28

Zhong Yan navigated to the location of the museum.

The monsoon is already at the door.

Today he was wearing a gray-blue baseball cap, which matched the color scheme of his clothes and pants perfectly.

Zhong Yan has a stereotype of some engineering students, like those mechanical engineers in movies, who are either unkempt and buried in the research lab, calculating data and drawing blueprints over and over again, or working hard in the studio wearing welding masks.

But monsoons are different.

He's more like an artsy young man, someone who should be holding a fashion magazine in his left hand and an iced Americano in his right.

What surprised Zhong Yan even more was that Ji Feng was also her classmate, two years her senior.

In fact, if Zhong Yan had participated more in the school's activities and paid more attention to the school's gossip and news, she would have had a deeper impression of the name Ji Feng.

Although he was a senior in high school, he was actively involved in various school activities, managing to balance his studies and entertainment. In the end, he was able to get into a prestigious university like the Aviation University, which is truly a testament to his exceptional talent.

Ji Feng suddenly spoke up: "Actually, I've heard of you before."

Zhong Yan: "Huh? Me?"

Ji Feng smiled and said, "The table you sat at in your first year of high school is mine."

Shishi Middle School gives preferential treatment to senior high school students. One of them is to replace the classrooms on the ground floor. Their class happened to be there when the school purchased new desks, so they only moved their personal belongings and left the old desks for the freshmen.

Zhong Yan: "..."

The seats were randomly drawn, and she got a headache as soon as she saw the table. Some chuunibyou (middle school syndrome) upperclassmen had drawn spaceships and cannons all over the table with black technical pens, some parts and some outer shells.

At first, Zhong Yan disliked the gaudy table because it had many patterns and markings that interfered with her studies. But after seeing it many times, she gradually began to appreciate its mechanical aesthetics, which also sparked her interest in science fiction movies.

Watching movies secretly was one of the few things that allowed her to relax. Whenever she had the chance, she would immerse herself in those fantastical worlds full of imagination and power, watching how tiny humans conquered the stars and the sea.

Her heart, which had been as still as water, would also boil over.

She spent two weeks making peace with and getting along with that fancy table, until one day her mother saw it, went to the logistics department to apply for a replacement table, and reportedly even criticized the student who originally sat at the table.

Zhong Yan immediately felt embarrassed and lowered her head, not wanting to say anything.

“Back then, the freshmen had just arrived, and my friend said that a girl was unlucky to be assigned to my desk. I thought to myself, how can being able to appreciate my masterpiece up close be considered unlucky?” Ji Feng said to himself, his tone revealing his satisfaction with his “masterpiece.”

"However, when the teacher criticized me later, I reflected on it seriously. After all, the desk is not my private property, and it is wrong to scribble on it."

Zhong Yan stammered, "I'm sorry."

"What are you apologizing to me for?" Ji Feng said.

Zhong Yan said, "I made you get criticized by the teacher."

Ji Feng asked in bewilderment, "Isn't this what I'm supposed to do?"

Ji Feng doesn't hold grudges, but Zhong Yan still gets awkward.

She experienced this kind of thing a lot. Her mother was a school teacher, and she received "special treatment" throughout her high school years.

Her mother wanted to build her an indestructible fortress, where she would only have mountains of books and seas of knowledge, and no other people or things.

Because of this, she has a hard time making friends.

In order not to affect her studies, the English film appreciation session during the class's evening study session was canceled.

To allow her to study better, the physical education teacher is often absent.

Her classmates complained constantly, so she could only keep her head down and study to avoid meeting their disapproving gazes.

My mother said that high school students don't need friends; grades are their best companions. As long as they put in the effort, they will be rewarded.

All she could do was study and study hard.

She was like a tightly compressed spring, her only chance being to bounce as far as possible the moment it was released.

But Mom always has a way.

Just like the Buddha's giant palm, no matter how powerful the Great Sage is, he cannot escape it.

The museum had just opened, so there weren't many visitors. The curator was an acquaintance of Ji Feng, as Ji Feng called him "Uncle".

