Chapter 115: Bian Yang, Can't I Be Your Girlfriend?

Summer holds a special significance for Chinese children and families.

June is no longer a monotonous month; the high school entrance exams, college entrance exams, graduations, and the first steps into society’s workforce—all the major life transitions—almost invariably occur during this hot and restless season.

From June 7th to 8th, roads near the county exam centers were closed off.

Bian Yang and Tang Yu were assigned to different exam venues—he to Qingyuan, she to Beiyuan.

On the afternoon of the 8th, they agreed to meet at the flower shop nestled between their two high schools after finishing the final English exam.

The scorching afternoon heat rolled in waves, striking faces with its intensity, dappled by the shifting shadows of trees.

The camphor leaves wilted under the sun, shyly curling inward.

A few foraging sparrows hopped on the scorching asphalt before leaping up onto the power lines, peering down at the anxious yet quiet crowd gathered outside the school gates.

Everything unfolded in hushed stillness: only occasional whispers and the rustling leaves stirred by the breeze.

Everyone knew that this group of teenagers, unprepared for the weight of adulthood, was painstakingly inscribing the unique answers and decisions that would shape their lives.

When the bell rang, proctors signaled the students to put down their pens, placing their English exam papers and answer sheets at the upper right corner of their desks.

The exam ended abruptly; a flood of students poured out through the gates.

Parents, hearing the noise, tiptoed eagerly, gazing from afar at their children.

Several county reporters had already raised their cameras, capturing images of these fresh, youthful faces.

Whether joy or sorrow, cheer or despair—these moments had already passed into memory.

Among the bustling crowd, a tall youth pushed through the throng, recklessly sprinting in a certain direction.

The summer wind was gentle, the cicadas calm.

Sunlight filtered through his jet-black hair, casting fragmented beams; his brows and eyes were carefree, his figure glowing with dazzling brilliance.

Reporters immediately aimed their cameras at him, but he ran swiftly, the hot wind flowing through his white shirt, as if wrapped in the most grand secret of youth.

At nineteen, amidst the clattering wind and human tide, he was like a blazing sun, as if rushing toward a magnificent rendezvous amid the clamor.

The final shot barely caught the youth’s back, leaving behind a grainy, almost noisy photograph.

Yet Bian Yang did not expect that though he ran so fast, he was still a step behind her.

A breeze stirred the hem of her white dress; the young girl stood quietly at the flower shop’s entrance, beads of sweat shining on her forehead—a clear sign she had run all the way here.

The youth’s gaze was fixed unwaveringly upon her, his chest rising and falling slightly; he involuntarily slowed his pace.

The summer cicadas sang long and clear; the breeze fluttered gently.

The girl’s hair lifted softly in the air.

In the way their eyes met, every beautiful moment seemed frozen in time.

As Blaise Pascal said, “Summer is the season of spontaneity and irrationality; thus, the romance that blooms in summer is more intense than that of all other seasons combined.”

Is this not the very moment when a single glance can reveal the fluttering heartbeat within?

Is this not the moment when a single look can express boundless cherishing?

Is this not the moment when a single glance can eagerly confess a heart full of love?

Bian Yang approached the young girl, his gaze burning brightly.

She breathed lightly, tilting her head to look at him; her dark eyes were clear and pure.

Unbeknownst to herself, her bangs had been dampened by sweat, sticking clumsily to the side of her face.

He reached out, brushing aside the stray strands tangled by the wind, making her ticklish. After a moment, a low, muffled chuckle welled up from his chest.

The girl watched him quietly for a moment, then covered her stomach and laughed along.

Their laughter rippled through the summer air, composing the sweetest melody.

After a moment, Bian Yang tapped her gently on the head with his fingertip, the smile fading from his lips.

“Tang Xiaoyu, what’s your deal? How come you’re faster than me?”

She curved her eyes into a crescent, the thin sweat on her forehead wiped away tenderly by him, her smile radiant.

“Did you forget my exam room was the closest building to the school gate?”

So, the moment she handed in her paper, she ran straight out.

Tang Yu was the first girl to burst out of the school.

Her hair tousled by the wind, veiling her face but unable to conceal the sparkle in her smiling eyes.

Her eagerness to see him was more intense than ever.

So she cut through the hot wind and the crowd, heading straight to him.

Bian Yang’s whole heart was like a sponge soaked in spring water.

He bent slightly to look at her, curling his lips into a mischievous grin, teasing, “So you ran so fast just to see me?”

The girl looked at him unblinkingly, her gaze clear and unwavering, nodding with all her might.

His Adam’s apple bobbed slightly.

Damn it, she was teasing him.

“If you say that, I might mistake you for my girlfriend.”

He pinched her cheek with two fingers, drawing out the words in a half-joking tone.

Then she blinked slowly, her eyes bright as stars, as if brewing something delicate, for the next words required careful handling.

“Am I not?”

At the sound of her soft voice, the boy’s hand froze on her cheek.

The breeze brushed gently over his face, and his heartbeat faltered.

He stared at her blankly, eyes suddenly wet, “Say that again, if you dare.”

For a moment, a subtle, fiery tension seemed to pass between them.

Those words had already taken great courage; to say them again was a little embarrassing.

He wasn’t listening properly, was he?

After a long pause, Tang Yu summoned her courage again, lightly tapping his arm with her finger, speaking cautiously but firmly:

“I mean...”

Their dark eyes met, her heart pounding heavily before she exhaled softly, each word clear and deliberate:

“Bian Yang, may I be your girlfriend?”

Everything around them slowed down.

The girl’s eyes held both hope and nervousness.

Bian Yang’s Adam’s apple moved up and down; a surreal sense of disbelief washed over him.

If only his eyes were cameras, he could capture every second of this moment.

Then repeatedly check a thousand times that he hadn’t misheard.

After what felt like an eternity, Bian Yang snapped back from his drifting thoughts, licking his lips to conceal his unease.

Listening to the clear rhythm of his own heartbeat, his gaze fixed on her, he spoke carefully:

“Tang Xiaoyu.”

Tang Yu lifted her face to meet his.

“Aren’t you afraid…” he pretended to be calm, “that I won’t score six hundred?”

Tang Yu paused, blinking.

“Alright then,” she said, “if you don’t make the cut, I’ll take back what I just said...”

“No way!” Bian Yang cut in without hesitation. “I will! Let’s check the answers right now!”

His grip on her wrist tightened slightly as he pulled the girl along to return.

Tang Yu let him lead her forward, watching his hurried back with an inexplicable urge to laugh.

“Bian Yang.”

The boy turned his head; the girl’s sweet, soft voice mingled with the summer cicadas.

“Actually, no matter how many points you get, it doesn’t matter. What I like...” she looked at him seriously, pausing with each word, “is you—the person—not those scores...”

Was that clear enough, you fool?

“When I came, I booked two movie tickets. So, I wonder if I have the honor to invite my boyfriend to watch it with me?”

She shook her phone playfully.

She was already sweet by nature, but now, laughing so unabashedly, it was like pouring honey straight into his heart.

Not just sweet, but warm.

Or perhaps it was just the fierce sunlight.

He felt as though he might melt from the heat.