Seeing Spring (Jian Chun Tian)

Неаring а familiar namе, Wеi Qingyue glаnced аt thе girl twiсе.

Сhеn Huiming was lоudly crying and comрlаining in the hаllwaу. With this соmmоtion, реорlе from bоth Class Onе аnd Clаss Two heаrd, and somе pulled ореn thе windоws tо рeek оutsidе. Zhang Хiаоqiang hаd no сhоice but tо сomfоrt her, saying thеre must have bееn sоme misundеrstanding and so оn. Just аs shе was trуing tо реrsuаdе her, Теaсher Хu arrived. Аfter briеflу undеrstanding thе situаtiоn, hе entered thе classroom and аsked both pаrties involvеd to соme оut.

Since Jiang Du was the Chinese class representative, Chen Huiming had already assumed that Teacher Xu would be biased in her favor. Standing there resentfully, filled with indignation, she stiffened her neck and said, "Teacher Xu, ask her."

Jiang Du did not exaggerate or embellish; she recounted the incident exactly as it happened, first admitting her mistake. This made Chen Huiming dislike her even more—pretending, keep pretending, she thought, glaring darkly at Jiang Du.

Teacher Xu was good-natured and patiently offered a few words of guidance to resolve the conflict between the two girls, then asked everyone to return to their classes. When Chen Huiming sat down, her deskmate clearly heard her mutter "bitch," looked up at her, then lowered her head again, minding her own business as she continued working on her materials.

In this matter, it indeed seemed that Jiang Du had overreacted, being overly sensitive. When Wang Jingjing returned and learned about the incident, she found it strange and couldn't help asking Jiang Du what exactly had happened.

"I thought she had peeked at the letter, so I couldn’t control myself," Jiang Du forced a smile. "It was my fault."

Wang Jingjing looked relieved. "Oh, was that worth getting so worked up over? Even if she had seen it, I could’ve just openly admitted it—no big deal. Of course, if she dared to peek, I’d definitely scold her. I could curse her out all day without repeating myself!"

Jiang Du believed it; Wang Jingjing was very fierce. She quickly tried to calm her down. "No, Chen Huiming didn’t peek. I was mistaken."

But Wang Jingjing was convinced that Jiang Du had endured Chen Huiming’s anger to protect her privacy and insisted on treating her to a roujiamo from the cafeteria after school. Jiang Du felt somewhat guilty; she knew that wasn’t the case, at least not her first instinct. She was simply afraid that her hidden, unknown secret might be exposed.

The window wasn’t closed tightly, and the howling wind sounded like surging waves. Teacher Xu said the weather forecast predicted sleet. Time really flew, she suddenly felt a bit sentimental—winter had arrived just like that.

After evening self-study ended, Jiang Du had already blended into the crowd heading downstairs when she suddenly remembered something and hurried back up the stairs.

Two girls in the classroom hadn’t left yet, chatting idly as they locked the door.

"Did you know? Chen Huiming said Wang Jingjing also wrote a love letter to Wei Qingyue."

"It’s laughable. Nowadays, any random person dares to write love letters to Wei Qingyue. Who knows if he’s annoyed by it? Like flies swarming all at once, don’t they have any self-awareness about their own conditions?"

"Can’t be helped. There are always plenty of people without self-awareness."

The two laughed, not noticing that Jiang Du had turned back and was walking toward them. When they saw her, they exchanged glances, clearly worried about whether Jiang Du had heard.

Jiang Du had indeed heard. She didn’t say anything, just walked over and greeted them proactively, saying, "The window isn’t closed properly. It might sleet tonight."

One of the girls smiled awkwardly. "Jiang Du, you’re so attentive. We didn’t even notice. So, you came back to close the window?"

The classroom was crowded, and even when it got cold, some windows were left slightly open for ventilation.Jiang Du nodded, and the girl quickly said, "Then you lock up, we're heading out first." With that, the two hurried away, leaving Jiang Du standing alone for a few seconds.

When she regained her composure, she climbed onto a desk, stood on tiptoe, and shut the last window tightly. After getting down, Jiang Du took out a tissue and repeatedly wiped the spot where she had stepped.

After checking everything thoroughly, she finally felt at ease and stepped out. The classroom lock was a bit stiff; no matter how hard she pressed with two fingers, it wouldn't lock, and her hand ached from the effort. Jiang Du’s face flushed red with frustration. The lights on the floor were about to go out, so she bent over, trying to figure out what was wrong.

