In Chen Annan’s memory, there was no memory more profound than the year 2008.
It was one night in ‘08 that he suddenly realized he was no longer a child. At first, he had trouble believing it. After his deskmate’s “enlightenment,” a subtle, strange sense of thrill emerged within him. He felt a gentle, quiet excitement about his own growing up.
That year, at the beginning, Nanjing saw a heavy snowstorm the likes of which hadn’t been seen in decades. Then, one day in mid-May, an 8.0 magnitude earthquake struck Sichuan, leaving another tragic, profound scar upon the world. Lu Wenyuan, as a school volunteer, led a group of students to Sichuan to aid in the relief efforts, busy every day to the point of having no time to rest.
The television broadcast the countless casualties. For a time, it seemed as if no one was paying attention to this year’s Gaokao anymore.
It was also during this period that Xiao Qingxiang returned from abroad.
In truth, it had been a few years since Chen Annan had last seen her. Over these years, faint signs of aging could be seen on Lu Wenyuan’s face. Time stopped for no one; his stories were hidden in the slowly growing lines around his eyes. The years had imbued him with a different kind of gentleness, but Xiao Qingxiang was completely different.
Xiao Qingxiang still dressed similarly to before: long hair draped over her shoulders. The slightly less taut skin on her face had instead softened the severity and solemnity between her brows, giving her an even richer charm, more elegant and dignified than in the past.
Chen Annan liked this auntie. She treated people very well. From childhood till now, Xiao Qingxiang had managed everything related to his vocal music; the teachers were all arranged with her help.
Only, her sternness towards Lu Qingyuan had never changed from beginning to end. According to Xiao Qingxiang’s plan, Lu Qingyuan absolutely had to go to university in Beijing. His grades were more than sufficient for it, and she would give him the best resources.
“Focus on your Gaokao. Your teachers have also spoken with me. You have the highest hope of becoming the top scorer,” Xiao Qingxiang spoke with her son in low tones as they stood before the bookshelf in the study.
Lu Qingyuan nodded slightly. Sunlight filtering through the glass window fell onto the wooden floor, carving a boundary between light and shadow between them.
“Then, you should understand Mom’s meaning,” Xiao Qingxiang said.
Lu Qingyuan nodded again. “I understand.”
“Mom knows you and your little brother are very close, but you can’t delay your own future,” Xiao Qingxiang continued. “Your father and I have discussed it. We will let Nannan walk the path of an arts-track student. We have never been stingy in cultivating him; he is a very talented child, and we will not delay him either.”
She looked at her son’s eyes, limned in light and shadow. “So, Mom hopes you can come to Beijing with me.”
While mother and son were talking in the study, Chen Annan sat anxiously on the sofa watching cartoons. No matter how normally he could throw a fuss or how much he couldn’t bear for his brother to leave, this time he understood the stakes involved. The Gaokao was like thousands of soldiers and horses crossing a single-log bridge.
Just like Xiao Qingxiang, he wished for his brother to have a broader, wider world. Because his brother deserved the best.
Chen Annan clearly didn’t want to know what they were saying at all, but the cartoons on TV held not the slightest appeal. Cheerful sounds filled every corner of the living room. Amidst the dancing light and shadow, he stared stiffly like a wooden post at the screen, yet his mind had drifted to the study door.
The moment Lu Qingyuan stepped out of the study, Chen Annan shot up and rushed over to him. “Brother, where are you going to university?”
“Beijing,” Lu Qingyuan said.
Chen Annan’s eyes blinked imperceptibly. He nodded, then let go of his hand and sat back down. A low “Oh.” “Beijing’s pretty good.”
Seeing Lu Qingyuan not take up the topic, his fingers picked at the sofa cushion. “Then, study hard for it, okay.”
“Mm.”
The light and shadow on the screen flickered. After a while, the living room was once again filled only with the noise of the television.
With summer approaching, time became tight and compact.
Lu Qingyuan remained in a very intense, stressful preparation state, with little time to talk to Chen Annan. During this period, Chen Annan could only occasionally take advantage of moments when Lu Wenyuan was free to call his uncle, give his regards, and express a bit of his longing.
Propping his face on his folded arms, Chen Annan asked his uncle in a muffled voice, “Are things still really busy over there? When are you coming back?”
“Yeah, still busy. I’ll probably have to stay another half month or so.” Lu Wenyuan’s voice carried exhaustion. “What’s up, sweetie?”
Chen Annan said, “Nothing. I was afraid you’d miss me, so I called to ask.”
