Truce under the Five Rings
The heat wave of the summer of 2008, accompanied by another major event, rushed into our last summer in elementary school.
The Beijing Olympics are coming.
The black and white images on TV gradually turned back to color, the news anchor's voice was no longer so solemn, and five colorful cartoon characters and the melody of "Beijing Welcomes You" began to appear frequently.
Even Grandma Wang, who sells popsicles at the gate of the Hanshi staff housing compound, would hum a few lines along with the radio, "Anyone with a dream is great."
This trend naturally also blew into the primary school affiliated to Han Normal University.
In order to respond to the call of "Green Olympics", the school organized each class to adopt a sapling and plant it on campus.
Our class was given a small sycamore tree that was not much taller than Lu Xingye. The trunk was so thin that I could hold it in one hand. The leaves were so tender green that they were almost transparent in the sunlight.
"Can this survive?" Lu Xingye poked a trembling leaf with his fingertips, expressing his doubt.
"Of course!" The monitor immediately defended this treasure that belonged to our entire class, "As long as we take good care of it!"
The monitor assigned students on duty to take turns watering and weeding the saplings.
Ideals are full, but reality is a bit skinny.
For us little kids who couldn’t even organize our own schoolbags, remembering to take care of a tree on time was as difficult as getting Lu Xingye to sit quietly for an entire Chinese class.
Often, whoever was on duty would have to be repeatedly urged by the monitor before he could slowly run to fetch water with a bucket in his hand.
"Lin Nian! It's your turn to water the Olympic tree today!" the class monitor shouted from the podium.
Lulu and I were studying the newly bought Fuwa stickers together. When I heard this, I exclaimed "Ah" and remembered this.
I dawdled until school was over, and when I saw the monitor was about to lock the door, I quickly ran to the pool, filled half a bucket of water, staggered over, and poured it around the tree roots, thus completing my mission.
As for weeding?
We will have to wait until the weeds grow taller than the saplings and are discovered and criticized by the class teacher, then we will rush to pull them out.
Although it was taken care of carelessly, we still solemnly erected a small wooden sign for the sapling.
We sanded the wooden sign ourselves during labor class, so the edges are rough.
Lu Xingye volunteered to write "Olympic Tree, Class 2, Grade 5" with a brush.
The ink did smudge a bit, but we thought it was pretty impressive.
————
The "cold war" between Ye Zhixia and I is still going on.
Ever since the last ring jumping game ended in a bad mood, she no longer took the initiative to talk to me, and when our eyes occasionally met, she would quickly look away.
This deliberate alienation makes people feel more uncomfortable than the shaking of an earthquake.
We were still assigned to the same study group and stood in the front and back rows during physical exercises, but there was an indescribable awkwardness.
When she was watering the trees, I would deliberately go and pull weeds nearby;
If I were responsible for recording the growth of the saplings, she would definitely stand far away and talk to other people.
The cold war between Ye Zhixia and I seemed particularly awkward when it came to the task of planting trees, which required collective collaboration.
Once, it was our turn to water the plants in a group of two.
After school in the afternoon, I was taking my time packing my schoolbag, and Ye Zhixia was also tidying up slowly in her seat.
After everyone in the classroom had left, we went to get the buckets one after another.
On the way to fetch water, none of us spoke.
I stole a glance at her, but she didn't look at me, just stared at her toes.
I opened my mouth, but the words I wanted to say to make peace rolled around in my throat before I swallowed them back.
Why can't she be the one to bow her head first?
I thought a little angrily.
After filling the buckets with water, we carried them back together.
The bucket was very heavy and the rope hurt my hands.
Walking to the small tree, we picked up our own watering cans, scooped some water, and poured it around the roots.
There was still no communication, only the sizzling sound of water seeping into the soil.
After watering, I looked at the stretched-out leaves of the sycamore tree, which were shining with a glossy green light in the setting sun, and the inexplicable persistence in my heart also loosened a little.
Perhaps, just like this sycamore tree that needs patient watering to grow, some things also take time.
My mother would sometimes say, "When the leaves of the sycamore tree turn yellow and then green again, some things will naturally pass."
————
During the break, our topic naturally revolved around the Olympics.
"I like Jingjing the best!" Lulu pointed at the cute giant panda on the pencil case, "Look how adorable it is!"
"Huanhuan is the most handsome!" Jiang Yuanzhou waved his fist, imitating the flames on the head of the fire baby Huanhuan.
We argued until our faces were red, as if supporting which Fuwa was a big deal.
Just like the debate a few months ago about who was the better Super Girl contestant.
But this time, the quarrel was less tense and more filled with anticipation and joy.
Lu Xingye crossed his arms and smacked his lips. "If you ask me, all five are good! They represent China welcoming the whole world!" It was rare for him to say something decent.
In music class, we learned to sing "Beijing Welcomes You" in a humming voice.
"My door is always open, and I'm waiting for you with open arms..."
The lyrics are a bit tongue-twisting, but the melody is catchy.
We sang at the top of our lungs, quite out of tune, but our moods were bright and expansive.
Memories are like glass washed by rain, blurring how the days after those quarrels were stitched together.
On August 8, 2008, my living room was packed with people, and the coffee table was piled with watermelon seeds and orange soda.
Ye Zhixia was allowed by Aunt Fang to watch the opening ceremony. She sat next to me on the mat, and her knees under her skirt were touching mine.
When the huge fireworks footprints "walked" along the central axis towards the Bird's Nest, when the five-star red flag rose to the solemn national anthem, when Li Ning took off into the air, ran around the inner wall of the Bird's Nest and finally ignited the main torch.
A few of us jumped up and down excitedly in the living room.
Ye Zhixia turned her head to look at me, with the corners of her mouth curved into crescents.
The cheers from the TV drowned out the hum of the air conditioner.
The moment we looked at each other and smiled, those days of anger suddenly became distant and ridiculous.
Later, I saw this passage in a book about ancient Greek culture.
"To ensure the smooth running of the Olympic Games and to fully express respect for Zeus, the Greek city-states jointly agreed not to engage in war during the Games, and even if war was already underway, a sacred truce must be observed."
Our long "Cold War" also came to a sacred truce that summer under the witness of the five-ring flag.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com