Chapter 27: A Different Kind of Fireworks

“Even fairies have to eat?” Lin Cheng laughed.

He called out to the proprietor again, “Three more cups of milk tea, and three skewers of each kind of barbecue,” then turned back to Su Xiang with a smile.

“Here, my treat,” Su Xiang said unhurriedly, her tone carrying an air that brooked no argument.

Though Su Xiang was aloof, she was only seventeen after all, and she met anyone with a spark of brilliance with kindness and curiosity. Even so, she maintained a faint, measured smile that kept people at a distance—not remote, but never intimate either.

“Su Xiang, after all these competitions and exchanges, do you know how many people from other schools have been asking about you?”

Much of the friendship between girls was forged over shared meals. Zhou Luoyao and Su Xiang had many dealings with each other through school and class affairs. On one hand, Zhou regarded Su Xiang as a rival; on the other, she liked her immensely.

“The Olympiad champion from Yude High School, the president of the Go club—he absolutely worships you! Oh, and there’s Luo Mingsheng from No. 1 High School. He plays basketball, he’s handsome, and ever since he returned from that exchange trip with you, he’s been completely lovesick!”

People nearby kept glancing at the breathtaking sight around the table, but whenever Zhou Luoyao’s wandering gaze swept toward them, they could not help looking away.

“Really? Your fans aren’t doing too badly either,” Su Xiang said with a smile.

With a sharp screech, a bright-yellow Ducati V4S street bike came to a stop. A handsome young man with striking, well-defined features dismounted, immediately drawing greetings from several younger girls. He nodded to each of them in acknowledgment, locked up his motorcycle, and only then headed toward the barbecue restaurant.

After casually looking around in both directions, he walked toward Lin Cheng’s table.

“Yang Mingcheng? Have you finished your magazine?”

“Hello, Sister Zhou. I’m still working on it.” As Yang Mingcheng spoke, he cast a glance at Lin Cheng. “Buddy, move over a little.”

The tiny detail made Su Xiang frown.

Lin Cheng, however, merely smiled and shifted aside, allowing Yang Mingcheng to wedge a chair between the two girls.

At that time, the Kimura Takuya look was enormously popular. One had to admit that Yang Mingcheng’s loose, Japanese-style tousled hair softened his angular features considerably.

With such a face, combined with the halo of a talented senior student, he possessed tremendous destructive power against high-school girls.

“Your piece, ‘Snow in Gusu,’ was truly wonderful,” Yang Mingcheng said to Su Xiang without beating around the bush. “It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to call it intoxicatingly beautiful.”

The man who fancied himself Kimura Takuya lavished her with praise and flashed another easy smile.

While students at ordinary high schools struggled through seas of exercises after more than a dozen classes every day, students at certain prestigious state-run schools enjoyed a more relaxed environment without any reduction in extracurricular development.

As long as senior students could strike a proper balance between study and their interests, the two did not necessarily conflict.

There were still quite a few such schools in Shanghai and Beijing.

* * *

“Fireworks” was the school magazine of Wuzhou High School, with students serving as its principal contributors. The publications of many prestigious schools were even sharper and more enjoyable than some popular youth magazines.

Thus, “Fireworks” was a great asset to the school, just as the school was to “Fireworks.”

Those who had graduated from Wuzhou High School as awkward little boys and girls had gone on to become elites and high-ranking figures commanding society’s resources.

They held deep affection for “Fireworks.” Some had once been among the magazine’s main contributors themselves.

That was also why “Fireworks” had thirty-one corporate sponsors.

The magazine’s external edition was even more famous. It had openly found its way into the libraries of certain universities, shelved alongside “Yilin” and “Sprout.”

…

Su Xiang shook her head at the eager-eyed young man who fancied himself Kimura Takuya.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have anything I want to write about at the moment.”

Yang Mingcheng looked troubled. “Well… we’ve received nearly four hundred feedback cards, and they’re all eagerly waiting for another article from you, Senior Su.”

Su Xiang shook her head. “Thank you for trusting me, but there’s someone here who writes better than I do.”

“Who?” Though disappointment colored Yang Mingcheng’s voice, his gaze landed on Zhou Luoyao.

The boy certainly knew how to take advantage of an opportunity. Wherever his eyes fell, he found something pleasant to look at.

“Don’t bother searching. It’s the older brother Lin Cheng sitting right beside you,” Zhou Luoyao teased coquettishly.

Su Xiang smiled as well. Her gentle smile was like a spring breeze brushing across one’s face, warm and radiant.

She knew that Lin Cheng had received the highest score on his composition, and his speech had also left a deep impression on her. For a while, it had even been one of the hottest topics in their class.

At the most superficial level, an article was judged by its prose; at a deeper level, by its ideas. Su Xiang felt that Lin Cheng did not seem content to remain within the legend of Lin Junjie. He possessed a broader vision.

“Him?” Yang Mingcheng looked at Lin Cheng in surprise.

With a goddess of such stature standing behind him, Yang Mingcheng felt as though an entire crock of vinegar had been overturned in his heart.

Still, a man calling himself Kimura Takuya had to maintain his elegance. “Oh? What sort of articles can you write? Can you produce lines like, ‘As moon shadows grow colder, they carry the orchid boat into dreams’?”

“There’s a hint of Tsangyang Gyatso in that,” Lin Cheng said with a smile, acknowledging Yang Mingcheng’s praise. “I could write something like, ‘Dreams do not shine. It is you who shines as you chase them.’”

Yang Mingcheng said, “Since Zhou Luoyao and Su Xiang both recommend you, then I’ll leave it to you. There are only a few days left before the submission deadline.”

Lin Cheng glanced at Zhou Luoyao. He knew that if he refused this meddlesome “smiling talent scout,” even the village geese would look down on him, so he nodded.

Seeing how readily Lin Cheng agreed, Yang Mingcheng was somewhat annoyed.

He had thought that Su Xiang might refuse, in which case he could always find some famous writer instead.

Even so, he gave Su Xiang a charming smile before turning and leaving.

Su Xiang and Zhou Luoyao went to evening self-study, while Lin Cheng hailed a taxi and vanished into the hazy dusk.

He went straight home, took a shower, and changed his clothes.

Then, early in the evening, he arrived at the entrance of Xingzhi Bookstore.

It was not yet eight when Yu Yan appeared in the distance.

Several people who hurried past her could not help turning around for another look.

Yu Yan was truly beautiful. Even a school uniform could not diminish the number of heads she turned.

Lin Cheng’s heart began pounding wildly. He could not help cursing himself inwardly: Useless!

When she reached him, her delicate oval face and limpid eyes, framed by long lashes, were breathtakingly lovely.

Yu Yan looked at him and asked, “How is it? Does it still hurt?”

In this lifetime, it had been more than four full years since Yu Yan had last spoken to him of her own accord.

“Once you show concern, it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

It was a little greasy, perhaps, but whenever he faced Yu Yan, Lin Cheng had no idea how to seem more suave.

The experiences they had shared across two lifetimes left him with more than shame. They left him with regret.

“Stop with the smooth talk.”

A tiny flame flickered in Yu Yan’s beautiful eyes.

The two fell silent.

Lin Cheng remembered that the first time they had reconciled in his previous life, they had walked in silence just like this.

He had rehearsed their conversation countless times, yet when the moment came, he could not utter a single word.

That time, they walked a very long way before Yu Yan finally spoke.

“What were you doing all that time? It’s too late now. Don’t come looking for me again…”

Then Yu Yan ran away in tears.

It was the first time in his previous life that Lin Cheng had truly felt what heartbreak meant.