M-30 Rain

The sky was gloomy and hung in the horizon, refusing to fall into dawn.

The previous two days were sunny with the sun hanging high in the sky and the bright sunshine, but when we returned to school to attend the celebration, a layer of gray clouds suddenly covered the sky.

It was Aisha who informed Bai Luo about the grand ceremony of Nanhuai No. 1 Middle School's centenary.

The school only invited outstanding alumni from each class to attend.

As one of the best graduates of the class of 2015, Aisha's college entrance examination scores were no less than Bo Xi's, so she was naturally among them.

But she lived in a remote place among the mountains, and it was not easy to travel to and from Nanhuai by trekking along long mountain roads among the peaks.

So she asked Bai Luo to attend the school anniversary on her behalf.

Bai Luo bought a train ticket back to Hangzhou and Hong Kong at 2 a.m., which was just the right time, so he agreed immediately.

Aisha reminded her to pay attention to the campus network to find out who will be returning to school so that she can choose a companion to go with her.

Bai Luo has always been a loner and used to being alone, so she thought no one would be willing to go with her.

After all, she didn't have a very good reputation in high school.

No matter how the moon waxes or wanes, or how the sun rises or sets, rumors will not disappear, but will only get worse.

It's like a mark engraved into the soul, which cannot be erased.

After all, first impressions often last.

＿＿

In the last two months of the second semester of senior year, a young hooligans from vocational high school unexpectedly met Bai Luo under the dim lights of an Internet cafe.

It was love at first sight for her.

She had an oval face like the heroine in youth literature. At the age of sixteen or seventeen, she still had baby fat on her face.

In addition to irregular diet, his three meals were often simplified and sloppy, making him thin and frail.

Like a young butterfly emerging from its cocoon, its wings were soaked by the heavy rain, leaving it with no strength to even flap.

Faced with the gangster's straightforward advances, her response was crisp and clear.

If you don’t like something, you must reject it outright.

Unexpectedly, it aroused his desire to win.

He began to appear at the school gate regularly, and followed her closely after school, pestering her relentlessly.

Soon, rumors spread wildly in the school.

"I heard that she and the punk had already slept together, otherwise why would he be around her every day?"

"Exactly, why are you pretending to be so noble? Who knows how messy you are in private."

Several girls deliberately raised their voices in the bathroom so that passers-by could clearly catch every "private" discussion.

Some people even fabricated her experience as a hostess in a nightclub, and some even photoshopped her photos with obscene text and spread them in the class group.

She seemed to be pushed into the quagmire.

What started as sporadic unfriendly glances has now turned into blatant ridicule and isolation.

Someone had written "bus" on her desk in lipstick.

Someone deliberately knocked over her schoolbag, causing the books to scatter all over the floor, but pretended to be innocent.

"Oops, I was careless."

"Have you not been concentrating on your studies recently?"

The head teacher noticed that her grades were declining and began to ask her questions with some doubt.

There are always pointing and sneering sounds in the long corridor of the teaching building.

But she didn't care, because she knew that the more she explained, the more obvious it would be.

The little gangster is still lingering around.

One day, a malicious private message suddenly popped up on my phone.

"Get out of school now."

"He really is a child without parents."

She was trembling all over, and she had lost all the strength to sob.

After all, tears become the most despicable accomplice of lies.

Until one day, the little thug suddenly disappeared. Rumor has it that he was sought revenge by a ruthless gangster and his legs were maliciously broken, shattering all the bones.

Instead of showing sympathy, everyone directed their suspicion towards Bai Luo.

"She must have found someone to take revenge on her. She's really scheming!"

Bai Luo was too lazy to argue and spent his last days of high school in a daze.

When filling out the application form, I directly chose Hangzhou-Hong Kong University.

My uncle is in Hong Kong Island. Perhaps only by crossing mountains and seas to get there can I feel the remaining warmth of "home".

People who have been rootless since childhood always have to find a place to anchor, even if the harbor is just a hanging lamp.

＿＿

In the eyes of others, the three years of high school may be the most precious three years in life and a memory that is hard to erase in a lifetime.

Like a grayish-white film, even if it fades, the outline is still clear.

In Yu Bailuo's eyes, these were just the longest and most chaotic three years of her life.

It should be like a dead leaf, buried deep in the rotten soil.

