092 | (Ninety-one) Bellflower

The handwriting is not clear.

Holding the draft paper in his palm, Xie Qingyan slowly rubbed the line of words with his fingers.

She put it back and looked back. Su Xingmao was still writing at his desk, his straight back like a green bamboo, his bones upright.

In the afternoon, the autumn sun was just right, not glaring, and the wind was warm, gently filtering through the tree canopy, casting dappled shadows on the bamboo, making the black hair shimmer with golden light.

Tiny specks of light danced lightly, leaping little by little from his back toward this side.

She walked closer to him.

“The constellation of Mao”.

The boy turned around when she realized she was calling him.

Qing Shu's face was backlit, and she still held a pen in her hand. Her straight gaze fell on Xie Qingyan's face, asking her with her eyes what was wrong.

"..." Xie Qingyan blinked awkwardly, making up a reason for the outburst, "I'm so bored."

The boy's gaze lingered on her for three seconds before he slowly lowered his eyelids and asked in a low voice, "What do you need me to do? Play with you?"

Once he got out of bed, he seemed like a robot programmed with some kind of procedure.

Xie Qingyan pouted boredly: "You can get a guaranteed admission with a gold medal, why do you still do homework all day long?"

She really wanted to throw away his pen.

After careful consideration, Su Xingmao replied, "I only know how to solve problems."

"You are such a boring person."

He capped the pen, turned around, and asked again, "Do you want to go out and play?"

"I'm tired of Jincheng." Having been a troublemaker since childhood, what place in Jincheng hasn't she explored? Xie Qingyan rested her chin on her hand and shook her head. "It's not fun."

She walked a few steps to the wooden desk. The desk was long and wide, with books for various subjects neatly stacked on it. There was also plenty of space in between. If she pulled up a chair, the two of them could sit side by side and do their homework without any problem.

Xie Qingyan pushed the computer chair over, plopped down, spread his hands, and leaned on the desk, instantly taking over most of the table.

The constellation Mao moved a few inches outward, making room for her, tacitly approving her usurpation of the nest.

On a whim, Xie Qingyan tore open a scroll, intending to ask Su Xingmao for guidance. But when he looked up, he saw a potted green plant on the windowsill. It wasn't flowering season, but the green stems stood upright and lush, with winged leaves clustered together. A layer of light downy hairs covered the stems and leaves.

"You can grow flowers? What kind of flower is this?"

After looking at her, Su Xingmao never looked away.

He knew that she didn't really understand him.

“Windbell flowers.” Su Xingmao glanced at the flowerpot. “I didn’t grow them.”

Xie Qingyan tilted her head in confusion.

"Your mother?"

Perhaps it's just a case of overconfidence in understanding.

"You may have forgotten." He looked at her quietly, some indescribable emotions flowing through his eyes, like a nearly dried-up lake, his gaze lingering, about to flow but not quite.

“A long time ago, the school organized a summer internship, and one of the tasks was to grow flowers. This pot was given to me by you.”

Xie Qingyan was stunned for a few seconds, meeting his subtle and reserved eyes, her mind went blank.

She has absolutely no recollection of this incident.

"It was dying at the time."

Su Xingmao added casually, which was more like finishing the job, making Xie Qingyan's death even more complete.

"I...I don't remember. When was it? Elementary school or junior high?" Xie Qingyan's eyelids drooped, her expression flustered, with a hint of regret and shame flashing across her face.

Su Xingmao clearly captured her emotions; Xie Qingyan's thoughts were always written clearly on her face, making her too easy to understand.

He could openly exploit this guilt, but... why bother?

Su Xingmao stared at her face, his thoughts halting. He denied such despicable behavior—not because he considered himself so noble that he disdained to use certain means.

However, he didn't want to see Xie Qingyan's sad expression, even though it might be because of him.

The boy casually tugged at the serrations on the leaf with his finger and replied softly, "It's been too long, I don't really remember."

He remembered... it was in sixth grade.

One midsummer night.

Upon careful reflection, I realized that many of their past events took place in the summer at Lingquan Mountain. The blue-purple sky was heavy, the clouds were too far away to be seen, insects chirped, grass rustled, crape myrtle flowers smelled, and the moon never set above the treetops…

One night, in an era before the greenhouse effect was so severe, the weather was far less hot than it is now, and the evening breeze was cool. Xie Qingyan carried out a half-withered potted plant, his eyebrows furrowed, and paced under the eaves, looking as if he wanted to throw it away but was also reluctant to do so.

It was a rare occasion for Su Xingmao's family of three to be together. After finishing their meal, they were chatting in the yard when a light drizzle began to fall. The already weak flowers and plants were further wilted by the wind and rain.

She saw him first.

Her eyes lit up immediately, and she beckoned him over.

She put her hands behind her back and mysteriously walked around him once.

"Thanks to you for helping with the summer homework."

Then, with a grin, she forcefully shoved the potted plant into the boy's arms.

"Here, have a surprise for you! This is for you."

Su Xing Mao Mu Ne lowered his head, looking at the heavy object in his arms.

The green plant, which was about to die, had curled leaves and drooped its head listlessly.

The taciturn boy didn't say anything and silently accepted it.

"Um... don't let its current ugly appearance fool you, it's very beautiful when it blooms. It's a bellflower. I bought it specifically!" she declared confidently. "You can't look down on it."

Before she left with a sigh of relief, the girl peeked out from under the doorway, her eyes crinkling with laughter, and tilted her head to point at him: "This is a gift for you. You have to take good care of it. If you ruin it, you're dead!"

Did you hear me?

The sweet voice gradually faded away.

Only the lingering sound echoed in the rain.

"...How annoying...he ignores everyone, he's such a mute."

...

Xie Qingyan breathed a sigh of relief at the boy's answer. It was good that he didn't remember either, so she wouldn't seem too heartless.

Xie Qingyan turned her head and stared intently at the potted plant, struggling to make out its blurry silhouette, vaguely recalling that it was indeed a summer labor practice class.

She had a half-dead flower... yes, it was a bellflower.

The flower grower who sold it to her told Xie Qingyan that the bellflower symbolized blessings from afar. At that time, she still missed Zhang Fulan, so she chose this pot.

But she was impulsive and took careless care of the plants. Before they even bloomed, the holiday was over and she had to hand in her homework. Seeing that she couldn't finish it, she cried and begged Xie Jinyu to buy a potted plant from the flower market so she could cheat and get the job done.

This plant, I don't remember how it ended up in Su Xingmao's hands, and after many twists and turns, he managed to revive it.

Xie Qingyan was very surprised.

She laughed awkwardly twice: "I didn't expect it to still be alive. Will it bloom again?"

"It will be held on your birthday."

Every June, small blue-purple flowers bloom on his windowsill, like drooping wind chimes, clustered together, their petals split like stars, swaying and twinkling in the wind like her bright eyes.