Encountering the fleeting years

     After the invaders of rain launched several wars of aggression, the booming clamor of the imperial carriages immediately followed, the entire procession a veritable family of green, from the light green of new leaves to the deep green of the most representative of green, the leaves under the blazing sun. Spring's footprints were quite conspicuous; one could clearly see the remains of withered flowers hidden among the dense foliage on the branches. Spring flowers had faded, their youthful beauty exhausted, and they had quietly departed. Only the family of green leaves on the branches smiled most contentedly, a silent, compensatory smile of late bloomer.

    A beloved corner of the campus prominently displayed its flag, welcoming the changing of the seasons. The early-blooming bouquets were undoubtedly a striking focal point, captivating many, who exaggeratedly bowed down at the feet of their alluring long skirts. Celebrities adored by the masses certainly flaunt their joy; their beauty spreads like wildflowers in the wind, amplifying their allure and attracting even more admirers. A hint of ulterior motives subtly peeks from their large, alluring black eyes.

    Flowers that bloom too early, too vibrantly, become inexplicably worrisome. If spring departs too soon, the flower's beauty cannot linger on the branch. The rain, an army of ten thousand, has landed in the land of the Rain Kingdom, and the once-famous flowers are destined to die for their cause. The flower corpses lie scattered everywhere, clinging to life, desperately hoping to remain in the world a little longer. After one night, they are mercilessly sent to the garbage dump, becoming new members of the garbage kingdom, coldly making their way to reincarnation amidst endless memories, hoping that tomorrow's sunrise will be bright.

    The rain flowed affectionately, pouring down into summer's nest, awakening the yearning summer monarch. Only then did the emperor lead his subjects and their families from the cold, green fields and countryside to the bustling city, setting up camp along the roadsides, ruling over this vast, lonely, and somewhat distorted urban kingdom.

    Many days have passed, and this city, both strange and familiar, is worthy of legend. My classmate Wu Shimei happened to come to this city to study at university. Our acquaintance was purely accidental. When I first arrived, I didn't know she had also been admitted to this university. Towards the end of my first semester, another high school classmate mentioned her to me, and that's how I got her contact information. Driven by youthful impetuosity, I suddenly called her. One can easily imagine the awkwardness of the conversation. I'm always very direct and quick-witted, and I immediately asked if she was Wu Shimei. She seemed to say "Ah" before confirming that it was her.

    This way of getting to know someone is inherently ambiguous, leaving room for multiple interpretations and unintentionally planting many unanswered questions, much like a scene from a movie. However, the suspense in reality isn't as seamless as in a film. In the long journey of life, countless unexpected events occur, often unpredictable. We can only rely on subjective assumptions to take each step alone. Tomorrow is always an uncertain variable; only through personal experience can we truly understand. But there are also special circumstances, as what we see with our own eyes isn't always the truth. Therefore, we learn to go with the flow, to encounter things in a naive way.

    In the rings of youth, a week always flies by. It was during a leisurely weekend that we met on a bustling street. It wasn't that I recognized her, but another classmate beside me. To be honest, I had seen her in high school and knew her, but I didn't know her name. She, on the other hand, knew my insignificant nickname but didn't recognize me. After exchanging pleasantries, we became acquaintances, or, to put it more intimately, dear peers from our hometown. We were both in the prime of our youth, the darlings of adolescence, our faces beaming with the shared youthful energy. If one had to differentiate us, it would only be that her smile was sweet while mine carried a hint of bitterness—a fundamental difference.

    The most beautiful aspect of youth is the combination of vitality and dreams or aspirations. Our first meeting was profound, seemingly shaping many things, good or bad, true or false, especially her eloquent speech, which mostly reflected the vibrant energy of youth. As for dreams or aspirations, I dared not speculate, leaving them for now. I believed that one day her heart would be revealed, perhaps only a small part, perhaps only a tiny fraction of what lay within—but what did it matter?

    "The sun is shining brightly today, the temperature is perfect. If you're free, how about we go out and have some fun?" she asked in a gentle, pleading tone. Of course, as a boy, there's absolutely no reason to reject a girl's beauty expectations because of her appearance, but there are many exceptions. Fortunately, I'm not the kind of person who cares, and neither is my male classmate, even though I'm not very popular at school.

    Wu Shimei isn't a tall, beautiful, stunning woman; in fact, she's probably destined to never be complimented as a "beauty," and the word might even feel like a poisoned arrow piercing her deeply. She's truly a typical petite woman—short in stature, the average height for a girl, not particularly tall or long; her weight is alarming to her, and frightening to most; and her waist, needless to say, is a conspicuous barrel waist. Perhaps what she's insecure about isn't any of the aforementioned realities, but rather the few pimples on her face. In my memory, she's had them since high school; perhaps it's due to a poor diet in her childhood, leading to her current acne, or perhaps it's a congenital flaw. Now, none of that matters to her. She considers herself an ordinary person, destined only to play a supporting role. Green leaves may be plain in appearance, but their quiet beauty, like that of autumn leaves, is worthy of praise and lament, especially in one's twilight years.

    Perhaps it was because I hadn't bantered with girls in a long time, but I suddenly became seemingly affectedly shy, and thus became the master of silence, learning to be quiet. I dare say that feigned mannerisms could bewitch everyone; I was thus narcissistically accompanying them in their conversation.

    Under the sunlight, the bustling traffic was filled with the hearty laughter of men and women, their subtle tenderness exposed under the blue sky, instantly transforming into cherry lips in the eyes of lovers. Crimson lips are the most lethal, but only those grown in a fertile paradise can entice the impulsive young men. I suppose lovers all love each other's lips, not just for kissing, but primarily for uttering sweet words. Undeniably, we all enjoy hearing beautiful words, and in this respect, women in love are particularly prominent; I feel ashamed of myself.

    Wu Shimei and her classmate didn't have time to pay attention to my fleeting glances. Perhaps my acting was too superb, deceiving six eyes? Or did they simply understand that boys all have a lustful side, and were already used to my lustful gaze, so they didn't disturb my enjoyment, giving me a chance to show my true nature? The more I thought about it, the further I strayed from the topic. Subconsciously, I stole glances at their eyes, looking for any clues of my shameful act.

    How could such lonely, strongly restrained, kind eyes contain evidence of my dirty and vulgar crimes? If there were, it couldn't be mine; perhaps it was a scar left from many years ago, not yet fully faded, which fits the logic of my imagination. My thoughts murmured to myself, trying to comfort my realistic nature.

    The dappled sunlight under the trees cast shadows around Wu Shimei, some dark, some bright, as if stage lights had suddenly come alive on her, bouncing with her steps, captivating the heart—wasn't that beauty?

    After a long walk, we arrived at the street intersection in the blink of an eye. We stood by the bus stop, craning our necks and eagerly awaiting the crowded bus. With our hearts completely focused on its arrival, time seemed to slow down, pityingly accompanying us as we waited for that longed-for bus, the one we didn't know which route or when it would arrive.