Warmth begins to emerge
The days after breaking off relations with Zhang Ya felt like an old string had been pulled out, leaving an emptiness, but also less of the intense pain.
I started eating alone, going to the art studio alone, and walking home alone after evening self-study. At first, I wasn't used to it and always felt like something was missing. But later I got used to the quiet—I no longer had to worry about what I said being spread, no longer had to pretend to agree with jokes I didn't want to hear, and no longer had to carefully try to please others in friendships.
Zheng Yiming did indeed accompany me to the cafeteria every day. He wasn't very talkative; most of the time he just ate quietly, occasionally looking up to ask me, "Is this dish delicious?" or putting a piece of my favorite green vegetable on my plate. His plate was always spotless, unlike mine, which always had half a bowl of rice left over.
"It's bad to waste food." He looked at my bowl and said with a smile, "If you really can't eat it, take less next time."
"Mmm." I lowered my head and shoveled the remaining rice into my mouth. It was a little hot, but I ate it very carefully.
He always seemed to notice these little things. When I was drawing, I would bite the end of my pencil, and he would hand me an eraser, saying, "Lead is poisonous." When I was taking notes, I liked to circle important points with a red pen, and he would lend me his own red pen, saying, "Yours is almost out of ink." Even when I frowned at a problem, he could guess which step I was stuck on, take out some draft paper from his bag, and quickly draw a force analysis diagram.
“Here,” he pointed to the arrow on the diagram, “the direction of friction is reversed.”
Sunlight streamed through the cafeteria window and fell on his hand. His fingers were long, with distinct knuckles, and he held the pen beautifully. I stared at that hand, suddenly lost in thought.
"Do you understand?" He looked up, met my gaze, and a hint of a smile flashed in his eyes.
"Ah... I understand." I hurriedly lowered my head, my cheeks burning.
The pain in my heart seemed to lessen, or perhaps it was overshadowed by these subtle moments of warmth. I still occasionally suffer from insomnia at night, but I no longer feel like picking up a craft knife. I just sit by the window, watching the lights in the building across the street go out one by one, imagining whether Zheng Yiming is also doing his homework or already asleep, and whether he's dreaming of some difficult physics problems.
Li Zichen didn't appear downstairs again. I heard that he's been staying at the basketball court lately lately, sometimes playing with girls from other classes, laughing loudly, like he's back to how he was before I met him.
Once, I bumped into him from afar in the corridor. He was chatting and laughing with a group of boys. When he saw me, his laughter paused, and he gave me a complicated look before turning away and continuing to chat and laugh, as if I were just an insignificant passerby.
It felt like something had gently stung my heart; it didn't hurt, but it left a slightly bitter taste. But it passed quickly—like seeing a familiar stranger, nothing more.
At the sports meet at the end of April, I signed up for the women's 800 meters. It wasn't to prove anything; I just felt that when I was running, the wind would blow away all those messy thoughts.
During the check-in, Zheng Yiming came over and handed me a bottle of warm water: "Don't push yourself. Stop if you can't run anymore."
"Mmm." I took the water, and when my fingertips touched his, it felt like I was burned.
"I'll be waiting for you at the finish line." He smiled, his eyes shining brighter than the sunlight.
The moment the starting gun fired, I sprinted off. The wind whistled past my ears, and the cheers from the track blurred into a hazy sound. By the time I reached the second lap, my legs started to give way, my breathing became erratic, and my vision began to blur.
"Chen Zhixia! Keep it up!"
It was Zheng Yiming's voice, very clear, like it was blowing through the wind and hitting his ears directly.
I gritted my teeth and sprinted forward with all my might. As I neared the finish line, my legs gave way and I almost fell, but someone reached out and caught me.
"Slow down." It was Zheng Yiming. He half-squatted down, handed me water, and took out a tissue to wipe my sweat. His movements were so natural, as if he had done it a thousand times.
"Thank you," I said, panting, my cheeks burning.
"He runs pretty fast," he said with a smile. "He's better than I expected."
Some classmates whistled and teased, saying, "Zheng, the academic genius, is being biased." Zheng Yiming's ears turned red, but he didn't let go of my hand until I was steady.
That afternoon, I sat in the stands watching Zheng Yiming run the 1500 meters. He ran very steadily, unlike the others who rushed forward desperately, he just maintained his own rhythm, one lap, two laps, three laps... Finally, before the finish line, he gently accelerated and won third place.
As he approached, his bangs were damp with sweat and clung to his face, but he smiled broadly. "Are you alright?"
"Hmm." I handed him a bottle of water. "Third place is also impressive."
"It's all about participation." He unscrewed the bottle cap, took a big gulp, and the way his Adam's apple bobbed was clearly visible in the sunlight.
The wind blew through the stands, carrying the scent of fresh grass. We didn't speak anymore, just watched the students playing on the playground, the balloons floating in the distance, and the sky as blue as a piece of transparent glass.
At that moment, it felt like something was quietly sprouting in my heart.
It's not love, nor is it friendship; it's more like... a reassuring warmth. Like knowing that no matter how tired you are from running, there will always be someone waiting at the finish line; like knowing that no matter how difficult the questions are, there will always be someone patiently explaining them to you; like knowing that no matter how lonely you are, there will always be a quiet figure by your side, keeping you company.
After the sports meet, Zheng Yiming walked me home. When we reached the alley entrance, he suddenly took something out of his bag and handed it to me.
It was a blue star made of glass thread, the same color as his school uniform. "A prize from the sports meet, it took me a long time to make," he said, a little embarrassed. "Here you go."
I took the star and held it in my palm; it was small, yet quite heavy. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." He scratched his head. "Then I'll be going now."
"Um."
Watching his retreating figure as he turned and left, I suddenly felt that this spring didn't seem so unbearable anymore.
When I got home, I placed the blue star in the most prominent spot on my desk. Next to it was the cat drawing he had given me, and next to that were his physics notes.
The light from the desk lamp fell on these things, a warm yellow, carrying a hint of warmth.
I opened his physics notebook, looked at his neat handwriting, and suddenly smiled.
Perhaps, the darkness will truly pass.
Perhaps, the light through the cracks will indeed grow brighter and brighter.
As for me, all I need to do is walk slowly and wait patiently.
Waiting for that ray of light to illuminate the whole world.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
