◎ The Last Midsummer ◎
Yuan Ye’s judgment hadn’t been wrong. Chun Zao was indeed a magical catalyst. After living under the same roof, through observing and helping her surrounding ecosystem, he seemed to have been drawn into a life drama that truly belonged to him.
Body temperature, pulse, blood flow, new emotions, new desires, new hopes—everything revived within his body.
It was like burying a beating spring seed in the wilderness.
After Grain Rain, the outer walls of Yizhong were covered with dripping wet roses. The sophomore grade chose a clear day to hold a hiking activity.
At 7:30 AM, teachers and students from each class gathered on the playground, ready to depart. After speeches from school leaders and student parent representatives, each class carried their flags and stepped out of campus. The blue and white teams converged on the main road, heading toward Yipu Bridge, finally stopping at Youyuan for brief class team-building activities. The entire round trip was 25 kilometers—no wonder it was called the “leg-breaking journey” by previous upperclassmen.
Especially since… sun protection products weren’t allowed.
The leadership made it clear: such items would hinder Yizhong students from displaying their youthfully radiant faces to the outside world.
“Do I look youthfully radiant?” On the way back, Tong Yue had already collapsed into a tottering old lady, shuffling step by step, ashen-faced: “Don’t I look like I’m about to die?”
Chun Zao was too sun-scorched to respond.
The teachers who had originally hiked with their classes were exhausted and had all fled to the follow-up vehicles at the rear of the formation to rest.
With the supervisors having escaped first, the formation gradually lost shape, becoming sparse and scattered, clustering in groups of three to five, transforming from a long stream into puddles of varying sizes.
Due to the long walk, Chun Zao hadn’t brought much drinking water or snacks. After finishing the water at the bottom of her portable cup, she tucked it back into her backpack’s side pocket.
At the same time, Tong Yue’s phone navigation once again clearly announced beside her: “Turn right at the three-way intersection ahead. Only 5.2 kilometers remaining to destination Yicheng Middle School.”
Wails of despair immediately arose all around.
The Class 1 team at the front wasn’t faring much better either. The boys who had been joking and playing around on the way there were now all exhausted with vacant stares on the return journey.
Yuan Ye walked at the end of the formation, constantly turning back to look toward Class 3’s position.
However, Class 2 consisted mostly of tall boys, and with them blocking the middle, his view was severely obstructed—he couldn’t even see a corner of Chun Zao’s clothing.
“Isn’t your neck tired?” Tu Wenwei noticed his constant head-turning every three steps and was utterly speechless: “I’m getting tired just watching you turn your head.”
Yuan Ye fell silent for a moment, too lazy to respond, and casually tossed his empty water bottle into a trash can they passed.
Suddenly, he spotted a small shop around the corner. With a flash of inspiration, he broke formation and ran over quickly.
Two minutes later, Yuan Ye emerged with an entire bag of drinking water in his hands.
After distributing bottles to several acquainted boys nearby, only two or three bottles remained in the plastic bag. Everyone tactfully avoided the one with pink peach oolong packaging, well aware of who that uniquely different bottle belonged to.
Tu Wenwei loved stirring up trouble, reaching directly for that distinctively packaged drink with a coy voice: “Darling, is this for me?”
Yuan Ye frowned with a complex expression and pushed his arm away.
“You don’t get to drink any of it.” He pulled out that bottle and handed the bag to a classmate in front: “You guys divide these.”
The boy happily took over.
“I was wrong, I was wrong—” Tu Wenwei stopped being obnoxious and came forward to plead: “Leave one bottle for me, I’m dying of thirst.”
Having obtained his green Yibao through association, Tu Wenwei turned back, just about to criticize Yuan Ye again for valuing romance over friendship, but where could he see any trace of this “wife slave”?
Going against the flow of Class 3’s formation, the sullen crowd immediately became lively.
Yuan Ye’s appearance was like dropping an effervescent tablet into water. The girls covered their mouths and giggled secretly while watching the show, and Song Jin’an, who was carrying the flag at the front, turned back and deliberately shouted: “Who are you? You’re not from our class, right?”
Tan Xiao from the back row chimed in: “That’s right, why are you cutting in line?”
Chun Zao looked shocked, glancing front and back, left and right, afraid a teacher might suddenly appear, then whispered: “What are you doing…?”
Yuan Ye acted as if he hadn’t heard, simply handing the water in his hand to Chun Zao: “Take this, let’s go.”
Tong Yue, who had been exhausted into stupidity, was suddenly energized like she’d been injected with adrenaline, clutching her chest, as excited as a CP fan leader, almost with hearts in her eyes.
This set off the other girls in succession, causing an uproar.
Chun Zao blushed completely, taking the bottle with both hands and clutching it to her chest.
Mission accomplished, Yuan Ye turned and left without looking sideways. Class 3 inexplicably saw him off with the enthusiasm of people on steroids, voices boiling, while the classes behind had no idea what was happening and could only crane their necks to look this way, wondering what kind of spirit this was—admirable.
…
This year’s summer seemed to arrive earlier than usual. When the scorching sun was like boiling water and the rows of camphor trees on campus were lush like thick green velvet hats, the sophomore year’s journey was also nearing its end.
The final exams were prepared by several provincial master teachers from the senior year group, and the liberal arts and science exam rooms were also scrambled to eliminate any possibility of cheating among acquaintances. Science class students, especially, were preparing intensively for the exams. This test was crucial—based on final score rankings, they would select and reorganize a senior Class 1 of only thirty people, providing them with the best teaching resources, with everyone aiming for Tsinghua and Peking University.
The night before the exam, Chun Zao, who was staying in the unchanged liberal arts honors class, was somewhat worried that Yuan Ye might be under pressure, so she messaged him asking how his review was going.
Yuan Ye sent a screenshot of a WeChat conversation where Tsinghua’s admissions office had recently contacted him through their homeroom teacher, inquiring whether he was currently interested in participating in early admission.
Everything was self-evident. Supremely impressive.
Chun Zao: …
She asked: How did you respond?
Yuan Ye said: I declined. I said I want to take the college entrance exam.
Chun Zao: Signing an agreement doesn’t mean you can’t take the college entrance exam.
Yuan Ye: Don’t you think getting in with raw scores is cooler?
Chun Zao was speechless but supportive: …As long as you like it.