◎Unfamiliarity and Understanding◎
Not expecting him to stop, Chun Zao froze in place.
Seeing the girl behind him not moving, Yuan Ye swung his long leg over and got off the bike.
He turned sideways, supporting the handlebars, making his intention to wait clear.
There was no wind in the small alley. Moths desperately crashed against the street lamp, creating a not-so-light rustling sound.
This commotion also awakened Chun Zao, and she quickly ran forward.
Just as she was about to politely greet him as before, the boy skipped the opening pleasantries and strangely asked: “Why are you still outside?”
Chun Zao heard the subtext in his words—at this time, students should be obediently staying at home, especially ones like her.
He probably didn’t mean it, but this somewhat elder-like question touched her sore spot, and also made her feel sorry for her friend who had waited most of the day in vain.
Chun Zao asked back with some emotion: “Aren’t you also still outside?”
Yuan Ye laughed upon hearing this.
A toothy smile, just like his ID photo that was permanently displayed on the honor wall—his properly grown upper teeth blindingly white.
His eyelids slightly drooped, seeming somewhat embarrassed. When he looked up again, he admitted: “Yes, that’s true.”
The boy’s frankness immediately deflated Chun Zao’s anger, and she lowered her voice to mutter: “Going back now.”
The two walked side by side, passing through that dreamlike rose cascade.
Chun Zao walked on the inner side, eyes straight ahead; Yuan Ye was on the outer side, pushing his bike with one hand.
Concerned about her friend’s disappointment, Chun Zao couldn’t help but want to clarify: “Did you go home during the day?”
Yuan Ye looked at her: “No, I went to an internet cafe.”
Chun Zao was surprised and shifted her gaze over. After briefly meeting his eyes for a second, she looked straight ahead again without comment.
Yuan Ye noticed the girl’s reaction: “What’s wrong?”
Chun Zao looked down at the potholes on the stone bricks beneath her feet: “Nothing, I just didn’t expect you’d also go to internet cafes.”
Yuan Ye’s tone was flat: “Nothing to do on weekends.”
“…” Chun Zao choked up. Were they living through the same weekend, or did Class 1 teachers not assign homework?
But it would seem impolite to cut off the conversation here, so she racked her brains: “Was it the internet cafe near Chengkang Gate Small Commodities Market?”
“You know it?”
Chun Zao paused, then calmly replied: “Just heard the boys in our class mention it.”
Yuan Ye didn’t ask further.
Conversations falling into a deadlock seemed to be a conditioned reflex between them. Chun Zao was already used to this automatic immunity and stopped forcing herself to find topics.
After accompanying Yuan Ye to lock his bike under the awning, she took out her keys from her pants pocket, opened the unit door first, and stepped aside to let Yuan Ye go in first.
The boy went upstairs ahead of her.
The stairwell lights required voice activation, so at each floor, the two would occasionally cough or step more heavily. After reaching the third floor, Yuan Ye walked ahead, so he opened the door to the rental apartment.
Very unfamiliar, yet also very much in sync, surrounded by an indescribable strangeness.
The living space was limited, and the entryway was also very cramped. Changing shoes together would be crowded. Yuan Ye temporarily stopped by the door, not following in.
While taking off her canvas shoes, Chun Zao glanced up at him. The boy was casually leaning against the door panel, looking down at his phone. His eyelashes covered his eyes like a dark canopy. It seemed that no matter what person or situation he faced, he displayed a rare courtesy and patience among his peers.
She quickened her pace, changing shoes, making room.
Only then did the boy walk over.
After standing up, he was slightly surprised by Chun Zao, who remained in the living room. The girl stood silently by the dining table, expressionless, as if she had been watching him for a while.
Her right hand held an unopened milk tea cup, with the thick straw in the same hand, clamped between her index and middle fingers.
The girl walked straight over and extended her hand: “For you.”
The passive person suddenly taking initiative was somewhat strange. Yuan Ye glanced at what she held but didn’t immediately take it.
Chun Zao explained: “My friend came this afternoon. This is what she bought.”
Yuan Ye took it.
“There’s also a straw,” she said, flipping the straw with pen-twirling dexterity and handing it out: “Here.”
He continued to take it.
Then he raised his phone to glance at it, his tone skeptical: “Drink it now?”
Chun Zao looked at her watch—it was already nine-thirty. Drinking milk tea at this time would likely cause insomnia, but—
She didn’t want to force others, nor could she bear to see her friend’s money and effort go to waste, especially since she had confidently accepted the commission before parting. So she said awkwardly: “Mainly you weren’t here this afternoon, and tomorrow it probably won’t be drinkable…”
She left it at that.
The boy said no more, punctured the plastic seal in front of her, and took a sip.
“Thank you.”