Chapter 5: P. Soul-Stirring

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Near the end of the semester, Ning Yixiao was elected as the new Vice Minister of the Study Department, preparing to take over from the senior who was about to graduate.

His first task upon taking office was to organize a reading and film-viewing session—an activity he didn’t consider particularly relevant to “study.”

In truth, Ning Yixiao rarely did things like reading unnecessary books or watching movies. All his time was dedicated to academics—studying for test scores. Even his motivation for running for a student union position was to earn more credits and build a network.

Professors loved students with excellent grades, and leaders like the Youth League Committee Secretary tended to favor students with strong organizational skills.

Ning Yixiao didn’t enjoy being a leader among his peers, but he was willing to do anything that would lay bricks for his faint, uncertain future. As for anything else, he had no time to waste.

The department applied for an activity room for the event, and other students used the budget to purchase books to decorate the space.

It was raining that day, and the weather was poor. Ning Yixiao enthusiastically helped them move an entire box of books inside, placing them on the shelves one by one.

“Thanks for your hard work, Yixiao. If it weren’t for you, we were planning to go to the next building to borrow a trolley.”

Ning Yixiao wore a gentle, warm smile. “It’s nothing, don’t mention it.”

The student still wouldn’t stop praising his kindness, so Ning Yixiao made an excuse, asking her to turn on the air conditioning. “It feels a bit stuffy in here.”

“Okay.”

Left alone to shelve the books, the smile on Ning Yixiao’s face faded. He quietly tore off the transparent plastic wrap, hearing an abrupt clap of thunder outside the window.

As he reached into the box for the next set, he found a line of striking text printed on the bellyband of a book:

[My whole life has been nothing but a vulgar struggle for social status.] ①

Ning Yixiao stared at it in silence for a moment, then took the bellyband off, folded it in half, and tossed it into the trash can nearby.

“Yixiao, can you help hand out the feedback cards?”

“Yeah, sure.” Ning Yixiao put the book away and turned to walk over.

The participating students filed in. Once enough people arrived to fill the small media room, Ning Yixiao stepped up to the front, smiling as he introduced the arrangements for the session and encouraged everyone to discuss the works—even though he himself felt no interest. He would have preferred to be at his part-time job, earning money to pay off his debts.

But this top-tier university never lacked students who loved literature and art. Unlike him, most people here were born with the best educational resources. These “chosen ones” didn’t need to struggle in a sea of test papers; they had plenty of time to enrich themselves.

The crowd in the seats naturally broke into small groups to share books. Ning Yixiao felt relieved; he didn’t need to worry about the reading portion. While everyone was discussing, he sat to the side, preparing his lessons on the activity room computer.

Tutoring junior high math was the source of most of his living expenses, and it was the easiest of all his part-time jobs.

“Yixiao, when are we starting the movie?” After about half the time had passed, a fellow department member named Li Cong walked over and whispered, “Shall we wait ten minutes?”

Ning Yixiao smiled, his eyes not leaving the computer screen, his tone light. “Sure.” He finished the final formula, closed the document, and stood up to clear space for Li Cong. “Did you copy it over?”

“Not yet, I’m doing it now,” Li Cong said.

With preparations ready, Ning Yixiao stood up and turned off all the lights. Li Cong clicked play, the projection screen lit up, and the film began.

It was an obscure autobiographical film—The Mirror. The opening shot was a long, slow zoom: fields blooming with blue-purple flowers like an oil painting, countryside trees and houses, a woman smoking by a fence, and an incomprehensible monologue poem.

Huge winds blew in the film—so strong that Ning Yixiao began to wonder if it was a coincidence of filming or artificial, and what method could create such a wind.

The entire field billowed like grass-waves, a sea of green.

Ning Yixiao stood against the wall next to Li Cong, watching the projection intermittently. He thought earnestly: Could it be a helicopter?

Just then, the closed door of the media room gave a soft creak. The crack of the door opened a little, and a boy walked in carefully, pulling the door shut behind him.

When he turned his head, his damp face was splashed with the psychedelic, oil-painting-like light. Perhaps because he had been running in the rain, he was breathing slightly, his chest rising and falling.

A flash of lightning outside the window illuminated his wet features with striking clarity.

Ning Yixiao felt instinctively caught by something.

The man in the film recited a Russian monologue poem with little tonal change. Subtitles scrolled:

[Every moment we are together, we celebrate as a festival; the world is only you and I.

You, lighter and braver than a bird, run down the spiral staircase, leading me through the lilacs into your territory.] ②

Ning Yixiao had missed the translation of these verses, but the later version of himself would never forget this scene of Su Hui appearing in the dim media room.

So much so that he would reconstruct this image countless times in his own mind and dreams.

Accompanying the intruder’s step-by-step movement toward the back row was not just the shifting light and shadow, but Ning Yixiao’s gaze. He hadn’t even realized he had been staring for so long until Li Cong nudged him with an elbow.

“Hey, did you see that guy?”

Li Cong’s voice was very low, mostly drowned out by the movie’s music.

Ning Yixiao lowered his head unnaturally, remaining silent for two seconds before lowering his voice to respond: “What about him?”

“The one who just walked in, Su Hui. You know him, right?” The smile on Li Cong’s face carried a hint of disdain and mockery, though it was subtle.

Ning Yixiao just shook his head, instinctively smiling along. “How could I know everyone?”

“True, you’re in Computer Science; it’s normal not to know him if you’re far apart. He’s a weirdo, really strange.”

Li Cong had used that word to describe him from the very beginning, sparking a sense of dissatisfaction in Ning Yixiao, though he didn’t show it.

Li Cong didn’t notice. Being stared at by students in the front row, he took out his phone and messaged Ning Yixiao on WeChat.

