Xu Zhiyi unexpectedly tugged on Meng Yin's ponytail. Yin instinctively grabbed her hairpin without saying a word. Her turned expression revealed annoyance, then caught Zhiyi pulling her hair, leaving her momentarily stunned. Lightly tugging or pulling her hair had been a long-standing interaction between them, but it was the first time Zhiyi saw such a reaction on Yin's face, feeling a hint of unease without being able to pinpoint the reason.
Regaining composure, Yin snorted, "Why are you pulling my hair?"
"Mind?" Zhiyi tentatively asked, unsure of her reaction just now.
Yin regained her senses, tightened her hair tie, "Don't know how many times you've done this since middle school."
The first time Xu Zhiyi tugged on Meng Yin's hair tail was during a break between classes when a male classmate approached her with an English question, standing a bit too close. Zhiyi inexplicably felt obstructed, as if suffocating, and reached out to tug her hair. Her long hair looked smooth, even more silky to the touch, just like her — straight and soft.
Later, this action seemed to become a habit. Every time, Yin would protect her hair tie as if her life depended on it, then widen her eyes, saying, "Xu Zhiyi, you're pulling my hair again!"
Her irritated expression strangely pleased him — unrepentantly flicking her hair tail.
Putting aside his original intention, Zhiyi shifted his gaze to Yin's desk, where the paper with the drawing he received was spread out, saying, "I won't pull your hair anymore in the future." Returning to his seat, he flicked the finger that had just touched her hair. In the few meetings after graduating from middle school, Yin always had her hair down. Since then, he had never lightly tugged her hair tail like in middle school.
Meng Yin glanced at Xu Zhiyi, who was sitting upright at his desk working on practice questions, sensing a hint of displeasure in him. During the final self-study session, Yin was pondering over chemical equations with a pen in her mouth when her phone vibrated in her pocket. Zhiyi sent a picture of his English essay paper, showcasing his calligraphy skills that remained impeccable whether in Chinese or English. Encumbered by the English exam's calligraphy requirements, he meticulously penned each English letter resembling plump pea pods.
He expressed, "My father administers the family business, which is his life's path and his aspiration. He hopes that under his management, the company can reach new heights. After they got married, my mother took over a portion of my father's company, an area she excelled in. She always says her greatest dream is to live each day to the fullest. Taking on part of the company's operations was solely to assist my father in reaching his desired peak."
Together, they embodied the unity of two individuals' dreams and realities. Zhiyi crossed out the final sentence with a red pen and replaced it with a new conclusion in the blank space:
"Individually, my dream is also my reality, and there is someone who can accompany me as we soar towards greater heights in my final year of high school."
Yin pondered over these words repeatedly, inexplicably reminded of her speech from the school opening ceremony a few days ago.
"Many individuals have clear goals they tirelessly strive for and uphold. Conversely, I acknowledge that not everyone possesses grand ambitions; some simply aim to become the best version of themselves. Perhaps, there is someone like me have a 'sun' within the heart, desiring to walk alongside, hence reaching this juncture. "
Pressing the edit key, Yin underlined the final sentence in red, selecting send, along with an additional message:
"Nie Hai, or Xing Xiuze?"
"Who is the other butterfly gracefully flying with you?"
Zhiyi raised his gaze towards Yin's position, knowing she must be smiling mischievously. On the paper, a chemical equation was written: SiO2 + 4HF == SiF4 + 2H2O, with a pentagram drawn above it.
Before he could reply, Yin sent a new message.
"Xu Zhiyi, I don't mind you pulling my hair. I just... someone joked around and pulled my hair too hard before, leaving me with a bit of a trauma."
Yin, holding a black fountain pen, continued drawing circles on the paper, while her phone screen remained lit. With her words, Zhiyi's displeasure should dissipate, right? After all, she truly didn't mean any harm.
Zhiyi faintly curved his lips, replying to the message.
"Expressing what you want to say doesn't count as being inarticulate. Do you understand, Meng student?"
Yin didn't reply, but she understood.