The PE teacher handed me a big stack of number bibs and asked me to drop some off at Class 5 while I was at it.
I knocked on Class 5's door, and it was Ryan who opened it.
Seeing it was me, he paused slightly.
"Yeah, what's up?"
I held the number bibs in my arms but didn't rush to explain.
I looked up at him, suddenly meeting his eyes.
Evening self-study hadn't started yet. The sky was already pitch dark, and the corridor lights cast a faint glow.
The windows were still open, and the northern evening breeze came cheerfully drifting through the hallway.
A few classmates here and there passed through the corridor, while the two of us stood between the two classrooms.
I spoke softly:
"How did you know I could dream about you?"
...
Back in the classroom, I walked to my seat with my face flushed red.
As soon as I sat down, I immediately started rummaging through my desk.
Hong Mei saw my tomato-red face and my somewhat frantic movements and couldn't help being curious.
"What's wrong with you? Did you get caught sneaking around?"
I froze as if she'd hit the nail on the head, and my movements grew even more frantic.
Finally I found my notebook and opened it in a hurry.
"September 13, 2018—Thursday—Sunny"
"A strange dream."
The little prisoner of war and the general were still vividly drawn on the page.
My mind flashed back to what Ryan had just said to me.
"That day in the corridor, your things scattered and the notebook happened to fall open to that page."
He didn't need to say any more. I almost instantly remembered that day.
After having that dream, I'd been somewhat distracted all day.
It was close to the weekly quiz, and I was carrying a stack of my books toward the storage room.
On the way I accidentally bumped into Ryan. My things scattered everywhere, including my notebook.
At the time I was too busy gathering everything and apologizing to notice that the person I'd bumped into was Ryan.
And that particular page just happened to be seen by Ryan.
I frustratedly hugged my notebook and lay face-down on my desk. But I also felt somewhat relieved.
At least I hadn't written anything overly sappy.
I covered my face, still thinking about the last thing Ryan had said to me.
"Lin Jingjing, you look really nice in the Qipao."
My hands covered my face.
No one saw my curved lips and flushed red ears.
The sports meet kicked off in grand fashion.
Our class had plenty of talented people, so a weakling like me wasn't needed.
I thought everything would be great and I could happily slack off.
But it seemed my performance at last year's welcome gala had impressed Teacher Wang, who came looking for me again.
She wanted me to present awards again.
This time the dress for the award ceremony was a short skirt. The May wind was still quite strong, and even though I had safety shorts on underneath, I still felt a bit self-conscious.
I carried the trophy in one hand while desperately tugging my skirt down with the other, afraid the wind would flip it up.
On the podium stood the top three finishers of the boys' 1500-meter final.
The person on the highest platform in the center—I recognized him.
Ryan was in his school uniform. Perhaps because he'd just finished running and rushed over to receive his award, his uniform jacket wasn't even zipped up.
With that handsome face of his standing there, he was a natural-born scenic view.
I heard some senior girls in the bleachers behind me commenting on how good-looking this underclassman was.
I couldn't agree more.
The school leaders finally made their appearance, and I followed step by step behind the officials, handing the trophy over.
The leader smiled and passed it to Ryan.
I looked up at him. He must have been exhausted—the beads of sweat were still visible on his neck.
That's what I thought.
After the award ceremony, today's sports meet was pretty much over.
Tomorrow's closing ceremony and morning events wouldn't need me as a presenter.
I was about to head back and change into my school uniform in the dorm.
I was still carrying some of our class's things, and had no free hand to hold down my skirt.
I sighed, just praying there wouldn't be any wind.
I hadn't walked far when I heard someone call my name.
"Lin Jingjing."
Ryan had stopped his running pace, still slightly out of breath.
He didn't say much else, just quickly took off his school uniform jacket.
Seeing that both my hands were full, he paused for a moment.
He held the jacket in one hand and took the things I was carrying with the other.
Under his school uniform jacket he was wearing a tank top.
Perhaps because he worked out regularly and was still sweaty from the run.
On his stomach, I could faintly make out the shape of abdominal muscles.
Before I could look any longer, he pressed his school uniform jacket into my hands.
"Tie it yourself. I can't do it conveniently."
His eyes looked a bit uncomfortable, and he turned his head away.
I looked down at my short skirt, then back at him.
Understanding, I tied Ryan's school uniform jacket around my waist.
With Ryan's jacket, the skirt stayed pressed neatly against me.
Ryan and I walked through the crowd—him tall, me short. I in my award ceremony outfit, Ryan in his gray tank top.
We wove through a sea of classmates all wearing the same school uniform.
