When Jing Qichi called, Chen Huan’er was watching an elderly poker game in the neighboring yard. His tone was quite dissatisfied, “Joy shared is joy doubled – did you give everything back to the teachers?”
Huan’er was thoroughly enjoying the game, and hearing his gloom made her even happier, “And who might you be, big brother?”
Jing Qichi rolled his eyes in frustration and tossed the phone, which was on speaker, to Song Cong beside him, “You talk to her, I’m afraid I’ll start cursing.”
“Huan’er,” Song Cong called out with a laugh, “when are you coming back?”
“Can’t I just not go back?” Chen Huan’er wailed to the heavens, “I’m having… too much fun!”
Song Cong laughed for a while, “Seeing how you barely reply to messages, I thought you hadn’t gotten over it yet. Is Sishui that fun?”
They had a three-person QQ group, mainly used to communicate about who had duty and needed to leave early, whose parents had night shift so they’d eat at whose house, and for Song Cong to post standard answers for problems they couldn’t solve. After returning home, Huan’er was quite resistant to socializing, responding to friends’ greetings only every few days with a “still alive, don’t worry,” and gradually the group fell silent, with Jing Qichi and Song Cong giving her time to adjust.
“It’s fun,” Huan’er answered, then hurriedly stopped her grandfather who was about to play the wrong card, “Play this one, he has no pairs left.”
Hearing this, Jing Qichi shouted, “Chen Huan’er, you’re wreaking havoc on the masses again!”
“Get lost,” the girl replied.
The cheerfulness on the other end of the phone ignited the urgency that had been hidden in Song Cong’s heart. He moved closer to the microphone, “Huan’er, I… we want to come visit you in Sishui?” He paused for half a second before adding the question, “Is that okay?”
“You want to come?” Chen Huan’er never imagined her city friends would be willing to come to her small hometown. She immediately abandoned watching the second half of the card game and ran home, “Wait, let me check the bus schedule.”
“No need, I know it,” Song Cong had long memorized the bus schedule from Tianhe to Sishui.
Huan’er was overjoyed, “Which day do you want to come? I’ll meet you at the station.”
“No need, just send us the address, we can…” Before Song Cong could finish, Jing Qichi grabbed the phone, “Chen Huan’er, tell Qi Qi too! We haven’t heard from her lately, if she wants to come we can all go together.”
“Qi can’t come,” Huan’er deliberately held back information, “anyway, you’ll find out when school starts.”
Her friend had gotten double eyelid surgery after receiving her scores and had sent a photo of her eyelids red and swollen with blood vessels showing. Chen Huan’er’s jaw nearly hit the floor, and she couldn’t help exclaiming, “You’re so fashionable!” Fashionable was the only description she could think of, and after hearing the price, her exclamation changed to “You’re so rich!” Qi Qi promised it would look good, the only cost being two cuts and not being able to see people during the recovery period.
No matter how much Jing Qichi pestered her with questions, Chen Huan’er kept her mouth sealed. Surprises needed the right atmosphere, and she was determined to contribute to building it.
Song Cong had no curiosity about this. His initial question had been tentative, but Huan’er had immediately agreed, and now he was thinking about something else. His gaze fell on the calendar, and suddenly an idea struck him, “Can your house fit both of us? We could watch the opening ceremony together tomorrow.”
He wanted to see her, wanted to know if she was okay, and wanted to confirm if she had really gotten over the school choice matter. The sooner the better.
The Olympics opened at eight in the evening – staying overnight made perfect sense.
“Tomorrow?” Huan’er was somewhat surprised.
“Yes, tomorrow,” Song Cong didn’t want to wait any longer, his words certain.
Huan’er guessed that Song’s parents probably had night shifts again, and her friend needed someone to share the joy of this milestone event with. She immediately took on the role of host, “No problem. My home’s doors are always open, Sishui welcomes you.”
“Then it’s settled,” Song Cong replied calmly, though his heart had already rushed ahead to that unknown small city.
At five o’clock the next afternoon, the two boys arrived in Sishui.
As soon as he got off the bus, Song Cong started looking for the public bus stop. He had checked in advance – take bus number three for seven stops, then walk five hundred meters to reach Huan’er’s home. The route wasn’t complicated.
Jing Qichi, on the other hand, was completely unprepared – he had always been like this, following behind Song Cong, protected from wind and rain. Entering unfamiliar territory, he curiously surveyed his surroundings, and soon noticed the middle school across from the bus station, “Look, that must be Chen Huan’er’s previous school.”
It was summer vacation, and the school’s iron gates were tightly closed, with the guard in his booth nearly dozing off.
Though it was his first time seeing it, Song Cong felt strangely familiar. He carefully took in every detail of the school, unconsciously muttering, “How did she get to school…”
“Must have been by bike,” Jing Qichi snorted with laughter, “with her cycling skills, it must have taken three to five years to master.”
A dynamic image unfolded in Song Cong’s mind – a girl in school uniform skillfully weaving through the busy streets, sometimes chatting and laughing with friends, sometimes anxious about being late, the wind lifting her hair – and now the whole world could see that she had such a bright and confident face.
Song Cong knew why he would think of these things, and increasingly understood why.
“Let’s go,” he patted Jing Qichi’s shoulder, “the bus is coming.”
“Wait, let me take a photo.”
“Why take a photo?”
“Doesn’t Chen Huan’er always say how good their Sishui schools are and how big they are,” Jing Qichi pressed the shutter, “keeping this to throw back in her face.”
Grandfather and grandmother treated the two young city guests with the highest hospitality – fresh cucumbers with yellow flowers, watery-fleshed tomatoes, and fragrant round strawberries. Song Cong repeatedly said thanks and that they shouldn’t trouble themselves, while Jing Qichi ate with such satisfaction that sweat beaded on his nose.
Seeing this, Huan’er teased, “Are you at a buffet?”
The boy retorted, “How many free meals have you eaten at my place, forgotten?”
“Song Cong hasn’t said anything, you’re the only one making a fuss.”
“Me? Who started this?”
“Stop it,” Song Cong intervened, nudging his friend, “that’s enough from you.”
“Again?” Jing Qichi was exasperated, swallowing a whole strawberry in one gulp, “Old Song, how many times has it been? Even if you don’t help your kind, you should at least help reason prevail!”
“You have a reason? King Reason?” Huan’er laughed loudly, “Koi fish, you really think you’re a lucky charm?”
Song Cong kept shaking his head to the side – apart, they missed each other; together, they started bickering. These two little friends were truly impossible to manage.
“Huan’er,” Grandmother called from the kitchen, “come to get a scallion.”
“Grandmother, do you need help?” Song Cong said as he stood up and went inside.
Huan’er didn’t use the steps, jumping directly from the meter-high cement patio into the garden. After pulling up a large flowering scallion, she was about to support herself on the patio to jump back up when her grandfather, returning from buying cooked food, came running from the main gate, “No jumping! You’ll fall!”
Huan’er giggled, waited for her grandfather to come closer, handed him the scallion, and climbed up the steps one by one with her arm linked through his.