Chapter 64
Jincheng No. 1 Middle School celebrated its 80th anniversary with great fanfare in the school's newly built, imposing gymnasium and auditorium. The sun was especially bright on this small town that day. Under a clear blue sky, a massive red congratulatory banner hung from the brand-new school gate, flanked by colorful flags. The air was filled with a unique festive atmosphere: a complex blend of excitement, nostalgia, and pride.
From early morning, the campus was bustling with activity. Old alumni, their hair white, walked hand in hand; middle-aged colleagues clapped shoulders and reminisced about the passing years; and current students, clad in their uniforms, their faces radiant with youthful radiance—people of all generations gathered here to celebrate their alma mater's 80th anniversary. The signature wall was crowded with people taking photos, and the joyful shouts of old friends reuniting echoed. A warm and surging undercurrent of emotion permeated the air.
As highly regarded alumni, Xia Wan and Jiang Yu were warmly ushered to the front row of the guest seats by school staff. Red chairs, a spacious stage, and a massive LED screen displayed the school's eighty years of ups and downs and glorious achievements. In this familiar yet unfamiliar setting, listening to the vibrant and bustling sounds around them, both of them couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion.
When the energetic old president, speaking out Xia Wan's name in a resonant and emotional voice, invited her to the stage to receive the "Outstanding Alumni Contribution Award" and deliver a speech as a representative, the audience erupted in prolonged and enthusiastic applause. This applause was a mixture of respect for the recipient's achievements and murmurs of curiosity and admiration from many current students. Countless eyes instantly focused on the slender figure in the front row, who slowly rose to her feet.
Today, Xia Wan wore a tailored dark blue velvet suit, impeccably tailored, showcasing the professionalism of a woman while remaining dignified and elegant. A small, delicate pearl brooch adorned her collar, matching the matching pearl studs adorning her earlobes. She took a deep breath and tilted her head to meet Jiang Yu's encouraging and proud gaze, which instantly reassured her. She offered a faint smile in return, then straightened her back and walked calmly and resolutely onto the stage beneath the spotlight.
As she received the heavy, crystal trophy, engraved with the school emblem and the golden words "Learn to Achieve Excellence" from the former principal, her fingertips trembled at the cold touch, yet her heart burned. She walked to the podium, adjusted the microphone, and scanned the crowd. She saw many familiar and unfamiliar faces. There were teachers who had taught her, their eyes filled with joy; there were classmates who had fought alongside her, their faces beaming with pride; and there were even more young, energetic students, their eyes sparkling with longing and curiosity for the future.
Her speech didn't feature flowery, impassioned rhetoric. Instead, it began with a slightly faded old photo she'd carefully saved on her phone. It was taken one afternoon during her senior year of high school, a photo a classmate snapped of her. She was seated by the library window, her brow furrowed in thought as she pored over a thick workbook. Dappled light from outside cast a shadow across her face and the pages of her open book. This photo instantly transported many back to that pure and striving youth.
Using this photo as a guide, she spoke in a clear and soft voice about how she, a girl from an ordinary family who was even a little timid and inferior in her heart, gradually found her love for architectural lines, space and history in the fertile soil of her alma mater, under the careful teachings of her teachers and the influence of the rich academic atmosphere. It was like a lost ship finding a lighthouse and establishing the direction of life for which she would strive all her life.
She shared the seemingly insurmountable technical challenges encountered during the old city renovation project, and how the team found hope amidst despair. Ultimately, drawing on cross-disciplinary inspiration and innovatively applying carbon fiber fabric technology, they revitalized the century-old building. She emphasized the indispensability of perseverance, professionalism, and profound humanistic care in facing challenges.
"Architecture is more than just a pile of bricks and cement," her voice carried through the speakers, carrying a quiet power to every corner of the auditorium. "It is also a container of history, a stage for life, and a bridge connecting the past and the future. All we do is listen with awe to the whispers of those silent buildings, and then use our expertise and passion to write new stories for them, so that memories can rest and make life better."
She didn't try to be sentimental, but the dedication to her profession, the reverence for history, and the love for the land she walked on, all revealed in her words, deeply moved everyone present. The audience was sometimes so quiet you could hear a pin drop, and other times erupted in heartfelt laughter and thunderous applause. Her success was not just a personal honor; it also served as a role model that inspired countless others.
At the end of her speech, she paused briefly, her eyes seemingly casually glancing towards Jiang Yu below the stage. Her tone became softer and more sincere: "I'd also like to express my special thanks to all the teachers, friends, and partners who have given me support, encouragement, and wisdom along the way. It is your companionship and enlightenment that has helped me find direction when I was lost and gained strength when I was in trouble."
She didn't name anyone, but Jiang Yu knew he was one of them. He sat in the audience, watching her bathed in glory, rational, wise, beautiful, and powerful. His chest was filled with an unprecedented mixture of pride, love, and deep satisfaction, almost overflowing with emotion.
His girl had already broken free from all shackles, had grown wings, and was soaring in the vast and brilliant sky that belonged to her.
The speech ended with prolonged applause. Xia Wan, holding the trophy and flowers, bowed slightly, then walked off the stage under everyone's gaze. Jiang Yu stood up and naturally took the bouquet from her hand. With his other hand, he gently squeezed her slightly cold fingers and whispered, "Well said."
