Chapter 4

On the eve of the college entrance examination, during the evening self-study session, the teachers no longer lectured on questions or key points. The homeroom teacher told us that the college entrance exam was not the only way out, and urged everyone to keep a calm mindset.

That night, many people laughed until they cried.

Whether by design or coincidence, the school lost power, and the bright classroom was suddenly plunged into darkness.

My heart skipped a beat, and all of a sudden, someone grabbed my hand under the desk.

He was trembling slightly, then our fingers intertwined, holding tightly.

Cheers rose and fell throughout the class, and from the neighboring classroom came bursts of chorus.

In that moment, it felt as if I couldn’t hear anything else-the two hands clasped tightly in the dark, a layer of sweat forming, and all I could hear was my own rapid heartbeat.

Once, twice, it was as if the world had stopped…

We remained silent, not saying a word.

A few minutes later, the classroom lights came back on. He finally let go of my hand, his face flushed as he softly said:

“Qi An Classmate, good luck tomorrow.”

Looking back years later, that moment when our fingers quietly intertwined under the desk was probably the most beautiful instant of my innocent youth.

Not long after, we both received admission letters from Beijing.

He waved his Film Academy acceptance letter, his eyes crinkling with a smile.

“Qi An Classmate, one day I’ll make our story into a movie.”

I looked at my own admission letter from the College of Literature, secretly thinking that maybe, in the future, I would become a famous writer and write our story.

When we’re young, we always have a kind of ignorant, fearless courage, and the bravery to break conventions.

At that time, the school radio station was playing “The Longest Movie”:

“Our beginning,
Is a very long movie.
It played for three years,
I still have my ticket.”

Back then, he stood on the rooftop and shouted, “Chen Huaixu will become the best director!”

Now, he really has done it.

At the end of “Huaian,” Chen An and Qi Huai, after twists and turns, went from school uniforms to wedding dresses, adopted a cute cat, built a warm home, and later had an adorable baby.

Many people cried, not knowing whether it was for Huaian, or for their own youth.

Unfortunately, life is not a movie-there is no happy ending, only regrets as the curtain falls.

As the music played at the end of the film, I suppressed the myriad emotions in my heart, stood up, and prepared to leave.

Suddenly, a flickering flame appeared on the screen, and a familiar voice seemed to travel across time and space:

“Happy birthday.”

I glanced at my watch-it was exactly midnight.

The date had changed to May 21st.

My heart felt as if it had been struck heavily, at once stifled and sour.

I stared blankly at the screen, my eyes growing hot, and couldn’t help but laugh.

Actually, the birthday wish I never spoke that year was: I hope our story can have a happy ending.

Now, the wish that was late at eighteen has come true in a movie at thirty.

Smiling, I waved at the screen:

Chen Huaixu, I wish you all the best from now on.