Chapter 511 Extra Chapter 1, Gu Zhao - Adolescence

Gu Zhao received her first love letter not long after the start of the second year of junior high school.

The envelope was light blue, with crooked stars drawn in silver ink along the edges.

He opened it with a childlike curiosity, but was stunned after reading it.

It turned out to be a love letter.

After school, he took the letter home and handed it directly to his mother, who was revising a manuscript in her study. He was still young and always felt that there was nothing in the world he couldn't tell his mother.

After reading the letter, Mom laughed, not the kind of laugh you give a child, but a bright, irrepressible laugh that made her eyes sparkle.

"My son is so popular with young girls?" She asked softly, as if afraid of disturbing a secret.

Gu Zhao's chubby cheeks felt slightly warm. He wanted to lean over and let his mother hug him, like when he was little. But then he felt he shouldn't, so he just stood up straighter.

His mother put her arm around his shoulder and hugged him affectionately for a while.

Smelling his mother's scent, Gu Zhao relaxed a lot, but he pursed his lips and didn't say anything.

His mother handed the letter back to him.

"The letter has a name on it, so you have to protect the person's privacy." Her tone was soft and gentle. "A girl's affection is a very precious feeling. You can keep it safe, but you can't show it off or use it as gossip. Don't belittle someone's feelings."

She looked at him. "Do you understand what your mother means?"

Gu Zhao nodded, but her brows furrowed slightly: "Then... do I need to reply? I don't know her, and I don't like her."

"Son, it's up to you. Just remember to respect them no matter how you handle it," his mother said.

That night, Gu Zhao sat in front of the open letter for half an hour.

In the end, he wrote nothing.

A few days later, the girl with the ponytail mustered up the courage to stop him on her way home from school, her face as red as the evening glow.

Gu Zhao carefully chose her words: "Thank you for your letter. I think my studies should be my priority."

The girl's eyes suddenly reddened, and she turned and ran away.

Gu Zhao stood there, his first thought being: This is troublesome indeed.

This thought accompanied him throughout his adolescence.

It's common knowledge, both inside and outside the compound, that the boys from the Gu family are good-looking.

Gu Zhao inherited his father's appearance and also had his mother's gentle and refined features.

The seventeen-year-old boy had grown tall with straight shoulders. Standing there in a simple white shirt and dark trousers, he seemed to automatically attract attention.

Coupled with the Gu family's distinguished yet unassuming family tradition, Gu Zhao possesses a natural thoughtfulness in his interactions with others, and his excellent academic performance makes him a prominent figure both at school and in the compound.

A fondness for nature is ever-present.

Most girls are reserved, only daring to glance at her a few times during recess exercises or soften their voices when discussing homework.

Some were bolder, such as slipping poems into the title page when borrowing or returning books, or handing over a bottle of soda backstage at a cultural performance.

Gu Zhao consistently brushed them off with the excuse that "studying is the priority."

Sometimes he feels tired.

Even though I did nothing, it feels like I owe the whole world a debt of gratitude.

Therefore, he got used to only hanging out with boys, playing ball, discussing current events, and tackling difficult competition problems.

In non-essential situations, his expression became increasingly indifferent, and he spoke and smiled less.

Over time, "aloof" became a label attached to him. This, in turn, brought him a lot of peace and quiet.

Gu Zhao wasn't arrogant; he just felt that those feelings of racing heartbeats and blushing face were distant and exhausting for him.

Instead of wasting time, you might as well solve another physics problem or go find your uncle Zhou Xingzhi to do carpentry.

He could roughly understand what his mother meant by "precious," but he couldn't truly empathize with it.

It wasn't until the second week of senior year that a new student transferred to our class.

When the homeroom teacher led her into the classroom, a surge of hormones rose from the floor.

The girl wore a light beige dress, had slightly wavy chestnut hair, fair skin, and large, bright eyes.

She stood by the podium, poised and confident: "Hello everyone, my name is Ye Shanshan. I just returned from the United States, and my Chinese isn't very good, so please bear with me." Her voice was sweet, with a slight accent.

The homeroom teacher asked her to sit next to Gu Zhao.

