The May wind has brought with it the violence of midsummer, weighing heavily on the senior high school teaching building of the No. 1 Middle School in the city.
Deep in the canopy of the camphor trees, the cicadas were chirping for the first time, their voices hoarse and intermittent, weaving a heart-pounding web of heat.
The taut string suddenly broke at the critical point.
“Graduation—hooray!!!”
A roar that pierced the air, with a desperate ecstasy, exploded from an open window on the top floor!
In an instant, there was a landslide and a tsunami!
“Happy Graduation—!!!”
"liberation--!!!"
"Burn it-!!!"
The entire third floor erupted in an uproar! A trapped beast broke free from its chains, letting out a roar that shook the heavens!
The window was suddenly pushed open, and countless pairs of young arms stretched out towards the blazing white sky. What they held were not pens, but thick stacks of test papers that carried countless days and nights of anxiety, hope and resolute farewell!
White, yellow, and covered with scarlet comments... the cold maze of mathematics, the tangled long sentences of English, the obscure parallelism of Chinese, the strange vectors of physics, the twisted molecular chains of chemistry... countless pages filled with handwriting and soaked with blood and sweat were raised high and thrown with all their might!
Whoosh——!
Whoosh——!
The pages spread out in the sky, like a grand and desperate golden butterfly festival that suddenly descended in midsummer! They were penetrated by the scorching midday sun, stained with a thin golden halo, swirling, rolling, rustling, colliding with each other and separating.
Paper butterflies fluttered everywhere, instantly drowning the low holly trees, covering the smooth floor, perching on the low-hanging wisteria flower clusters, and fluttering their wings in the hot wind.
The entire skylight was shrouded in a flowing, brilliant and tragic golden light, like the dancing paper money at a grand funeral.
"Fly! Take these damn three years with you and turn them into ashes!"
"Burn! Burn this cage!"
"It's snowing! It's snow made of paper ash!"
Roars, screams, the dull thud of books being slammed to the ground, the vibration of railings being slapped... all merged into a youthful cacophony that tore at the eardrums!
Some people beat their chests and stamped their feet, tears streaming down their faces; some people hugged their best friends tightly, trembling silently; some people picked up a whole box of mock exam papers, closed their eyes, and poured out their tears with all their determination, like pouring out sacrifices on an altar.
Every fluttering golden butterfly is a soul's final, tragic dance in the scorching air.
The door of Class 1, Grade 3, was also swept by this golden, burning butterfly wave.
Ye Qingliu stood alone in the shadow at the end of the corridor, his back leaning against the cold marble columns.
Ye Qingliu did not participate in the self-destructive carnival. His ironed dark blue short-sleeved summer school uniform stood out like a blade in the hustle and bustle of the heat wave.
Ye Qingliu tilted his head slightly, his gaze penetrating the "golden butterflies" flying all over the sky that blocked out part of the dazzling sunlight, and fell on the messy and magnificent "battlefield" downstairs that was flooded with paper butterflies.
His face still had that usual calm indifference, as if he was watching a fire from the other side of the river.
However, the lines of the tightly pursed thin lips relaxed into an imperceptible arc.
Deep in the gray-blue eyes, the fall of Jindie was clearly reflected, as was the face that was ecstatic to the point of being hideous. A subtle sense of relief called "the end" was like a stone thrown into a deep pool, spreading out a circle of almost invisible ripples.
Three years have passed, countless deep nights with lonely lamps and cold moons, and the heavy expectations and shackles seem to be resolutely burned along with the fluttering and burning paper butterflies.
A gentle breeze blew by. A "golden butterfly" with curled edges and printed with complex physical formulas spun and gently landed on Ye Qingliu's broad shoulders, like a tired butterfly that had found a resting place.
He didn't brush it off.
A cool, soft hand, slightly sweaty, gently covered the back of his hand, which was hanging at his side with distinct knuckles.
Ye Qingliu curled his fingertips almost imperceptibly and turned his head to the side.
Bai Zhiye had quietly stood beside him. She wore the same blue and white school uniform, looking like a lotus flower after rain. Her long hair flowed down softly, a few strands clinging to her fair neck.
She did not scream to vent, but just accompanied him quietly, with a gentle and calm smile on her face, and her clear eyes stared at him intently, as if she could penetrate the icy silence and sense the ripple called "the end".
"It's over." She said softly, her voice penetrating the clamor of the crowd and the cries of the paper butterflies, falling clearly into his ears, bringing with it the peace and tranquility of a time when everything had settled.
Ye Qingliu's gaze shifted from the "Golden Butterfly" on her shoulder to their clasped hands. Her fingertips were slightly cool, while her palms were as warm as jade.
He was silent, looking at her deeply with his gray-blue eyes, and the slight ripples in his eyes were smoothed by warmth.
Then, very gently but firmly, he turned over his palm and completely wrapped her soft hand in his slightly cool palm.
The silent response built a quiet city in the noisy funeral.
"Qingliu! Zhiye! Take a photo!" The squad leader held up his SLR camera and waved excitedly at the door.
The center of the classroom was empty. A huge "Graduation" was scribbled wildly on the blackboard, surrounded by various signatures.
The students huddled together, making faces and pretending to be serious in front of the camera, and the sounds of shutter clicks, howls and whistles echoed one after another.
Ye Qingliu and Bai Zhiye were herded to the center of the commotion. The crowd parted a narrow gap.
Ye Qingliu's figure is as tall and straight as a pine tree on a solitary peak, and his clear temperament makes him seem even more independent and calm in the doomsday carnival.
Bai Zhiye stood close to him, and their hands were tightly clasped together under their school uniform sleeves.
"Look at the camera! One, two, three——Graduation!!!"
"roar--!!!"
The blinding flash swallowed everything. The moment the shutter clicked, some people leaped with a cry, while others leaned back in laughter.
Ye Qingliu, who is in the center of the picture, frowned slightly and then relaxed his brows when the strong light hit him, and the corners of his lips twitched upwards very subtly but realistically.
My dear, there is more to this chapter. Please click on the next page to continue reading. It will be even more exciting later!
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