Chapter 12
The unexpected "rescue" at the art festival was like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, creating ripples in the lives of Li Ming and Li Ziqing. Li Ming remained the low-key, studious, and observant student of Class 7, Grade 11. But when he occasionally encountered Li Ziqing in the corridor or cafeteria, she would nod slightly at him, offering a smile that was more sincere than a polite one. Li Ming would return the same restrained nod, but his heart was far from as calm as it appeared. He knew that he had pried open a crack in the small window leading to her world.
The opportunity arose one Tuesday afternoon. Sunlight streamed through the library's tall glass windows, casting beams of light into the air thick with the scent of books. Li Ming was engrossed in a thick volume of "A Global History," not entirely for academic purposes, but more to re-examine his vague understanding of the dramatic changes in the world order over the next decade or so, attempting to find a "theoretical source" that suited his current age and status.
A very faint, sweet-smelling breeze wafted by, and the empty chair next to them was gently pulled out.
Li Ming looked up and met Li Ziqing's bright, smiling eyes. Today, she was wearing a beige knitted cardigan, her hair loosely tied back, with a few stray strands falling beside her cheeks, making her look casual yet gentle.
"What a coincidence, Li Ming." Her voice was soft, as if afraid of breaking the tranquility of the library. "You also like reading history books?"
"Just flipping through it." Li Ming closed the book, suppressing the turmoil in his heart, and tried to sound natural in his tone. "I found it quite interesting."
“I noticed you were engrossed in reading just now,” Li Ziqing said, sitting down next to him and placing a copy of “The Story of Musicians” on the table. Her gaze swept over the book “A Global History” beside him with a hint of curiosity. “Few people at this age would be interested in such a large volume.”
"History is a mirror of the past, and it can also reflect the shadow of the future." Li Ming carefully considered his words and put forward a somewhat mature point of view, and then naturally changed the topic, "For example, every leap in communication technology will reshape the way human society connects, from post roads to telegraphs, and then to future mobile networks... This will profoundly change the form of business, social interaction, and even culture."
He deliberately avoided using futuristic terms such as "smartphone" and "4G," instead using a relatively abstract and theoretical approach.
Li Ziqing was indeed intrigued. She tilted her head slightly, a thoughtful expression on her face: "Mobile network? Like GPRS now? It's very slow."
“This is just the beginning.” Li Ming smiled slightly, his eyes revealing a certain confidence that was completely different from when he was discussing math problems with her, a confidence that he had seen through a certain trend. “Maybe in a few years, we will be able to watch videos smoothly on our phones, talk face-to-face with people far away anytime, anywhere, and even… use them to pay for shopping, replacing wallets.”
"Pay with your phone?" Li Ziqing blinked. The idea was quite novel to her, even a bit like a fantasy. "It sounds...like science fiction."
“Perhaps,” Li Ming said calmly without arguing. “But technological progress often happens faster than we imagine. Just like ten years ago, who could have imagined that we could chat with strangers in real time via the internet using a computer?” He cited the existing [unclear] as an example to make his “prediction” seem less abrupt.
This chance encounter and conversation lasted for nearly half an hour. They talked about history, technology, and literature. Some of Li Ming's "casual" insights into future social phenomena, such as "the cognitive burden brought about by the information explosion" and "the possibilities and limitations of personalized recommendations," though not in-depth, were insightful and captivating, drawing Li Ziqing's attention. She discovered that this seemingly ordinary young man possessed a far richer and deeper mind than his calm face suggested.
And the occasional moments between conversations when he revealed a calmness beyond his years, as if bearing too much weight, or even a fleeting melancholy, attracted her like a magnet, making her want to explore the ripples beneath the calm surface.
To her, Li Ming is like a book with simple binding but profound and interesting content, where every page may bring surprises.
For Li Ming, conversing with Li Ziqing was like dancing on a knife's edge. He had to be constantly vigilant, displaying enough "specialness" to attract her while carefully concealing the biggest secret of his rebirth, packaging his advanced knowledge as the "ingenious ideas" of a young person based on extensive reading and independent thinking. This delicate balance exhausted him, yet also brought a secret thrill.
Since that chance encounter in the library, a tacit understanding seemed to have formed between the two. They began to "bump into" each other more frequently on campus, sometimes on the tree-lined paths leading to the teaching buildings, sometimes while queuing in the cafeteria. The topics of their conversations gradually became more in-depth.
Once, when talking about their respective families, Li Ziqing's smile faded a little. She looked at the figures running on the playground in the distance and said softly, "Sometimes, I envy those classmates from ordinary families." She didn't say it explicitly, but Li Ming could understand the pressure and constraints she felt as the daughter of the richest man, being watched by countless eyes and burdened with too many expectations.
Li Ming paused for a moment, then responded in a hypothetical way: "Sometimes I wonder, if a person could know in advance some of the hardships of the future, would he choose to avoid them, or would he face them head-on, just to prove that he can change something?" His tone carried a sincerity of sharing "life insights" with her, but his gaze seemed to pierce through time and space, seeing certain scenes that only he himself knew.
Li Ziqing paused, then thought seriously, "If it were me... I'd probably still choose to crash into it. After all, completely avoiding hardships in life sounds pretty boring, doesn't it?" She looked at him, her eyes filled with a girlish light that was a blend of innocence and courage.
Li Ming felt a slight tremor in his heart. In his past life, hadn't she just so resolutely rushed into his "obstacle"?
They also began to utilize the most representative communication tool of the era—text messaging. Nokia's classic text message notification tone became a new source of anticipation in Li Ming's life.
"The way you understood the law the teacher talked about in physics class today was quite unique, but after thinking about it carefully, it seems to be more fundamental." (From: Li Ziqing)
"This just came to mind. Actually, many problems become clearer when we step outside the framework set by textbooks. (Reply: Li Ming)"
"I saw a news article about the internet, and it reminded me of what you said last time. You seem like a prophet. (From: Li Ziqing)"
"I just tend to overthink things. I wouldn't dare call myself a prophet, but I hope to be a good observer. (Reply: Li Ming)"
In their text message exchanges, the exchange of ideas far outweighed the sharing of trivial matters. Li Ming cautiously sowed those carefully disguised "seeds of the future," while Li Ziqing, like a curious explorer, constantly discovered amazing scenery in his forest of words.
That night, Li Ming had just finished organizing his notes for the day and was about to rest when his phone screen lit up again.
It was a text message from Li Ziqing.
There was no specific content, only a short sentence that seemed to carry the tone of her voice at that moment:
"Chatting with you is like reading a book whose ending you can never guess."
Li Ming held his phone, his fingertips lingering on the cold buttons for a long time.
The moonlight streamed in through the window, illuminating half of his face. There was no expression of ecstatic joy on his face, only a deep, complex calm.
He knew she had begun to "read" him. And she was becoming increasingly engrossed in it.
This book, which he meticulously compiled, blends genuine insights with fictional origins, and combines a youthful exterior with a weathered core.
Will she continue studying?
When she turns to a chapter in the book that reveals a cruel truth or hides a shocking secret, will she close it in disappointment, or will she... become more interested in exploring it further?
And is he himself ready to let her see the true "ending" of this book, or rather, the ending that he himself could not fully predict and that he would rewrite himself?
The night was deep, and the light from his phone screen reflected in his deep pupils, like a silent question mark, hanging between the two of them as their story had just begun.
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