She walked over carrying her schoolbag and smiled brightly at Gu Zhao: "Hello, deskmate."

Gu Zhao nodded without saying anything.

Ye Shanshan's Chinese is indeed not very good.

She couldn't understand classical Chinese, and her compositions were a mix of pinyin and English words. When she read the text aloud, she stumbled and stammered, which drew laughter from the class, but she didn't get annoyed. She just stuck out her tongue and continued to read one word at a time.

Three days later, the homeroom teacher called Gu Zhao to the office.

"Ye's father is an aerospace expert who just returned to China and is contributing to the country. Her Chinese is poor, and she's falling behind. You have good grades and a stable personality, so could you help her out?"

What else could Gu Zhao say but nod?

From then on, Ye Shanshan naturally clung to him. She asked him questions about vocabulary, grammar, math problems, and even "What do you boys usually play?"

She was as passionate as a fire, making no attempt to hide her curiosity and affection for Gu Zhao.

"Gu Zhao, your eyelashes are so long."

"Gu Zhao, you look so good when you play basketball."

"Gu Zhao, can you teach me to write? I want to learn your handwriting."

It's straightforward and intense, like the summer sun, leaving you nowhere to hide.

Gu Zhao was initially troubled.

But gradually, he discovered that Ye Shanshan was different from the other girls. Her affection was direct and passionate, without any of the roundabout shyness.

Gu Zhao initially responded politely and briefly, just as she would with other girls.

But Ye Shanshan seemed oblivious to his aloofness; her warmth permeated the air without hindrance...

A month later, Ye Shanshan's Chinese improved rapidly.

The first complete sentence she learned to write was: "Gu Zhao, I like you."

He wrote it on a light purple sheet of paper and, along with a beautifully packaged chocolate, slipped it into Gu Zhao's schoolbag during recess.

When Gu Zhao realized this, his heart skipped a beat.

He opened the letter.

Ye Shanshan used an entire page to describe how he was "as refreshing as a summer breeze" and how he "made her feel for the first time that returning to China was a wonderful thing."

At the end of the letter, I drew a heart and colored it bright red with watercolors.

Gu Zhao folded the letter, put it back in the envelope, and stuffed it into the innermost part of his schoolbag.

That day after school, Ye Shanshan followed him, chattering about the interesting things that happened that day.

As she reached the school gate, she suddenly stopped: "Gu Zhao, have you seen the letter?"

She looked up at him, her light chestnut eyes sparkling under the streetlights.

Gu Zhao looked away and hummed in agreement.

"Then..." she drawled, a sly smile playing on her lips, "Do you like me?"

Gu Zhao did not answer.

He gripped the strap of his schoolbag and said, "Tomorrow morning reading requires us to recite 'Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng' from memory. Have you memorized it?"

Ye Shanshan was stunned for a moment, then laughed: "Oh dear, you're such a spoilsport." But her eyes were still curved, like two crescent moons.

From that day on, Gu Zhao became extra attentive when teaching her Mandarin and Chinese characters.

She learns very quickly.

By the end of October, he was able to read the texts fluently and write decent compositions.

Gu Zhao was grading her exercise book when she saw that she had written: "Autumn in the capital is beautiful, as clear as Gu Zhao's eyes."

He drew a wavy line under that line of text in red pen and wrote a note next to it: "Inappropriate metaphor."

When it was handed in the next day, that line of text had been erased and replaced with: "Autumn in Beijing is beautiful, the sky is high and blue."

The incident occurred in mid-November.

That day in PE class, after the boys finished running the 1,000-meter race, they gathered by the basketball court to rest.

Li Rui, who was on good terms with Gu Zhao, pulled a letter out of his pocket and waved it in front of his buddies: "Look, it was written by Ye Shanshan."

Li Rui's father is a director of a ministry. He is tall, plays basketball well, and is considered a prominent figure at school.

A jeer broke out from the crowd.

Some boys shouted that they didn't believe it, so Li Rui unfolded the letter and said, "See for yourselves."

The letter was passed around among several people.

Gu Zhao had been leaning against the tree trunk without moving until the page was handed to him.

He looked down—the same pale purple letter paper, the same neat handwriting, the same heart, even the wording was familiar.

