By May, the last chill of spring had vanished from the wind. It carried an ever-deepening heat, announcing the true arrival of summer. The annual May Fourth Youth Day celebration—one of the most eagerly anticipated events at Sunan No. 1 High School—began amid the feverish preparations of teachers and students alike.
This year's program was especially varied. In addition to the traditional highlight, the boys' and girls' basketball tournaments, the school had added a string of amusing games: three-legged races, jump-rope on acupressure mats, blindfolded gong-striking, and more. The winner of each game would receive a mysterious “grand prize,” while everyone earned a participation award, usually candy or small packets of cookies.
The sinister thought behind those “grand prizes” was obvious from the list posted on the bulletin board: a complete set of Five Years of College Entrance Exams, Three Years of Practice Tests, a thick stack of Mathematical Olympiad exercises, and all manner of similar treasures. Clearly, certain teachers had poured their hearts into combining education with entertainment.
The only prize that looked remotely normal came from the Chinese department's poetry-response contest. First place would receive a handmade “Chinese Language” doll sewn by the gentle and elegant Ms. Liu. The doll wore a modified hanfu dress, its hair in two adorable buns, and held a tiny bamboo scroll. Two round black buttons formed its eyes, giving it an endearingly foolish expression. The girls gathered around the noticeboard murmured with delight. The doll had struck directly at their weakness for cute things.
On the day of the festival, the campus was even livelier than expected. Colorful flags and balloons decorated the main paths, and long lines formed at every game station. Cheers, laughter, and whistles rose one after another, while the air itself seemed charged with restless adolescent energy.
Chen Jingming's class team was one of the favorites to win the basketball tournament. For days, he had nagged in my ear, “Nian-Nian, you have to watch me play and cheer for me! Otherwise I'll get nervous, play badly, and embarrass myself!” He had even crouched down dramatically with his hands over his head. An hour before the game, he found me again and repeatedly reminded me to arrive early and save a place.
I had little interest in basketball, but no one could withstand three reminders a day from him. Nor did I want to dampen his enthusiasm. I declined my deskmate's invitation to try the games and headed to the basketball court more than half an hour early.
I had still underestimated the match's popularity. Twenty minutes before the start, nearly every standing space beside the court was occupied. The best spots in the front were packed, mostly with girls holding bottled water or drinks, excitement flushing their faces.
As I stood on tiptoe and searched for somewhere to squeeze into the sea of heads, a familiar voice pierced the noise.
“Nian-Nian! Over here! Come sit here!”
Chen Jingming had somehow reached the railing in the very front. He forced apart two girls deep in conversation and revealed a prime spot beneath the rail, carefully covered with several sheets of old newspaper. Sweat covered his forehead and warm-up had reddened his cheeks. He waved hard at me, his eyes astonishingly bright.
“Hurry! I saved it for you!” he shouted.
Under the curious—and sometimes displeased—stares of the girls around us, I awkwardly squeezed through. The moment I sat in the spot he had saved, he leaned close, radiating the vigorous heat of exercise.
He blinked those far-too-bright eyes and lowered his voice in exaggerated grievance. “Nian-Nian, you really have to cheer for me. What if I play badly and humiliate myself?” He even pouted like a dog afraid its owner might reject it.
I could not help laughing, and the last of my discomfort disappeared.
“Stop talking nonsense.” I gently pushed his arm. “How could you play badly? How else would you have made the school team?” His eyes immediately brightened further, so I added, “Don't worry. I'll cheer properly.”
The referee's whistle shrilled. The game began.
The court instantly became a boiling sea. Running, leaping, passes and shots—the thud of bodies colliding, the basketball pounding against the floor, and the sharp squeal of shoes blended with deafening cheers and screams from the sidelines.
Chen Jingming was exceptionally active, a streak of blue lightning cutting across the court. He darted between players, passed with precision, and moved with smooth, powerful confidence. Every time he took possession or broke through the defense, the crowd erupted more loudly, especially the girls.
“Go, Chen Jingming!”
“Senior Jingming! Look over here!”
“He's so handsome!”
Buried in the wild noise, I called “Go!” several times, but my voice was quickly swallowed. My gaze followed the agile figure on the court of its own accord, and my heartbeat accelerated with every jump shot he took.
While I watched with complete concentration, a beautiful girl with a high ponytail somehow squeezed in beside me. She clutched an elegantly packaged bottle of juice.
“Chen Jingming! Go! You can do it!” she shouted with particular force. Her clear voice had been deliberately sweetened and raised, and her blazing gaze followed him everywhere. Excitement colored her cheeks. The juice was clearly chosen with care; a cute heart-shaped sticker had even been placed on the bottle.
Something shifted inexplicably inside me. A faint, nameless sourness followed, like an unripe plum suddenly dissolving on my tongue.
At last, the final whistle sounded. Chen Jingming's team had won, fifteen to ten.
The players, drenched in sweat, headed toward the sideline. The beautiful girl immediately fluttered through the crowd like a nimble butterfly. Her smile was radiant and her voice bright and sweet.
“Chen Jingming! You worked so hard. Have something to drink!”
She held out the pretty bottle, her gesture filled with a young girl's shyness and hope.
Many eyes focused on them. For some reason, my heart rose into my throat.
But Chen Jingming merely paused. His gaze flicked across the bottle without even registering the girl's face. Without hesitation, he stepped around her outstretched hand and strode directly toward me.
His face was flushed from exercise and pure delight. Sweat slid down his temples, sparkling in the sun.
“Nian-Nian!” He reached me in several long strides, bringing a gust of heat and the scent of sweat. His breathing was still quick, but his smile was dazzling. “Well? Wasn't I amazing? Was that last three-pointer handsome or what?”
He bent slightly and stared at me with glittering eyes, like a dog desperate for its owner's praise and a pat.
I instinctively glanced toward the girl left behind. Her smile had frozen, the juice still extended in her hand. Shock and embarrassment filled her eyes, then rapidly hardened into hostile resentment. She shot me a vicious glare.
The look pricked like a needle. I knew she had misunderstood.
“Nian-Nian, why aren't you telling me how amazing I was? What are you looking at?” Chen Jingming complained. He deliberately tilted his head, blocking my view with his broad shoulder and fluffy hair.
His handsome, sunlit face—soaked with sweat—suddenly filled my vision. His breath was scorching.
My heart lurched. As if burned, I leaned back without thinking.
“Fine, fine. You were the best. Happy now?” I laughed helplessly, forcing down the strange flutter in my chest and the discomfort of that glare. I handed him my bottle of water. “Drink. You need to rest.”
He took it, twisted off the cap, and gulped several mouthfuls, his Adam's apple bobbing rapidly. Then he wiped the water from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand and looked at me with shining eyes, his grin carrying boyish pride and anticipation.
“To celebrate my championship today, I'm buying you something delicious! The usual place?”
He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, his expression plainly saying, You know the one.
Since becoming my friend, Chen Jingming had led me to countless good little restaurants hidden around the city. They were affordable and authentic, and several had become our regular “bases.” He always boasted that years of roaming the streets and personally risking food poisoning had been necessary to unearth those treasured places.