Senior year sprint
The senior high school study room at Nangang No.1 Middle School, 6:30 pm.
The setting sun outside the window, like spilled orange soda, splashed wildly into the classroom, casting a warm orange glow across the wooden desks. Xu Ying squinted slightly; the physics problem became blurry in the glaring light. She raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sunlight, her pen unconsciously drawing circles on the draft paper, one after another, layer upon layer, like her tangled thoughts.
"Won't?"
A deep voice suddenly approached her ear, and warm breath brushed against the stray hairs beside her ear. Xu Ying's hand trembled, and the tip of her pen poked a small black dot on the paper. She subconsciously dodged to the side, only to turn her head and meet Zong Heng's ambiguous smile.
He rested his chin on one hand, his school uniform sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his well-defined forearms. Sunlight filtered through his fingers, casting dappled patterns on his face and making his obsidian-like eyes shine even brighter.
"You're too close," Xu Ying protested softly, her fingers unconsciously tightening around the pen.
Zong Heng smiled and pointed to the question she was stuck on: "Conservation of momentum, first calculate the velocity after the collision." His fingertip lightly traced a line on the paper, leaving a faint mark. Xu Ying's gaze involuntarily fell on his hand—long, slender fingers with distinct knuckles, and a fresh abrasion on the base of his thumb, covered with a dark red scab.
That was during gym class last week, when he blocked a basketball flying towards her face with his bare hands, leaving a mark.
"Look at the question or look at me?" Zong Heng suddenly lowered his voice, his breath, full of laughter, brushing against her earlobe.
Xu Ying's ears burned instantly. She grabbed an eraser and threw it at him: "Shut up."
The eraser traced a parabola in the air before Zong Heng caught it smoothly. He deliberately waved it in front of her, raising an eyebrow and saying, "Good aim, just a little lacking in strength."
"Zong Heng!" Xu Ying angrily tried to grab it, but he dodged her with a sidestep. The movement was so big that her chair creaked, causing several students in the front row to turn around.
The class monitor pushed up his glasses, looking helpless. "Can you two please stop fooling around in the study room? The homeroom teacher has been watching us from outside the window for five minutes now."
Xu Ying froze, instinctively looking towards the back door of the classroom. Sure enough, the homeroom teacher, Lao Liu, had his stern face pressed against the glass, his eyes behind his glasses gleaming.
Zong Heng leaned back lazily, his long leg nudging Xu Ying's knee under the table: "Did you hear that? The class monitor thinks we're too noisy."
Xu Ying stomped on his foot hard under the table.
"Hiss—" Zong Heng gasped dramatically, causing Old Liu to cough loudly.
As the sun gradually set, its orange glow turned into a deep amber. Xu Ying forced herself to focus back on the physics problem, but the intense gaze beside her made her feel uneasy.
"Do you want to hear this or not?" She finally couldn't help but turn her head.
Zong Heng tilted his head, the sunlight casting a small shadow on his high, straight nose. He casually twirled a pen, the black pen flying nimbly between his fingers like an obedient butterfly.
"Listen," he drawled, "Teacher Xu, please begin."
Xu Ying pursed her lips, trying to ignore his teasing tone: "This problem requires the law of conservation of momentum..."
She was writing formulas on the draft paper with her head down, a stray strand of hair slipping out of her ponytail and falling beside her cheek. Before she could reach out, Zong Heng's fingertips had already gently tucked that strand of hair behind her ear.
Xu Ying's pen stopped.
"Continue." Zong Heng withdrew his hand nonchalantly, as if the intimate gesture just now was perfectly natural.
The noise in the classroom suddenly faded into the distance, and Xu Ying could only hear her own heart pounding. She took a deep breath and continued explaining.
Halfway through the conversation, she realized that Zong Heng wasn't even looking at the questions. His gaze fell on her parting lips, his dark eyes deep and intense.
"Zong Heng!" Xu Ying angrily tapped his hand with her pen. "Get serious!"
Zong Heng then looked away, but suddenly grabbed her wrist. His palm was very hot, and the touch of it against Xu Ying's slightly cool skin made her tremble involuntarily.
"You're making it too complicated," he said softly, taking her pen with his other hand and scribbling a formula on the scrap paper. "The kinetic energy theorem is simpler."
Xu Ying was stunned. His handwriting was elegant and sharp, and his problem-solving approach was clear and concise. How could he seem like someone who couldn't solve the problem?
"You're lying to me?" she asked, her eyes wide.
Zong Heng grinned like a cat that had just stolen some cream: "If I don't do this, how can I get Teacher Xu to look at me more?"
When the bell rang for evening self-study, the classroom immediately became noisy. Xu Ying slowly packed her schoolbag, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Zong Heng leaning against the door waiting for her. He was unusually quiet today, and had been somewhat absent-minded since the third period in the afternoon, not even noticing that she had deliberately written the wrong answer to the physics problem.