The last line, "I can't control my feelings for you," is exactly the same.

Gu Zhao scoffed inwardly.

He straightened up and patted the bits of grass off his pants.

“Hey, Gu Zhao,” Li Rui leaned closer, “Did she write something for you too? I heard she keeps asking you questions.”

Gu Zhao looked up and saw that Li Rui's face had a mixture of smugness and probing, looking dull and boring.

He said casually, "No. We're not familiar with each other."

It turns out that the letter he carefully kept at the bottom of the drawer, the box of chocolates he had never eaten, the sparkling eyes she gave him when she looked at him, and the subtle touches and intimacy—none of them were special.

That afternoon after school, Ye Shanshan waited at the classroom door as usual. Today she wore a red scarf, which made her skin look even whiter.

"Gu Zhao!" she ran over with a smile, "Let's go to the cafeteria together..."

"inconvenient."

Ye Shanshan was taken aback: "What's wrong?"

"Li Rui received your letter," he said. "Your handwriting is quite nice."

Ye Shanshan's smile froze on her face.

Her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but Gu Zhao had already slung her backpack over her shoulder, turned around, and left without looking back.

I got home in the evening.

Gu Zhao felt a tightness in his chest, not from intense emotions, but more like he had accidentally inhaled a breath of stale air, which felt uncomfortable and suffocating.

He remembered his mother saying "precious" a long time ago.

Can something "precious" really be so easily copied, distributed, and even used as a source of pride?

He took out the light purple letter, carefully crossed out his name, and threw it into the communal trash can in the courtyard along with the box of chocolates.

From that day on, Gu Zhao never spoke to Ye Shanshan again.

She tried to explain several times, but he just nodded slightly and went on with his own thing.

Two weeks later, Ye Shanshan changed seats and sat at the other end of the classroom.

Sometimes Gu Zhao would see her walking with Li Rui, their laughter ringing out.

He simply lowered his eyes and turned a page of the book.

Winter came exceptionally early that year.

The first snow fell at the end of November. Gu Zhao stood in the classroom corridor, watching the snowflakes fall and cover the withered yellow grass on the playground.

"Brother Zhao," a boy from his class put his arm around his shoulder, "What are you daydreaming about? Come on, let's have a snowball fight."

Gu Zhao: "Okay."

He grabbed a handful of snow, rolled it into a ball, and threw it into the distance.

The snowball traced an arc in the air before shattering on the bare branches, creating a cloud of snow mist.

The troubles of youth are probably like snowflakes, arriving in a flurry and departing silently.

Some things are frozen and won't truly thaw until next spring.

But spring will always come. Gu Zhao thought.

The first person to notice that Gu Zhao's mood was off was naturally her mother.

During those days, his mother's eyes always followed him.

At the dinner table, she served him food more frequently than usual, but her gaze darted away. She probably wanted to ask him something, but was afraid that asking would only annoy him.

In their family, the word "adolescence" is like a sensitive switch; touching it will trigger a red light.

Gu Zhao lowered his head and ate his rice. He could feel that gaze falling on the top of his head, then moving away, and then drifting back after a while.

On Wednesday morning, when his mother was putting money into his wallet, she took out two extra ten-yuan bills, folded them neatly, and put them in.

They moved quickly, as if afraid he would see them.

Gu Zhao zipped up his backpack and turned around to meet her gaze, which she hadn't had time to look away from—a worried look, as if he had encountered a terrible problem.

"Mom," he said helplessly, "I'm really fine."

Mom's lips moved as if she wanted to ask something, but then she swallowed her words.

Gu Zhao knew what she was thinking.

Since last year, he has indeed stopped confiding in her. It's not that he's grown distant, but rather that he doesn't know how to bring up those awkward things that are typical of teenagers with his mother.

On the contrary, his father or his uncle Gu Yan would occasionally say a few words.

Between men, some things don't need to be said completely.

But Mom obviously didn't think so.

She seemed convinced that her teenage son was undergoing some kind of mysterious and dramatic transformation, while she felt left out, disappointed and frustrated.

So she could only choose the simplest way: give her more pocket money.

Gu Zhao already had a lot of pocket money.

