21. Spring
Schoolwork was quite easy for Tang Sizhuo, and she had plenty of free time to listen to Xu Mengyan's chatter.
Xu Mengyan likes to tell her things that she would never tell anyone else, because Tang Sizhuo speaks less than three sentences a day to all his classmates. He is a very stable tree hole, only for input and no output, which makes people feel at ease.
From her, Tang Sizhuo learned that the boy in the watercolor class was named Song Yichen. His parents were both doctors at the Central Hospital. Like Xu Mengyan, he was a child of medical professionals and had lived in the staff housing complex until elementary school. Song Yichen had always been intelligent, hardworking, and gentle, having always been known as "the other kid" in the hospital. His career had been smooth sailing, with only a few recent setbacks. Although he was a top student, his class was overwhelmed with outstanding students, and competition was fierce. He nearly didn't get a spot in the high school pre-admission program. In the end, a girl who had been in the program missed a major exam, which made his spot available.
"Pre-admission is great. No matter what your score is, you're guaranteed admission. And as long as you get the minimum score, you can go to the best class."
Xu Mengyan's tone was filled with longing, but Tang Sizhuo felt that rather than yearning for the high school division, she was more likely to admire Song Yichen's calm demeanor and his willingness to wait for the right opportunity. As for pre-admissions, Tang Sizhuo didn't need to worry about availability. Her tutor had already completed all the junior high school courses, and she had never fallen from first place in the grade, often beating the runner-up by 20 or 30 points.
Shortly after the start of the next semester, Tang Sizhuo, as usual, stood at the edge of the playground after morning jogs, waiting for Xu Mengyan to return to the classroom. However, as the students huddled at the exit dispersed, she saw from a distance, across half the playground, Xu Mengyan and Song Yichen still walking side by side on the track, their steps even slower, with no intention of leaving.
After six months of observation, Tang Sizhuo felt he vaguely understood what Zeng Xiasheng meant by "special friends." It seemed to be a relationship even more intimate than just ordinary or close friends. Just like Xu Mengyan, not content with simply running into Song Yichen in the crowd, she would always slowly wash her brushes and put away her paints after watercolor class. Even after the students gradually left, she would linger in the studio, helping Song Yichen, the class representative, tidy up the teaching chairs, even without saying a word.
Tang Sizhuo didn't understand at first, thinking Xu Mengyan was being helpful, so she volunteered to stay and help clean up. Later, she noticed something strange: the silent and tacit atmosphere in the classroom seemed unable to accommodate her presence, so now, every time class was over, she would hurriedly leave with the other students.
She didn't wait for Xu Mengyan and returned to the classroom alone. Xu Mengyan didn't come back until the end of the big break. She looked like she had run two laps again, her face flushed. Tang Sizhuo saw that she had something to say, so he didn't go out during the next break. Xu Mengyan really lay down on the table, slithered towards her like a snail, and whispered, "I told him."
What did you say?
Tang Sizhuo tilted her ear, thinking she could hear more, but Xu Mengyan blinked at her and gave her an expression that made her understand.
Confusion grew in his heart, entangled with his previous speculation. Tang Sizhuo felt as if he understood, yet didn't understand. He asked for the first time, "And then?"
"And then... then he said thank you." Xu Mengyan's face burned even hotter, almost steaming. She buried her head in her arms and didn't lift it up for a long time. "He said he thought I was very good, but we should be ordinary friends first, and we can talk about it when we grow up and go to high school or college."
After school, Tang Sizhuo recounted everything to Zeng Xiasheng exactly as it happened. Worried about missing any details, he muttered all the way.
In the past, Tang Sizhuo didn't say much even to him, but now with the appearance of Xu Mengyan, she finally had someone to observe and material to chat with. Sometimes she would feel unsatisfied even at the end of the road.
Whether it was just a casual bed-splitting or the immature restraint of youth, to Zeng Xiasheng, they were other people's stories and he didn't care at all. But he liked to listen to Tang Sizhuo's stories and liked to see the melancholy in her eyes fade away layer by layer, and her voice became lighter.
The lively deskmate opened a window in Tang Sizhuo's world. She no longer focused on studying all day long. Her horizons suddenly broadened and she even started to notice the snacks sold in the carts of various small shops at the school gate.
Most of the places were heavy in oil and salt, smelling greasy and unappetizing. She wasn't interested, but one place selling oversized ice cream cones managed to catch her eye. It must have opened during the Lunar New Year holiday. The small shop only contained the owner, a staff member, and an ice cream machine, yet business was booming. During rush hour after school, the line stretched for more than ten meters.
The ice cream itself isn't particularly impressive, but the owner's unique technique allows him to create 40-centimeter-tall cones, transforming the ordinary act of eating a cone into something more like a game. You have to lick it quickly and evenly to prevent it from melting and collapsing mid-sentence. Every day after school, many students walk shakily down the street, holding their ice cream cones, half-protecting them with their arms.
Tang Sizhuo drove to and from school in an Audi all day, practically broke. Xiao Tong told her to ask the driver for anything she wanted to buy. The driver wouldn't stop her, but he'd ask Xiao Tong for reimbursement. So, Tang Sizhuo only dared to buy stationery and extracurricular books recommended by her teacher. Ice cream cones, whether for her figure or her dietary needs, were simply out of Xiao Tong's reach.