"Planning to pick the lock?"

Wei Qingyue’s voice suddenly came from behind her. Jiang Du stiffened, then looked up nervously and said, "No, I was trying to lock it." But her mind echoed with the conversation between the two classmates, and her gaze instantly dimmed.

Hearing this, Wei Qingyue gently moved her aside and, with a click, effortlessly locked the door. He chuckled softly, "You really don’t have much strength, huh? Now I remember—you were sitting during the entire military training."

There was a hint of teasing in his tone, and Jiang Du immediately felt embarrassed.

Back then, she had sat by the field every day. Many people knew there was a girl in Class Two who didn’t participate in the military training but still sat on the field. To some, this seemed rather pretentious—if you weren’t participating, why bother sitting there at all?

She wanted to explain that she had a heart condition and had undergone surgery, but she was afraid Wei Qingyue might think she was feigning weakness. After hesitating for a moment, she only said, "Thank you for helping me lock the door."

Her voice sounded somewhat dejected. Wei Qingyue glanced at her and asked, "Did you have a fight with your classmate?"

Huh? Jiang Du looked up in surprise, stammering, "H-how did you know?"

"When Zhang Xiaoqiang and I came back, your classmate was complaining about you to her in the hallway."

Jiang Du’s face instantly turned pale, as if something had been violently seized from her.

Seeing her reaction, Wei Qingyue smiled. "Don’t worry. Although I can’t say I know you well, my intuition about people is pretty accurate. I know you’re not like what your classmate said. If she says something like that again, confront her directly."

Jiang Du looked at Wei Qingyue in disbelief. He said, "I know." In truth, those three words were enough. All of it—every feeling she had for him—didn’t require his response. Just this one moment of understanding was enough to console her entire youth. Heaven knew how grateful she was for his words.

A gust of wind blew through the hallway. Jiang Du paused, suddenly realizing that no one had closed the hallway windows either. She hurried over and pulled several windows shut with a series of loud clangs.

Wei Qingyue watched her from behind and was about to remind her when the lights went out.

Sure enough, the girl let out a low gasp. He took out his phone—students weren’t allowed to bring phones to school, and in 2006, high school students rarely had them anyway.

Wei Qingyue’s phone was the latest model. He turned on the flashlight, and a beam of light illuminated the path ahead.

"Why close the windows?" Wei Qingyue motioned for her to come walk with him, but Jiang Du froze. It was dark, yet Wei Qingyue himself seemed to have become a source of light—so bright that she had never dared to approach. In that moment, what overwhelmed her was not courage but a bewildering timidity.

"Jiang Du?" Wei Qingyue called her name, slightly puzzled, seeing that she hadn’t moved.She assumed that the kind of girl who could stand beside Wei Qingyue should be someone like Zhang Xiaoqiang—outstanding, confident, bright—not like herself, a little snail curled up in a corner, carrying its shell, wanting only to stay safe and peaceful in its own world.

Her body stiffened, and in the end, she still kept a bit of distance from him. The faint scent of orchid drifted from the boy, and Jiang Du wondered if it was the smell of some kind of laundry detergent. Their clothes brushed against each other inadvertently, just a light touch, but Jiang Du pursed her lips, every nerve and every cell in her body tense, her heart no longer her own.

"Why did you close the window just now?" Wei Qingyue asked her again.

The silence was finally broken. She tried to answer in a normal voice, "Teacher Xu said there might be sleet. If it drifted in during the night, it might freeze."

Wei Qingyue chuckled again, though it was unclear what he meant.

Jiang Du’s scalp tingled, her heart uneasy: Does he think I’m being hypocritical, trying to show off how considerate I am? I should’ve just said I closed it without thinking… The girl was tangled in regret, wondering why she hadn’t thought before speaking the truth.

As they stepped out of the teaching building, a cold wind hit them, tightening their throats. Wei Qingyue was still dressed lightly. He turned off the flashlight and asked, "Can you get back on your own?"

It was too short—it felt like they had walked the distance in just a few seconds. Jiang Du had never wished so much for the hallway to stretch for kilometers, just to walk a little longer with him.

She hummed in agreement and said, "Thank you so much for today."

