desire
The cold winter comes to an end with the stressful final exams.
The first snow fell in Beijing, covering the ancient imperial city and modern buildings, and temporarily covering the busy hustle and bustle of the students.
Zhou Yu eventually passed all his exams without a hitch, including the financial mathematics course that had him sweating. When the results came out, his first thought was to call me.
"It's over...it's all over." His voice was filled with the joy of surviving a disaster.
I finally breathed a sigh of relief on the other end of the phone, as if I was even more nervous than when I passed the final review at CAFA. "Great! I knew you could do it! Do you want to celebrate tonight?"
We met at a small hot pot restaurant in Huangzhuang, Haidian.
The steam from the steaming copper pot obscured the chill outside the window. Zhou Yu, with a hearty appetite, chattered non-stop about the thrilling moments of his exams, even gesticulating with excitement.
I listened quietly, constantly putting his favorite beef and shrimp balls into his bowl, with a hint of helplessness and a relieved smile in my eyes.
"It feels like I fought a tough battle." Zhou Yu concluded, took a big sip of iced sour plum soup, and sighed with satisfaction.
"Thank you for your hard work," I said, holding his hand on the table, the heat from the hot pot still lingering on my fingertips. "My God of Finance."
When the winter vacation came, we boarded the train home together.
The familiar city, the familiar streets, even the air seemed more moist and intimate than in Beijing. Freed from the heavy burden of schoolwork and temporarily away from that huge and busy city, we seemed to have returned to the sweetest days of high school.
We visited the high school campus together countless times, took photos at the end of the corridor where we once "met by chance", ate the same delicious pancakes at the school gate together, and in the evening, we would still go to the small hill overlooking the city night view.
But this time, there is no longer the pressure of the college entrance examination and the confusion about the future. Instead, there is a sense of steadiness and intimacy after going through the initial test.
I brought Zhou Yu home for dinner more often. Mother Chen treated him like her own son, cooking him delicious meals in all sorts of ways. She complained about his weight loss and urged him to drink more soup because Beijing was so dry.
In this family atmosphere, Zhou Yu felt a warmth and subtle happiness he had never experienced before, which gave him a more genuine yearning for the concept of "home." The ginkgo leaf ornament on his earlobe also became one of his mother's favorite topics.
She always picked out all kinds of earrings for Zhou Yu, filling up the entire box. However, Zhou Yu still wore the small ginkgo earrings on a daily basis. This was our common secret.
However, the warm vacation did not completely eliminate the differences in thinking brought about by different majors. Sometimes, this difference would appear in a subtle way.
At a gathering with friends, we were discussing our future plans. One of my computer science students jokingly mentioned his ambition to develop an AI to replace human artists.
I wasn't too upset when I heard this. I smiled and retorted that the sensibility and creativity of art can never be replaced by AI. I also enthusiastically talked about the current technical limitations and ethical controversies of AI painting.
Zhou Yu, standing by, subconsciously chimed in, "But from an investment perspective, the AI painting track is very hot right now. Several related startups have received large amounts of venture capital, and the capital market is generally optimistic about its prospects for cost reduction, efficiency improvement, and large-scale application..."
His words were clear and logical, with a distinct tone of industry analysis.
There was a moment of silence at the table, and several of my friends who studied liberal arts looked confused.
The smile on that classmate's face froze slightly. Although he quickly returned to normal and cleverly changed the subject, the brief stagnation and dislocation at that moment was still like a tiny thorn that gently pricked Zhou Yu.
He suddenly realized that the financial logic and analytical framework had unconsciously reshaped his thinking mode, and even pulled him away from my more emotional and pure artistic world without him realizing it.
I seemed to sense his slight disappointment. When I went home with him that night, I squeezed his palm and said, "Don't think too much. What you just said actually makes sense, but they just didn't understand it. I just think my boyfriend knows a lot and is really amazing."
My words comforted him, but the tiny mark left by the thorn did not completely disappear.