Zeng Xiasheng had long noticed that she liked to stare at people holding ice cream cones. At first, he'd thought they were funny, eating here and there, like jugglers, and hadn't thought anything else about it. After all, her aunt made her three meals a day in various ways and stuffed her with snacks, but she had no interest in them, most of which ended up in his stomach. However, after several days, the passion in Tang Sizhuo's eyes hadn't diminished at all, and Zeng Xiasheng suddenly realized that she actually wanted to eat.
After school started, he went to the auto repair shop to work four hours a day. He might be paid by the job, he wasn't sure, but his grandmother would come at the end of the month and take it away. But the owner, Uncle Wang, was his father's cousin, so he was quite considerate. He pocketed the occasional small earnings he didn't bother keeping track of, bringing in a hundred or two hundred yuan a month. This was much easier than collecting scrap; at least he didn't have to travel back and forth in the scorching sun or freezing cold. Zeng Xiasheng was very frugal with his money, preferring to walk a few kilometers to the wholesale market to buy clothes ten yuan cheaper just to save a little each month.
Tang Sizhuo was kept in class by her teacher to correct her drawings today. She came out late, and the long queue outside the store had already dispersed. Zeng Xiasheng followed her, stopped at the ice cream shop, and asked softly, "What flavor do you want?"
Tang Sizhuo was still walking forward. When she heard his voice, she turned back in surprise. She looked at him, then at the sign. Suddenly, she couldn't suppress the smile. She almost ran back and said without thinking, "Vanilla!" She raised her head, looked at him with sparkling eyes, and asked again, "Which one do you want?"
Zeng Xiasheng paused as he reached for the money, instinctively wanting to refuse, but unable to speak. Even after knowing him for several years, Tang Sizhuo had only a vague understanding of poverty. In her world, there was perhaps no real difference between him and her; they both went to school, both had clothes to wear and food to eat. He told her he was going to work at an auto repair shop, and she didn't find it strange, because she also had to face tutoring at home, slaving away over math Olympiads, English, or piano, and only being exhausted by 11 o'clock before going to bed.
The cone was fifteen yuan, and he had originally planned to buy it only for her. But Tang Sizhuo was very happy at the moment, and Zeng Xiasheng didn't want to ruin her mood by explaining his embarrassment to her at this point. So he asked Tang Sizhuo what flavor she wanted next, then pulled a neatly folded wad of change from his pocket, counted out thirty yuan, and handed it to the shopkeeper, "Vanilla and chocolate."
Tang Sizhuo's happiness was beyond words. He stood beside him, swaying his body slightly, and the little bear hit his schoolbag, making a light tapping sound.
After the boss made the ice cream, he wrapped the cone in a tissue and handed it to them. Tang Sizhu held it in front of her eyes. Her curious, as if she had never seen the world, also amused Zeng Xiasheng.
"Eat quickly, or it will fall out later."
He handed the chocolate one to her as well, "I haven't eaten it yet, would you like to try it first?"
Tang Sizhuo was much shorter than him, and fearing she might stain her clothes, she stood on tiptoe and cautiously took a sip from the top. Zeng Xiasheng lowered his eyes, his gaze fixed on her smooth forehead and fluttering eyelashes. Suddenly, he felt a chill on his cheeks, realizing that Tang Sizhuo was too focused on her head and had stabbed him in the face with the vanilla "sword" in her hand, causing a drop of it to slip into his collar.
Grandma wouldn't allow me to use the washing machine; washing sweaters was a chore, costing me an extra fifteen yuan and causing a lot of trouble. But that familiar anger couldn't gather itself. As soon as it ignited, it was extinguished by the early spring breeze, though it would linger in scattered spots for thousands of miles, transforming into a strange, aching warmth in my chest.
Zeng Xiasheng instinctively wiped the grease with his hands, but even though he'd showered beforehand, the oil stuck to his knuckles and palms. It dissolved when it touched him, and the more he wiped, the dirtier it got. Tang Sizhuo looked up and saw that he was almost done wiping it, and suddenly laughed out loud.
"sorry."
Her laughter was pleasant to hear, without a trace of apology. It was crisp with a hint of breath, and drifted away with the sweet scent of chocolate.
Tang Sizhuo moved the cone to his left hand, and used his right hand to take out a wet wipe from his schoolbag. He asked Zeng Xiasheng to help him pinch the corner, and after tearing it open with difficulty, he reached out to take it, but she got it first.
"Your hands are dirty too. I only have one left, wipe your face first."
She continued to laugh as she spoke, looking up at him intently, raising her arm to gently wipe his cheek. Although the touch was cool, Zeng Xiasheng felt a heat radiating from that small patch of skin, flowing continuously, even making the tips of his ears throb and swell.
He no longer cared about his dirty collar, hurriedly avoided his sight, and without saying a word, gave the chocolate ice cream to Tang Sizhu. He lowered his head, picked up hers, walked back to the store, asked the boss for a small spoon, scooped out the dirty part that was rubbed on him, and ate it himself, avoiding Tang Sizhu's sight. Then he held out the half-remaining ice cream and waited for her to taste the vanilla flavor.
The ice cream flavored with essence was too sweet for Tang Sizhuo. After playing with it, she couldn't eat it anymore. Zeng Xiasheng finished the rest as usual and watched her return to the car.
It was a chilly spring day, and he ate a cold meal, but the sugar rushed through his blood, burning his heart.
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