Eighteenth Years of Spring

第二十八年春

eighteenth-years-of-spring

Life (5)

When Yu Hao and Zhao Dailin walked out of the lobby, they saw Lu Huaizheng, Lin Chang, and a few others gathered around a white Audi, smoking and chatting.


 The dim yellow streetlight enveloped his tall figure. He leaned against the white car door, his frame appearing exceptionally slender and neat. A black suit jacket was casually draped over the wrist of the hand he had tucked in his pocket. The habit hadn't changed, just like how he used to hang his school uniform. He didn't like wearing the school uniform, always hanging it on his wrist or shoulder. With an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, he was lowering his head to borrow a light from Lin Chang opposite him. Lin Chang cupped his hands around the lighter to light it for him. The two said something to each other and both laughed.


 He leaned back, finding a more comfortable position to rest against, the cigarette between his fingertips glowing intermittently. Most of the time, his smile was gentle, but if the topic veered into R-rated territory, his smile would carry a hint of rakish charm, exceptionally alluring, just like a moment ago.


 During Yu Hao's sophomore year, she took a course on applied psychology. The professor said that if you haven't seen someone for a long time and you miss them very much, you can deduce what they would be like ten years later based on their old habits.


 As the saying goes, "a three-year-old predicts the man, a seven-year-old the adult," and by seventeen, one's adult way of thinking is basically set.


 Following his seventeen-year-old image, Yu Hao had once deduced what the twenty-seven-year-old Lu Huaizheng would be like—


 She wrote down his past traits and habits on a piece of paper.


 He had an extreme preference for black and white.


 He loved to travel and had been to many places. He had once told her about a hundred secrets hidden in various corners of the world. Even though Yu Hao was well-read, she had never heard of those bizarre stories. Every time she listened to his explanations, she was filled with amazement.


 He got along well with everyone, was good to everyone, and was best to her.


 His thoughts weren't pure, and he was full of dirty jokes.


 He attracted women.


 He liked racing, chasing speed and thrills.


 So perhaps, during his travels, he would run into a woman who made his heart flutter, and then have a one-night stand.


 After Yu Hao finished writing, she tore the paper to shreds and angrily threw it into the trash.


 She felt that her skills were poor, that she had let down Professor Han and disgraced her academic lineage. Her years of studying psychology had been for nothing, only producing such unsightly deductions.


 The night was vast, the wind rustled through the trees, and the sky seemed to hide black ink, thick and deep.


 Zhao Dailin stood shoulder to shoulder with Yu Hao, looking at the group of men under the streetlight not far away, and let out a long sigh. "Although you're a strange girl, sometimes I really envy you. Truly. You're beautiful and smart, just your emotional intelligence isn't very high."


 Yu Hao gave her a suspicious look. "Envy me?"


 Yu Hao really didn't think there was anything about her to be envious of. She had a straightforward personality, wasn't tactful, couldn't gloss things over with people, wasn't a sweet-talker, and was even less capable of flattery and sucking up.


 The last time the institute had a dinner, she had nearly offended the dean with a single sentence.


 At that time, Yu Hao had just had an academic paper on applied psychology accepted by an international academic journal and had also received an email from Professor Marcy Eddie. The gist of it was that he had read her published paper, was very impressed and surprised, and had asked Yu Hao for her other publicly published academic papers.


 During the dinner, the dean couldn't help but bring it up. "Our Yu Hao is usually so quiet, but when she does something, she does something big for our institute!" After speaking, he patted the shoulder of Professor Han next to him. "Old Han, you shouldn't keep Yu Hao cooped up in the lab all the time. Let her get out more. I hear she's almost twenty-eight? Still no boyfriend? You're being too irresponsible as her mentor."


 Professor Han smiled amiably, and just as he was about to speak, Yu Hao interrupted, "I quite like staying in the lab."


 The dean immediately felt that this young lady was socially inept. If it were one of the young ladies from the neighboring institute, she would have beamed and agreed, taking the opportunity to ask the dean to help introduce her to a boyfriend and get closer to him.


 Zhao Dailin couldn't help but kick her at the time. Yu Hao belatedly realized that she had embarrassed the dean in front of so many people, but the words were already out, what was done was done, and there was no use regretting it. So she simply didn't think about it anymore.


 Professor Han quickly smoothed things over. "She's still young, no rush."


 The dean thought to himself, 'Young? She's pushing thirty.' He shook his head, feeling that this girl was really unlikable.


 To put it nicely, she was artless. To put it bluntly, she had low emotional intelligence.


 They say people who study psychology have high EQ and know how to behave, but Yu Hao was a special case who was simply impervious to reason.


 Zhao Dailin lowered her head and took out a cigarette, placing it between her lips. After patting herself down and finding no lighter, she took the cigarette out of her mouth, turned to her, and said, "All those people in our psychology institute are sharp as tacks, so how did we end up with an oddball like you? Don't they say people who study psychology have high EQ?"


 "They also say everyone who studies psychology has had a psychological illness. Have you?" Yu Hao's retort was incredibly self-righteous. "What you're saying is just nonsense. What's the difference between that and saying someone who studied medicine will never get sick? You can't be so prejudiced."


 Besides, Yu Hao's major was lie detection. Lie detection required directness, without so many twists and turns.


