Chapter 20
Since that time, Lu Yici would always mention Yi Chao in front of me, intentionally or not.
One weekend, he invited me to have hotpot. Near the end of the meal, out of nowhere, he asked again, “Yan Qingyue, what do you think of Yi Chao?”
I dipped some tripe into the sauce, coated it well, and stuffed it into my mouth.
After swallowing, I thought for a moment and gave a standard answer: “He’s pretty good.”
Through the rising steam, the boy’s features became blurred.
Today, he was wearing a loose black hoodie, looking clean and fresh.
His fingers holding the chopsticks were long and slender, the joints prominent and pale, almost glowing with a cold light.
I glanced at him a couple more times without making it obvious.
He misunderstood, and picked up some lamb slices from his bowl for me.
Putting down his chopsticks, he asked again, “How good is ‘pretty good’?”
Seeing that he wouldn’t let it go without a concrete answer, I counted on my fingers as I picked up food: “First, he’s very polite. Second, his grades are excellent. Third, he’s very patient with people. Fourth, he’s quite gentle. Fifth…”
“I don’t really feel like paying today.”
“Fifth, compared to you, he’s still a bit lacking.”
“Oh?” His tone stretched out, full of interest.
“You’re more handsome.”
He finally couldn’t help but smile, propping his hands behind his head, half reclining in his chair, eyes half-closed as he savored the words:
“Yan Qingyue, why does your honesty sound so nice?”
I transferred the last payment to Yi Chao at the beginning of November.
The weather was already starting to get chilly.
When I returned to the classroom from the office, I found Yi Chao still there.
I was about to grab my bag and leave, but he called out to me from behind.
“Let’s go together.”
The gloom that usually weighed down his brows had lifted a lot these days. The oppression and heaviness were gone, and he was starting to live like a real teenager.
When we got downstairs, we noticed that the treetops and flowerbeds were dusted with white.
As soon as I stepped outside, I felt a chill on my ears and neck.
The boy beside me stopped, tilting his head slightly upward.
The first snow of the year was falling.
Snowflakes landed on his lashes, making them tremble. After a few seconds, he slowly curved his lips into a smile: “It’s snowing, Yan Qingyue.”
[The past is behind me; next year, I will still welcome the blooming flowers.]
The last payment had been made, and from now on, he had nothing more to do with those people.
I looked up at the gray sky and pulled the hood of my jacket over my head.
“Yeah, soon we’ll be able to build snowmen,” I said.
“We can build one together.”
“No, I usually just like to watch other people build them.”
Because it’s just too cold, and I don’t want to put myself through that.
We walked through the snow toward the school gate.