【Even in dreams】- Silent

I sat in my seat in the classroom, and a tall girl with a long straight ponytail sitting in front of me was discussing a problem with Shi Xinchun.

She was wearing the summer school uniform, her long hair almost reaching her waist; her back view was almost magical, like a miracle.

I thought she was Wang Dandan, drawing on memories in my mind, and I became more and more certain.

From time to time, she stole glances at me behind her with the corner of her eye; their discussion was just a pretense—she still retained the enthusiasm for me from junior high third year, and she merely wanted to get close to me by discussing problems.

I understood: she was Wang Dandan, and I was Zhong Fengwei.

Yet I had never thought about why Shi Xinchun was sitting in front of me, or how she ended up in Class Six of senior three—a strange phenomenon. Shi Xinchun’s seat was clearly on the other side of the classroom, and there had long been no connection between us. I lowered my head, feeling that she had finally plucked up the courage to turn around and face me, meeting me face-to-face.

"We’ll play a game!" she said, leaning over my desk and looking up at me.

It seemed as if she was pleading with me, but I am a cold person; casually showing emotion makes me uncomfortable. Even now, though I yearned to draw near to her and accept her, I had never opened my heart to her. But now I could no longer endure it; trembling, I raised my head and replied, "Sure."

She cleared a space on my desk, then placed six equally sized white cards in sequence.

"There’s a small ball hidden under one of these cards, guess which one?" After laying down the last card, she smiled, staring intently at me.

I looked at those flat white cards, filled with doubt, because obviously there would be no ball beneath them. I didn’t understand her intention, but I was even less willing to question it—I feared she might think I wanted to refuse her. She was waiting for my answer, so I resolved not to dwell on it.

After some thought, I pointed to one of them.

"You sure it’s this one?" she said with a mysterious smile, naturally shifting her gaze to me.

I met her eyes, struggling to withstand her stare. For the first time, I saw her eyes clearly—her dark pupils felt bottomless, subtly turning as they examined me. A wave of despair surged in my heart; I felt utterly exposed before her, unable to hide any longer. My brain spun, as if I had fallen into an abyss.

I remembered that afternoon, when she took off her glasses and, as usual, turned around to chat with me during break. I lifted my head and faced that suddenly familiar yet unfamiliar face. I saw the freckle at the corner of her eye, hidden by the frame—it seemed to be her “flaw,” giving me a strange feeling inside. Coming to my senses, I hurriedly answered her question, but I hadn’t heard what she had just said. I sensed her slight disappointment, yet I could only stand there at a loss. My deskmate leaned over to pick up her thread; he was amusing, but so what? Her attention remained fixed on me—she was always interested only in me. My deskmate would, as always, walk away bored after dealing with her. I thought this way, though I had always pretended to be so indifferent, uncaring, wearing a calm expression while consuming her passion.

But this time it was different from what I imagined—she turned her head away. I became a third party in this conversation.

I watched them as if I were listening politely. The scene before me was exactly like the past days when she and I were together, except that I was no longer the protagonist. I told myself it was nothing, but I saw in her gaze that familiar feeling—one I thought belonged only to me, making me believe that for her, I was different from others. Suddenly a sense of loss welled up in me, and I grew irritated; I realized she did not hold some kind of affection for me as I had imagined.

I feigned hesitation, then nodded. She slowly uncovered the card, and the atmosphere quieted, forming a world of just the two of us.

"Not here," she said triumphantly, as if her scheme had succeeded.

I wasn’t disappointed; I knew there was still a chance. She looked at me again; I met her gaze, striving to control the instinctive urge to avoid her eyes, and forced an awkward smile.

"It must be under this one!"

"This one, this one, definitely this one… I don’t believe it."

...

"Damn, down to two choices, my luck really sucks, please God..., it’s this one, no wait I take it back..."

At my direction, she removed the cards laid flat on the desk one by one; each one was empty without exception.

"Last one, it must be under this!" I said with a false smile, pretending to be confident.

"Really?" she stared at me; she was enjoying herself immensely. The smiling face from memory, the beautiful appearance that had made me often nostalgic over the past three years, was now gazing at me—pure, kind, letting me look at her without restraint.

I found her beautiful; three years later, she was still beautiful.

"Haha..." Her cunning gaze suddenly turned into a satisfied laugh. She uncovered the card—nothing was underneath.

I watched her take the small ball from her pocket, saw her rather proud smile...

Three years...

She turned away, her back to me, talking to Shi Xinchun. I thought this could count as the beginning of our reconciliation, becoming the icebreaker for us to continue our relationship from then on...

"Finally got a result after three years," I thought, feeling secretly pleased.

I saw her lower her head and take out a glass photo frame from her bag; I recognized the peony painting I had copied in eighth grade tucked inside. A surge of panic struck me—inside was a photo of Xue Yan! She didn’t look at me, just placed the frame on my desk, then bent down to tidy her bag.

I took the frame and examined it repeatedly, but there was only that peony painting inside! On closer inspection, the peony looked odd, unlike what I remembered painting... But I didn’t think much of it, nor did I doubt how the painting I had locked thirty kilometers away in my cabinet had ended up in her hands. I thought that her taking it out in front of me must have a reason. Could she want me to give her this painting? Did she still like me? Should I be more proactive this time?

I should take the initiative to give it to her—three years had passed, and besides, I’m a guy.

I should take the initiative.

The frame was held together by four inset magnets, so I started prying at the gap, then gave it a sudden forceful pull.

——————————————————————————————————

When I woke up, I suddenly remembered there was a biweekly test today—no wonder my roommates had been restless early in the morning. In a rush, I kicked on my milk, red dates, and walnuts and jogged to the classroom. I saw several buses parked on campus and wondered blankly why. The newly built fountain wasn’t spraying water; I guessed it was probably to save electricity.

Entering the hallway, there were hardly any people in sight, and I began to worry about being late. The moment I turned the corner of the hallway, I inexplicably wanted to look out the window at my own shadow, so I jerked my head around—and suddenly recalled the scene from the dream. That reconciliation in memory was nothing but a distant dream...

In that instant my heart twisted with pain; my breathless body, exhausted from running, finally couldn’t bear the agony of renewed loss and lost control. I knelt heavily to the ground, only the smiling faces from the dream flashing ceaselessly through my mind.