Suddenly, a gentle breeze swept through, causing clusters of locust blossoms to flutter down. They danced gracefully in the moonlight, carried by the wind, and eventually settled across the courtyard, on my schoolbag, and upon me. A refreshing fragrance of the flowers filled the air, enveloping me in its purity.
I extended my hand, and a delicate petal landed softly in my palm. Through the gaps between the branches, a beam of moonlight illuminated the petal, making it appear translucent and radiant, as though glistening with pearl-like luminescence. Its pale, wood-toned hue was enchanting, evoking a quiet joy within me. Noticing how late it had grown, I let the petal drift from my hand and left the courtyard.
As I reached the alley, the dimness surrounded me. While there was faint light in the distance, it barely pierced the darkness. The moonlight, unusually bright that night, faintly illuminated the path ahead, but it wasn't enough to safely guide me through the alley. Turning on my flashlight, I ventured forward. Partway through, a sound from behind made my heart race. Though my steps remained steady, my unease grew, fearing any change in pace might reveal my anxiety if someone were indeed following me.
The sound grew closer, my pulse pounding in my ears. Just as I braced for the worst, a sharp meow broke the tension. A black cat darted past me, appearing suddenly from the shadows. My tightly wound nerves unraveled, replaced by a rush of relief. "It's just a cat," I murmured, grateful. Perhaps my recent lack of rest and overthinking had heightened my nerves, making me more prone to fear.
Emerging onto the main road, the bright lights and bustling sounds brought a comforting sense of normalcy. About ten minutes later, I arrived home, where my parents were watching TV on the sofa. They understood my late hours were due to schoolwork, and as I entered, they reminded me to rest well before I headed to my room.
In the days that followed, I frequently studied at Chu Qingci's house after school. There were moments, passing through that same alley, when I felt eyes on me. Yet, each time I quickened my steps and glanced back, there was nothing. I chalked it up to pre-exam stress playing tricks on my mind.
With just three days left until the college entrance exam, the school granted us a study break to prepare at home, asking only that we visit the exam venue on June 6. Most classmates opted to leave, though a few stayed behind to study. Chu Qingci and I decided to head home.
The day we left school, I asked my father to help transport my books. He had met Chu Qingci before and regarded our friendship as ordinary, so he didn't mind when Qingci helped load the books into the car, even exchanging a few pleasantries with him.
Over the next two days, I stayed home to focus on revision, communicating with Qingci via messages. Whenever I encountered a particularly challenging problem, I would send him a picture for clarification. Otherwise, I spent my time strengthening weak areas in my studies.
The day before the exam, we visited the test center together. It was just three bus stops away from our neighborhood. Fortunately, Qingci and I were assigned to the same school—albeit different rooms on the same floor. His classroom was at the end of the corridor, while mine was the first one.
After surveying the venue, we had lunch at Jiahe Restaurant, our usual spot. During the meal, Qingci picked dishes for me and said warmly, "Tomorrow's the big day. Rest well tonight and do your best." As he spoke, his slender fingers brushed against my lips, removing a grain of rice I hadn't noticed.
Midway through eating, a tingling numbness spread across my tongue—it must have been from a Sichuan peppercorn. Spitting the offending spice onto a napkin, I reached for the glass of water Qingci had already placed by my side. After about half an hour, we finished and parted ways at the intersection.
"See you tomorrow, Qingci," I said, waving.
"Alright. Take care on your way home," he replied, his cool voice carrying over as he turned toward Yunhai Road.
The next day seemed to arrive in the blink of an eye. It was the day of the exam. My parents woke me early, preparing breakfast and accompanying me to the test center. Though the exam started at nine, they insisted on leaving by seven, only relenting when I negotiated for 7:30.
As we reached the school gate, my parents showered me with words of encouragement. "Jiajia, stay calm and do your best. We'll be waiting here for you." Accepting my bag from my father, I smiled and reassured them. "Got it. See you later!" With a wave, I stepped through the gate.
After finding my seat and setting down my things, I walked to Qingci's classroom at the far end of the corridor. Unsurprisingly, at this early hour, his seat was empty. Few students had arrived yet.
The first subject was Chinese—a strength of mine. It required little preparation beyond memorization, and I felt confident as the morning session began.