For me, it wasn’t until 5:00 PM on July 2, 2022, after submitting my college preference form, that my high school years truly came to an end.
Looking back three years later, I don’t regret choosing Wuzhong High School. Perhaps many years from now, that less-traveled path will seem even more enticing, but who can say which choice was right or wrong? Back then, I was so resolute. Though the reasons have since faded like smoke, I still respect that earnest young version of myself.
In this yellow-wood forest, we stumbled along together, bound by fate for three years. The laughter and tears have gradually drifted away with the water, but the trees we planted remain, casting deep shadows. Whose warm greetings still echo in my ears? I was the “big brother,” the “chubby kid,” the chemistry class representative of Class 2, the hopeful gazer in the pavilion, the wandering bard of poetry. People and scenes came and went, yet I remained myself.
I never truly belonged to any clique, nor did I ever make enemies with anyone. Maybe I inadvertently hurt someone, or perhaps warmed another’s heart. If so, please accept my apologies and pass along your gratitude. We drift along in our own destinies, yet we’re also part of others’ fates. If we can’t change our own destiny, then, if possible, let’s be kinder to others and to this world.
Fan Bingbing is a good person—without his tolerance and understanding, I would have long grown numb. All the other teachers also fulfilled their duties diligently. Though there were conflicts and biases in the past, now only the deep, quiet warmth of understanding remains. I got along fairly well with my classmates (I think), and many helped me in one way or another, whether materially or emotionally. I won’t say clichés like “I’ll remember this forever,” but if needed in the future, I’ll do my best to repay the kindness.
The brothers in my dorm each had their own quirks, all talented and promising. From now on, the members of Room 105 will go their separate ways. Stay well, and don’t worry about “big brother.” If any of you make it big someday, don’t forget your brothers. We don’t need riches—just a chance to share some barbecue together. Alright, enough sentimentality. Once again, I wish you all youthful success and love.
The only redeeming quality of Wuzhong is its high air quality—clouds by day, stars by night. I arrived with the morning sun and left under the moonlight. Back then, the sky was full of stars, the willow branches swayed by the pond, and the gentle breeze carried away all my worries. The rest isn’t worth mentioning: the bland cafeteria, the doorless toilets, the naturally slippery tiles, the relocated trash bins… You can only badmouth your alma mater yourself—no one else gets to say a word. Though we always complained, “Trash Wuzhong, ruining my youth,” leaving still tugged at my heartstrings. Shoutout to the grandpa at the first serving window on the second floor of the cafeteria—he never skimped on portions, ensuring this poor kid could eat his fill. Wuzhong can’t do without grandpa, just as the West can’t lose Jerusalem!
The last time I visited Wuzhong, I happened to pass by a few classes having P.E. The boys were rushing to claim the courts with badminton rackets and basketballs, so full of youthful energy that I suddenly felt old. That was a youth I could never return to. How long will the shuttlecock Gcc hit onto the indoor basketball court’s frame gather dust there? Countless footprints and sweat stains mark the red track. The flowers on the hill must be in full bloom now, but where are those who once admired them? The wind from Wushan Lake blows and blows, turning spring green, summer red, autumn gold, and winter white.
A single lingering glance—
Like a breeze swirling in my palm,
Turning into mist that fills the sky.
Summer’s essence is thick.
Though time flies like a fleeting steed,
When dusk fades and night descends,
Pluck the brightest star.
I wander the world, pausing now and then.
Life is like a long pilgrimage—
Gifting me regrets, yet also surprises,
And countless scenes along the way.
July 4, 2022
Lonely Kite
As a gentle breeze brushes my face,
And clouds paint the sky.
When will I have a drink and discuss the details again?