When I was sixteen years old, he sat in front of me and used the tip of chalk to wake me up during every class.
He said it was "too much trouble", but he helped me make meals every day, remembering that I don't eat celery.
On New Year's Eve, he sent a message saying "I would like to be friends with Yun Qing". I waited for five minutes and replied "Let's try it".
I thought this was what youth was all about - lively, noisy, like the white noise of a classroom fan, without the need to listen carefully.
It wasn't until many years later that I learned that some of the voices had always been there.
I just tuned the wrong frequency.
