The Fleeting Youth of Those Years

Of course, those people could get away with it now, but they might carry this behavior into adulthood and become parasites in a socialist society. Although Wen Youhan detested such behavior deep down, she kept her disapproval to herself and taught them subtle lessons in her own way. Perhaps drinking her water wouldn’t make them sick, but for those Wen Youhan generously shared her water with, had they already lost any chance to win her favor in her heart? Most likely so.

Zhu Xin drank the unboiled water she gave him, and Wen Youhan told me that the water wasn’t boiled and shouldn’t be consumed. Wasn’t this a gesture of care towards me? My heart bloomed with lilies, spreading joy everywhere.

Beneath Wen Youhan’s kind exterior lay a faint streak of mischief, which only made her seem more genuine. A girl like her was truly beautiful. I could feel my two years of suppressed feelings about to burst out. Yes, I wanted to be with Wen Youhan.

“I’ll pour the water out for others, and after that, I’ll refill it for you myself,” I said firmly, grabbing the thermos from Wen Youhan’s hand.

“There’s really no need,” Wen Youhan protested, though her hand let go of the thermos without resistance. She just lowered her head slightly, her gaze deliberately avoiding mine. Perhaps even if Wen Youhan had raised her head to meet my eyes, I might not have had the courage to look directly into hers.

I quickly found a few empty cups for water and emptied the thermos completely. Then I exited through the back door, joyfully bounded down the stairs, buoyed by some inexplicable strength, and suddenly found my steps feeling incredibly light.

After refilling the thermos, I passed by the playground. A basketball game was about to start. My steps faltered momentarily, but my mind never wavered. I pressed forward toward the classroom without pause. Wen Youhan was the most important person in my heart. All I could think about was her drinking the hot water I had fetched for her and being able to take her medicine properly.

I had never carried a thermos up to the fourth floor before. By the time I reached it, my arm was noticeably sore. For someone as small as Wen Youhan to carry this thermos up and down the stairs every day was truly remarkable.

As soon as I pushed the door open, Wen Youhan came over to meet me. Taking the thermos from my hand, she said with sincere gratitude, “Thank you so much!”

“I didn’t realize this thermos was so heavy. I’m never carrying water for you again,” I said, acting as nonchalant as possible, even as I felt the weight of a few envious and resentful gazes from the class.

The more you care about someone, the more you pretend not to. If your feelings are too obvious, it puts the person you like in an unfavorable position-not just because of jealous rivals, but also because the one you love may distance themselves due to rumors. I understood this well and was determined to avoid such complications.

“Bring your cup over, and I’ll pour you some water,” Wen Youhan said, standing tall with the thermos in her right hand and her left hand resting calmly at her side. She looked full of life.

“Oh, do you want to head down with me to watch our class play against Class 16 in the basketball game?” I placed my cup on Lin Dashun’s desk while watching her pour water for me.

“Not interested. What’s so great about watching that?” Wen Youhan replied with a bit of disdain. Then, setting down the thermos, she looked at me and added, “They don’t even play well. What’s there to see?”

“Ha, even if they don’t play well, it’s still a game against another class. Don’t you have any sense of collective pride? Your lack of team spirit is so uncultured,” I teased, hoping to make her blush. However, Wen Youhan didn’t seem fazed. Instead, she turned her head to the side, as if silently declaring how childish and naive I was.

“Fine, if you’re not going, I will,” I said, grabbing my cup. I used one of Lin Dashun’s books to wipe the spilled water off his desk, then turned and left the classroom.

The playground was already abuzz as each basketball court was prepped for the games. Since Class 5 didn’t have a match that day, more people than usual were there to watch our game. For our match against Class 16, the referee was the main player from Class 5, nicknamed “White Dove.” His slightly gray hair made him look older, and though he was skinny, he had a solid, athletic build. Since Class 5 wasn’t playing, their players were in charge of organizing the event. Naturally, White Dove was chosen to referee this crucial match, which lent an air of fairness to the proceedings-or so most people assumed.

However, our class didn’t see it that way. White Dove was on the same school basketball team as Da Hei, who played for Class 16. We were convinced he’d be biased toward their side.

So, how do we silence the doubters?