Halfway through her meal, she seemed to suddenly remember something, paused with her chopsticks, and looked at me hesitantly: "Um... Brother Mo, after dinner... how about watching a movie? I heard 'The Martian' is pretty good lately..."
Her voice trailed off, her eyes darting around, almost avoiding my gaze. She poked at the rice in her bowl with her chopsticks. "I...I have two tickets...given by the school...might as well use them!"
He hastily came up with a lame excuse. The "pure brother invited you to the movies" tone he used sounded so fake, like a child awkwardly wearing an adult's clothes.
I found her awkward expression somewhat amusing. "Okay."
"Really?" Her eyes lit up instantly, and she couldn't help but grin from ear to ear, her little thrill barely concealed. "I knew it! Let's go! I know how to take a shortcut!"
The movie theater was well-air-conditioned.
The screen flickered in the darkness. A Martian storm swept past.
Mai Sui watched intently, but her posture was her standard competition stance—leaning slightly forward with her hands on her knees, like an athlete ready to start a race at any moment.
Occasionally, when she sees something tense, she will subconsciously tense up.
Through the wide armrests of the theater seats, I could feel the warmth and firmness of her forearm muscles, which were taut from the movie, brushing against my outside arm.
When the scene where the protagonist grows potatoes appeared, she seemed to find it a bit amazing. She leaned slightly towards me and lowered her voice, "Hey Mo, do you think potatoes can really grow on Mars? Wouldn't they mutate?"
Her warm breath brushed against my ear, carrying the sweet scent of cola. In the darkness, her eyes shone brightly, like some kind of small animal.
The movie ended, and the crowd poured out. The shopping mall next door was brightly lit and bustling with activity. Mai Sui was in high spirits: "Brother Mo, wanna shop for a bit? To digest our food!"
In a trendy boutique on the first floor, her eyes lit up as she spotted a pair of limited-edition fluorescent orange running shoes with air cushioning; she couldn't tear her gaze away. The sales assistant enthusiastically recommended them.
Mai Sui picked up a shoe and looked at the tag. The four-figure price made her eyes dim. She pouted, like a deflated leopard, and carefully put the shoe back.
"Tch...nothing special," she clapped her hands dismissively, but her steps were clearly reluctant, turning back every few steps, muttering under her breath, "What does running fast have to do with what shoes you wear..."
I walked up to the entrance of a basketball merchandise store.
Several autographed basketballs were displayed in the glass window.
Mai Sui's eyes lit up instantly: "Brother Mo! Look at that! Didn't you say you liked Stephen Curry last time? Isn't that the signature?"
She excitedly pointed to a golden basketball in the shop window, almost jumping up and down through the glass. Her foot injury seemed to have been completely forgotten, and the disappointment of buying shoes earlier was thrown to the back of her mind.
She excitedly grabbed my arm and pulled me into the store.
"Quick, check if it's real or fake! Maybe they can even engrave your name on it!" The oversized hoodie swung back and forth behind her head, and those wispy blue-purple strands of hair popped out again.
Judging from her enthusiasm, it seemed like she wanted to make up for her regret about buying shoes earlier by buying them from me.
In the end, both hands came out empty-handed.
The city lights outside are dazzling. The evening breeze feels quite nice on my skin.
When I arrived at the familiar old alleyway where Mai Sui lived, there were low residential buildings on both sides, with some miscellaneous items piled up at the base of the walls. The streetlights emitted a dim yellow glow, casting long shadows on the ground.
The surroundings were so quiet that only the sound of our footsteps could be heard.
The atmosphere was strangely thick.
"Brother Mo," Mai Sui suddenly stopped, not looking at me, but looking down at the toes of her new sneakers, rubbing them on the cement ground.
The halo of the streetlights illuminated the short, bluish-purple stubble on her head, obscuring her expression.
"Um?"
