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“Did you get it wet a few days ago? The wound looks a bit inflamed,” He Can said after removing the stitches from Lu Zhou’s back.
“Mm.”
“Good thing it’s not serious, otherwise it would have flared up for days again,” He Can took off her medical gloves. “Didn’t I tell you repeatedly not to get it wet?”
“Got caught in the rain,” Lu Zhou replied, shirtless. A long gash on his back was from a previous mission.
“I prescribed you an anti-inflammatory.”
“Mm. About the Xinjiang aid mission you mentioned earlier, is it confirmed?”
“It’s confirmed,” He Can smiled gently.
Lu Zhou said, “You need to sign a self-intent document. I’ll send it to you. Just fill it out and send it back.”
He Can laughed, having expected him to at least try to dissuade her, perhaps mentioning the harsh conditions of the Xinjiang aid mission and asking her to reconsider. Instead, there was nothing but the same rigid, official procedure.
“Send it to me now. I’ll fill it out right here and give it back to you.”
Lu Zhou took out his phone, pressed a few buttons, and sent the document to He Can.
He Can’s office computer beeped twice. She clicked it open, briefly scanned the important notes, and simultaneously asked Lu Zhou about a few clauses she didn’t understand. Lu Zhou explained each one.
The man had already put his shirt back on, but one could still faintly discern the well-defined lines of his body underneath.
She suddenly asked, her eyes still on the screen, “Is that tattoo on your back to commemorate someone?”
He paused slightly, his expression indifferent, and extinguished his cigarette. “No.”
He Can recalled the exaggerated, intense tattoo she had seen when removing his stitches earlier.
It was like a painting, depicting a vibrant cherry vine with the deepest colors and brightest strokes.
Appearing on Lu Zhou’s back, it seemed like a violent collision of two distinctly different personalities—forbidden, yet fatally attractive.
“Aren’t you soldiers not allowed tattoos?” He Can asked softly, carefully observing his expression.
“This is an exception.”
He said this and then closed his mouth, saying no more.
He Can pursed her lips and asked no further questions.
The Xinjiang aid intention report required a lot of information to be filled out. Lu Zhou sat in front of her, waiting for her to finish. He was an inherently uninteresting person and didn’t have much to say.
So, silence.
________________________________________
Shen Yihuan had a nickname in high school: Cherry.
All her friends called her that, and Shen Yihuan herself liked the nickname.
So she disliked how Lu Zhou always formally called her “Shen Yihuan,” without any intimacy. Several times she forced him to call her “Cherry,” but Lu Zhou never uttered a sound.
He didn’t tell her.
He detested those groups of people, those one or two grades above them, every one of them at the bottom of their class, who would come looking for Shen Yihuan during breaks or after school, standing at the classroom door and calling out “Cherry.”
He loathed sharing the name “Cherry” with those people, and he loathed that Shen Yihuan always gave most of her time to them. Thus, he stubbornly insisted on calling her by her full name.
Yet, by some strange coincidence after their breakup, he got a vibrant cherry vine tattooed on his back.
He savored the feeling of the tattooing machine’s sharp needle cutting through his flesh on his back.
That cherry vine.
Every night, it bloomed wildly on his back, transforming entirely into dark desire.
________________________________________
He recalled last night again, the girl’s bewildered figure as she ran upstairs after hearing his words.
Lu Zhou leaned against the chair back, curving his lips in a helpless yet cynical smile, which quickly flattened.
He first saw Shen Yihuan even earlier.
Because of his early admission, he didn’t have to take the middle school entrance exam. Those few days happened to be when the flu was rampant. He fell ill with a fever. On the evening of the last day of the middle school entrance exam, he had just left the hospital after an IV drip.
He felt terribly uncomfortable, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. Wearing a mask, his breath was trapped inside, making it even more stuffy and hot.
Suddenly, a sharp sound of a skateboard scraping against asphalt echoed from the small path.
He frowned, looking up.
Several boys and girls in middle school uniforms came by on skateboards. Because of the entrance exam, all schools were on holiday, so only graduating students would still be wearing uniforms.
He stepped aside to avoid them.
The young boys and girls passed by him like a gust of wind.
“Cherry, you’re no good today! Can’t you go faster!” The boy in the lead shouted back without turning his head, his voice loud.
Lu Zhou subconsciously looked back, not noticing another girl who appeared at the turn.
