In fact, when Chen Xunfeng spoke those words, although Zhou Ai did not look up, the chopsticks in his hand paused imperceptibly.
Perhaps because he had been a mute since childhood a mute who was also difficult to get along with he had been subjected to countless gazes throughout his life. Curious, astonished, scrutinized, disgusted; these gazes were like needles, dense and pricking.
As a child, he was extremely sensitive to the curious appraisals of others. The moment he appeared in a crowd, everyone’s eyes would automatically converge on him, followed by whispers. Zhou Ai had once desperately wanted to hide himself away under those stares.
Then, Chen Xunfeng had stood before him. Everything Zhou Ai could not say, everything he did not want to express, Chen Xunfeng could see. Chen Xunfeng sensed his fear at that time, and so, Chen Xunfeng had blocked those gazes for him, leaving no gaps.
Back in kindergarten, many people called Chen Xunfeng a madman. Some parents even sincerely suggested that the teachers contact Chen Xunfeng’s guardians to see if he should be taken to a hospital for evaluation.
This was because Chen Xunfeng’s actions lacked any logical framework. One second he could be sitting there quietly, lost in thought; the next, he would be pinning a boy who happened to pass by into a sandpit, beating him. An oil field only explodes when it meets a spark, but Chen Xunfeng was like an irregular, active volcano his explosions had no weight or logic.
Chen Xunfeng was repeatedly pressed by students’ parents and teachers, but his only response was to ask in return: “Why did he have to look at Zhou Ai? There were so many paths, why did he have to walk in front of Zhou Ai?”
Just because someone had glanced at the mute behind him while passing by, Chen Xunfeng would suddenly fly into a rage. This was a logic no adult could understand or accept. Over time, Chen Xunfeng became a “madman” in everyone’s mouth. People began to automatically avoid them, and indeed, no one dared to look at Zhou Ai anymore.
They became the strangest pair in the kindergarten: the filthy, rabid dog and the clean, mute boy hiding behind him.
But that was too long ago. Chen Xunfeng had left too early. After he left, Zhou Ai was entirely on his own. No one stood before him anymore, and Zhou Ai had to grow up alone. During this process, he endured countless endless trials. Zhou Ai had grown from that skittish little mute into who he was today, and he had long since become numb to these things.
But now that Chen Xunfeng had reappeared, he was, in some ways, exactly as he had always been. From the moment that girl looked at him blankly to Jiang Chuan’s observation across the table today, their gazes had lingered on him a bit too long, and Chen Xunfeng had become sensitive again.
Chen Xunfeng had a possessive desire to protect him, but Zhou Ai had changed. Zhou Ai had transitioned from a timid little mute into a cold, indifferent adult mute; in truth, Zhou Ai no longer needed it.
Zhou Ai’s chopsticks paused briefly in his tray before he set them down. Chen Xunfeng pushed a box of tissues over and tilted his head to ask: “Not eating anymore?”
Zhou Ai did not look at him, merely shaking his head lightly. Across from them, Jiang Chuan had changed the subject, reminding Chen Xunfeng for the umpteenth time: “Brother Xun, 4:00 PM, the 3,000-meter run. Don’t forget. If Old Wu can’t find you again, he’s really going to have a hypertension attack.”
Chen Xunfeng pulled a tissue, lowered his eyes to wipe his hands, and said in a flat voice: “Stop chanting. How many times have you said that?”
At this, Jiang Chuan seemed to recall something. He suddenly turned his head, drawing Zhou Ai who was looking out the window into the conversation: “Boss, are you participating in any events for this sports meet? I’ll come cheer for you when the time comes.”
Zhou Ai withdrew his gaze from the window, let it linger on Jiang Chuan’s face for a moment, and then shook his head lightly.
Perhaps sensing the limitations of Zhou Ai’s communication, Jiang Chuan didn’t let the conversation lapse, quickly taking over again: “Our Brother Xun is carrying two running events, the 3,000-meter and the 1,000-meter. Haha, I want to laugh just thinking about it.”
“His name was filled in directly by our homeroom teacher, Old Wu, because Old Wu said he’s late and leaves early every day, you can never find him when there are activities, and he loves running around everywhere. So he just put his name in for the running events, saying he should run more.” Jiang Chuan wanted to laugh at his own story, but when he finished and looked at the two people across from him, he found that neither had any obvious reaction. Their calm expressions were identical.
Zhou Ai and Chen Xunfeng sat across from each other. Zhou Ai’s expression was faint, Chen Xunfeng’s was flat. Jiang Chuan was saying things he found funny, but he couldn’t stir any emotion in his two listeners. He awkwardly stopped talking, and Chen Xunfeng finally swept a glance at him: “If you’ve said enough, why haven’t you left?”
Zhou Ai had already begun to clean up his tray. They sat together at the same table; Jiang Chuan considered himself an outgoing person, but he truly couldn’t merge into the eerie atmosphere between these two.
Jiang Chuan finally gave up on struggling and grabbed his phone, preparing to bolt. As he reached the exit of the stairwell, he glanced back. The two people there had already stood up. They were carrying their trays toward the return station; Chen Xunfeng was tilting his head, seemingly talking to Zhou Ai. Zhou Ai raised his eyes to look at him, and then, on Chen Xunfeng’s tilted face, a flicker of a smile appeared.