"umbrella."
Zong Heng handed him a black umbrella, but stood still under the eaves. Rain dripped from the eaves, splashing tiny droplets at his feet.
Xu Ying opened her umbrella, and the rain pattered against its surface like countless tiny drumbeats. She took two steps, then suddenly stopped.
"Zong Heng."
He looked up, his bangs damp with rain, his eyes somewhat unfocused. In the rain, his silhouette blurred, as if he might disappear at any moment.
"You..." Xu Ying bit her lower lip, "Are you having trouble sleeping again?"
Last week, when she went to the library to borrow books, she happened to see the medical records—Zong Heng had taken tranquilizers for three consecutive days.
Zong Heng paused for a moment, then forced a nonchalant smile: "Worried about me?"
The rain was getting heavier, and water droplets slid down his jawline, indistinguishable between rainwater and something else. Xu Ying suddenly shoved the umbrella into his hand and pulled a small cloth bag from her backpack.
"for you."
Zong Heng lowered his head, and in his palm was a light blue sachet with crooked stitches, through which the character "Heng" could be vaguely seen embroidered. He brought it closer and smelled a faint herbal fragrance.
"Lavender and chamomile." Xu Ying turned her face away, her voice so soft it was almost drowned out by the rain. "My mom said...they help with sleep."
Zong Heng's fingers tightened slightly as he held the sachet. Raindrops dampened his eyelashes, reflecting dappled light under the lamplight.
"Xu Ying," he suddenly called her.
"Um?"
"The day the college entrance exam ended..." He paused, his Adam's apple bobbing, "...come with me somewhere."
The rain was too loud, and Xu Ying didn't hear the rest of his sentence. She only remembered that his hand, clutching the sachet, was white at the knuckles, as if he had grasped some precious treasure.
The next day, just as the lunch break bell rang, before Xu Ying could even close her English notebook, her wrist was grabbed.
"Come with me." Zong Heng's voice was low and carried an unyielding tone.
She looked up and met his slightly reddened eyes—he must have had a bad night's sleep again.
"Where are we going? There's a math quiz later—"
"They escaped."
Before she could react, Zong Heng had already dragged her through the noisy corridor. A boy whistled, and he turned around and gave her a cold glance, and the crowd immediately fell silent.
The lock on the rooftop door had long been broken, and the rusty hinges creaked jarringly. Summer breezes mingled with sunlight as Xu Ying squinted, noticing Zong Heng's white shirt billowing in the wind like outstretched wings.
Before she could finish speaking, a physics exam paper was slapped across her chest.
Zong Heng unscrewed the bottle of mineral water and took a big gulp. As his Adam's apple bobbed, water droplets slid down his collar: "Let me explain this last big question again."
Xu Ying suspiciously opened the test paper—it was the momentum conservation problem he had taught her in the study room yesterday.
“Didn’t you understand it yesterday?” She pointed to the formula he had written in his own handwriting on the draft paper. “You even listed out two solutions.”
Zong Heng suddenly moved closer, his scent of mints enveloping her. He snatched the pen from her hand and scribbled an X on the paper: "Forgot."
The pen tip pierces the paper, its force penetrating the back of the paper.
Xu Ying sighed and took out a pencil from her bag.
"Look here." She drew a rough diagram of a ball collision next to the problem. "First, calculate v' using the law of conservation of momentum, then apply the work-energy theorem..."
The pencil tip moved rustling across the paper, sunlight filtering through the thin paper and illuminating the outline of her slender fingers. Zong Heng's gaze, however, fell on her trembling eyelashes—there was a speck of chalk dust there, probably picked up during her morning cleaning duty.
"Did you understand?" Xu Ying looked up and found Zong Heng staring straight at her.
"No," he lied without batting an eye. "Speak more slowly."
Xu Ying bit her lower lip—this was the third time he had said that. She suddenly poked the back of his hand with the end of her pencil: "Zong Heng, you weren't listening at all."
The eraser from the pencil had pressed a shallow dent into the scar on the back of his hand. It was last Thursday afternoon when a boy from the next class deliberately hit her with a ball while playing basketball, and Zong Heng blocked it with her bare hands.
He gripped the pencil in his other hand, simultaneously holding her fingers: "I'm listening." His thumb brushed against the calluses on her fingertips, the result of years of holding a pen. "Go on."
The wind suddenly picked up, lifting a corner of the exam paper. Xu Ying hurriedly tried to press it down, but Zong Heng pressed the paper down first, his entire upper body looming over her.
Too close.
She could smell the faint scent of laundry detergent on his school uniform, mixed with the warmth unique to teenagers. When he lowered his eyes, his eyelashes cast shadows under them, and the light brown mole at the corner of his right eye was very close.
