My Small Grandness

(Be + unrequited secret love + secret admirer's perspective) The camphor trees of Jingnan No. 2 Middle School always cover the corridors in June. It was in this afternoon that 17-year-old Yi Mian first noticed Liang Yujing. He is the god of study in Class 1 of Senior High School, the name that always ranks first on the bulletin board, and the figure surrounded by screaming girls on the basketball court. The school uniform always looked particularly crisp on him, and even the eyelashes that drooped when he lowered his head to calculate seemed to be gilded by the sun. Someone stopped at the stairs to hand over a love letter. He would only nod slightly, and his voice was as clear as the wind blowing across the lake: "I'm sorry, I'm just thinking about the college entrance examination." The rejection was gentle, but it was like an invisible line was drawn, and no one could cross it. Yi Mian is in class (7), and the classroom is at the end of the corridor, four classes away. She always passed by the back door of class (1) on the way to fetch water. Sometimes she could see him lying on the table catching up on his sleep, with his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing the clear lines of his wrist bones; sometimes she would see him being called to the office by the teacher and walking past with a stack of test papers. When the tips of his hair brushed against her shoulders, she could smell the faint fragrance of soap locust on his body. She is really ordinary. His grades were in the middle of the pack, he didn't talk much, and the skirt of his school uniform always covered his knees in a regular manner. But his eyes seemed to be soaked in Jiangnan smoke, and they looked a little timid and soft when looking at people. But hidden in this ordinaryness was a bravery that even she felt was reckless - she started writing "Liang Yujing" in her notebook, counting the basketballs he made in the corner of the playground bleachers, quietly standing three rows behind him when queuing in the cafeteria, watching him pick out the green peppers, and remembering them in her heart. Her friend advised her: "How can a person like him see us?" But she lowered her head and smiled, and drew a small sun on the back of the draft paper with the tip of her pen: "It doesn't matter, I'll just look at it." During the 100-day swearing-in ceremony in the second semester of his senior year, he spoke as a student representative. He stood on the podium and his voice spread throughout the playground through the speakers. Yi Mian stood in the crowd, tiptoeing to see his side face, and suddenly felt that they were like two lines: when he raised his eyes just now, his eyes seemed to sweep in her direction (an illusion of intersection); but after the show, he was surrounded by teachers talking, and she silently walked out of the school with her schoolbag in her arms. Her shadow stretched very long on the ground, after all, they were two parallel lines. In the summer when he was 18, he went to a top university in the north, while she stayed in the south to attend an ordinary university. She saw a photo of him receiving a scholarship in her circle of friends, and saw him teaming up with the girls in the department to participate in a competition. The girl in the photo smiled and had crooked eyes, standing with him, like a picture cut out of a magazine. She stared blankly at the screen for a while, deleted the edited "congratulations", and instead sent a message to her mother: "I want to eat sweet and sour pork ribs tonight." At the age of 25, Yi Mian met a classmate from Jingnan No. 2 Middle School by chance in the city where she was on a business trip. The other party mentioned Liang Yujing and said that he stayed in school as a researcher and published a very impressive paper in an academic journal some time ago. "Did you always look at him secretly back then?" The classmate asked with a smile. Yi Mian was stirring the coffee in the cup. When she heard this, she raised her eyes and saw the sunlight outside the window falling on her face, much like that afternoon when she was 17 years old. She suddenly smiled and shook her head: "I can't remember clearly." In fact, how could you forget? I can't forget the light smile on his brows when he solved the last physics problem, his forehead hair that was messed up by the wind, and the crumpled and flattened page of scratch paper with his name written on it that he never handed over. It's just that love hidden under the camphor tree, like a long plum rain in adolescence, it rained and tidal, and finally it cleared up. He will always be the light of Jingnan No. 2 Middle School, and she finally no longer needs to rely on that light to see her own path clearly. Intention: "I once stopped for you, and finally went my own way."