The New Year's money was always saved separately, and his uncle even secretly opened a savings account for him and deposited money into it regularly. "Don't tell your parents, just consider it your secret stash."

He had hardly touched that savings book, and a considerable sum had already been accumulated in it.

Faced with the extra twenty yuan and her mother's heavy worry, Gu Zhao tried to explain, "Mom, it's just that the physics competition is coming up soon, and I'm a little nervous."

Mom's eyes widened slightly.

Gu Zhao could almost guess what she was thinking: When had her son ever been nervous about a competition?

Indeed, no.

But for the time being, Gu Zhao couldn't find a more suitable excuse.

"Mom, don't worry." He slung his backpack over his shoulder. "I'm going to school, I'm going to be late." With that, he rushed out the door as if fleeing.

As I rode out of the courtyard gate, I glanced back and saw my mother still standing there, her figure somewhat blurred by the morning mist.

——

Evening self-study ends at nine o'clock.

The prestigious high school he attended had very strict management. Although most of the students had special backgrounds, all the necessary rules were still followed.

After school ends at 5:30 p.m., there is a unified self-study period from 7 p.m. to 9 p.m., with teachers of each subject taking turns on duty.

During these evening self-study sessions, Gu Zhao didn't even have time to look up. The preliminary round of the physics competition was next month, and he needed to make more thorough preparations.

His deskmate nudged his arm: "Brother Zhao, wanna come on?"

Gu Zhao snapped out of her daze, realizing it was almost time for school to end. She nodded and began packing her schoolbag.

Afterwards, several young men rode their bicycles home, calling out to each other. Some of the boys who lived in the same army compound and were going the same way followed behind Gu Zhao's bicycle, howling and singing pop songs in a hoarse and unpleasant way, which also gave a unique flavor of youth.

It was almost 9:30 when I got home.

His mother was sitting on the sofa reading a book. When he came in, she closed the book and stood up: "There's a late-night snack in the kitchen."

"I'm not hungry." Gu Zhao changed her shoes. "Mom, go to bed earlier next time, don't wait for me."

"I'm waiting for your dad; he has a meeting tonight." Mom walked over, raised her hand to touch his forehead, then stopped mid-air. "Are you too tired from studying? Do you want to take a couple of days off and rest at home?"

"Mom—" Gu Zhao wanted to act coquettishly, but then cleared her throat and restrained herself, "Do you really treat me like a child?"

Sometimes he felt that his mother's pampering had no limits; she would even consider asking for leave for him if she felt he was unhappy...

Even from childhood to adulthood, the only requirement for his academic performance was that it be passable.

However, perhaps due to her innate personality, Gu Zhao wanted to be more outstanding, or even the most outstanding, whether in academics or in other aspects...

Mom's face fell for a moment. "Okay, go ahead and get busy."

Gu Zhao avoided her gaze: "Okay. I'm going to do my homework." He added, "Mom, don't worry, I'm fine."

He hurried back to his room, closed the door, and finally let out a long sigh of relief.

A mother's love is too heavy.

The desk lamp in front of the desk was brought back from Shanghai by my dad last year. It's an eye-protecting lamp with soft light.

Gu Zhao opened his exercise book and began studying a problem. But as he stared at the circuit diagram, the lines and symbols looked like a tangled ball of yarn, a complete mess.

Not long after, footsteps came from outside the door. They were steady; it was Dad.

Two knocks sounded, spaced evenly apart.

"Please come in."

Dad pushed the door open and came in. He had already taken off his military jacket and was only wearing a shirt.

Gu Zhao didn't really know her father's specific position, only that the uncles and elders in the compound treated him with caution.

Dad leaned against the doorframe and asked, "Am I disturbing you while you were doing your homework?"

Gu Zhao shook his head: "No, I'm just taking a rest."

Dad then came in and placed the milk glass he was carrying on the table: "Your mother asked me to bring this."

Gu Zhao said, "Yes, thank you."

Dad pulled up a chair and sat down, scrutinizing him for a few seconds. His gaze was calm, like the sea at night, revealing no emotion, yet reflecting everything.

"Your adolescence..." Dad suddenly spoke, his voice tinged with a hint of teasing, "I hope it passes soon. Your mother is very worried about you."