Ji Feng originally thought that the museum was named Zhongyan because it could take in birds, but that was not the case at all; the museum does not accept live birds.

Director Ji said with a smile, "Your parents were always busy in the past, and they always put you in different places. In the blink of an eye, so many years have passed. You've grown up, and I'm about to retire."

"Now that you're retired, who will take over?"

“It’s your Uncle Tan.”

While the two were chatting, Zhong Yan held the baby seagull and looked around.

The museums on the island are not as good as those in the city.

Not only are the facilities old and the displays rudimentary, but even the propaganda posters on the walls are from who knows how many years ago, with mottled and yellowed colors and somewhat blurred lettering.

But Zhong Yan was still watching very attentively.

"...Can't fly? Birds are born to fly, are they disabled?"

At some point, their conversation returned to the topic of Xiao Haiyan.

Jifeng said, "I went to get it checked, and they said there was no problem."

Director Ji said, "I don't have the expertise of a doctor."

The implication was that he was also helpless.

Although he has managed the bird museum for many years, he is not a specialist in bird diseases. He can answer questions about the number of classes and orders of birds and the number of common bird species on the island.

"Do you want to donate it to a museum?" The door next to them suddenly opened, and a slightly younger middle-aged man walked out.

Ji Feng calls him "Uncle Tan".

Director Tan had an unpleasant odor about him, and he still had white plastic gloves on his hands that he hadn't completely taken off. He didn't look like the refined Director Ji; he looked more like a doctor who had just come off the operating table.

Ji Feng laughed and said, "You can't say that in front of the bird in question."

Director Tan laughed heartily.

As Zhong Yan followed them to the next exhibition area, she learned that this curator, Tan, was most skilled at making specimens.

Seventy percent of the bird specimens displayed in the museum were made by him.

"Most of them were donated by bird enthusiasts from various places, and some were purchased from zoos. Of course, they are all birds that have passed away. Some died of illness, like this one, which died of depression and starvation, so its feathers are quite messy..."

Director Tan introduced the exhibited specimens with great enthusiasm, as if reciting a familiar story.

Zhong Yan pressed the little seagull's head into the straw hat.

Walking through two rows of bird specimens, the bird carcasses in various poses stand on the display stand in a lifelike manner. For the birds that are still alive, it is probably no less than walking through a group of zombies.

It was probably to the point that watching it for a while would give me nightmares at night.

Zhong Yan interjected, asking, "Do birds also suffer from depression?"

"Yes, birds have intelligence and, like children, they experience joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness."

"Is the little petrel no longer flying because it's in a bad mood?"

"It is possible that emotions can cause adverse reactions, such as drowsiness, decreased appetite, plucking feathers, etc."

Director Tan rubbed his hands together and said, "We don't have any Black-tailed Petrels in our museum yet. If so... please consider donating one to us."

Zhong Yan hesitated, but her eyes shone brightly.

If eyes could speak, they probably wouldn't say anything nice right now.

Jifeng said, "It can still eat, drink, and sleep. You want to make it into a specimen? She'll take care of it until it can fly, so it definitely won't die."

“This is a wild animal. You can’t keep it as a pet forever. To put it bluntly, have you ever heard of natural selection? In its case, it’s a case of natural selection.” Director Tan shook his head. “It’s a petrel, after all, not a pet bird.”

"If even the doctors can't do anything, then it's really not a good situation."

The two curators, one after the other, both agreed that the flightless little petrel wouldn't live much longer.

“It will fly,” Zhong Yan suddenly said.

Several people looked at her at the same time.

Zhong Yan was not used to being stared at and subconsciously wanted to avoid those scrutinizing gazes.

Speaking your opinion out loud in front of others inevitably leads to being harshly criticized.

Zhong Yan was not brave at all; her arms even had goosebumps.

Ji Feng, with his hands in his pockets beside her, unusually chimed in, "Yeah, it will."

Zhong Yan was taken aback.

A warm current suddenly welled up from somewhere, like a warm little river gradually gathering in her heart.

My heart rippled slightly, creating countless waves.