Neither of us spoke, yet our steps fell in perfect unison.
It had been a long time since I last had a dream.
Perhaps because the pounding of my heart during the day had been truly deafening.
That night, I dreamed of Ryan again.
Mist swirled around, warm and steamy. Warm yellow lamplight, water droplets clinging to the edge of the walls.
Where was this? A bathhouse?
I gently touched the wall and realized I was wearing a short skirt—the same one from during the day, it seemed.
Just as I was puzzling over this, through the thick mist, I saw a blurry silhouette.
"Lin Jingjing?"
Ryan's voice came from that direction. The figure drew closer and closer until it came into focus.
In the dream, Ryan wasn't wearing a shirt, just a towel wrapped around his waist.
His abdominal muscles, without the fabric of the tank top from during the day obstructing the view, hit my eyes directly.
...I tried hard to look away, but I simply couldn't.
Even when I turned my head, it was still in my peripheral vision.
Ryan also seemed to realize he wasn't dressed, looking a bit embarrassed and unsure what to do.
In that moment of awkward standoff.
I thought about what happened during the day, with his school uniform jacket.
I awkwardly opened my mouth.
"Earlier today... thank you."
I waited a long time with no response, so I turned my head to look.
Ryan was looking at me with a half-smile.
"Lin Jingjing, can your thank-you gift be your contact info?"
8
On the weekend before school let out, the homeroom teacher distributed the humanities-sciences division preference form.
Lying on my bed at home, I picked up the form and fell into deep contemplation.
If I chose the science track, my physics and chemistry scores were middling at best.
If I chose the humanities track, I'd probably have to go to the fourth floor—only the humanities classes were up there.
The fourth floor... it would be hard to see him every day.
I sighed and picked up the phone beside my pillow.
Pinned to the top of my WeChat was Ryan. I'd given him the nickname "Shadow Classmate."
Ryan never posted on Moments. His only post was from years ago, a promotional piece about aircraft carriers.
His profile picture was a little soldier, and his username was "Serving the Country Is My Duty."
I remembered when he first added me, I almost mistook him for one of my uncles.
I kept tapping into his profile picture and backing out, over and over.
Maybe Ryan could sense my long-distance harassment.
He sent a message. I opened it—it was a photo.
The message had a lag. I opened the image.
A photo of the night moon.
But my heart stuttered.
The reason was simple. My WeChat bio read:
"If you miss me, send me the moon."
I felt a bit panicked, as if the moon had overheard my innermost thoughts.
Desperate to escape something, I typed back:
"Ah... humanities-sciences division, I don't know which one to choose."
He didn't reply right away, as if my sudden question had caught him off guard too.
Ding...
"Objectively speaking, your physics and chemistry scores are neither high nor low—you might find the coursework challenging later on. I'd recommend you choose humanities."
Ryan was outstanding in the sciences. Our two classes shared the same physics teacher.
That teacher constantly praised Ryan in our class, using his test papers as examples.
It went without saying he'd choose the science track. And now he was in such a hurry to push me toward humanities...
An inexplicable irritability flared in me, and I interrogated him almost deliberately:
"And subjectively speaking? You want me to choose humanities?"
After hitting send, I slammed the phone face-down on the bed, too scared to look at his reply.
The phone buzzed. I slowly lifted it up, still unable to resist checking.
The window hadn't been closed properly. The spring night air carried the scent of newness.
A few wisps of breeze drifted through the room.
"Subjectively speaking, I just want you to be better."
Looking at this message, I suddenly smiled, the corners of my lips curving up irrepressibly.
Many years later, I asked Ryan.
I asked him why we didn't end up like those romance novels, where one follows the other into humanities or sciences.
Wouldn't it have been better if I'd chosen sciences? Then you could have seen me every day.
Ryan put down what he was holding and looked at me very seriously: Life isn't a novel, and the humanities-sciences division isn't a life-or-death parting. If I want to see you, I'll climb three floors to the fourth floor to find you. Every minute and second I miss you is my opportunity. I can't limit you for the sake of temporary happiness. The best kind of love is making you better and better.
After the humanities-sciences split, I went to study humanities and successfully moved to the fourth floor.
I leaned on the fourth-floor balcony railing, just sighing.
Ryan was on the first floor—I couldn't see him even if I wanted to.
I couldn't even dream about him.
After evening self-study ended, I slumped dejectedly and shuffled through the corridor toward the building exit.
The path out of the teaching building went past Ryan's classroom.
I hadn't gone far past their classroom window when I suddenly felt someone grab my arm from behind.