confirm each other's feelings in trivial daily life.
No need for a grand confession, just a late-night message, an unintentional look at each other, and a bottle of water quietly taped.
He gradually made her understand that the love that once made her feel guilty could perhaps be expressed in another, gentler way; and she let him know that the boy who seemed not to need anyone's care had always longed to be seen deep down in his heart.
It turns out that true love does not need to be expressed in a hurry, it only needs to be seen, heard, and gently received. This story is written for them, and also for everyone who has seriously liked someone in their youth.
Intent: About heartbeat, growth, and every step of two teenagers slowly getting closer in their youth.