Echoes of the First Encounter
Autumn arrives earlier at Peking University than in the south. The wind at the end of September already carries a chill, turning the willow leaves by Weiming Lake yellow. I walked along the path covered with ginkgo leaves, clutching the "General Theory of Electromagnetism" I had just borrowed. My leather shoes rustled as they stepped on the fallen leaves, as if I were having a conversation with my past self.
The physics courses were more challenging than I had imagined. In the first quantum mechanics class, when the professor wrote the Schrödinger equation on the blackboard, many of the students around me looked enlightened, but I held my pen and spent a long time drawing in my notebook before I could figure out what was going on.
"Do you need any help?"
A gentle voice sounded beside me. I turned around and saw a boy wearing black-rimmed glasses pointing at the derivation process in my notebook, with a friendly smile on his lips: "You missed a coefficient in the wave function normalization step here."
"Thank you." I scratched my head a little embarrassedly. "I was unbalanced in my high school subjects, and my physics foundation wasn't very solid."
"My name is Jiang Yi, I'm a sophomore, also in the physics department." He handed me a pen. "You can ask me if you have any questions in the future. The professor's classes are indeed fast-paced."
"Shen Zhixia, a freshman." I took the pen and corrected the mistakes in the notebook. "Thank you so much."
When Jiang Yi smiles, his eyes crinkle into crescent moons, like they hold the light of Weiming Lake. When he explains problems to me, he is clear and organized, from basic formulas to extended applications, always explaining things in the simplest terms, unlike Zheng Yiming, who always ends with "Isn't this obvious?"
I went to the library to look up some information over the weekend and ran into Jiang Yi again in front of the bookshelf. He was climbing a ladder to reach the top shelf, carrying a stack of "Feynman Lectures on Physics" in his arms. When he saw me, he smiled and handed me the bottom book: "This one is perfect for beginners. You should be able to use it."
On the book's title page were his notes, neatly written, with small diagrams next to key formulas, as if breaking down complex theories into building blocks. Looking at those lovely annotations, I suddenly thought of Zheng Yiming's notebook—his handwriting was flamboyant, and his annotations always carried a hint of "this problem isn't difficult," quite different from Jiang Yi's meticulousness.
"Did you study art before?" Jiang Yi asked suddenly, looking at the diagram I was drawing that he had imitated.
"Yes, I was an art student in the science stream in high school."
"No wonder the lines are so smooth," he said with a smile. "You're the first person in the physics department to draw a diagram that looks like an illustration."
He made me laugh, and my nervousness eased considerably. We sat by the window, the sunlight streaming through the glass onto the pages of our books, creating a warm and cozy atmosphere. We talked about physics problems, art exhibitions, and our high school lives, like old friends.
In mid-October, the school held an inter-school social party, which was attended by students from Peking University and Tsinghua University. Lin Xi dragged me to watch the fun, saying, "What if we meet a handsome guy?"
The party was held in the open-air square, with dazzling lights and deafening music. Lin Xi and I squeezed into the crowd, watching the band perform on stage, when suddenly we heard the host announce: "Next, please welcome Zheng Yiming from the Physics Department of Tsinghua and Peking Universities to play the piano piece 'Moonlight' for us."
My heart skipped a beat.
Under the spotlight, Zheng Yiming, dressed in a black suit, sat at a white piano. He was taller and broader than in high school, and his profile looked particularly striking under the light. The moment he raised his hand to press the keys, a cool melody spread out like moonlight, calming the noise of the square.
Standing in the crowd, watching his focused expression, I suddenly remembered the Christmas party in my second year of high school. He was sitting at the piano in the same way, playing a cheerful piece, but his eyes kept glancing in my direction.
Time has passed, the music remains the same, but my state of mind is no longer the same.
As the music ended, thunderous applause erupted. Zheng Yiming stood up, bowed, and glanced at the audience. He paused briefly when he saw me, then nodded politely before turning and walking off the stage.
"He seems to have seen you." Lin Xi nudged my arm. "Should we go over and say hello?"
"No, I don't think so." I shook my head. "It's quite far, and... there's no need for it."
Actually, I didn't know what to say. Saying "You play the piano so well?" would sound like a polite greeting between classmates. Saying "Long time no see?" would seem forced. Perhaps it's better to just look at him from afar, across the crowd, knowing he's doing well—that's enough.
As the party ended, Lin Xi and I walked back to our dorm. Passing a bench by the lake, we saw Jiang Yi sitting there on the phone, his voice tinged with helplessness: "Mom, I really don't like playing the piano… I studied physics in the first place because I wanted to stay away from all this…"
After hanging up the phone, he saw us and smiled a little embarrassedly: "My mom is pressuring me to participate in a piano competition, and I'm having a headache about it."
"You can play the piano too?" I was a little surprised.
"I was forced to learn it when I was a kid, and later I chose physics because I wanted to escape the piano keys." He shrugged. "I didn't expect that I still couldn't escape it."
We sat on a bench and talked about the "skills" we had been forced to learn. Jiang Yi said he hated piano exams the most, and I said I was most afraid of physics competition training. We laughed so hard that our reflections on the lake swayed.
"Do you know that pianist from Tsinghua or Peking University?" Jiang Yi suddenly asked.
"Yes, a high school classmate."
“He plays really well, but… it’s a bit cold.” Jiang Yi thought for a moment and said, “Like a sharp knife, beautiful but with a sense of distance.”
I paused for a moment, then realized how apt the description was. Zheng Yiming always carried a sharp edge that kept strangers at bay, while Jiang Yi was like a cup of warm water, gentle yet powerful.
"Everyone has their own style," I said.
“That’s true.” Jiang Yi looked at the moonlight on the lake and suddenly smiled. “But I still think physics is much more interesting than piano—at least the joy of solving a difficult problem is real.”
I nodded, and suddenly felt a sense of clarity.
Yes, true happiness is never in the eyes of others, but in one's own feelings—it's the certainty of solving a physics problem, the satisfaction of finishing a painting, and the ease of chatting with a kindred spirit until late at night.
Just like now, the moonlight on the lake, the laughter around me, and the faint sound of a piano in the distance all feel so real and reassuring.
Back in my dorm, I received a friend request on my phone from Jiang Yi. The verification message read: "Can I borrow the third volume of Feynman Lectures on Physics tomorrow?"
I smiled and accepted the application, replying, "Sure, I'll treat you to milk tea while I'm at it."
I put down my phone and looked out the window. The moonlight over Weiming Lake was like a thin veil, gently covering the rooftops, as tender as a hug. I knew that a new life had truly begun—with challenges, new friends, and my own rhythm, no longer bound by the people and events of the past.
As for Zheng Yiming, he is like this song "Moonlight," a cool and unforgettable melody from youth. Occasionally, when he is thought of, there will be some echo, but it will no longer disrupt the rhythm of the present.
Each person's life has long since embarked on its own path, steadily moving towards its own light. And this very progress is the best outcome.
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