“Continue…” Xu Ying stammered, pointing to the next line of formulas, “We need to substitute here…”
Zong Heng suddenly chuckled softly.
"What are you laughing at!" Her ears burned.
“Your ears are red.” He deliberately moved closer, his nose almost touching her cheek. “Teacher Xu.”
"Listen carefully!" Xu Ying used her elbow to create some distance, but froze the next second—
Zong Heng's left hand was unconsciously kneading the light blue sachet repeatedly. He had kept it in his pocket since this morning, touching it every now and then.
"Zong Heng." She put down her pencil. "Did you...sleep well yesterday?"
The wind suddenly stopped for a moment.
He released the sachet and instead grasped her hand resting on the paper: "Xu Ying." His thumb traced the bluish veins on the inside of her wrist, "If..."
The dull thud of a basketball hitting the ground came from afar. His Adam's apple bobbed, but he didn't finish his sentence.
"If what?"
"If we're not in the same city after the college entrance exam," his voice was hoarse, "would you..."
Xu Ying's heart suddenly raced. She remembered the rumor she had overheard last week—Zong Heng's father had come to the school to see the head of the grade.
You promised to get an A.
"S University." She jerked her hand back, the exam paper fluttering up and then falling again. "The Physics Department and the Design School are just across the street, you say you have to go every day..."
“Xu Ying,” he interrupted her, his dark eyes like the sea before a storm, “look at me.”
The cicadas suddenly began to chirp loudly.
She looked up and saw the crooked button on his school uniform collar, the scar on his collarbone from a childhood fall, and the tight curve of his lips—this was Zong Heng's expression when he was nervous.
"No, I won't." She grabbed the test paper and slapped it against his chest with such force that it seemed she wanted to shake off any unease. "You can get a perfect score on physics, and I'll help you with the Chinese exam questions. We made a deal."
Zong Heng stared at her for a long time, then suddenly pulled her into his arms.
Xu Ying's nose bumped against his chest, and the smell of mints hit her face.
What are you doing—
"Don't move." He rested his chin on the top of her head, his arm around her back so tightly it hurt. "Just one minute."
The sunlight blurred their shadows into a hazy circle. Xu Ying quietly reached out and grabbed the wrinkled fabric of his shirt at the back.
After an unknown amount of time, Zong Heng suddenly released her and cupped her face in his hands.
"Xu Ying, I..."
"Clang!"
The loud crash of the rooftop iron gate being kicked open echoed in my ears. Our homeroom teacher, Mr. Liu, holding a thermos of goji berries, his eyes behind his glasses bulging like saucers: "You two! What are you doing!"
Zong Heng instinctively shielded Xu Ying behind him. The test paper was blown away by the wind and fell to the ground with a clatter.
“Teacher.” He bent down to pick up the test paper and pointed to the physics problem. “I asked her a question.”
Old Liu's gaze swept back and forth between the two men, finally landing on the spread-out draft paper—it was indeed filled with formulas.
"Come to my office after school." He snorted coldly, muttering as he turned away, "These days, do you need to hold students so tightly when discussing problems?"
After the iron gate closed again, Xu Ying breathed a sigh of relief, only to find that Zong Heng was still holding her hand.
What were you trying to say?
He lowered his head and kissed her forehead very lightly, lighter than a feather.
"award."
The wind swept across the school uniforms drying on the rooftop, and the secrets of being seventeen years old were hidden in the folds of the fluttering hems.
The teachers' office was mostly empty after school, except for Old Liu's thermos cup, which was still steaming.
"Stand still." Old Liu tapped the table, his glasses reflecting a cold light. "Do you know why I called you here?"
Xu Ying stared at the toes of her shoes, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Zong Heng standing half a step diagonally in front of her with his hands in his pockets—it was that protective stance again.
"Let's date." Old Liu pulled a stack of photos from the drawer and slammed them on the table.
Xu Ying's breath hitched. In the photos, she and Zong Heng were sharing a pair of headphones in the cafeteria, talking head to head in a corner of the library, and yesterday... Zong Heng's back as he tilted the umbrella toward her.
Who are these people?
"I took the photos." The office door was suddenly pushed open, and a middle-aged man in a suit walked in. The light reflected from his wristwatch dazzled Xu Ying's eyes. "Zong Heng's father."
The air froze instantly.
Zong Heng's back muscles visibly tensed, his fingers clenched into fists in his pockets. Xu Ying suddenly understood his unusual behavior today—he had known this moment would come.
"Teacher Liu, I'd like to speak with the children privately." Mr. Zong smiled and handed over a business card. Old Liu hesitated for a moment, then took his teacup and went out.
The moment the door closed, Zong Heng pulled Xu Ying behind him: "You were following me?"
The father didn't answer his son, but instead looked at Xu Ying: "Xu, I heard you want to get an A."
"S University's design department?" He flipped through his phone's photo album. "What a coincidence, my niece also got into this school last year."
