0085 Star-Snatching (3)
Even now, when I think back to those moments, my heart still flutters.
Lingling has always been beautiful and lovely, and exceptionally kind. I think even if I could do it all over again, I would still be irresistibly drawn to her.
Yes, I couldn't resist getting close to her. And I was furious when I discovered she had completely forgotten me, and I resolved never to have anything to do with her again.
But I was obviously overestimating myself. In my awkward and bitter struggle alone, I couldn't help but sneak off to the senior dormitory building to see her again and again.
During that period, my truancy rate increased dramatically. When my homeroom teacher talked to me, I earnestly told her that the class had been assigning too much homework lately, and I didn't have time to do self-practice and review. The pressure was really too much...
The chubby homeroom teacher listened attentively to what I had to say, even occasionally jotting down a few notes in her notebook. God knows what kind of academic pressure I was under; my drawer was overflowing with blank Chinese test papers, all of which I shared with my "bookworm" deskmate as scratch paper. He, however, wouldn't use them; he only used them to redo the tests as a form of review. I think the homeroom teacher should really be talking to him…
As I listened to my homeroom teacher's nagging, my mind wandered, and I saw the endless evening mountains outside the window.
It was the time when school was letting out, and the orange afterglow enveloped the entire campus like a thin veil. Suddenly, in this beautiful scene, I saw that white skirt.
My heartstrings were suddenly plucked by her, and as if possessed by something, I abruptly stood up from the chair in front of the homeroom teacher, only to realize that someone was beside me.
I cleverly told the teacher that my stomach hurt, and then slipped out of the office before the teacher could reply.
I think our class monitor's face will turn as black as a lump of coal when he sees how fast I run towards the teaching building, because I ran the 3000 meters as slowly as a tortoise during the sports meet.
I strolled around the stairwell for a long time, watching her struggle to move forward while carrying such a thick stack of homework.
That classmate of mine is really speechless; how could she possibly carry all that homework by herself?
I saw her come out of the office and let out a quiet sigh of relief. I couldn't help but laugh, but I quickly suppressed my flamboyant expression when she turned to face me as I was about to go downstairs.
I walked past her, and this kind of "meeting" has recently become my secret weapon to brighten my whole day, especially when we "miss each other" face-to-face like this. I think I might be crazy, doing ridiculous things again and again for someone, and willingly enjoying it.
I know there's a blind spot on the rooftop of the senior high school building, and I'm planning to go up there for a smoke. It's supposed to be a Sunday for students to get some fresh air, but I don't want to go back to that empty villa too early.
But as soon as I took a step up, I was stopped by a small resistance.
I heard a weak, timid voice ask, "You're Chen Yixu, aren't you?"
I heard the sound of fireworks exploding in my heart. So she knew me, so she remembered me. But that moment of explosion made me feel inexplicably uncomfortable. I quickly pulled my arm away from hers and continued walking.
I don't know why I felt afraid. Her initiative to approach me was something I hadn't seen in years. Since leaving home at the age of twelve, all I had felt was being shunned. So, facing her, I felt an uncontrollable fear.
My past, murky feelings were enough to keep me secret and safe enough, and therefore enough to keep both of us unharmed.
Even now, I've thought about it a thousand times over whether that dreamlike scene was a hidden hell, and whether she regretted a thousand times coming up to me and tearing my flesh apart.
Because that heart was encased in ice many years ago, it can no longer melt. So even when expressing love, it always ends up leaving its lover wounded.
I may have foreseen the day when things would turn upside down in that moment of hesitation, but I still couldn't bear to sever the still fragile connection with her.
Because when I saw her eyes, I knew I was doomed.
She gestured wildly in front of me, saying, "That's the day, at the sports meet, I... fainted..." Then, suddenly remembering something, her face flushed red, and her voice trailed off.
I haven't seen eyes that hold only me in them for so long; I even heard myself weeping silently in my heart when I saw her.
Perhaps at that time I had already become the devil who imprisoned her, but I had also become a prisoner trapped in the love of youth.
Even when the pain became unbearable and I couldn't breathe, I never forgot her eyes.
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