After the grand ceremony, it was free time. The campus felt like a giant party, bustling with people taking photos, reminiscing, and reminiscing about the past. Laughter and joy filled the air. Xia Wan and Jiang Yu politely declined several waves of alumni and media requests for photos and conversation. They tacitly avoided the bustling main streets and the crowded new teaching area, heading towards the familiar three-story red brick teaching building deep within the campus.
This building is quite old, its red brick walls mottled with varying shades of color from the erosion of time and wind. Dried creeper vines crawl along the base of the walls, and the windows still have old wooden frames, much of the paint peeling. It's said that due to the age of the facilities, they will soon undergo comprehensive reinforcement and renovation. Most of the classes have already moved into the spacious and bright new teaching building, leaving this place remarkably quiet, even a little desolate, in stark contrast to the bustling atmosphere beyond.
They slowly ascended the terrazzo staircase, worn smooth by countless traverses. The wooden handrails, rubbed with age, shone with a warm patina. Their footsteps echoed hollowly yet distinctly, as if each step were tapping the keys of time, striking a distant yet familiar note. The hallway was deserted, dimly lit. The tall windowpanes were coated in dust, and the sunlight struggled to penetrate, casting long, silent shafts of light across the floor. Countless tiny particles of dust danced tirelessly and slowly within them, like the passage of time itself.
Walking to the door of Senior 3 (7) classroom, Jiang Yu found the dark green wooden door ajar, unlocked. He reached out and gently pushed it open. The door hinge creaked with a long, lingering sound, as if welcoming a long-lost wanderer.
The scene inside the classroom came into view. The desks and chairs were still the same old, dark brown wooden structure, covered in a thin, even layer of dust. They were neatly arranged, as if school had just ended yesterday. The blackboard had been wiped with an eraser, but some traces of white chalk still remained. On the podium lay a worn chalk box and a half-broken piece of red chalk. In the back corner of the classroom, some discarded, dusty teaching tools and a few faded basketballs were piled. The air was filled with a unique nostalgic scent, a mixture of old books, dust, and the cool winter air.
Everything seemed to be forgotten by time, frozen on the day they graduated and left.
Xia Wan's heartbeat quickened involuntarily. She slowly walked to the window seat where she once sat. Her fingers gently brushed the cool tabletop, a hint of dust staining her fingertips. It was as if she could still feel the warmth of the girl who had once been bent over her desk, her heart filled with longing and anxiety. She raised her head, her gaze fixed squarely on the spot in front of her—where Jiang Yu had once sat. That spot had held the most, longest, and most secret gazes of her entire youth.
Jiang Yu also came over and stood beside her, silent, following her gaze. Time seemed to flow backwards at this moment. Those days and nights suffocated by schoolwork, those moments struggling through a sea of homework, those sweat shed on the basketball court, those casual brushes in the corridor, those furtive glances she thought no one knew, those vague, almost elusive attention and affection he might have felt or perhaps not noticed... All the youthful innocence, the undercurrent of excitement, and the unfulfilled longing that belonged to that age, became incredibly clear and vivid in this quiet space filled with memories, as if it had happened only yesterday.
"At that time," Xia Wan spoke softly, her voice sounding particularly clear in the empty and desolate classroom, with a calmness and tranquility that came with the passage of time, without any trace of the humility and cowardice of the past, "I just sat here and watched you for three years." She could finally speak so calmly, in the place where it all began, to tell the secret that had been hidden for ten years.
Jiang Yu turned to face her. His deep eyes, in the hazy light filtering through the window, seemed especially profound and focused, capturing the sparse branches outside and her now serene face. He showed no surprise, as if he'd known everything. He reached out, his warm, dry palm wrapping tightly around her cool, dusty fingers, his grip firm yet gentle.
"I know." He looked at her, his eyes swirling with complex emotions: belated regret, deep pity, but mostly, a surge of immense relief and an unwavering love for her after so many trials and tribulations. "It's a pity... I knew it too late. I wasted... so much time that should have been spent closer together." His voice was low and hoarse, tinged with a subtle pain. If he had been more careful back then, if he hadn't been blinded by his inherent pride and another twisted relationship, would they have avoided missing out on those long ten years?
Xia Wan looked at the clear regret in his eyes, shook her head, and held his hand with her backhand, scratching his palm lightly with her fingertips as a silent comfort: "It's okay, now... it's not too late." Yes, although they missed each other for ten years, fate eventually brought them back to each other, and in a more mature, more stable, and more cherishing way.
Jiang Yu didn't say anything else, just looked at her deeply, as if he wanted to overlap her at this moment with the vague, immature figure in his memory, and then firmly engrave it in his heart. He lowered his head, gently resting his forehead against hers, their noses touching intimately, and their warm breaths blended clearly together.
In this classroom filled with the marks of their youth and witnessing countless sweat and dreams, there are no passionate kisses, no more words, only the silent but more powerful closeness, the warmth of foreheads touching, and the love clearly visible in each other's eyes, which has become more mellow and indestructible after years of precipitation and testing.
The sunlight filtered through the old and dusty window frames, enveloping the two people hugging each other in a hazy and warm glow. Their shadows were stretched out, intertwined, and cast on the dusty ground.
Outside the window, there is a brand new plastic track and the running and jumping, energetic figures of teenagers, noisy and vibrant; inside the window, there is the dusty past, the frozen desk and the mature, tightly embraced love, quiet and time is long.
Eighty years have flowed slowly through the tumult of the school anniversary, carrying away youth and ignorance, leaving behind the marks of growth and moving stories. And their story, after a long journey, has finally found its most solid anchor here, and they will continue to work together to write a chapter into the more distant future.
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