[Li Cong (Econ): He’s in my college, though not my major. He’s a Finance major. You know how stressful the Finance workload is at our school—people act like a day is 48 hours.

But him? He asks for leave all the time. Sometimes he disappears for a month or two. He even suspended his studies last year. I don’t know if he’s physically weak or just hates studying. But it’s weird—the exams he actually takes, he gets great grades.]

Ning Yixiao read the message and looked up again, instinctively glancing toward Su Hui. He was leaning back in his chair, wiping the water from his face with a tissue, staring intently at the screen. His eyes were very large.

The burning fire in the film reflected on his face. In his eyes, a layer of ambiguous red covered his overly pale complexion.

[Li Cong (Econ): Heard he doesn’t like his major. I think he applied to switch majors freshman year. It was approved, but he didn’t go. Don’t get it. Maybe that’s just the wilfulness of a little young master.]

[Ning Yixiao: A young master?]

[Li Cong (Econ): I heard from others that he was born at everyone else’s finish line. His family has power and money—I’m not sure, just heard a rumor. Regardless, his background is pretty solid. Who knows if he got into T University on his own.]

Such speculation contradicts the fact Li Cong just mentioned, Ning Yixiao thought.

If the exams he took yielded good results, he wouldn’t be someone who got in through connections.

Even though he personally loathed such people most of all.

People of all kinds in this world seem to have entered a one-way gambling game from the moment they are born. The game isn’t fair, because some are dealt a winning hand from the start, while others are stuck with rotten cards that they have to play anyway.

His phone buzzed again.

[Li Cong (Econ): Oh, and there’s something even funnier. This guy… he’s decent-looking. The weird thing is, it’s not just women who confess to him—plenty of men do too. You know that anonymous confession wall?]

Ning Yixiao replied that he didn’t; he had no time to look at such things.

Li Cong found that unbelievable and laughed.

[Li Cong (Econ): No way, you’re a regular on there. I feel like besides you, it’s mostly Little Master Su. Oh right, and that freshman named Xia who just joined your CS department—the quiet one? His military training photos are everywhere.]

Ning Yixiao remembered that freshman; he had been the one to receive him. But at this moment, his mind was entirely on Su Hui, even without looking at him.

[Li Cong (Econ): Forget the anonymous wall. Little Master was chased by a guy from the School of Humanities for months—it was like stalking. Almost blocked him in the men’s room. I’m just baffled—what’s so likable? What kind of charm does he have?]

Ning Yixiao locked his phone and stopped chatting. Li Cong didn’t talk about Su Hui again, moving on to random topics, like how his phone screen was cracked like that and he still hadn’t replaced it.

But Ning Yixiao’s attention had already been completely diverted.

In the dim environment of the media room, Su Hui sat alone in the last row, appearing isolated from the others—quiet and focused.

He had a face that was easy to remember.

Ning Yixiao used to think he would never describe a man as “pretty” or “beautiful,” but now he corrected his perception: Su Hui could be described exactly that way.

The thoughts derived from the gossip left Ning Yixiao unable to focus on the movie.

When the film ended and quiet discussions began, he finally snapped out of it, performing his routine duty like the other department members: collecting the feedback cards from their hands.

Perhaps due to some subconscious drive, Ning Yixiao walked toward the row where Su Hui was sitting, receiving cards from the first row back. He kept a smile on his face, looking sunny and friendly enough.

Until he finally stood next to Su Hui. On his desk sat a book, which he seemed to have just taken from the shelf nearby.

“Classmate, have you finished your feedback card?”

Su Hui looked up, his gaze meeting Ning Yixiao’s. His eyes were innocent. “I didn’t, no.”

His tone was pleasant, the end of his sentence rising slightly, sounding very harmless.

Only then did Ning Yixiao suddenly remember. “Sorry, I forgot you arrived late. I’ll give you a card now.”

He turned, intending to go to the podium, but unexpectedly felt his shirt hem tugged by Su Hui.

“Wait a second.”

Ning Yixiao turned back, first glancing down at his tugged hem, then looking up at Su Hui.

Su Hui let go and laughed. “You’re too fast.”

Seeing him flip open the book in front of him, Ning Yixiao noticed there was a tissue tucked inside.

“Here.” He handed the tissue with writing on it to Ning Yixiao, his smiling eyes very cute. “This is my feedback card.”

“Thanks.” The soft paper was still damp, misty and moist just like him, with beautiful, clear ballpoint handwriting.

Ning Yixiao keenly captured the content:

[I really like the wind in the movie.]

“You’re welcome,” Su Hui said softly.

The people in the media room left one by one, leaving only a sparse few.

This time, after taking the tissue, Ning Yixiao didn’t leave immediately. He couldn’t say why; he just lingered unconsciously until Li Cong called his name.

“Yixiao, are you done collecting?”

“Yeah.” Ning Yixiao turned to respond. The moment he intended to leave, Su Hui stood up too.

He heard Su Hui say very lightly: “Do you want my contact information?”

Ning Yixiao’s footsteps faltered. He thought he had misheard, so he turned to look at Su Hui, his eyes revealing surprise. “What?”

Su Hui didn’t repeat it, only giving him a childish, naive smile.

For a moment, Ning Yixiao had a hallucination.

The two of them were standing on an empty grassy field, with a helicopter’s rotors spinning rapidly above their heads.

The massive wind blew the scent of rain from Su Hui’s body, along with his unreachable, noble beauty, briefly into Ning Yixiao’s chest.

“You were staring at me for a long time just now.”

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Author’s note:

It’s love at first sight.

(Su Hui is currently in a hypomanic phase; you can look up bipolar disorder or manic-depressive illness for specifics.)

①: From the Neapolitan Novels.

②: From the film The Mirror (Tarkovsky).