Side by side
The path to the library was carpeted with ginkgo leaves in late autumn, rustling underfoot as if counting down the days. Clutching a newly borrowed physics competition problem set, I nearly bumped into someone as I turned the corner.
"Be careful." Zheng Yiming reached out to steady me, his fingertips touching my arm before quickly withdrawing. He was carrying a thick stack of English originals, the covers printed with complex formulas, like cutting-edge physics journals.
"Thanks." I steadied myself and glanced at the book in his arms. "Are you looking at this?"
"Yes, I want to learn some university-level material in advance after being admitted through the recommendation program." He smiled, the restlessness in his eyes fading considerably, replaced by a calmer demeanor. "The notebook I borrowed from you last time was very useful, especially the notes on common mistakes in electromagnetism, which were clearer than my own."
"I'm glad I could help you."
We walked side by side toward the library, a ginkgo leaf falling on his shoulder like a golden butterfly. Since exchanging notes in the stairwell last time, our relationship had become subtle—no longer intimate lovers, nor deliberately distant strangers, but more like two companions running in the same direction, occasionally walking side by side, encouraging each other.
"Can I borrow your math error notebook?" he suddenly asked. "I dropped a lot in math on this monthly exam, and I'd like to find some solutions."
"Of course." I nodded. "I'll give it to you during evening self-study."
The library was quiet, with only the rustling of pages and the soft scratching of pens on paper. We sat next to each other; he read English journals, and I worked on competition problems. Occasionally, we would look up, our eyes would meet, we would exchange a smile, and then we would look back down and continue with our work.
Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting grid-like patches of light on the tabletop, moving slowly as if measuring the length of time. Looking at Zheng Yiming's focused profile, I suddenly remembered that in our first year of high school, he sat in the same spot diagonally in front of me, sunlight falling on his hair, looking as earnest as a painting.
The initial excitement was tinged with youthful nervousness, but now the calm is tempered with a sense of composure born from overcoming challenges.
"Do you have a simpler way to solve this problem?" He suddenly pushed a math problem towards me, his brows furrowing slightly.
I took the workbook and drew an auxiliary line on the draft paper with my pen: "Try using spatial vectors; the coordinate method might be more intuitive."
He stared at the guide lines for a few seconds, then his eyes lit up: "That's right, how come I didn't think of that!"
The way he bent over his calculations resembled a child solving a puzzle, a smile unconsciously playing on his lips. Looking at him, I suddenly felt a warmth in my heart—it turns out that you don't need to hold hands or hug; simply working side-by-side like this can bring a sense of reassuring strength.
During evening self-study, I handed Zheng Yiming my notebook of math mistakes. Inside was a note that read, "For sequence problems, try induction; it's faster than recursive formulas." He took the notebook, opened it, saw the note, looked up at me, and smiled. The light in his eyes was brighter than the stars outside the window.
Lin Xi leaned closer and whispered, "You two are doing really well as you are now."
"Hmm." I nodded, my mind clear.
Some relationships, once broken, don't necessarily need to be restored to their original state. Like a shattered mirror, when pieced back together, although there are cracks, it can reflect a richer light.
The weekend before the midterm exams, the physics competition group had extra training, and we were assigned to the same group to do experiments. He adjusted the equipment, and I recorded the data. We worked together seamlessly, as if we had rehearsed countless times.
"The error is within the acceptable range." He looked at the data report and breathed a sigh of relief. "We should be able to win an award this time."
"Thanks to you for calibrating the vernier caliper," I said with a smile. "Last time I did it myself, the error was 0.2 millimeters too far."
He scratched his head, his ears turning slightly red: "I used to complain that you were careless, but actually it was because I didn't teach you the right methods."
"That's all in the past." I waved my hand, my tone relaxed. "Isn't everything fine now?"
He looked at me, something flickered in his eyes, and finally turned into a soft smile: "Yeah, it's fine."
The ginkgo leaves outside the laboratory building had fallen even more thickly, and stepping on them felt like sinking into a golden carpet. We walked side by side toward the school gate, and he suddenly said, "The physics department and the art department at Yenching University are on the same campus."
I was taken aback for a moment, then understood what he meant. My heart felt like it had been gently tickled by a feather, a little itchy, a little warm. "Really? That's good."
"Then...we can go to the library together." He said it softly, with a hint of cautious probing.
"Okay." I nodded and smiled. "But I might need your help with my physics problem."
"I need your help with my math too." He smiled, the sunlight shining on his teeth, making them dazzlingly white.
The wind rustled through the treetops, and ginkgo leaves fell softly like a gentle rain. Our shadows were stretched long by the setting sun, occasionally overlapping and then quickly separating, yet always stretching in the same direction.
The best trajectories are not necessarily to overlap, but to maintain an appropriate distance, to be parallel to each other, and to be able to see each other shining when you look up.
Just like us now, the hurts of the past have become the marks of growth, and the initial excitement has settled into tacit companionship. There are no grand promises, only a steady and enduring commitment—walking step by step, firmly, towards the same distant goal.
As the library lights came on, I looked at Zheng Yiming's profile as he diligently worked on his problems, and silently said to myself:
Zheng Yiming, whether the future leads to the ginkgo-lined path of Peking University or even further afield, it's wonderful to be able to walk side by side like this for a while.
Such "goodness" may withstand the test of time better and be more likely to last than the past grand gestures.
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