She still didn't look up, her fingers nervously twisting the drawstring of her hoodie until her knuckles turned white. Her voice was low, like a mosquito's hum, but it was exceptionally clear in the quiet alley:
"...I know Su Wantang..."
The name made the air suddenly quiet.
My heart skipped a beat.
She took a deep breath and suddenly looked up! The light from the streetlamp perfectly outlined her sharp jawline and her unusually bright eyes, which came straight into my line of sight.
Her eyes, hidden beneath her short hair, shone with an astonishing brightness, devoid of any trace of her usual brotherly demeanor, revealing only a desperate honesty and courage. Her speech was as rapid as a machine gun firing at double speed:
"I know Su Wantang likes you! She grew up with you! She's a ballet dancer! Like a swan! You were in the same class! I know all that!"
Her voice sounded somewhat abrupt in the quiet alley, even trembling slightly at the end, but her burning gaze was fixed on my face without blinking:
"But I am…" Her chest heaved violently, and she mustered all her courage, staring into my eyes, and uttered each word clearly and swiftly:
"—I'm such a wimp! I just love you, Silent!"
As the last word fell, the alley fell into a deathly silence.
All I could hear was her rapid breathing and the faint sound of traffic in the distance. My throat felt blocked; I couldn't utter a single word, my mind still processing this sudden, explosive declaration.
She didn't even wait for my reaction!
The next second, in the instant I was completely stunned.
A dark shadow flashed before my eyes, carrying the clean scent of soap from the hoodie.
Two soft, hot touches suddenly landed on my cheeks!
"Pop!" A very brief, very loud pop, carrying a sense of desperate gamble.
Then, she sprang back as if she'd been burned! Her strength was astonishing!
"You...you stop bothering me! Liking you is my own business! It has nothing to do with you!" She blurted out these two sentences in a hurry and incoherently, without even daring to look at me again, and even forgetting that her foot was still injured, and turned and ran away!
The running motion had a bit of a sprinter's posture, like a startled fawn or a leopard fleeing its hunting grounds.
Honey-colored, firm calves flashed under the streetlights, and the sound of footsteps in sneakers "thump thump thump" hurriedly faded into the empty alley, quickly swallowed by the night.
I was left standing alone at the alley entrance, the burnt spot on my face. A night breeze blew, carrying a piece of scrap paper from the ground, which swirled and drifted away. Damn… my face was still burning.
The next day, it was track and field training time. The track was on the east side of the playground.
Mai Sui's feet should be fully recovered; she runs fast and steadily. But her route is incredibly unpredictable.
They specifically chose to run on the rubber track in front of my class's formation, circling around it. Every few minutes, they would sprint past the outside of my formation with a "whoosh".
The gust of wind, carrying the scent of sweat, made several girls in the front row frown.
"Wheat Ear, if you're going to run laps, just run properly. What are you dawdling about?" The sports representative from the next class couldn't help but shout.
"Hey Mo, my good brother! You're here too!" Mai Sui seemed to have just noticed me, and suddenly slammed on the brakes beside me, kicking up a cloud of dust. Her arm draped over my shoulder with a "whoosh," and she leaned half her weight against me, deliberately bumping into me and making me sway.
"I'm exhausted! That 400-meter interval just now! Brother Mo, give me a sip of this water!" She reached out and grabbed the Coke I had just opened but hadn't drunk from, her movements as fast as snatching it.
The sweat on her palms soaked my sleeve, and her slightly cool fingertips inevitably brushed against the skin on the inside of my wrist.
She tilted her head back and gulped down a large mouthful from the bottle, her Adam's apple bobbing rapidly. The overflowing dark brown liquid slid down her sweaty, tanned chin, flowed over her slender neck, and disappeared into the collar of her sweatshirt.
After she finished drinking, she shoved the bottle back into my hand and patted my shoulder twice, a little too hard.
"That's great! Brother Mo! I'll treat you later!" She grinned, revealing her signature little tiger tooth, but her eyes quickly swept over my face, passing over the faint trace of feeling still lingering on my cheekbone, before quickly moving away.