After leaving the museum, they walked along a quiet path and sat down under a shady tree before their legs became sore and tired.

It was supposed to be a leisurely time, but Zhong Yan received a call from her mother, asking when she was going home.

She said it wasn't finished yet.

Just then, Ji Feng spotted a beautiful view and pointed it out to Zhong Yan. His voice, coming through the microphone, immediately drew a stern question.

Is there a boy next to you?

Zhong Yan's face turned pale instantly. She first glanced at Ji Feng in alarm, then stood up and took several steps to the side.

"Not...a passerby."

Ji Feng wisely stayed on the other side, waiting for her to finish her call.

Zhong Yan gripped her phone tightly.

Although she is hundreds of kilometers away from her mother, she is still like a kite tethered to a string.

After hanging up the phone, Zhong Yan stayed there for a while to calm her turbulent emotions before walking towards Ji Feng with an apologetic expression.

"I'm sorry, my mom is very strict, and she's particularly concerned about boys..."

Ji Feng asked, "You're not allowed to date in college?"

Zhong Yan had never thought about this question before, and hesitated before saying, "I don't know."

Have you thought about how you'll spend your university years?

Zhong Yan smoothed the stray hairs at her temples, bent over and sat on the stone bench, the warm sea breeze ruffling her eyelashes.

"...I haven't thought about it yet."

The last question on every Chinese language exam was an essay; in junior high, the topics invariably included "I Have a Dream," "My Future," and "I Want to Become a __ Person."

Zhong Yan never gets high scores.

No matter how well she quotes classical texts, she cannot use the famous sayings of great figures to build her own dreams and her own future.

The Chinese teacher's comment was: superficial and lacking substance.

Zhong Yan silently accepted the criticism, while also reflecting on it.

If one day the essay topic were "Mom's Dream," she might be able to write a high-scoring essay from the bottom of her heart.

The monsoon lifted the little petrel out of the straw hat, spread its palms, and let its black webbed feet step on them.

Bright dappled sunlight fell on the boy and the little seagull under the shade of the trees, like an illustration from a fairy tale.

Zhong Yan unconsciously slowed her breathing, afraid of disturbing them.

“It was probably frightened by that bird net and thought it wasn’t free yet,” Ji Feng suddenly blurted out, then turned to her and said, “Just like you.”

Zhong Yan instinctively asked, "What do you mean?"

"Do you like the sea?" Ji Feng suddenly asked.

"dislike."

What did you want to do when you went to the beach that night?

Ji Feng has a high nose bridge, which makes his eyes appear deep-set. When he's not smiling, he has a somewhat cold demeanor, like a model trying to maintain an air of mystery, or a detective who won't let go of the slightest clue.

Zhong Yan's face instantly lost all color.

She hadn't expected that there would be an extra audience member at the end of her carefully planned performance.

Ji Feng gently tossed the squeaking little seagull around, not looking at her, but still talking to her.

"Because of your mother?"

Zhong Yan pursed her lips, not wanting to talk to him.

She felt embarrassed and angry.

It is very rude to casually expose someone else's secrets.

After a long pause, she finally managed to utter a cold sentence: "This has nothing to do with you."

Ji Feng turned his gaze over.

Zhong Yan seemed to be facing a raging storm head-on.

If she doesn't stay calm, her little boat will soon be capsized.

Before she could suffocate, she fought back with all her might:

"We're not friends."

Apart from blood relatives, only friends have the right to say this and do that, and to meddle in other people's business.

Strangers are not qualified.

"We're not friends."

This sentence is like an anchor, keeping her firmly in place and preventing her from being blown away by the storm.

Ji Feng put one hand in his pocket, the shadow under his hat obscuring his eyes, leaving only his high nose and slightly pale lips visible. He said, "Oh."

Zhong Yan couldn't tell whether she was more embarrassed or annoyed. She snatched the little seagull back, put it back in her straw hat, and turned and left without saying goodbye.

She was still furious even after ten steps.

She was a little uneasy as she walked twenty steps.

Fifty steps, and regret begins to brew in your heart.