Never see the light of day.

The "truth" that people talk about so much is nothing but the malicious imagination of the masses.

The real truth is always in your own hands.

She has never had anything to do with the hooligans in vocational high school.

She is not a child without parental care.

Someone cares about you, someone loves you.

Even if a butterfly breaks its antennae, it will still fly high in the mud.

*

Dusk fell prematurely in Nanhuai, and the air was filled with a damp coolness.

Bai Luo boarded the bus bound for Nanhuai No. 1 Middle School.

On both sides of the broad avenue, the lush green leaves of the trees, so white that they almost appear white, cast a huge shade net.

The net covered the entire sky above Nanhuai.

The figure by the window in the last row half-closed his eyes, listening to songs comfortably amid the chirping of cicadas and the evening breeze.

"The sparrows outside the window are chattering on the telephone poles"

"You said this sentence has a very summery feeling."

It just so happened that the smoke from the barbecue stalls along the road had dissipated and was blown very far away by the wind.

The summer night in the small town is like a slowly simmering sunset, neither too strong nor too weak, just right to intoxicate the eyes.

The clouds are so low that the summer sky is hazy. My sight is empty and the night is pale blue and weary.

The bus passed through the bright lights of the city and galloped across the Huaijiang Bridge in Nanhuai.

Outside the window is the vast, endless river. Cold and gray.

Bai Luo scrolled through his circle of friends with boredom.

The first update that caught my eye was from my mother.

The background of the photo is Lake Yamanaka at the foot of Mount Fuji. Flocks of swans, pure white.

In an instant, the chanting of "Under the Mount Fuji" revived in my ears.

“Who can own Mount Fuji with love?”

The monsoon winds sweep across isolated islands in the Pacific.

The snow on the top of Mount Fuji has melted.

It’s time for mother’s love to come.

In the photo, the woman's eyebrows and eyes are as similar as her own, so why is her heart so cruel?

The setting sun on the northern latitude follows the monsoon to the west, dragging the longing into an endless long shadow on the horizon.

Is it really that difficult to cross mountains and seas to come back and see her?

Bai Luo sniffed and the machine slid down.

It was Bo Xi who returned to Nanhuai with her.

There is no text description in the post, only a photo taken in a KTV.

The box was filled with mottled light and shadow. A young man under the brim of his baseball cap leaned against the sofa, his spine seeming to melt into the shadows.

He held a goblet in his hand with clear knuckles and stared at the camera with a rebellious smile.

The only intersection between the two people's circle of friends was the question left by Wu Kai: "When will you be back?"

Bo Yi replied: "Tomorrow."

She seldom browses her Moments, but today was the first time she saw Bo Xi's updates.

Just when I was about to click the "like" button, two messages flashed on the chat screen.

It’s the person who posted on WeChat Moments.

[When will you return to Hangzhou and Hong Kong?]

[I didn’t take the key.]

[tomorrow. ]

The other party did not reply.

But her campus network news reached 99+.

I clicked on it for some unknown reason.

The top message is a list of outstanding graduates of Nanhuai No. 1 Middle School, with their photos attached.

His sight first fell on Aisha's frame, and the faces of Concubine Lu and Shen Cisi were also clearly visible, while the rest were mostly unfamiliar faces.

She frowned and searched for the most familiar name and image, but found nothing.

Then he continued to look at the following news.

[Will Bo Xi, a 2015 graduate, come?]

[I'm from the same class, but I got rejected. Don't even think about it.]

[He was a tough guy who won the scholarship for three consecutive years. In the end, he didn't even come to the graduation ceremony. I guess he won't show up this time either.]

[I remember the New Year's Eve party during my senior year of high school. The play he wrote and directed was a huge hit, with people from other schools even coming to watch.]

[And basketball games! When he led his team to victory, all the girls in the stadium were shouting his name. He was like a star.]

[Wow, I really want to see what he looks like now. I was in the class next to his, and back then I was so timid I didn't even dare to say hello... Now I really regret it! If he could come back this time, I would definitely shamelessly take a photo with him! No one can stop me!]

[I bet fifty cents on spicy noodles! If Bo Xi shows up, someone will definitely be so excited they'll cry! After all, he's the sweetheart of so many people!]

