Chapter 26
As autumn deepens, it paints the sky with a blue that is both higher and more desolate.
The camphor trees remain stubbornly green, but the fruit trees on campus—orange, mango, and lemon trees, as well as a few rare hawthorn trees—have all borne ripe fruit.
In previous years, around this time, there would always be some restless "mischievous kids" who would sneak over the wall or pick fruit during breaks in PE class, and they were often caught by the Academic Affairs Office for this.
This year, perhaps having learned from past mistakes, or perhaps wanting to give the high school sophomores a break from their intense studies, the school surprisingly organized an official "harvesting" activity, euphemistically called "experiencing the harvest and feeling nature."
The news caused an uproar throughout the entire second year of high school.
Compared to sitting in a classroom studying, being able to legitimately "wander" around the campus picking fruit is an incredible perk.
On the afternoon of the event, the sun shone brightly, warm and gentle, having dispelled the summer's harshness and leaving only just the right amount of warmth. Students, organized by class and carrying small baskets provided by the school, happily flocked to the fruit trees throughout the campus.
Sang Sui walked with Zhao Yanqi and Qiao Chunchao. The atmosphere in the science experimental class was more serious than in the regular classes, making such activities especially precious, so Sang Sui actively participated in today's activities.
She did make some new friends in her new class, and her friendship with Chu Xiran deepened. However, Chu Xiran was only focused on improving her grades, and she was indifferent to the autumn harvest activities, instead diligently studying a "Little Gan Vocabulary" book.
The science experimental class is full of people like Chu Xiran who seize every minute to study.
So Sang Sui could only turn to Zhao Yanqi and the others. Even though they were in different classes, their friendship remained. The girls' laughter, like silver bells, startled the birds resting on the branches.
Sang Sui looked up at the bright red pomegranate, sunlight filtering through the leaves and casting dappled patterns of light on her face.
Her mood was like the autumn sun, bright yet carrying a subtle, imperceptible melancholy characteristic of the season.
Just as she tiptoed, trying to reach a persimmon that looked particularly plump, her gaze inadvertently drifted past the throng of people and landed on the largest pomegranate tree not far away.
A slender and upright figure stood there alone.
It was Liang Fengshen.
Today he was wearing a simple white hooded sweatshirt and dark trousers, his figure was unassuming, and his back view seemed to be gilded with a light golden edge in the clear autumn sunlight.
Unlike the others, he didn't rush to pick the fruit. Instead, he tilted his head slightly and quietly looked at the branches laden with fruit. His profile was clean and sharp, with a straight nose and a beautifully curved jawline.
The wind ruffled his soft black hair and the drawstring of his hoodie, giving him a sense of tranquility and subtle detachment that seemed out of place amidst the surrounding hustle and bustle.
Sang Sui's heart felt as if it had been gently bumped by something, followed by a subtle and silent pang of sorrow.
He was still so handsome, so handsome that she felt that even just a distant, casual glimpse of his back was enough to fill her entire autumn's memories.
But it was precisely this beauty, this aloofness as if standing on a cloud, that silently reminded them of the distance between them. She could try to get closer, could secretly observe, but could never truly touch.
Unrequited love is like the autumn air: it's sweet when you breathe it in, but cool when you exhale it.
She silently withdrew her gaze, lowered her head, and continued picking the persimmons in front of her, only her movements were much slower.
As she bent down to place the fruit, she caught a glimpse of several clumps of extremely lush foxtail grass growing in the grass.
The fluffy grass spikes swayed gently in the autumn wind, exuding a wild and tenacious vitality.
As if guided by some strange force, she squatted down and carefully broke off a few of the fullest, most fluffy, golden foxtail grasses.
She knew the meaning of foxtail grass—perseverance, love that is not understood, difficult love, and unrequited love.
A bold and secretive idea quickly took shape in her mind.
She set aside the few persimmons and pomegranates that she had carefully selected from her basket, choosing the best ones in terms of color and shape. Then she found a clean piece of soft paper and carefully wrapped the few foxtail grasses in it.
After doing all this, her heart was pounding so hard it was almost uncontrollable.
As the event was drawing to a close and everyone was busy organizing their "spoils," amidst the chaos of people retreating back to the classroom, she grabbed her belongings and, like a thieving squirrel, darted quickly toward Class 6 of the second year of high school.
The classroom of Class 6 was indeed empty. She walked to Liang Fengshen's seat with practiced ease; his desk was clean and tidy, just like him.
She took a deep breath and quickly stuffed the foxtail grass wrapped in soft paper, along with the best fruits, into his desk drawer.
After doing all this, she felt as if she had accomplished an extremely important task; her cheeks were burning hot and her palms were sweaty.