The smile was still on her face, but the slight redness at the tips of her ears betrayed her. The next second, she had already turned swiftly and dashed back onto the track, leaving behind only a slightly trembling voice: "Back to training!"
Not far away, on the grassy side inside the track.
Shen Youyi had just finished her morning exercises.
Her gaze remained fixed on Mai Sui, and when she saw the woman snatch the Coke bottle from my hand without any restraint, and then slap me hard while hanging her arm around my shoulder, her delicate little face instantly fell.
Her pink lips were pressed into a straight line, her cheeks puffed out slightly, and she tightened her grip on the strap of her dance bag. Her eyes were cold and sharp as she aimed her daggers at the direction the wheat was rushing towards, almost shooting out shards of ice.
Su Wantang sat on a bench under the shade of a tree, stretching her legs. One foot was hooked, and her swan-like neck was stretched gracefully and straight.
She seemed to be looking at the scenery in the distance.
But the hand resting on her knee had knuckles that were clenched so tightly they were almost white, her eyelashes were slightly lowered, and the lines of her profile were taut.
Next to her was her pink sports water bottle, the lid still on.
Only after the wheat ears had blown past me like a gust of wind did she casually lift her eyelids, her gaze sweeping calmly over me before gently lowering again, continuing her stretching with impeccable elegance.
Only those who know her well can sense a chill emanating from her excessive silence, a chill that is being suppressed yet subtly permeates the air.
In the following days, it was as if the girl had completely unlocked her potential; her stubbornness vanished and evolved into a self-righteous form of "brotherly harassment."
As the morning exercises ended, the crowd was packed like sardine cans. I was trying to avoid the "Mediterranean reflective attack" from the head teacher when suddenly my back was slumped and my neck was hooked by a sweaty arm that smelled hot from exercise.
Mai Sui was halfway up me, her chin almost hitting my shoulder: "Brother Mo! Did you see that? That last push-up, my form was the best in the whole class! Even Liu the Bald couldn't find fault with it!"
He was so smug, he almost sprayed spittle into my ear.
The rise and fall of her chest pressed against my spine without reservation through the thin school uniform short sleeves; its weight was incredibly elastic, brimming with unreasonable youthful vitality.
I tried to pull her away, but her arms were like iron clamps, and she deliberately tightened them, making me breathless: "Let go! You're strangling me! Can't you see your teacher up ahead?"
"What's wrong with Lao Wang? We're just brothers!" she said confidently, her words tough, but her eyes quickly swept over my right cheek, the corner of her mouth suspiciously curving upwards before she "humphed," let go, and jumped away like a smug little rooster.
The cafeteria is always a battlefield for lunch. I had just sat down and taken a couple of bites of rice when the chair opposite me slammed down with a loud crash. My plate hit the table, and Mai Sui plopped down on it, causing the soup in my plate to spill out.
"Hey, Brother Mo, the food's pretty good today!" Her eyes lit up, and with a "whoosh," she reached over and precisely snatched the biggest piece of sweet and sour pork rib from my plate. "Try it! Let me see if the ribs in the cafeteria have gotten worse." She was incredibly fast.
With a spare rib in her mouth and her cheeks bulging as she chewed, she started complaining about the cafeteria lady: "Damn, this sweet and sour sauce must have had too much starch in it again today, it's so sour!"
"My ribs!" I picked up my chopsticks and tried to snatch them away.
She nimbly leaned back, successfully dodging the attack, and proudly shook her head: "Testing poison for your brothers, going to great lengths for them, don't you understand?"
"You know nothing! You've practically stabbed me in the rice!"
The battle over the spare ribs lasted for several rounds, and the poor ribs eventually ended up in Mai Sui's belly. She patted her belly contentedly and also swept away half of the broccoli from my plate: "I'll take care of what you don't like to eat, you're welcome!"