[@2015 graduate Bo Xi, please come back to the team as soon as you hear the news! Nanhuai No. 1 Middle School will have you as the center of the team!]

Bai Luo silently turned off the screen.

No matter how many years have passed, when a middle school student talks about his youth, there will always be someone with red eyes, who is still reluctant to talk about that summer that was related to him.

Like telling the story of a sun that never sets.

The memory of youth is a yellowed old diary, and every page is related to him.

He will always live in everyone's youthful memories and is everyone's unspoken secret love in their youth.

Many years later at dusk, old songs were playing in the Bluetooth headset, and Bai Luo suddenly understood why he lived in memory.

It turns out that youth itself is a negative that never fades.

It was the evening rush hour and traffic was congested.

The bus was parked on an old street that was neither wide nor narrow.

Surrounding it are low old buildings from the millennium, and blue and green shared bicycles are neatly placed along the side of the street.

Bai Luo lowered his eyes to check the navigation, and found that he was still 2 kilometers away from Nanhuai No. 1 Middle School.

Based on the current congestion level, it takes at least half an hour for the bus to arrive, while it only takes twenty minutes by bike.

It wasn't because the celebration was approaching that we left the train, but because the carriage was so crowded that it felt suffocating.

She lowered her eyes to examine the white evening gown she was wearing, the slit cut flaring out from the waist.

When riding, you can gather and tie the skirt on one side to keep it modest and prevent it from being caught in the wheel.

Having made up her mind, she quickly got off the bus at the next stop and looked for the bicycle along the street.

Fortunately, there is a shared bicycle parking area a hundred meters away.

After scanning the code to unlock the car, she swiftly stepped onto the seat, stepped on the pedals lightly, and the car merged smoothly into the traffic flow on the street.

The oncoming night breeze was cool and refreshing, and the stuffiness and irritability in the car were instantly thrown away.

The alleys near Nanhuai No. 1 Middle School were crisscrossed, and Bai Luo did not follow the navigation instructions, but instead chose a winding path.

The bluestone road stretches out in the twilight, moss grows wildly in the corners of the walls, and the damp and musty smell wrapped in stale oil smoke weighs heavily on the respiratory tract.

Under the lush green vines, countless unknown sunsets are buried.

At the end of the alley sits a luxurious KTV, with a sign made up of strings of neon lights.

The damp evening breeze ruffled her long hair.

Twenty minutes later, Bai Luo arrived at the gate of Nanhuai No. 1 Middle School on time.

I parked my bicycle in the designated area and straightened the wrinkles of my dress.

After verifying her identity with the security guard, she held up her skirt with both hands and strolled around the campus during the Blues Hour.

The familiar teaching building, the familiar playground, the familiar plum trees, the familiar tree-lined avenue, the familiar summer night breeze.

Nothing has changed, yet it seems like it has changed.

Between my lips and teeth is the aftertaste of sunset, mint. Between my fingers is the light and shadow that slips away, the chirping of cicadas.

Bai Luo unconsciously followed the wind-shaded path along the green path and arrived at the art building where he had been every month for the past three years.

The corridor is pitch black and filled with smoke.

The only light came from the school street lamp, and the dim light fell on the windows in patches.

Before I knew it, I was on the road to the rooftop again.

At the corner of the third floor, the voice-controlled light had long since stopped working.

With the faint light from the mobile phone screen, I stepped on the years of dust on the steps.

The iron gate was ajar, and a crooked "Do Not Climb" notice was nailed to the door frame, with rust covering the words.

Behind the door were a pile of abandoned desks and a telescope with a missing lens, and the smell of rust was carried by the humid air.

There was no guardrail at the edge of the rooftop, and the night wind suddenly became stronger.

The moonlight stretched her shadow long, casting it on the dusty stone surface.

Bai Luo suddenly recalled the last time he went up to the rooftop and wrote two neat lines of words on the graffiti wall with a beautiful pen.

Following my memory, I found the gray and white bricks and stones that had been there for years.

Creative symbols, exaggerated lines, and hazy graffiti are layered on the spotted walls.

Disorganized and free, without any frame to restrain it, only memories carved by countless hands with spray paint, brushes or chalk.

She remembered it was in the lower right corner.

When my eyes fixed on the familiar handwriting, my brain buzzed with white noise and my pupils lost their focus.