She hesitated for a moment, then took out the sticky notes and pen she always carried with her from her pocket, leaned over the edge of the table, and wrote in neat, slightly delicate handwriting:
Liang Fengshen, I hope you can be happier :)
No signature.
She stuck the small yellow sticky note in the most conspicuous spot on the bag of foxtail grass.
Liang Fengshen, do you know what foxtail grass represents?
It is a hopeless, unrequited love that needs no response.
Liking him is only her own affair.
The joyful atmosphere of the autumn harvest activities had not yet completely dissipated when the shadow of the second-year high school students' mid-term exams, like cold air from the north, quickly moved south and enveloped the entire campus.
To boost morale, the grade level held a large-scale mobilization meeting a week before the exam.
The auditorium was packed, and the air was filled with a complex atmosphere that blended tension, solemnity, and the restlessness unique to adolescence.
After the leaders' lengthy speeches, the host announced: "Next, please welcome Liang Fengshen from Class 26 of Grade 11, who has performed exceptionally well in this monthly exam and the math competition, to the stage to lead all Grade 11 students in taking the oath."
Applause erupted like a tidal wave.
A spotlight slammed into the side of the stage. Liang Fengshen walked steadily out from behind the curtain and toward the standing microphone in the center of the stage.
He changed into his well-fitting school uniform, the blue and white colors making his posture even more upright.
He didn't dress up deliberately, and his face still had that cool and aloof expression, but when he stood in front of the microphone and calmly scanned the audience, an invisible yet powerful aura naturally emanated from him.
Sang Sui sat below the stage, looking up, his gaze fixed on him, just like the vast majority of people in the auditorium.
The light outlined his clear facial features: deep-set eyes, a high nose bridge, and lips pressed into a thin line.
His hand holding the oath had long, distinct fingers. When he began to speak, leading everyone in reciting the oath, his clear and steady voice resonated through the speakers, filling every corner of the auditorium. Each word was distinct, carrying an undeniable sense of power and conviction.
"...Live up to your youth and forge ahead! Go all out for your dreams!" With each sentence he recited, the audience roared back in unison.
Sang Sui followed along, her voice drowned out by the collective chorus, but her eyes remained fixed on the radiant young man on the stage.
My heart was pounding in my chest, not because of the oath itself, but because of the person leading the oath.
He's so handsome.
He was so beautiful that she felt it was a luxury of happiness to be able to sit in the audience and look at him openly and honestly.
The feeling of unrequited love reached its peak at this moment, a bittersweet mix, like a lemon candy coated with a thin layer of sugar. At first taste, it was sweet, but upon closer tasting, the sourness seeped out bit by bit, permeating the entire heart.
He stood in the light, guiding the way; and she, among the crowd below, was one of countless people looking up to him.
This affection, though silent, is deafening.
The last item on the agenda was a rather ceremonial announcement by the grade leader: "Students from each class, please go to the graffiti wall behind the teaching building in order and write down a sentence to encourage yourselves. These sentences will be kept until the eve of your college entrance examination. Then, come back and look at them to see your original beliefs and courage!"
The group slowly moved toward the graffiti wall. The once gray wall was now covered with colorful chalk writing, densely packed with the teenagers' bold pronouncements, confusion, and hopes for the future.
Holding the small piece of white chalk he had been given, Sang Sui stood outside the noisy crowd, gazing absently at the wall filled with youth and dreams.
What should she write? Good luck? Try your best to get into a good university? These all seem too ordinary and cannot contain the turbulent emotions she is feeling at this moment.
Involuntarily, images of Liang Fengshen's lowered eyelashes as he sang "Lonely Thoughts" on stage surfaced in her mind; she recalled the melancholy in his eyes after performing despite his illness; she remembered his quiet figure standing under the pomegranate tree; she remembered the resolute look in his eyes as he led the oath-taking ceremony...
She wanted him to be happy, for things to go smoothly for him, for all his efforts to be worthwhile, and for him to get everything he truly wanted.
Finally, she took a deep breath, squeezed herself to a slightly empty spot on the wall, raised her arm, and with all the devotion and courage she had at that moment, carefully wrote a line of words, stroke by stroke—
Liang Fengshen, I wish you all your wishes come true.
Unsigned and mixed among countless inspirational or witty comments, it was so simple that it went unnoticed.
But those seven words contained the most beautiful blessings that the grandest, most silent unrequited love of her entire youth could offer.
After she finished writing, she quickly retreated back into the crowd, as if she had completed a sacred ritual.
The autumn sunlight filtered through the branches of the tall trees, casting dappled patterns on the graffiti wall and the fresh, white lettering, reflecting the light subtly.
She turned back, took one last look at the words, then turned and merged into the flowing crowd, like a drop of water merging into the ocean.
Liang Fengshen, look, I've written all my unspoken feelings of affection and all my wishes for you here.
I hope that in the future, you will truly get what you wish for.
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