The late afternoon dusk settled as Haizhou No. 3 Middle School dismissed for the day.
Click.
“You’re back?”
Mom, who was busy preparing dinner in the kitchen, called out upon hearing the door open.
“Yeah, I’m back.”
Her son entered the house, looking a bit distracted.
But Mom, occupied with her tasks, didn’t notice the little details. She said, “Dinner will be ready in half an hour. Rest for a bit first.”
“Okay.”
The son took off his shoes, set down his backpack, then quietly pulled out his phone from his pocket and lit up the screen.
“So beautiful…”
On the phone’s display appeared a beauty.
She held a parasol in one hand, clutching several textbooks to her chest with the other, radiating an intellectual charm.
Even though it was midsummer, her hair was as pure white as freshly fallen snow, evoking the chill of winter.
Her wine-red eyes were half-closed, bathed in the glow of the setting sun, and a faint, elegant smile played at the corner of her lips.
After scanning this beautiful figure on the screen over a dozen times, the son reluctantly locked the screen and tucked the phone away, hiding it on the bookshelf above his desk.
He then pulled out paper and pen from his backpack, hesitated for a moment, and began to write—
Zheng Zi Yan, my name is Lin Hua, the person sitting seven seats behind you. Ever since I saw you this morning, your face, your voice—I know I will never forget them for the rest of my life.
Stopping here, Lin Hua put down his pen, his mind replaying Zi Yan’s image once more.
Lin Hua was a student in Class 6, Grade 9 at Haizhou No. 3 Middle School—the same boy who this morning sat by the back window near the rear door, the one Zheng Quan had teased.
Lin Hua thought to himself, this must be what a sudden crush feels like.
With his graceful figure, delicate features, and snow-white long hair like a fairy from another world, paired with those bright red eyes and a shy, pitiful demeanor, he felt utterly captivated.
Lin Hua realized that he had fallen for Zi Yan within just one day of seeing him.
His feelings were a mixture of admiration and a desire to shield this kind of beauty behind himself, to protect him.
Even during class today, Lin Hua had already scribbled a few love letters.
His deskmate and best friend caught him doing so and sighed, patting Lin Hua’s shoulder as he said, “The prettier the person, the more popular they are. Before long, this guy will have a whole queue of admirers. You should just give up now.”
“Besides, what else do you have besides writing a few cheesy essays?”
What did he mean by “a few cheesy essays”? Lin Hua had actually won the Second Prize in the Hope Cup Composition Competition (Middle School Division) for Xijiang Province!
Still.
Apart from writing some sappy pieces, he really didn’t have much else going for him.
Lin Hua was shorter than the squad leader and counted among the shortest boys in the entire school. His looks weren’t outstanding; at best, people said he was “not unpleasant to look at.”
That “not unpleasant to look at” had come from the ruthless critique of a girl he had liked in the neighboring class back in Grade 8.
Sort of like receiving a “nice guy card.”
Naturally, Lin Hua had no chance with tall, handsome, and charming guys.
As for grades, they were much like his writing—except for Chinese, where he consistently outperformed everyone in his class, his other subjects were neither terrible nor good.
Money? He currently owed four yuan for a bottle of Yingyang Kuaixian at the convenience store outside Haizhou No. 3 Middle School’s gate.
That credit was only possible because the owner’s kid also attended Lin Hua’s class.
So, summing it all up, Lin Hua really was just as his deskmate and best friend said—apart from writing a few cheesy essays, he had nothing else to show for himself.
“And what’s the point of writing love letters?” his deskmate continued to mock. “If you want a relationship, you’ve got to make contact. You’ve got to chat with them, right?”
“You don’t even know them, much less are you close. Lin the Great Writer, if you just hand over a love letter directly, you’d probably scare the girl off.”
Indeed, Lin Hua had spent the entire day hesitating, never once approaching Zi Yan to talk.
But hearing this from even his best friend made Lin Hua angry.
He shot back sourly, “Then, Mr. Love Guru, have you ever been in a relationship?”
By the way, this best friend would blush even when talking to girls.
Come on, let’s hurt each other!
“Tch, love letters don’t work? They’re just another way to make an impression, you know?” Lin Hua snorted, raising his pen to continue his cheesy letter.
At that moment, Zi Yan arrived home, clutching the textbooks he had collected from Teacher He today.
Climbing up to the fifth floor, Zi Yan was out of breath. As he opened the door, a rich aroma of mushroom soup wafted into his nose.
“Smells so good.”
In the living room stood a folding table with an induction cooker and pot bubbling away with soup.
Nearby, Zheng Quan was busy chopping greens with a knife.
“Son’s home!” Zheng Quan called out.
“Yeah, I’m back.” Zi Yan put down the textbooks and his folded parasol, then asked, “Dad, what are you cooking?”
“Hot pot.” Zheng Quan answered.
“Eh, hot pot? What’s that?” Zi Yan was puzzled for a moment, then suddenly remembered, “Ah, right! Hot pot!”
He recalled this way of eating.
Different sauces for dipping, boiling all sorts of ingredients together.
The last time Zi Yan had hot pot was when he was little, back in their home in Jingcheng with his parents, so it had taken him a while to recall.
“How was your first day of school? Tiring?”
“Tiring.” Zi Yan replied frankly.
“Then a hot pot feast is just the reward you need~.”
Zheng Quan finished chopping and brought the dishes to the table. Then he grabbed a big plastic bag of thinly sliced lamb rolls from the freezer by the door and placed them on the table.
Attracted by the smell of mushroom soup, Zi Yan was already hungry. Now seeing the ingredients, his eyes lit up as he sat down ready to dig in.
“Go change into your pajamas first,” Zheng Quan said. “Hot pot smells strong; it’d be bad if it got on your school uniform.”
“Uh…”
Zi Yan understood this. If someone smells strong, it must be quite annoying to those around them.
“Alright.” Saying so, Zi Yan got up and headed to his bedroom.
“Wait, hold on.” Zheng Quan suddenly remembered something and stopped him.
“What is it?”
Without saying a word, Zheng Quan set down his knife and hurried ahead into Zi Yan’s room.
Zi Yan stood at the door and peeked in, seeing his father standing next to something covered with a bedsheet.
“What’s that?” Zi Yan pointed and asked.
“Dad bought you a gift,” Zheng Quan smiled. “Guess what it is.”
The object, half Zheng Quan’s height, was square-shaped beneath the sheet. What could it be?
“A new suitcase?”
“No.”
“A mini fridge in my room?”
“Nope.”
“Then what is it?” Zi Yan pondered but couldn’t figure it out. “Dad, stop beating around the bush. Just tell me.”
“Hehe.” Zheng Quan chuckled and grabbed a corner of the sheet, pulling it up to reveal the object.
It was… a white, square-shaped device with a large opening in front, resembling a standing air conditioner.
Zheng Quan pressed a button, and a gentle, cool breeze blew from the large vent, brushing softly against Zi Yan’s face.
“Eh, eh eh?!”
“This is a Liebherr Air Cooler,” Zheng Quan explained. “It won’t be as good as an air conditioner, but if you add cold water and some frozen ice packs, it can blow out quite a cool breeze.”
“How about it? Are you happy?”
“Dad… this—” Zi Yan stared at the air cooler, his voice uncertain. “Did you buy this specially for me?”
“Yes.”
“Ugh…”
Just because he’d complained about the lack of air conditioning at home, Dad had gone out of his way to find a solution?
“Dad, thank you! You’re the best!”