Chapter 12: The Road Home

At that moment, the sound of a group of people talking and laughing drifted faintly from behind me. When they drew closer, I glanced back and saw it was a dozen or so boys, all riding their bicycles home together.

The urban area of Y City is a small patch of flat land surrounded by mountains. Although the city covers a vast area, most of it is forest; the actual downtown is tiny, with only a handful of main roads. The route I usually take home is a common path for students going to and from school, so it’s not unusual to run into classmates.

I heard one boy say quietly, “She doesn’t actually ride that fast.” Another voice replied, “That’s because you haven’t seen her.” I thought to myself, they must be talking about when I rode home after evening study sessions.

Y City is sparsely populated, and since evening study ends at nine, you can go a long way without seeing a soul at that hour. I always cycled home alone, and though there were streetlights, I was often scared, so I would pedal furiously. My bicycle really did fly down the road—maybe that’s when he saw me. But I never meant to show off; I was simply afraid. If you had a tiger chasing you, anyone would run for their life.

Having a dozen boys trailing behind me made me a little self-conscious. Thankfully, before long they sped past. Then I suddenly remembered: in math class today, after the teacher scolded me, one boy actually stood up to the teacher. It was the same boy who had just spoken first.

He was from Class Three, Senior Year, and his name was Li Lingtao. I remembered because he shared a character in his name with mine. As for the other voice, it was all too familiar. He had once been my desk mate back in junior high: Liu Yunyi.

Memories of those days came rushing back. Liu Yunyi transferred to our class in the second half of our first year. After a brief introduction, the homeroom teacher, Mr. Zhang, assigned him to sit next to me. At first, he seemed somewhat shy—a boy with skin darker than wheat, almost bronze. His eyes were striking, shaped like peach blossoms, with double eyelids and long lashes. He spoke with a slight accent—he and his parents had just moved from another district.

Although we sat together, he didn’t talk much, and I wasn’t very talkative either. For the first ten days or so, we barely exchanged a handful of words. I thought that was just his nature. But about a month later, my impression of him changed completely.

He must have slowly settled into his new environment, because he became much less reserved. I soon discovered he was actually quite the chatterbox, and he had a knack for humor. Some people can move their ears—a trait said to be an atavism. I’d only ever heard about it until then, but my desk mate could really do it, and often made funny faces that would leave me in stitches.

Back then, we didn’t have much in the way of entertainment. Sometimes, we’d draw lines on our notebooks with fountain pens and play Five-in-a-Row. As soon as class ended, battles would begin between front and back desks, and desk mates. None of us were particularly skilled, but we all enjoyed the games.

Studies weren’t too stressful, so during lessons, some students would sneak storybooks or comic books to read. I never dared, though I sorely wanted to. Sometimes Liu Yunyi would bring storybooks to school and read them in secret during class. Of course, he wouldn’t risk it during main subjects like math, Chinese, or English—especially Chinese, since the teacher was his aunt.

At the time, the manga "Dragon Ball" was wildly popular. The wealthier students would buy issues, and others would borrow them. Once, during history class, Liu Yunyi pulled out a "Dragon Ball" manga. Curious about what made all my classmates so obsessed, I sneakily glanced over as he read. It really was fascinating. Each time he turned a page, I’d steal a peek out of the corner of my eye.

But he caught me in the act…