Gu Zhao smiled wryly.

He had read some books about adolescence, which said that boys at this stage would rebel, fight against their parents, and be filled with anger or confusion about the world.

But he didn't.

He just... didn't know how to say some things.

Looking into my father's eyes now, I see that they are very similar to his own, except that there are a few more fine lines at the corners of his eyes and his gaze is deeper.

Gu Zhao thought that perhaps he could try to say something.

"Dad, it's about... a love letter."

He briefly explained the situation, omitting the details and only saying that a transfer student had written similar letters to several people, and he saw one of them and found it somewhat...uninteresting.

The father listened quietly, and after he finished speaking, he asked directly, "You like her?"

Gu Zhao quickly shook his head: "It's not that bad."

"Hmm. So it's just teenage troubles." Dad nodded. "When I was your age, I went through something similar."

Gu Zhao was almost speechless with shock.

He could hardly imagine that his father would have such troubles—Gu Xiao, who was always calm, composed, and resourceful in the eyes of outsiders.

"And then what?"

"Later I found out that some people express their affection by casting a wide net. This isn't your problem, it's hers. You did the right thing, cutting your losses in time, that's good."

Gu Zhao felt a little better. It turned out that in her father's eyes, this wasn't something shameful.

"Dad, have you... ever liked anyone else? Before Mom?" He regretted asking as soon as the words left his mouth. The question was too private, and too impulsive.

But Dad wasn't angry.

He said very seriously, "No. Your mother is the first and only person I've ever liked."

Gu Zhao's ears burned.

He recalled the details of his parents' interactions: holding hands, gazing into each other's eyes, kissing, their eyes seeing only each other.

Perhaps this is what love should be like. He thought. Not the kind of passion that Ye Shanshan flaunted everywhere, but a focused, unique, and enduring one.

"And what about you?" Dad changed the subject. "Do you have a girl you like?"

Gu Zhao shook his head: "No."

"Really not?" His father scrutinized him, somewhat sternly. "It's normal to have feelings for the opposite sex during puberty."

"No, there isn't one," Gu Zhao insisted. "At least not right now."

Dad nodded.

The room fell silent again.

Gu Zhao picked up the milk and took a sip. The warm sweetness melted on her tongue. Her mother had added honey to the milk.

Then he heard his father say, "So, when you have a wet dream, who is the girl you dream about?"

"puff--"

Gu Zhao almost spat out his milk.

He coughed violently, his face turning red, and frantically searched for tissues.

Dad handed me a note, his eyes clearly smiling—this time, it was a genuine smile.

"Dad!" Gu Zhao wiped his mouth, his ears burning hot.

He opened his mouth, but the sound got stuck in his throat.

"I...I really didn't dream about any specific girl...at least, it was a girl without a face..." This explanation is worse than no explanation at all.

Dad just grunted in response and reached out to ruffle his hair.

The hands were large and warm, with thin calluses, and when they were rubbed against the scalp, they had a strangely soothing power.

"Remember a few things. First, don't date before you're an adult. It's not forbidden, it's a suggestion—most crushes at this age are just fleeting impulses, and you're not yet capable of bearing the consequences."

Gu Zhao nodded.

"Secondly, you cannot have sexual relations with your future partner before you get engaged. This is out of respect for the other person and also out of responsibility for yourself. Desires must have limits, understand?"

"Understood," Gu Zhao replied softly, her voice trembling slightly.

"Third, if there's anything you don't understand, feel free to ask me. Whether it's physical, psychological, or emotional, it's all fine. I'm your father, and these are things I should be teaching you."

"I understand," Gu Zhao said, his voice much more steady this time.

Dad patted him on the shoulder, ending the conversation between the men.

The door closed gently.

Gu Zhao sat there, the heat in her ears not yet completely gone.

He slowly let out a breath, picked up his pen again, and looked at the circuit problem.

The lines and symbols became clear again; the direction of the current, the distribution of resistance, the formula for Ohm's law—everything had a definite solution.

Some things in adolescence may not need to be explained at all.

Gu Zhao worked through the questions one by one, and his mind gradually calmed down.