Part 62
"I'm sorry, I'll add it for you right now." Andrew Lane was almost fuming with anger: "That's not the point! Rewrite it for me!" "Rewrite?" Zoe Young looked down at the paper, feeling troubled. Andrew Lane's yearbook was especially big, and in order to make the message section look less empty, she had written those few sentences vertically, deliberately making each character large, so now there was no way to fix it.
"I'll give you a blank one, you write it again!" Andrew Lane said, then started rummaging through her bag, turning it inside out, but still couldn't find one.
"How about we talk about it tomorrow." Zoe Young raised her hand to shield her forehead, avoiding the early summer sun that was growing harsher. "No way, you're always dragging things out. There are only a dozen or so words on this page and you've taken two weeks to write them. Wait until tomorrow? Maybe even after graduation you still won't have given it to me!" Zoe Young spread her hands helplessly: "Then what do you want me to do?"
Andrew Lane stood there thinking for a long time, then suddenly blushed, stammering for ages before stiffly saying, "...Come to my house."
Mom and Dad are at work, so they won't know. The afternoon would give her time at home to write it properly, and if it wasn't good, she could rewrite it. Andrew Lane quickly plotted, for a moment almost wanting to run back to the classroom and borrow Teacher Zhang's pointer for use in the afternoon.
"I'm not going." Zoe Young shook her head. Actually, she had deliberately written the same graduation message for Andrew Lane as for everyone else. Facing that yearbook with a little fox drawn on it, looking like a field of green wheat, she had been at a loss for days before finally deciding to write. She wrote the same words as for others, precisely because he was different from the others. Zoe Young didn't even know what she was so flustered about, so flustered that she even left out a sentence. "You have to go!" Andrew Lane was completely infuriated by her attitude, or perhaps, it was the disappointment of high expectations being dashed that made him so angry, he even forgot to be afraid of his parents. He grabbed her hand and dragged her toward the door.
"What are you doing?" Zoe Young struggled for a long time to pull her hand free, but even as her wrist turned red, she couldn't get away. She had never known Andrew Lane was so strong.
After Andrew Lane ran out of the playground, his anger gradually faded, and he suddenly felt a bit strange inside. He slowly loosened his grip, but didn't dare look back to see what expression the girl behind him had. Yet now, even as he held her hand loosely, she no longer struggled, silently letting him lead her home. They kept this awkward posture, one in front, one behind, arms twisted, heads down, steps unsteady, palms burning.
The scenery around them gradually faded into meaningless backdrops. Andrew Lane's throat tightened, and his arm ached from the twist, the girl behind him had become a sweet burden. He wanted to let go to ease his arm, but couldn't bear to. Just as he was stuck in this dilemma, the dull footsteps behind him suddenly sped up. Andrew Lane's heart skipped a beat, he turned his face and saw that Zoe Young had walked up right beside him.
And she hadn't let go of his hand. Andrew Lane's steps felt light, as if he were dreaming, but he didn't know when this dream had started, just like how people never know when they fall asleep. "Zoe?"
"Hmm?"
"Nothing." Andrew Lane lowered his head, the corners of his mouth slowly lifting, overflowing with an indescribable sweetness.
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17. May Everything Go Better Than Expected
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Zoe Young changed her shoes at the door and walked into the living room. Andrew Lane's home seemed to have changed a little compared to before—but she couldn't remember exactly what had changed.
Childhood memories are so selective. She could remember Andrew Lane's awkward expression in front of the slide at the provincial government kindergarten, and how messy he looked after being hit by a lunchbox, but she couldn't recall what color wallpaper his house had back then. "Do you want some fruit? I'll pour you some juice. Do you want peach, kiwi, or pineapple? Oh, and there are chocolate pies and preserved plums. Wait a second, I'll get them for you!" Andrew Lane had completely forgotten about the pointer, and was now fully invested in the grand mission of feeding her. When he carefully carried a plate to his room, he looked up and saw Zoe Young leaning forward, intently gazing at his bookshelf, her eyes moving along the neatly arranged spines. Her slightly slender waist showed the awkwardness of early adolescence. Today, Zoe Young hadn't tied her hair in a ponytail, but instead wore a princess style, with part of her hair pinned back with a light blue shell clip, and the rest of her soft long hair cascading over her shoulders like silk. Andrew Lane's gaze followed the strands of her hair, unintentionally landing on her thin shoulders. The school's cheaply made white uniform was a bit see-through in the summer, and he accidentally caught a glimpse of the light blue bra strap near her collar—
"Andrew Lane?" The sudden call startled Andrew Lane so much he almost choked on his own saliva. Zoe Young took the plate from his coughing hands, set it on the study desk, and turned to stare at him in confusion: "Are you okay?" "I'm fine!" Andrew Lane quickly lowered his head, rummaged through the cabinet under the desk, then pulled out a light blue cartoon folder, took out a sheet of loose-leaf paper, and handed it to Zoe Young. "Here, rewrite it." Zoe Young took the paper and quickly filled in the basic information on the front, then stared blankly at the large empty space on the back.
"Write it well. If you don't, I'll make you rewrite it. I have plenty of loose-leaf paper anyway!" "I can't write anything." Andrew Lane was fuming: "What do you want, then?" "Let me see what others wrote in your yearbook, okay?"
Andrew Lane was stunned for a moment, then handed the whole thick book to Zoe Young, and sat beside her, watching with interest as her long, fair fingers flipped through the pages—inside were all the things he was proud of. Everyone had written a lot for him, with high praise and beautiful wishes, nothing perfunctory—except Zoe Young.
"A bright future, everything goes smoothly." So corny, how did she even come up with that. Zoe Young saw Charlotte Lee's page, and the message on the back wasn't full of sentimental wishes, just fragments of memories, the familiarity and intimacy between the lines was completely genuine. It was a kind of natural confidence, as if she had never doubted that they would still be together in the future.
So natural and close, just like Charles Johnson's so-called message on the back of the yearbook, full of typos and nonsense, ending with: "Andrew Lane go eat poop! While it's hot!"
Then she saw Tina Young's. A standard message, neat handwriting, nothing special at first glance. But the last sentence, placed there calmly: "You will always be the best squad leader in my heart."
Only this time, there was no "Happy Birthday." Zoe Young turned to look at Andrew Lane, who was reading with great interest, as if he had completely forgotten about the unsigned glass apple from back then.
Zoe Young closed the book. "Alright, I'll write it for you." Andrew Lane happily spread the paper on the desk, and very flatteringly handed her a blue pen. Unexpectedly, Zoe Young had no intention of writing a long message. With a few quick strokes, she wrote just four words. "万事胜意".
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