On the screen, a girl in a designer dress is arm-in-arm with Zong Heng, with a charity gala in the background. The photo is dated last Sunday—the day Zong Heng said he was going to attend a physics competition tutoring session.
Xu Ying's fingertips dug into her palm.
"Dad!" Zong Heng slammed his phone down. "Is the picture you photoshopped interesting?"
"Whether it's photoshopped or not, you know perfectly well." The father calmly picked up his phone. "The Lin family's daughter is a perfect match for you. After the college entrance exam, you two will go to America together..."
"Enough!" Zong Heng kicked over a chair, the loud noise making the windowpane vibrate. Xu Ying had never seen him like this before—the veins in his neck bulged, and his eyes burned with a cold fire.
But the father laughed: "What, you're afraid to tell her the truth? What did you promise me last week?"
Xu Ying suddenly grabbed Zong Heng's wrist. His hand was trembling.
"What truth?"
When the office clock struck 6:30, a torrential downpour began.
Xu Ying stood under the eaves of the teaching building, watching the raindrops create countless puddles on the concrete ground. Zong Heng's father had already left, leaving behind an ultimatum: "The transfer procedures will be completed tomorrow."
"Is what he said true?" She stared at the rain. "You did go see that girl last Sunday?"
Zong Heng's school uniform jacket was mostly soaked, and his hair was still dripping wet: "My family forced me to go to the charity gala. Xu Yage suddenly grabbed my arm, and I didn't have time to dodge." He took out his phone and flipped through his photo album, "Look, I just..."
"I won't look," Xu Ying interrupted him. "I only have one question—what did you promise him?"
The sound of rain swallowed our breath.
Zong Heng's Adam's apple bobbed a few times before he finally spoke: "If we don't break up before the college entrance exam, he'll let you finish the exam safely."
A bolt of lightning illuminated the sky, and Xu Ying could see his bloodshot eyes.
"Peaceful?" She laughed. "He can't possibly kill me, can he?"
“He can.” Zong Heng suddenly grabbed her shoulders. “Why did Mr. Li, who tutored me last month, suddenly resign? Why did your bicycle brakes fail last week? Xu Ying, he’s not bluffing us!”
Raindrops slid from her bangs to her chin, like a tear stain that hadn't dried.
When the glass door of 7-Eleven was pushed open, the wind chimes tinkled.
"Here you go." Zong Heng stuffed the hot cocoa into Xu Ying's hand, only then did she realize that her fingers were ice cold.
"So this is why you've been having trouble sleeping these past few days?" She stared at the cartoon image on the paper cup. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
Zong Heng tore open the sugar packet and poured it into his coffee: "What happens after I tell you? Are we going to worry together?" He crushed the empty sugar packet. "You just need to focus on preparing for the college entrance exam, and I'll take care of everything else."
Xu Ying suddenly pushed the hot cocoa in front of him: "Add sugar."
"What?"
“You said black coffee is too bitter.” She stubbornly laid out the sugar packets. “You’re not allowed to drink this anymore.”
Zong Heng paused, then suddenly lowered his head and smiled. He opened two packets of sugar and poured them into his coffee, the silver spoon clinking against the cup as he stirred: "Xu Ying."
"Um?"
“Come with me to the train station on the day the college entrance exam ends.” He looked up, his eyes reflecting the warm yellow light of the convenience store. “I bought tickets to Hangzhou; you’ve always wanted to see West Lake.”
Xu Ying traced a circle with her fingertip along the rim of the glass: "Okay."
Outside the glass window, the downpour gradually turned into a drizzle. Zong Heng's phone screen lit up briefly, displaying a new message on the lock screen: [Uncle Lin: Don't forget to try on your wedding dress this weekend!]
He quickly turned off the screen, but Xu Ying had already seen it.
They were the only two people on the last bus.
Xu Ying sat by the window, watching the rain meander across the glass like a river. Zong Heng draped his coat over her shoulders, carrying his body heat and the scent of the rain.
"Xu Ying," he suddenly whispered, "if one day I lose contact with you..."
“I’ll come find you,” she interrupted him. “To America, to Antarctica, to anywhere.”
Zong Heng laughed and reached out to wipe the water stains from her face: "Silly girl, what about the visa?"
“Forgery.” She grabbed his finger. “Or smuggling.”
The bus drove through the tunnel, and his eyes shone brightly in the darkness. Zong Heng suddenly leaned in and kissed her amidst the roar of the wheels. The kiss carried the sweetness of hot cocoa, the bitterness of coffee, and the saltiness of rainwater.
“Remember,” he whispered to her lips, “no matter what happens, I will find you in the end.”
Outside the train window, neon lights blurred into indistinct patches in the rain. The vows of a seventeen-year-old stretched as long as the railway tracks, with no end in sight.
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