On a free evening after the college entrance exams, just as a thunderstorm let up, Fang Zhique lost a game. Her classmates egged her on to slip a love letter through the gate of Xing Yuan's house.
A pale blue and pink envelope, scented with gardenias, held all the girls' secret crushes, including Fang Zhique's.
She crouched low and crept to the gate of Xing Yuan's house, then slipped the thin envelope through a gap in the iron bars like a thief. When she turned around, Xing Yuan had caught her on his way home.
Standing beneath the clear moonlight, Xing Yuan looked at her with an amused smile. He tipped his chin toward her and said lazily, "You don't have to slip it in. You can just give it to me."
Fang Zhique stammered, unable to get a word out. Her cheeks and the tips of her ears turned scarlet, and she fled in a flash.
Xing Yuan scoffed and picked up the crumpled love letter from the ground.
*
Toward evening, dark clouds suddenly gathered. Fang Zhique rushed to the rooftop to bring in the laundry. Beneath her skirt, lifted by the strong wind, Xing Yuan leaned against the parapet smoking. Hearing her, he lifted his eyes to look at her.
Fang Zhique immediately grew self-conscious. As she reached up to take down the hangers, her neck arched into a graceful curve. She gathered the laundry for a long time, and Xing Yuan watched her the whole time.
Holding a stack of clothes still warm from the sun, her heart pounding, she mustered her courage and took a step toward the boy's tall, slender figure.
"We're actually in the same art studio."
Xing Yuan stubbed out his cigarette and replied with a half-smile, "I know. You're the one who keeps following me."
Theme: Even dead wood will meet spring again, and snow and ice are bound to melt