Long hair, with a loose school jacket casually draped over it. The elastic bands on the hem and cuffs had been removed, revealing a section of fair forearm. The wind outlined her slender figure. She wasn’t wearing school pants; instead, she had a pleated skirt, her long legs straight and fair, socks up to her knees, and wearing a pair of mustard yellow canvas shoes.
Her smile was bright and flamboyant, more dazzling than the sun.
“Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah!!”
Shen Yihuan didn’t see a rock on the road. Losing control for a moment, she looked up and saw a boy looking backward.
“Get out of the way!”
Unfortunately, it was too late. As soon as Lu Zhou turned his head, he was violently knocked down by a force.
He was already feverish, and a wave of dizziness and a splitting headache washed over him. As he fell, he instinctively protected the girl on top of him.
He only smelled a sweet, overwhelming fragrance, permeating his pores.
“Hiss.” Shen Yihuan frowned, supporting herself on his chest with both hands. Her eyes squinted in pain as she opened her mouth to curse, “You’re blind...”
Halfway through her words, she saw the face of the person beneath her. Although he was wearing a mask, he was exceptionally handsome. His bangs fell across his forehead, his brows slightly furrowed, and his nose was very straight.
His eyes were cold, like a rare block of ice on a summer day.
He was a handsome guy.
Shen Yihuan immediately curved her brows and leaned closer, her lips almost touching his lips beneath the mask.
“Little brother, I’m so sorry, did I hurt you?”
Lu Zhou looked at the face so close to him.
Her deer-like eyes were hazy and impossibly clear, yet carried such a charming and unrestrained smile, like a deliberate secret weapon to entice, her voice soft and sweet.
If Lu Zhou hadn’t heard that curse word blurted out earlier, he would have truly believed her deceptive facade.
“It’s fine, get up,” he said.
Shen Yihuan’s friends, hearing the noise behind them, also rushed over on their skateboards.
“Hey, what’s going on with you? How did you hit someone? Is the person okay?” her friends asked.
Shen Yihuan wasn’t embarrassed at all. She just lay on top of Lu Zhou, looked up at them, and shouted, “Go away, go away, go away! Can’t you see I’m busy with important business!”
They were startled, then realized, cursed a few times with a smile, and left first.
“I can’t get up.” Shen Yihuan switched back to her alluring tone. “My leg is bruised; you’re responsible.”
Lu Zhou looked at the face before him, momentarily lost in thought. Such affected behavior, he should have disliked it, yet he found it novel and captivating.
His daily, monotonous life had never encountered a girl like this.
Due to his father’s status, he had lived in a military compound since childhood. The expectations were high, and his life was boring. He thought this was how everyone lived until he met Shen Yihuan.
She was like a storm, a tempest that swept through his life, and Lu Zhou was left ill from then on.
He didn’t know what love at first sight was supposed to be like, only that Shen Yihuan was like a knife plunged into his exposed wound.
Decisive and ruthless.
In the end, the girl pointed to her merely reddened knee, unreasonably claiming an internal injury, and insisted that Lu Zhou give her his contact information.
He remained silent.
Shen Yihuan, having no other choice, took a pen from her bag—a pink one—and wrote her phone number on Lu Zhou’s palm, urging him to call her back.
...
The next time they met was at the start of first year high school.
Lu Zhou sat by the window. The homeroom teacher was explaining school and class rules. He lethargically half-closed his eyes, looking out the window.
Until a familiar voice reached his ears: “Report!”
He turned his head.
He saw the girl walking towards him, telling him, “Hi classmate, I’ll be your deskmate from now on!”
She didn’t recognize him. He had been wearing a mask that day.
That night, Lu Zhou dialed that number for the first time.
After connecting, he didn’t speak for a long time, listening to the lively voice on the other end say, “Who is this? If you don’t speak, I’m hanging up.”
Lu Zhou slowly opened his mouth.
“Is your leg better?”
The other end was startled. “You dialed the wrong number!” she said, then hung up.
She had long forgotten the boy she had knocked down two months ago, and now she had new prey.
What a coincidence, they were all Lu Zhou.
________________________________________
He Can finished filling out the document, printed it, and handed it to Lu Zhou. The last page still required his signature.
Lu Zhou took it, pulled a pen from his pocket—it had a pink casing—and signed his name.
This pen was the one Shen Yihuan had left behind after writing her phone number on his palm during their very first encounter.
________________________________________
Because I love you, I bow down in submission, yet you are slow to grant me your favor.
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