This "Master Wansui" style of repayment is truly refreshing and unconventional.
During training breaks, she even became a stage for performances.
I had just finished a 400-meter turnaround, and sweat was pouring down my face like I'd been caught in a downpour. I leaned against the basketball hoop next to the finish line, panting, my throat so dry it felt like it was on fire.
A bottle of ice-cold mineral water suddenly pressed against my sweaty arm, making me shiver.
Mai Sui stood to the side, holding the bottle cap in her hand, and took a big gulp, water droplets running down her neck.
She handed me another bottle, panting, "Here, I brought you one too. You look so weak, aren't you?"
I unscrewed the cap and tilted my head back to gulp down most of the bottle. The burning sensation in my throat was washed away by the ice water, and I felt so comfortable that I wanted to sigh.
Wheat's gaze swept across my face, then she pointed at my wrist as if she had discovered a new continent: "Hey? When did you change your wristband? This color... you're so subtly sexy, Mo-ge!" Her tone was teasing, but the scrutiny and curiosity deep in her eyes were impossible to hide.
The wristband was old, and the color was so tacky.
"Is it any of your business?" I rolled my eyes at her, annoyed.
She curled her lip and said, "Tch, still acting mysterious!" After saying that, she grabbed her water bottle and ran to the starting line to assemble, like a tireless little wild horse.
The classroom was emptied instantly as soon as the school bell rang.
I was still slowly packing my schoolbag when I heard a series of hurried and chaotic footsteps from behind me, carrying a familiar momentum.
When I turned around, Mai Sui was already standing next to my desk, one hand supporting her on the table, leaning forward, her eyes shining brightly.
"Hey, Momo!" This time she didn't call him "Brother Mo," but called him by his name directly. Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried an air of undeniable authority.
"What?" I zipped up my backpack.
She licked her lower lip, as if making a decision: "Are you free tonight? Come with me somewhere!"
"Where? Let's make this clear first, I'm not going if it's to pay off debts, and Lou Wai Lou is out of the question too, I'm tired of it."
"Who told you we were eating!" she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "We have important business to attend to!" She paused, glancing quickly to the left and right. The classroom was empty, with only the sound of the students on duty sweeping the floor.
The last rays of the setting sun slanted in through the dirty glass window, gilding the top of her fluffy blue-purple hair with a layer of gold.
She leaned even lower, almost biting my earlobe, her breath hot, her voice low and menacing: "...The rooftop. After dinner, 7:30, the usual place. You have to come!"
She held up a finger and waved it in front of my face with a hint of threat. "If you don't come... hmph... I might accidentally let slip some of your embarrassing secrets! Like—"
She deliberately dragged out her words, her gaze sweeping slyly across my right cheek, as if she had lit an invisible branding iron.
"Damn!" I cursed under my breath, realizing I'd been hit where it hurt. That brat!
Before I could even utter a curse, she grinned, revealing her signature little fang, her smile bright and tinged with a hint of smugness. She quickly straightened up, patted my shoulder like a victorious general returning from battle: "It's settled then! 7:30, don't be late, bro!"
After saying that, she grabbed her bulging sports backpack, which looked like a bomb, slung it over her shoulder, and strode out of the back door of the classroom.
The footsteps disappeared at the end of the corridor, as if the slightly threatening yet tense whisper from just now was merely my imagination.
The student on duty was still dawdling in the corner sweeping up scraps of paper, the monotonous sound of the mop scraping across the cement floor echoing.
The dappled sunlight slid across the table, leaving only a grayish-white shadow. That spot seemed to still hold the oppressive feeling of sweat and heat from when she had endured it.
A few clear birdsongs drifted in from outside the window, and the sound of a basketball being dribbled could be faintly heard from the basketball court downstairs.
The classroom was empty; I was all alone. I slowly zipped up my backpack and looked at the spot on the desk she had pointed to—the right side of my cheek—which started to feel inexplicably hot again.