The wind was bitingly cold. Jiang Du glanced at the sky and mustered the courage to say shyly, "The weather forecast says there’s sleet. If you don’t dress warmly, it’s easy to catch a cold. Colds are such a hassle—even though it’s a minor illness, the dizziness and discomfort are really unpleasant."

She couldn’t bring herself to say it outright: You should wear more in this cold weather.

The girl spoke in a roundabout way, her true feelings hidden in the wind.

"That day when I got scolded, were you gloating from the balcony across the way?" Wei Qingyue unexpectedly joked. That day, he had seen Jiang Du, though he had long known she lived across from him. Once, he had accidentally seen her struggling with a clothes pole, trying to hang up a sweater. Drip, drip—the water seemed as if it hadn’t been wrung out at all. That was when he realized Jiang Du truly had little strength.

Jiang Du was startled again, flustered and unable to come up with a lie on the spot.

"I wasn’t gloating, really," Jiang Du said, her face flushed red as her mind raced. "That day, a lot of classmates saw you. I was just looking with everyone to see what was happening. I really didn’t mean to laugh at you."

The girl’s demeanor felt familiar to Wei Qingyue—vague, elusive, tinged with a sense of melancholy. He didn’t know where this momentary emotion came from. After saying goodbye to her and returning to the dormitory, amidst the chaotic laughter and noise, it became even harder to trace back or make sense of it.

Until the next day, when sleet truly fell. Leaden clouds filled the sky, cold rain mingled with snowflakes, seeping into every brick on campus. Lin Haiyang suddenly found him again, delivering a letter.

Wei Qingyue had thought he wouldn’t receive such letters anymore, especially since so much time had passed.

The same envelope, the same stationery, and the same handwriting.

At the time, after reading this third letter, Wang Jingjing tilted her head, pondering, and asked, "Jiang Du, are you writing a novel? Since when does my family have a toon tree?"Jiang Du had anticipated that Wang Jingjing might have significant doubts. She calmly replied, "Writing it this way feels more intimate, like a gentle conversation. I think it's better. What do you think?"

Wang Jingjing pursed her lips and said, "What do I think? I think you sound like an old lady, rambling on about boring things. Why not copy a love poem for him instead? Something no one has read before, something exceptionally talented? You must have read some, right?"

"But those were written by others." Jiang Du always had inexplicable convictions.

Wang Jingjing couldn’t quite understand her perspective and said, "What’s the big deal? Even essays allow quotes from famous people."

"This is a letter, not an essay. Letters should contain the most genuine things." Jiang Du refused to back down. In moments like these, she was as stubborn as a mule, though Wang Jingjing didn’t understand why stubbornness was compared to a mule—she had no such life experience.

But she was quick with retorts: "My family doesn’t have a toon tree. That’s not genuine either!"

Jiang Du was momentarily speechless. After a pause, she said, "It’s artistic truth."

"Oh, come on! What kind of nonsense is that? You’re hilarious, Jiang Du!" Wang Jingjing burst into laughter. After laughing, she still happily copied the letter, but by the end, she couldn’t help muttering again.

When the letter was given to Wei Qingyue, the weather was terrible. After evening self-study, everyone huddled their heads, shouting "It’s freezing!" as they ran back to the dormitory. Some were particularly lazy, never fetching hot water, borrowing from others one day and another the next, or simply skipping washing their feet and diving straight into bed. Although Wei Qingyue was not overly meticulous, he still maintained basic hygiene. He slept on the upper bunk and, after washing up, climbed into bed wearing thin pajamas and sat there reading the letter.

The topic boys in the dormitory loved discussing most was always girls. Wei Qingyue usually listened silently and smiled quietly, rarely joining such conversations. But the topic itself was intriguing. His bunkmate, a boy who was not tall, thin, and covered in acne, had mentioned Jiang Du a few times.

To his surprise, the other boys in the dormitory also had an impression of Jiang Du, saying she was a true beauty but seemed frail, as if a gust of wind could blow her away. Someone jokingly called her "Sister Lin."

Was this the same girl he knew? Wei Qingyue always felt that the Jiang Du the boys talked about was not the same person he knew.

He didn’t really remember the details. Every time they crossed paths, Wei Qingyue would casually say something. To him, she was just a schoolmate he had some interaction with. If he were to truly recall what he and Jiang Du had said to each other, he could only remember about a third.

