Expired Anniversary
On my first day back at school after the New Year's Day holiday, I ran into Li Zichen.
He and Su Xiaoxiao walked into the teaching building side by side. Su Xiaoxiao was carrying a paper bag and talking to him with a smile. He listened attentively, his lips curving into a smile. The sunlight fell on their overlapping shadows, so dense that it was impossible to block out any light.
I lowered my head and quickened my pace to try to get around him, but he called out to me: "Chen Zhixia."
The voice was very flat, like calling an ordinary classmate.
I stopped, without turning around. The footsteps behind me drew closer, and he stood behind me, his breath brushing past my ear, carrying a faint minty scent—the scent of Su Xiaoxiao's usual hand cream.
"Is something the matter?" I tried to keep my voice calm.
“It’s nothing,” he paused, “it’s just… were you serious when you said ‘never mind’ last time?”
I turned around and looked at him. He seemed to have lost some weight, and there were faint dark circles under his eyes, but he was still handsome. Only his eyes, which had once been full of starlight, now seemed to be veiled in mist, making them unclear.
"Otherwise what?" I smirked. "Li Zichen, do you think I'm joking with you?"
He didn't speak, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the strap of his backpack, a habit he had when he was nervous.
"Do you remember how long we talked?" I suddenly asked, my voice as soft as a sigh.
He paused for a moment, a hint of panic flashing in his eyes, and after a long while, he mumbled, "...It's been almost half a year, hasn't it?"
“It’s five months and thirteen days.” I stared into his eyes and said, word by word, “From that Friday at the end of October last year when you took my hand at the alley entrance, to the night of December 25th when you said ‘who cares.’”
I remember it more clearly than anyone else. The sweat on his palms when we first held hands, the candy he gave me when we first had a fight, the light in his eyes when he first said "I'll wait for you"... I remember all of these, like scars etched into my bones.
His face paled, and his Adam's apple bobbed: "Zhi Xia, I..."
"You don't remember, do you?" I smiled, a little self-deprecatingly. "That's true, you have more important things to remember now, how could you remember these expired dates?"
Su Xiaoxiao had also come over at some point and stood next to Li Zichen, curiously sizing me up with a hint of victorious smugness in her eyes. "Zichen, who is this...?"
“A former classmate.” Li Zichen interrupted her, his tone hurried as if he were trying to cover something up.
"Classmate?" I raised an eyebrow. "So we're just 'classmates' after all."
His ears turned red, as if a sore spot had been touched, or perhaps he felt embarrassed. "Shen Zhixia, what exactly do you want?" His voice deepened. "You were the one who initiated the breakup, and now you're bringing this up again? Is that really meaningful?"
"It's meaningless." I looked at him and suddenly felt very tired. "I just wanted to tell you, Li Zichen, that I remembered every single day and treated this relationship seriously. Unlike you, who can forget so easily."
After saying that, I didn't look at him again, turned around and walked into the classroom. The gazes behind me felt like needles pricking me, but I didn't turn around.
During morning reading, my deskmate secretly told me, "Li Zichen and Su Xiaoxiao had a fight just now, it seems to be because of you."
I didn't reply. I opened my textbook and my eyes fell on a certain page—there was a dried ginkgo leaf tucked inside. He had picked it for me during last year's autumn outing, saying, "It's like a little fan, it can fan you."
The leaves had long since turned completely yellow and would crumble at the slightest touch.
At noon, I went to the cafeteria and had just gotten my food when I saw Li Zichen sitting in our usual seat with two sets of cutlery in front of him, one of which was my usual pink spoon.
"Come sit down." He looked up at me, his eyes pleading.
I didn't move, and turned to leave, but he grabbed my wrist. "Zhi Xia, give me another chance, okay?" His voice was hoarse. "I know I was wrong. I shouldn't have gotten so close to Su Xiaoxiao, and I shouldn't have forgotten our anniversary..."
"It's too late." I shook off his hand with great force. "Li Zichen, some things are expired and can no longer be taken."
Like that ginkgo leaf, like his belated apology, like the sincerity I once held in my hands but which he shattered.
He looked at me, and the light in his eyes gradually faded, like a candle flame being blown out by the wind.
That afternoon, someone saw an anonymous message on the school's confession wall: "To a certain girl, five months and thirteen days, I haven't forgotten." There were many speculations below, some saying it was posted by Li Zichen, and others saying it was just a coincidence.
My deskmate handed me his phone, I glanced at it, and then turned off the screen.
What's the point of forgetting or not forgetting?
Just like snow in winter, no matter how thick it is on the ground, it will always melt when spring comes.
After school, I deliberately took my usual route. The streetlights at the alley entrance had been repaired sometime ago, shining brightly and illuminating every corner clearly. There was no sign of Li Zichen, only the wind whistling through the bare branches.
I wrapped my scarf tighter and walked forward step by step. The old wound on my back would occasionally ache, and the oppressive atmosphere at home was still there, but the empty space in my heart didn't seem to hurt as much anymore.
Perhaps, ending a relationship that is not cherished is a relief.
Even when I occasionally pass by the playground and see someone playing basketball, I still subconsciously stop in my tracks—Li Zichen used to love playing basketball there, and after scoring a goal, he would give me a peace sign, the sunlight shining on his sweaty hair, so bright it was dazzling.
Those images, like scenes from an old movie, flashed through my mind before being blown away by the wind.
The winter of my first year of high school seemed exceptionally long. But I knew that spring would always come.
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