◎Happy New Year◎
Chun Zao considered herself well-disguised, but still couldn’t withstand the wave of rumors. For most of the following half month, she would receive attention from different classes and different grades. Fortunately, her classmates were mostly girls, so the surroundings weren’t too chaotic. Apart from occasional teasing from a few nearby seat-numbered classmates, there were no further troubles.
The harsh winter arrived, Christmas and New Year’s Day following in succession, students’ thoughts all drifting toward the holidays. Although Yizhong was a public school, it had always emphasized comprehensive quality education with a rich cultural atmosphere and a strong sense of ceremony. Before the holidays, each floor and classroom was cleaned until spotless, decorated with themed stickers, hung with sequined curtains and paper chains, each class competing to outshine the others.
After Chun Zao helped Tong Yue change the class blackboard newspaper and filled in the flowing “Happy New Year” calligraphy title, she dusted off her hands, jumped down from the chair, wiped it clean, and moved it back to her seat.
Seats changed monthly, and Chun Zao now sat in the third group, no longer by the window.
But sometimes when returning to class in the afternoon or before evening study hall, she would still find hot drinks on her desk, different varieties—sometimes boxed milk, sometimes hot cocoa, sometimes ginger-date tea.
Whenever this happened, the front and back seats would all make hushing sounds, loudly calling it torture for single people.
Chun Zao objected to this: Don’t randomly enter our classroom.
Yuan Ye: When? Do you have evidence?
Chun Zao was speechless.
In the end, she was helpless, indulgent, at a loss: No evidence, I drank them all.
She complained again: I’m getting fat from this.
Yuan Ye: Are you? I don’t think so.
Without a scale at home, Chun Zao insisted mentally: Definitely.
The next day after school, they kept their appointment at the second streetlight as usual. After meeting, the boy wasn’t in a hurry to walk, borrowing the light to examine her carefully, a high concentration of seriousness creased between his brows. Seeing Chun Zao’s breathing become labored, she turned and ran. Only then did he take two quick steps to catch up, laughing: “You’re not fat.”
Chun Zao muttered, “Wearing so much in winter, you can’t tell anyway.”
Yuan Ye tilted his head to observe again: “Then, when spring comes, I’ll judge again.”
Chun Zao shrank like a snail, panicking in the small alley, hiding here and there: “Stop looking!”
“Okay—I won’t look.” He surrendered, slowing his pace, leisurely moving behind her.
Chun Zao turned: “Why did you stop walking? What are you doing behind me?”
Yuan Ye looked innocent: “Not looking, just looking at the back of your head should be okay, right?”
Hearing this, Chun Zao could only grit her teeth and reluctantly close the gap, moving back to his side, returning to walking side by side.
During the New Year’s mini-holiday, Chun Zao went home with Chun Chuzhen to reunite with their perennially lonely, empty-nest father for the holidays. The next day, they got up early to visit her grandmother, whose health had recovered. The little old lady now had a caregiver to help with daily life and was generally in good spirits. Visiting relatives and friends was like a relay race. It wasn’t until noon on the third that Chun Zao returned to the rental house, eager to get back.
Just after changing shoes, Yuan Ye appeared at his door, greeting her and her mother.
Chun Zao could feel his gaze slide over her body without lingering, but he didn’t immediately go back either, stopping there.
Chun Chuzhen put down her things and asked in surprise: “Little Yuan, you’re home?”
Yuan Ye hummed in response.
Chun Chuzhen joked: “These past few days during the holiday, we haven’t seen you go out.”
Yuan Ye gave a seamless reason: “It’s gotten cold.”
“That’s true.” Chun Chuzhen removed her thick neck warmer, concerned: “You should dress warmer too. Just wearing a thin sweater at home—did you turn on the air conditioning in your room? Don’t catch a cold and get sick during final exams.”
Chun Zao looked over, too. The boy was wearing a gray crew-neck pullover sweater. His hair seemed to have gone some time without cutting, appearing slightly disheveled, like unkempt summer grass, but it suited him. He leaned against the door frame, tall and thin, like those particularly young models in magazines.
Their gazes met halfway, tacitly and carefully, touching and immediately separating.
Yuan Ye smiled and answered Chun Chuzhen: “It’s on, not cold.”
Chun Zao, wrapped up like a polar bear, felt her ears warm as she gripped her backpack strap and returned to her room.
After Chun Chuzhen went to the market, Chun Zao closed her door, took out her phone, and firmly drew a warning line: Don’t be too obvious.
Yuan Ye:?
Chun Zao: Didn’t you hear my mom say you don’t go out on weekends anymore?
Yuan Ye: Auntie was just showing concern. You’re more guarded against me than she is.
Chun Zao denied it: No way.
Yuan Ye: Then, should I go out now?
Chun Zao remained stubbornly silent, staring at her phone without typing.
Within two minutes, there was indeed movement in the living room. Chun Zao pushed open her door to check—the boy was already changing shoes in the entryway, his black down jacket hanging open, clearly dressed to go out.
“Hey!” she called from the doorway.
He looked over: “What?”
Chun Zao stammered, beating around the bush: “You’re… going out?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, his tone flat, emotions unreadable: “If I stay home any longer, someone’s going to have a breakdown.”
Chun Zao: “…”
“That’s not what I meant.” Difficulty and grievance surged together, her nasal cavity slightly sour, “You’d better not go out.”
She added vaguely: “It’s cold outside…”
Yuan Ye saw her suddenly changed expression, frowning: “Come here.”