After the winter break, I returned to Beijing. My second semester of freshman year seemed to have entered a new normal.
We strictly adhered to our previous agreement, talking on the phone every day and meeting every two weeks. But as the college landscape slowly unfolded, it brought not only sweetness but also more choices and temptations, as well as deeper growing pains.
My major courses entered a more core stage, and various creative projects and art salons occupied a lot of my time. My talent gradually emerged, and I began to exhibit my works in some school exhibitions, and even some small paintings were purchased.
I became more confident, and my eyes sparkled with a growing certainty of my own value.
My social circle was also expanding. Besides my studio buddies, I also met some curators and art magazine editors, and occasionally attended gatherings within the art world. I would share these experiences with Zhou Yu, but he felt alienated by the unfamiliar names and activities and could only respond with a general "sounds great."
Zhou Yu continued to sail hard in the ocean of finance.
With his hard work, his grades stabilized in the upper middle range, but he was still far from the top. He began to get some basic internship information, participated in various business case competitions, and wore shabby formal suits to interviews.
He became more and more capable, spoke faster, and focused more on efficiency and results.
Sometimes when he went out on a date, he would unconsciously look at his watch, calculating how long it would take to get back to school, as he hadn't finished reading the materials for the group meeting in the evening.
We still love each other and cherish each other even more.
But that feeling of being in "different worlds" wasn't just about the difference in professional content; it permeated our lifestyles, rhythms, and even our perception of time. I lived in a relatively flexible, inspiration-driven schedule, while he, on the other hand, was meticulously diced into every minute by a strict class schedule, internship deadlines, and competitive pressure.
Unfortunately, life is not always smooth.
The conflict broke out on a long-awaited date.
It was a Saturday, and we planned to go to Yuyuantan to see the early cherry blossoms.
I checked the travel guide in advance, bought snacks, and was very excited.
The night before, Zhou Yu called, his voice filled with fatigue and guilt: "Zhang Chenzhi, I'm sorry... I may not be able to go tomorrow..."
My heart sank, and a familiar feeling of disappointment gripped him. "What happened again?"
My tone couldn't help but carry a subtle hint of irritation.
"Our team entered the semi-finals of a business case competition, and we suddenly had to defend our thesis online at nine o'clock on Sunday morning... Our opponents were very strong, and we were not fully prepared. We had to make a final sprint tonight and tomorrow morning..." His voice gradually became smaller and smaller, filled with a sense of powerlessness.
It's like this again. Well-planned things are always disrupted by sudden "business".
I looked at the prepared items on the table, and a long-suppressed resentment surged up. "Zhou Yu," I interrupted, my voice colder than ever before. "In your world, does everything have to take a back seat to your 'competition,' your 'internship,' your 'GPA'? Our agreement, our plans, always come last, and can be canceled at any time, right?"
There was silence on the other end of the phone, and only his suddenly heavier breathing could be heard.
"...Zhang Chenzhi, how could you say that?" When Zhou Yu spoke again, his voice was trembling and filled with incredible hurt. "I'm not going there for fun! Am I working so hard just for myself? I don't have your artistic talent, and I don't have the capital to be willful! The path I've taken was built step by step! I'm not like you, who can live so freely and do whatever you want!"
"Freedom? Doing whatever you want?" I felt as if I were stung, and my voice rose. "When I stay in the studio until the early morning every day, my hands covered in paint that can't be washed off, do you think that's freedom and ease? Yes, I have chosen the path I like, but that doesn't mean it's easy! Yes! You are realistic! You work hard! But can you please stop acting like you are the only one fighting for the future, the only one who bears it all? As if my pursuit and efforts are not worth mentioning!"
This was the most intense argument we had ever had since we were together. All the long-buried grievances, insecurities, feelings of being ignored, and misunderstandings of each other's worlds suddenly burst forth like a flood.
We argued and blamed each other fiercely, and even brought up some old grudges.
Finally, exhausted and deeply hurt, Zhou Yu hung up the phone silently.