Lu Wenyuan’s voice was very hoarse, likely from overwork. “Did you fight with your brother?”
“No.” Chen Annan pursed his lips. After a moment, he still said softly, “Brother said he’s going to test into Beijing.”
“Oh——I really thought you missed me,” Lu Wenyuan deliberately drew out the last syllable, a trace of a smile finally entering his voice. “Turns out you can’t bear to part with your brother.”
Startled, Chen Annan instantly sat ramrod straight. “No way. I really do miss you.”
Lu Wenyuan teased him. “Really, honest? Doesn’t sound like it to me.”
“Really!” Chen Annan emphasized.
Lu Wenyuan was tickled into laughter.
It had been many days since he’d last laughed. Sichuan’s nights were filled with collapsed rubble and broken walls everywhere, bloodstains rolling among the debris, declaring what kind of horrific event had transpired here.
Lu Wenyuan was sitting on a large, broken chunk of stone. The stone wasn’t smooth; sitting on it for any length of time made his behind hurt, but it was the only resting spot he could find. Everywhere was crowded with people. Not far from him stood aid tents, stark against the pitch-dark night like scars left upon the world.
Moans and groans drifted out endlessly from within; the wounded struggled and writhed. Medical relief workers hurried in and out.
The evening wind was strong, yet Lu Wenyuan’s undershirt was still drenched with sweat. He wiped his forehead with a grimy hand. “Right, your brother’s about to take his Gaokao soon. Tell him for me, Uncle supports him no matter where he tests into. Our Nanjing isn’t half bad either.”
Chen Annan nodded, saying he would.
Afterward, he asked about the situation in the disaster zone. Uncle and nephew, separated by the phone line, chatted for a while under the night sky. Lu Wenyuan told him that these past days he’d seen so many children who had lost their families—all very pitiable. And some who couldn’t be rescued in time, dying never knowing the fate of their loved ones. Witnessing so much life and death, he was slowly beginning to feel that in life, a small contentment truly outweighs perfection.
Chen Annan could deeply empathize with the feeling of losing loved ones. As he listened, the rims of his eyes reddened.
Later, he heard someone calling Lu Wenyuan’s name. Lu Wenyuan hastily said goodnight to him and then hurriedly hung up to go back to work.
The world’s scars slowly grew fresh, new flesh under the united healing efforts of everyone. Soon, the Gaokao was upon them.
Time measured the traces of growing up inch by inch. The new buds on the branches had transformed into lush, flourishing leaves. Thick shade blotted out the sky. Chen Annan kept thinking he’d grown up, because he’d changed from a little kid to an adolescent. But Lu Qingyuan had changed from an adolescent to a young man.
On the day of the Gaokao, groups of teachers guarded the entrance to the testing site, wholeheartedly rallying their students with fierce, stirring words.
Under the shade of the plane trees, clusters of parents gathered. The vivid crimson of their clothing and the emerald-green shade behind them formed bright, vibrant scenes. Chen Annan, carrying a little blue water bottle, actually became a uniquely conspicuous splash of color here.
While everyone else was urging their children on and boosting their morale, Lu Wenyuan joked, “It’s fine. Dad can afford to support two.”
Xiao Qingxiang patted his hand, signaling him not to say such nonsense. Lu Wenyuan’s smile deepened. He placed a hand on Chen Annan’s shoulder and said, “We await your triumphant return!”
Lu Qingyuan didn’t speak. He just made a “V” sign at them. Then, before going inside, he glanced back once more.
Xiao Qingxiang stood right beside Lu Wenyuan. Each had a hand resting on Chen Annan’s shoulder. Chen Annan, grinning broadly, also gave him a “V” sign. The morning glow spread across the pale blue sky, forming their backdrop, imprinted like a painting in Lu Qingyuan’s eyes. Even many years later, he would never be able to forget it.
The days flew by in the blink of an eye, and it was July. Lu Qingyuan filled out his university application. The matter of his college had been entirely arranged by Xiao Qingxiang.
It was the Law Department at Peking University.
Chen Annan stared down at the flower bed below the building. Brother was watering the flowers. Cotton Candy was rolling around in the muddy patch of the flower bed.
Lu Wenyuan had started this flower bed. None of the varieties were rare or expensive; he enjoyed tending to these plants and flowers, but feared his time wouldn’t be enough to sustain delicate blooms. So, the flowers in this bed were all the most common kinds.
Recently, under Lu Qingyuan’s care, these flowers had bloomed brilliantly.
Sometimes, when Lu Qingyuan was too tired and wanted to relax a bit, he would come here to water the flowers.
