During this period, both Chu Qingci and I became engrossed in our studies. His academic performance was consistently outstanding, always among the top ranks.
I still recall when he transferred to our school from Yizhong during our second year of high school, securing first place in the entrance examinations. It was rumored that the principal had spent a significant amount of money to recruit him. I never asked him if it was true, so I remain uncertain.
As for me, my grades were decent—not exceptional—but I managed to stay within the top hundred in our school. With over a thousand students, including both current and repeat seniors, this was a respectable achievement, though still a far cry from Chu Qingci's level.
Determined to close the gap, I often sought his help in subjects I struggled with. Since our school didn't mandate early morning or evening self-study sessions, students were encouraged to study independently. After school, I frequently visited his house to review my coursework.
However, as the college entrance exams drew closer, my anxiety intensified. The looming dread of exam day was inescapable. Beyond the fear of the exams themselves, I was even more apprehensive about another event I felt was inevitably approaching—a premonition that became harder to ignore as the days passed.
About a month before the exams, I went to Chu Qingci's house as usual. After class, I approached him and proposed, "Let's go. Help me review physics today." Standing at the doorway, I shook the water off my hands and noticed that he had already packed my bag and was holding it for me.
He walked toward me leisurely, and we exited the school gates side by side. He stood on the sunny side, carrying my bag, his tall figure shielding me perfectly from the glaring afternoon light.
The two of us strolled unhurriedly, as if traversing through the quiet hours of spring, until we reached the bus stop. When we boarded, I sat next to him, curling up against his shoulder and dozing off peacefully.
The bus glided smoothly along the road, and he remained motionless the entire time, careful not to disturb me. Perhaps he understood the immense pressure I had been under lately.
When we arrived at Yunhai Road, he leaned close to my ear and whispered softly, "Shen Jia, we're here."
I opened my eyes slowly, rubbing them as I sat up from his embrace. He took my hand, helping me off the bus.
The late spring sunset descended lazily, its golden hues filtering through the glass windows of towering buildings, casting beams of light upon the bustling world below.
When we entered the narrow alley, my earlier apprehension had entirely dissipated. I joked and chatted with him casually, but as we neared the alley's exit, an overwhelming sensation surged through me.
A familiar buzzing noise filled my head, followed by a sharp pain, and fragmented images began to flash vividly in my mind.
The scenes were dimly lit, illuminated only by sparse moonlight that barely outlined the surroundings. A drunken man, staggering and flushed, appeared near the alley. He seemed injured, and something about his disheveled appearance struck me—he resembled Chu Qingci's foster father.
As the images zoomed in, his face grew increasingly distinct. Just as he lifted his gaze toward something, the vision abruptly vanished.
I snapped back to reality, startled, and looked up to find Chu Qingci watching me intently, his expression tense. His grip on my arm was so firm it hurt. When he noticed my frown, he quickly released me.
He asked softly, his voice tinged with concern, "Are you okay?"
I chose not to tell him. Even if I did, it wouldn't help. "I'm fine. I think I just need more rest these days. I'll go to bed early tonight. Let's go—why are you standing there? We need to review."
I pushed him forward playfully, and he relented with a faint sigh, matching his pace to mine.
After two hours of reviewing physics at his house, it was already past eight in the evening. The moonlight outside the window had grown brighter, illuminating the city's muted skyline. Although the bustling streets lacked a star-studded sky, a few scattered stars danced alongside the moon in the tranquil darkness.
I stood up and said goodbye to him. "It's getting late. I should head back."
He offered to walk me home, but I shook my head. "No need. You've been working hard too. Besides, I've overcome my fear of the alley, and tonight's moonlight is particularly bright."
I picked up my bag, waved at him, and stepped out into the courtyard.
As I glanced at the sky, I noticed the towering locust tree outside his yard. It seemed ancient, its branches heavy with blooming flowers. The tree wasn't far from the alley, and moonlight filtered through its leaves, casting fragmented shadows across the courtyard.
I stopped in my tracks, looking up at the serene sky.