 Zhao Dailin finally found her lighter, lowered her head to light up, and took a drag. "Don't give me that spiel. I'm asking you, are you really not going to go over and say hello?" After she spoke, her gaze drifted pointedly in a certain direction.


 The men over there were about done talking and getting ready to leave.


 Zhao Dailin gave her a final shove on the arm. "Seize the opportunity! This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance."


 But Yu Hao suddenly held out her hand to her.


 Zhao Dailin was stunned. "What for?"


 "A cigarette."


 Zhao Dailin pulled one out from the pack and handed it over, muttering, "Do you even know how to smoke?"


 Yu Hao glanced at her, skillfully placed it between her lips, then lowered her head, cupping the flame to light it. Her lips were beautifully shaped with clear lines. With the slender cigarette held between them, her eyes were exceptionally clear.


 Zhao Dailin was reminded of a saying—


 The beauty of a woman: the lowest level of beauty is in the skin, the middle level is in the spirit, and the highest level is in the demeanor. She felt that Yu Hao was currently at the middle level.


 Yu Hao's smoking history was perhaps even longer than Zhao Dailin's.


 She started smoking in high school, but had quit in recent years and didn't touch it much. She usually didn't have cravings. On the rare occasion she did, she would suck on a candy and browse through some research papers, and time would fly by. Everyone said quitting smoking was hard, but she found it quite easy.


 After finishing a cigarette, Yu Hao was clear-headed and turned to go to her car.


 Zhao Dailin called out, "Hey!" and hurried after her. "You're really not going?"


 ...


 After missing the chance to acknowledge each other that night, Yu Hao didn't expect to see Lu Huaizheng again at the Military Region.


 Two weeks later, there was a lecture on psychological guidance at the Air Force Unit. Yu Hao was responsible for Professor Han's speech and managing the PowerPoint presentation, so she sat beside Professor Han at the front. Looking down at the sea of heads in the audience, she spotted him at a glance.


 He was sitting in the middle of the first row next to a square-faced middle-aged man, dressed in a proper military uniform, the buttons meticulously fastened from bottom to top. The collar was perfectly positioned just below his Adam's apple. He was sitting unusually upright and proper, a stark contrast to his lazy demeanor at the wedding banquet. Yu Hao remembered how he looked when he played basketball many years ago; he didn't seem to care about anything, but he was quite serious when it came to playing ball.


 Yu Hao had even teased him, saying that if he were ever this serious about his studies, he could get into Tsinghua or Peking University.


 They were on the basketball court at the time. He demonstrated a beautiful and clean three-step layup for her, then smiled as he caught the ball back. "What's the big deal about Tsinghua or Peking University? So what if I get in? Learning is a lifelong process, understand? What, do you want to get into Tsinghua or Peking University?"


 "Why are you asking?"


 He stood outside the free-throw line, raised his hand, squinted slightly, and leaped a short distance off the ground. While aiming, he said to her nonchalantly, "Whichever city you want to go to for university, tell me in advance."


 "Why should I tell you?"


 He held his breath and shot the ball. He landed lightly, watching as the ball steadily swished through the hoop, spun a few times, and hit the ground. Then, he used his dirty, ball-handling hand to gently pat the back of her head, his eyes full of 'are you stupid?': "To scout it out in advance, see if there are any universities nearby that I can get into."


 Yu Hao had ignored him at the time, but those words had frequently popped into her mind over the past few years.


 Mrs. Feng was right, twenty-eight is indeed a hurdle for a woman, and this hurdle of hers was proving a bit difficult to cross.


 Lu Huaizheng stared at Professor Han for the entire speech. The middle-aged man beside him would whisper in his ear from time to time, and he would slightly lower his head, leaning his ear over, his expression respectful and compliant as he listened. Occasionally, his gaze would shift to her. Yu Hao didn't shy away and met his eyes, but he would quickly look away, only for his gaze to unconsciously drift back over a few minutes later.


 After this happened several times, Yu Hao started to get a little flustered.


 In psychology, they say that if someone is frequently staring at you, don't overthink it; it might just be that you didn't wash your face properly when you left the house this morning.


 Yu Hao's internal monologue at that moment was beyond complicated—


 'Did I mess up my eyeliner? Or is there a vegetable leaf on my front tooth? But I haven't even spoken, and I don't have buck teeth. I really want to take out a mirror to check. But there are so many pairs of eyes down there. If I get up and go to the restroom now, there'll be no one to manage Professor Han's PPT.'


 Just as Yu Hao was still debating whether to pluck up the courage to say something to Professor Han, Lu Huaizheng's gaze slid over again.


 Yu Hao subconsciously raised a hand to touch her face.


 As a result, he first turned away with a straight face, then lowered his head a few seconds later. And then, Yu Hao noticed his shoulders twitch twice. Finally, she realized he was actually holding back laughter, holding it in so hard his shoulders were shaking.


 That expression was exactly the same smug look he had whenever he successfully played a prank on someone.


 The middle-aged man next to him glanced over. "Be serious." His voice wasn't stern, but quite gentle.


 Only then did Lu Huaizheng suppress his smile, feigning a light cough. After that, he didn't look at her again, and began to listen to Professor Han's lecture with a straight face.


 Yu Hao tilted the laptop screen on the table up a bit, completely blocking that annoying face from view, not stopping until not even a single strand of his hair was visible.

Eighteenth Years of Spring

Eighteenth Years of Spring

Chapter 5 - Life (5)

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