People often say adults have many worries. In reality, it’s not so. Chen Annan, this adolescent youth, also felt he was very troubled. And as time passed, his troubles became more and more apparent.
The closer it got to the day the admission notice would arrive, the stranger his emotions became.
Every single time Lu Qingyuan so much as headed for the door, Chen Annan would immediately dash out of his room and ask anxiously, “Brother, where are you going?”
Lu Qingyuan, holding a bag, said, “Taking out the trash.”
Only then would Chen Annan breathe a sigh of relief, watching his brother’s figure disappear behind the door. Not long after, the door would open again and brother would walk back in, then go to the fridge to grab a can of soda.
The city’s summer was scorching, as if roasting people in a furnace. Soon, the condensation on the soda can would form tiny beads trailing down its sides.
Chen Annan watched his brother go into his room and come back out in a fresh set of clothes—clean ones—and wearing a backpack. He asked again, “Brother, where are you going?”
“Lately, you’ve been asking this question many times a day,” Lu Qingyuan said.
Chen Annan awkwardly put his hands behind his back, feigning nonchalance. “I heard your university has a month-long military training. Does that mean you have to leave early?”
Lu Qingyuan gave a noncommittal “Mm.”
Chen Annan was shocked. “Ah! Then once you get your admission notice, you’ll be leaving very soon, right?”
“More or less,” Lu Qingyuan said.
Chen Annan asked, “Will you still come back?”
Lu Qingyuan said, “I’ll come back during breaks.”
Chen Annan asked again, “Then… will you be gone for a very long time?”
Lu Qingyuan looked like he’d heard something incredibly stupid. “…I’m going there to study.”
By now, Chen Annan’s fingers had practically worn a hole into the seam of his pants. After thinking hard for a long time, all he managed was a quiet “Oh,” and said, “Then, study well.”
“What else?” Lu Qingyuan felt the words were utterly baffling.
Chen Annan held it in, then held it in some more, but ultimately couldn’t help himself. “I heard that a lot of people at university date.”
Lu Qingyuan: “…”
“Will you date someone?” After Chen Annan asked, he probably thought himself foolish and quickly tried to patch it up. “Never mind, go ahead, date.”
Lu Qingyuan: “…”
Chen Annan went on, unprompted: “Date, it’s nothing.”
Even though his emotions were about to spill over uncontrollably, Lu Qingyuan merely said nonchalantly, “Are you finished? Then, can I go out now?”
Chen Annan turned away with an expression of utter indifference. “Oh. Then go out then. But you still have to tell me even when you go out.”
Lu Qingyuan indeed left, without a single word of comfort.
Listening to the sound of the door closing, Chen Annan just felt a pang of sourness inside. That sharp sourness rushed straight to his nose, making the roots of his teeth ache with bitterness.
He thought resentfully, Lu Qingyuan, that fickle man, that heartless cad! The only one who truly cared about this relationship was himself! They had clearly promised to be together for a lifetime, and now even half a lifetime hadn’t passed, and he was already going to be good to someone else!
He would never forgive him! Never in this life!
Chen Annan sniffled, the sourness inside him threatening to burst out. Go on, be happy! Go live it up! Either way, he absolutely would not forgive him! Out of spite, Chen Annan roughly wiped at his eyes with his hand, but he used too much force, making himself hiss in pain.
Blame his thin, delicate eyelids for being utterly unable to hold back so many tears. Just as he was about to wipe them again, a hand suddenly reached out from behind, catching his wrist and stopping him.
Next, Chen Annan was pulled around by that strength and stood there foolishly.
Lu Qingyuan was just standing idly in front of him. He hadn’t left at all.
So, the sound of the door closing just now had only been a trick he’d played on him.
This time, Chen Annan could hide it no longer. The rims of his eyes were red; he looked like a dejected little rabbit. Not daring to raise his head, he only muttered pitifully, “Weren’t you leaving? Why aren’t you gone?”
Lu Qingyuan let his tall shadow fall over him, enveloping him completely. “When you’re like this, how can I leave.”
“I didn’t stop you,” Chen Annan said in a huff.
Lu Qingyuan was silent for a long while. Just as Chen Annan was starting to regret his last sentence, Lu Qingyuan suddenly spoke.
A breath tinged with restrained laughter traveled right to the bottom of Chen Annan’s heart, grazing his ear. “It’s me who can’t bear to leave you.”
It was the first time he’d spoken so bluntly. After saying it, he let out a soft, yet obviously present laugh. “What to do… I really can’t bear to see you cry like this.”