A very light smile, one not often seen on Chen Xunfeng’s face.
The afternoon was hotter than the morning. Zhou Ai was still guarding the Class 1 tent, the book in his hand replaced by the second volume of the detective novel. Around 2:00 PM, Chen Xunfeng came to find him.
It was the time of day with the most events. The tent was packed with students from Class 1. Chen Xunfeng walked straight toward their tent, wearing a full black athletic set, holding a black baseball cap and a bottle of water in his hand.
When he reached them, he stopped right in front of Zhou Ai, his gaze never once landing on the crowd behind him. He didn’t stay long, seemingly coming only to bring Zhou Ai the hat and water.
The slightly long brim of the baseball cap shielded Zhou Ai’s face. Chen Xunfeng leaned over slightly, watching him adjust the strap at the back. Seeing Zhou Ai’s movements, Chen Xunfeng instinctively reached out, helping him press down a loose strand of hair by his ear. His voice was very soft: “I only just remembered in the cafeteria it’s been hot lately, and I’ve kept this hat in my backpack.” Chen Xunfeng retracted his hand and looked at Zhou Ai: “It suits you quite well.”
Beneath the brim of the hat, Zhou Ai lowered his eyes calmly, looking at the boy before him. He offered no response of gratitude or acceptance, yet he didn’t refuse or show dislike, either. In Chen Xunfeng’s eyes, this was already rare enough.
He had broken his promise, he had been late, and then he had appeared without warning. Zhou Ai was inherently a person with a strong sense of self-closure. Zhou Ai’s anger had been concentrated in that slap; after that, it was just indifference. Zhou Ai was no longer angry, but he held no other intense emotions either.
And so, the fact that Zhou Ai was not resisting his approach now made Chen Xunfeng feel that Zhou Ai was soft-hearted enough.
Chen Xunfeng had other things to do. He watched Zhou Ai adjust the hat and then said: “I’m going then?”
Zhou Ai paused, looked at him, and nodded lightly.
Watching Zhou Ai before him, Chen Xunfeng couldn’t help but slow down his voice and his emotions. He said softly: “Okay.” Then he stood up. Before leaving, he gave a casual sweep of the people squeezed into the tent behind him. He was looking for the tall boy he had bumped into in the Class 1 corridor that day. In some respects, he was always overly sensitive, and he had remembered that person’s face very clearly.
Almost no one behind the tent would meet his eyes. Sensing his look, everyone avoided him. Chen Xunfeng looked back and forth twice, but he didn’t see the person.
He finally looked down once more at the seated Zhou Ai before turning and walking away.
At 4:00 PM, the sounds on the playground grew abruptly louder. Zhou Ai’s thoughts drifted briefly from the book in his hand. He raised a hand to rub the back of his neck, belatedly realizing that the space around him had emptied out.
Many people were rushing toward the southeast of the playground. Zhou Ai heard the latest announcement over the school PA system: “The check-in for the men’s 3,000-meter run for the freshman grade is complete. The race is about to begin.”
Zhou Ai tilted his head toward the southeast, but from his angle, he could only see the dense crowd of students clustered at the starting line. He didn’t know if it was his imagination, but across such a distance, he faintly heard the high-pitched screams of girls shouting Chen Xunfeng’s name.
The starting pistol exploded in the air. A louder, more excited clamor erupted from that direction, and the crowd gathered there began to move.
In addition to the athletes on the track, many students were running alongside them on the grass field within the inner circle. Thus, when the athletes started moving, it triggered a chain reaction; the people on the playground also began to flow along with them, allowing people in the distance to track exactly which part of the track the runners were on at any given moment.
At a certain point, the sound coming from the stretch of track in front of Zhou Ai suddenly grew louder. Zhou Ai’s gaze was pressed beneath the brim of his hat, but at the moment he looked up, through the crowd, he saw Chen Xunfeng on the outermost edge.
Chen Xunfeng was running in the middle of the pack. He had the most people “accompanying” him, both boys and girls. He ran on the outermost red track, his revealed profile expressionless, his strides easy, neither rushed nor slow.
Just as Zhou Ai was about to look away, Chen Xunfeng suddenly seemed to sense something and turned his head. Chen Xunfeng’s gaze was quiet and direct; he looked calmly from the clamor toward Zhou Ai.
For the 3,000-meter run, they had to circle the 400-meter track seven and a half times. Chen Xunfeng passed Zhou Ai’s front seven times, and every time he passed, he turned his head to look.
The more laps they completed, the further they ran, and more people both athletes and those running alongside began to fall behind. Yet, Chen Xunfeng’s position in the pack was steadily moving forward. By the final 400 meters, only one athlete remained ahead of him, and the only people steadily running alongside him were six boys and one gasping, breathless girl.
Zhou Ai had some impression of that girl named Zhao Yue; she had stared at him blankly in the cafeteria two days ago, and his desk-mate had also passed him a note, claiming she was Chen Xunfeng’s girlfriend.