The dormitory lights went out promptly at eleven. Wei Qingyue turned on his phone’s flashlight. Beside him, the boys were talking about girls.

"Greetings in this letter.

It’s been a long time since I last wrote to you. I hope everything is going well for you. I imagine you’re probably carrying on as usual? You still ranked first in the midterm exams. Everyone is talking about you—your name represents the highest honor."Time passed quickly, and before I knew it, this autumn had slipped away. Winter always feels particularly long, and we have to bundle up in bulky clothes. I don’t really like winter, but if it’s a snowy day, sitting by a small stove with my family, roasting sweet potatoes and chestnuts while the wind and snow swirl outside—that’s a scene I truly enjoy. However, the classroom is far from ideal—it’s freezing cold, and I especially hate being on duty. The benches are hard, the desks are hard, and when you sweep with a broom, dust flies right into your face. Why is there so much dust in winter? It settles on the desks, and you can’t wipe it clean with just a tissue—you need a wet wipe. Some classmates like to slap their books back and forth a few times before sitting down, but does that really get it clean? Quite a few of my classmates prefer this method. I wonder how you clean your desk and bench.

Perhaps the greatest joy of winter is the anticipation of the New Year and spring. Speaking of spring, my family used to have a Chinese toon tree in our old yard. As soon as spring arrived, my family would pick the freshest, most tender toon shoots. They could be stir-fried with eggs or mixed with tofu, their color delicate and lovely. Those who aren’t used to the taste of toon shoots might find it strange, but once you get accustomed to it, you’ll notice a unique fragrance. Unfortunately, after we moved, we could no longer pick toon shoots in spring, nor could we see the swallows that nested under the eaves year after year. Although our current neighborhood is tidier and more convenient for school, I still miss our old yard more. Most importantly, back then, my family wasn’t as old as they are now. With every year I grow older, they age another year. By the time I go to college and start working… Honestly, I don’t even dare to think about these things. Nothing is more merciless than time.

By the way, the big tree near the library has lost almost all its leaves. Its twisted, gnarled branches suddenly exude a sense of despair and barrenness, completely different from its imposing demeanor when it was lush and full. It used to frighten me, but now it doesn’t. Instead, I feel a bit of pity for it. After all, it’s the only lonely tree in that area, surrounded by small flower beds filled with many flowers, none of which are its kind. I wonder if you’ve ever felt this way—when you’re not like others, there’s always a sense of emptiness somewhere. For example, when others have something you don’t. Of course, I’m not saying I’m the type to wallow in self-pity. I just feel that, while imperfections may not be bone-deep painful, sometimes they leave you feeling hollow, as if a piece is missing and can never be filled.

Somehow, as I wrote this letter today, it took on a pessimistic tone, which was never my intention. Maybe it’s just because the days are short and the nights are long, making it easy for people to overthink. I imagine you’re not like me—you must have clear goals and well-defined plans. I heard you plan to study abroad, in a faraway country. If you really like that place, will you stay there? I wonder if you have family here that you’ll miss, or if there are places in Mei Zhong that you’ll feel nostalgic about. I love Mei Zhong very, very much. I feel incredibly lucky to have the chance to study here. I think, no matter where I go in the future or how old I become, I will always cherish everything about Mei Zhong.It's been really cold lately, and everyone has been adding layers. I don't know if some people just aren't afraid of the cold—they wear very little and don't seem to worry about getting sick either. But I've heard from my family that if you dress too lightly when you're young, you might develop arthritis when you're older. Arthritis is really painful, and I can't even imagine what it would be like to not be able to run or move around freely. So, since we have to use our bones for a lifetime, it's probably better to take good care of them (just my personal opinion).

This is the third letter, and I don't know if you'll ever see it. Every time I start writing, I actually think about this question. No matter what, I still hope you can read it. Of course, if it bothers you or annoys you, I won't write again (this is something I suddenly realized—I don't want you to dislike me. It's strange, but I used to think that as long as I wrote it out, it would be fine. I never considered whether you might find it annoying. I was too selfish). But right now, I don't even know if you've read the first two letters, so maybe all these worries are just me talking to myself.

But no matter what, in the end, I want to say to you in advance: "Happy New Year," and also, "May you stay healthy and safe in the new year, and may your grades remain as excellent as ever." This wish is valid every year.