I threw away my phone, slumped down on the bed, staring at the ceiling, my chest heaving violently, filled with anger, grievance, and a huge sense of loss.
I thought we had found a way to get along with each other, but it turned out that the differences and pressures never disappeared. The beast was not dead, but was only temporarily covered up, and at this moment it struck back in a more ferocious way.
That night, the two of them rarely contacted each other.
For the first time, I didn’t say my nightly “goodnight.”
Zhou Yu sat on his bed in the dormitory, hugging his knees, gloomy and unsure of what to think. He stared at the dark screen of his phone, his heart filled with panic and immense sadness.
He was extremely scared, afraid that the relationship we had maintained with great difficulty would be crushed by the reality of distance and differences.
He had nothing left, and he couldn't lose Zhang Chenzhi, otherwise he would only have a sister who was nowhere to be found.
They still kept in touch, but the exchanges became rare. When Chen Hui graduated, his family sent him abroad and he wouldn't be back for a while.
It seems to be because of that classmate named Li Wei.
He remembered my last hurtful words, but more importantly, he remembered the gentle look I gave him, the paintings I drew for him, the heavy hug on the train platform, and the way I clumsily tried to understand his financial terms...
He still can't lose Zhang Chenzhi.
Almost at the same time, in different spaces, two sad and angry young people, after the waves of emotions receded, both clearly saw the same fact - we still love each other deeply, far more than the quarrels and grievances at the moment.
Subconsciously, we all don't want to hurt each other in the slightest.
Not to mention in reality.
At one in the morning, my phone screen lit up.
It was a long message from Zhou Yu. He didn't argue about right or wrong, but frankly described the panic and regret he felt after hanging up the phone, the pressure he felt in this relationship and his own shortcomings, and once again explained the insecurity behind his desperate efforts.
Finally, he wrote: "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said those hurtful words to you. I've always seen your dreams and your dedication, and I'm incredibly proud of you. I'm just... sometimes I'm too tired and lose my way. Zhang Chenzhi, I don't want to argue with you, and I don't want to lose you even more."
Almost the next second after his message arrived, my phone rang.
My voice was a little hoarse and full of regret: "I should be the one to say sorry. I shouldn't have said that to you, I shouldn't have questioned your efforts. Xiaoyu, I just... I just want to see you so much, I can't stand the feeling of always being ranked last..." "I know, I know..."
Zhou Yu sobbed on the other end of the phone, "It's my fault. I always disappoint you again and again..."
That long night, we had the most in-depth, difficult and candid communication over the phone since we started dating.
We no longer avoid the problem, but instead discuss specifically how to better balance studies and love, how to express our needs and feelings more effectively, and how to truly understand and respect each other's completely different paths of struggle.
We realized that love is not just the initial throbbing and sweet companionship, but also how to adjust the pace, how to maintain communication, and how to make two different routes eventually converge into the same happy future in the process of rushing to the mountains and seas.
That fierce quarrel and late-night reconciliation was like a tempering.
Although the process was painful, it made our relationship stronger and more mature.
We were still one painting in the studio, the other tinkering with models in the library, and we were still separated by half the city of Beijing. But after that experience, we were even more certain that we were the ones willing and able to weather the storms and grow together.
Spring has finally arrived in Beijing, and the cherry blossoms in Yuyuantan are in full bloom.
We made up for the delayed date on a sunny weekend.
This time, Zhou Yu turned off the notifications on his phone, and I stopped discussing any art world troubles.
We just held hands and walked under the flower trees that looked like clouds and rosy clouds, just like countless ordinary college couples in love.
The petals fell in his hair, and I would gently brush them away for him. She knew that there would still be challenges ahead and that differences would still exist.
But as long as we hold hands tightly and the bridge of communication does not collapse, we can go through spring, summer, autumn and winter together.
We made a common wish, and the small wooden board swayed in the wind—Zhang Chenzhi and Zhou Yu will be together forever!
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
