YC
Twenty days after the National Youth Games ended, the sports school's training hall turned the lights up to their brightest.
Xiao Wei stood in front of the sandbag, his glove calluses worn through, and beads of blood rolled down his finger bones onto the mat, like a dark red dot on a blue canvas.
The coach rang the bell: "Fall back!"
She didn't stop, continuing to punch with her right straight punch until the sandbag tilted back 45 degrees, and the iron chain creaked and begged for mercy.
"That's enough!" The coach grabbed her wrist. "Even if we can't find anyone, you still have to eat!"
Xiao Wei took off his boxing gloves, his voice hoarse: "She owes me an explanation, and I have to wait for it."
After that day, the sports school had an unwritten rule—
At four in the morning, the 70kg training room was lit up by itself, and no one dared to urge them to hurry up.
Xiao Wei incorporates "waiting" into every day:
Waiting for the sunrise, waiting for emails, waiting for someone to reignite the vibrant red ends of my hair.
She didn't know where Yu Chen was, only that her competition wasn't over yet.
"If I can't find her, I'll keep beating her until she hears my bell."
In September, the national math Olympiad training camp was placed under closed management.
An Yi's schedule was divided into 45-minute segments.
During the day, I study competition papers; at night, I observe the starry sky; and in between, I spend ten minutes thinking about someone.
He thought of her in a very restrained way:
Write the final answer to the last, most challenging question in reverse chronological order of her birthday;
The brightest fireball in the observation record was named "YC-2025".
The coach was worried that he would be dragged down by his emotions, but he laughed and said, "Emotions are a variable, not an error."
In October, the admission notice arrived—
Q University, Department of Mathematics, Bachelor's, Master's and Doctoral Degree Program.
On the day he signed, he wrote a tiny line in the remarks column:
"If she ever needs my analysis, I'll always have my pen with me."
He folded the notification letter into an A5 size and stuffed it into the binoculars case he always carried with him.
Inside the box lid was a faded stargazing ticket, with a small dash written on the back:
"I'll write you the answer when I have some free time."
The empty space is still there, and so is the pen.
His life continues to move forward, but it will always leave an axis of symmetry, waiting for her to put pen to paper.
The lights in the senior high school building are turned off at 10 p.m. during evening self-study.
Hidden in Sheng Shuo's desk drawer was an empty box of lemon gummies.
All the candy was eaten, leaving only a small note:
"I've already taken those three steps. As for the rest—wait until you're fully recovered, then you can catch up with me yourself."
He stuck a sticky note on the title page of his workbook, next to a red timer—
0.3 seconds was the physical limit he set for her "three steps".
It is also the 100-meter sprint record that he breaks every day.
In December, the winter camp selection process will take place.
He ran 10.19 seconds, is a national second-level athlete, and was recommended to Peking University's sports academy.
On the day he received the award, a reporter asked him about his goals, and he smiled:
"Run for yourself first, then run for her."
After crossing the finish line, he reset the timer to zero and faced the empty stands.
Make that lip shape that only they understand:
"Three steps, I'm ready."
The stands were empty, but in his heart sat a person—
That person may or may not be watching.
But his life will never stop at that point of "getting confused".
IV. Common Chapter: Coordinates That Cannot Be Found
Xiao Wei's 70kg final, An Yi's math Olympiad gold medal, and Sheng Shuo's 100m record—
Same day, same time, different cities.
On the podium, they raised the trophy above their heads.
But in the shadows where the spotlight couldn't reach, they all did the same thing at the same time—
With your little finger slightly hooked towards the air, silently make a mouth shape:
"Yu Chen, did you hear that?"
No one responded, but no one gave up.
They didn't know where she was at that moment.
All I know is that my race isn't over yet.
The future must be bright; a beacon must be built.
When that person returns, they'll see it immediately—
It turns out that everyone was shining their brightest light for her.
On the night of the National Youth Games awards ceremony, the 70kg gold medal hung around Xiao Wei's neck.
She turned the trophy towards the camera, her voice low but steady:
"Yu Chen, if you're watching—"
I've left the lights on, I've rung the clock, come back, and I'll give up.
At the same time, at Q University's welcome party, An Yi pointed his telescope at the zenith.
The sound was so soft that only the stars could hear it:
"YC-2025, I renewed its name."
"Come back, and I'll help you write the analysis."
At the same second, on the P University track and field, Sheng Shuo crossed the finish line.
The timer stopped at his best time: 10.15 seconds.
He bent down and placed the timer in the center of the track.
The sound dissipated in the night breeze:
"Three steps, and I've finished running."
Come back, and I'll carry you the rest of the way.
The lighthouses lit up simultaneously, their beams piercing the darkness.
Shining in the same direction—
There, perhaps someone is returning under the moonlight.
Perhaps, it's still on its way.
But the lighthouse remains lit, and the race is not over.
Their lives will always have an empty space—
Waiting for her to sit down, waiting for her to rejoin the group, waiting for her to join us—
Let's finish this unfinished game and bring it to a close.
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