When I reached the bottom of the mountain and looked back, I could no longer see the figure behind the bushes on the slope.

On the way back, Zhong Yan was filled with regret.

It wasn't for myself, but for the little petrel.

She shouldn't have "snatched" the little seagull away; wouldn't it have been better to leave it to Jifeng?

People may have a kind of inertia, and Zhong Yan did not realize that taking care of Xiao Haiyan had also become a habit.

It's as if it was born to follow me.

The little petrel crouched inside the straw hat, occasionally tilting its head back to preen its feathers with its little beak, showing no concern for its future.

On the way, Zhong Yan also encountered Jinmao Wuyuan.

It seemed to sense that Zhong Yan was feeling down, so it pulled its owner over from afar, hugged and licked Zhong Yan, and wagged its tail happily to cheer her up.

Zhong Yan was also infected by its charm and squatted down to pet the big dog.

"Why are you unhappy?" Chen Baoran asked her.

Zhong Yan: "...It's nothing."

Chen Baoran winked and asked, "Did you have a fight with Ji Feng?"

Zhong Yan belatedly realized that Chen Baoran seemed to have misunderstood something.

She waved her hands awkwardly, "He and I...we're not in that kind of relationship."

"Really?" Chen Baoran said casually, not caring about the misunderstanding. "I thought he was finally going to suffer in love!"

"Huh?" Zhong Yan was surprised by her expression of regret.

Chen Baoran winked at her.

“When I was in junior high school, a friend of mine liked him, but he told me directly that he didn’t want to waste his time.”

"He is willing to spend a lot of time on things he likes, such as his airplanes and models, but he doesn't have the same patience for other things or other people. But he is good at academics, handsome, and very popular."

Chen Baoran sighed, "That arrogant brat, when will he ever learn the hardship of dealing with people?"

Zhong Yan whispered a reminder: "Aren't you friends?"

“Yeah, because he liked to go to Uncle Coco’s hardware store to buy tools and materials since junior high school. We forced him to borrow our homework to copy, otherwise we wouldn’t give him the goods.” Chen Baoran couldn’t help but laugh. “Our friendship is purely based on mutual benefit, hahaha.”

To be honest, Ji Feng and she were not friends, nor did they have any business relationship whatsoever.

However, he "wasted" a considerable amount of time on her and Xiao Haiyan.

Even if it's a stranger, such a kind offer of help shouldn't be met with rude criticism.

For dinner, Xiao Haiyan ate chilled small fish and nibbled on bread.

After hastily finishing her meal, Zhong Yan held her phone, looking troubled.

She's not good at dealing with people, let alone making amends after drawing clear lines.

Two weeks ago, her friend, whom she considered a friend, cried and berated her for not worthy of having friends because her last-minute change of college application resulted in her being rejected.

Because she only told Zhong Yan about her aspirations.

Strictly speaking, she didn't know the exact number of people in the same score range or how many people applied to this school, but she did know that a classmate with the same score as her had been admitted.

Extreme breakdown can cause people to lose their minds.

She desperately needed an outlet to vent her frustrations and to make her failures understandable.

Her classmates sympathized with her, and Zhong Yan became the sinner.

She had no way to defend herself, nor could she find a way to explain herself.

The outcome is already set in stone; who cares what unexpected changes might occur during the process?

Nobody cared whether she did it on purpose or not.

Zhong Yan applied the same seriousness she used to when tackling the Chinese essay section of the college entrance examination, revising and editing for an hour.

You need to express your apology while leaving room for rejection.

Zhong Yan opened her eyes wide, checked the document for the tenth time, and only pressed send after she felt like she was going to vomit over every single word.

I apologize for being a bit harsh today. I'm very grateful for your help these past two days. If you have some free time, could I buy you a coffee tomorrow?

Fifteen minutes passed.

Monsoon replied with a "good".

Zhong Yan breathed a sigh of relief upon receiving this reply, which was so simple it couldn't have contained a single word.

/

Sunday, August 3, 2025

The little petrel hasn't taken flight yet. Will the monsoon be able to carry it tomorrow?