The alarm rang with the note “Go to the amusement park with Mingyue.”
Right.
Originally, he and Bai Mingyue had agreed to go to the amusement park.
Bai Mingyue’s name was like a lifeline to him.
—Yes, I like Bai Mingyue. For all these years, I’ve always liked Bai Mingyue. Whether in past life or this one, only Mingyue. A… Gao Gusheng is just a passerby.
In this lifetime, he liked Bai Mingyue, and only Bai Mingyue.
After thinking this over several times, he felt much better. He quickly got up, gathered his things, and hurried to their agreed meeting place.
Normally, when did Gui Yan ever wait for others? It was always others waiting for him. But when it came to Bai Mingyue, he was happy to do so.
He arrived moments before Bai Mingyue did too.
Bai Mingyue was dressed in white again today. White always made people feel cool and distant, but when Bai Mingyue looked up and smiled at him, it felt like the entire winter became warm with that smile.
Gui Yan’s heart pounded like drums. It was when Bai Mingyue stood on that podium with that carefree smile that he was deeply attracted, and from then on, it was love at first sight and complete obsession.
“Mingyue.”
“Have you been waiting long?”
“No, I just arrived not long ago too.”
Bai Mingyue walked to a beautifully decorated stall in the amusement park, bought two ice creams, and handed Gui Yan his favorite cocoa flavor.
“Thank you for coming to the amusement park with me. At my age, coming here—isn’t it a bit childish?” Bai Mingyue licked his ice cream while looking at the bustling crowd and smiling.
Gui Yan’s gaze swept over his pink tongue. When suddenly called upon, he shook his head frantically with red ears, “What’s childish about it? I like it here too. I wanted to come play originally.”
As if covering something up, he took a big bite of ice cream and exhaled white mist in the early winter air.
They played wildly together in the amusement park. When tired, they each held milk tea, clinked cups, and smiled at each other while catching their breath.
They sat on a park bench, and Bai Mingyue bought a helium balloon tied to his wrist.
Looking at the children’s smiling faces on the carousel, he said, “Actually, it’s funny to say. Though I talk about amusement parks confidently, I never came to one as a child. You’re the first person to accompany me here.”
He met Gui Yan’s surprised smile with slightly pink cheeks, looking somewhat embarrassed.
“My mother was weak, my father had to manage family affairs—they rarely had time to take me out to play. My brother is the family’s eldest son with heavy responsibilities, so he also had no time to come out with me.”
“When classmates talked about going places and playing games, I would follow along to see. Mom gave me plenty of pocket money—enough to try every attraction in the amusement park. But when I got there and saw that most people came in groups of three to five or in pairs, the amusement park suddenly didn’t seem so interesting anymore.”
Bai Mingyue’s words stirred Gui Yan’s memories—they were so similar.
Back then, he too only had money from his parents but no companionship. The spiritual emptiness led him to extreme sports. Later, after falling in love with Bai Mingyue at first sight, he began trying to understand racing and was attracted by the thrill it gave him.
Looking at Bai Mingyue’s profile, his heart beat faster and faster. He knew those were two similar hearts attracting each other.
He was almost about to blurt out to Bai Mingyue: From now on, let’s come to amusement parks together. Whenever you call me, I’ll always be there.
But the next instant, he suddenly remembered seeming to have said similar words to someone before.
…
A Yue had a thin frame, wearing simple and cheap clothes, but his smile was still brilliant.
“Mm, though I grew up in the orphanage, Director Mom would take us to play together too.”
“I’ve never been to an amusement park, but I worked part-time there for a while.”
“There’s a TV in the orphanage. Though it’s a bit old, the picture is still very clear. Sometimes we’d gather around to watch TV together. It could only receive a few channels, but for us back then, even commercials were interesting.”
A Yue smiled somewhat shyly, scratching his head as a faint blush appeared on his soft cheeks.
“I still remember the commercial jingle.”
“Golden City Amusement Park, a harbor where families gather.”
“I always wanted to play there once, so when looking for part-time work, I found a job at the amusement park. Though I couldn’t play those rides, when I wore the mascot costume handing out balloons, I could see many children laughing happily, and I found that part-time job very interesting too.”
When A Yue spoke of this, his gaze held longing. His eyes were bright, completely unlike the defeated look when he’d first found him.
At that time, Gui Yan felt as if his chest had been struck—not painful, but indescribably bitter.
He thought A Yue’s smile was extremely beautiful and wanted that smile to stay on A Yue’s face a bit longer.
So Gui Yan blurted out, “It’s just an amusement park. When I have time, I’ll take you there.”
Then he saw A Yue look up and smile at him.
His A Yue had an exquisite appearance, and the hardships he’d experienced hadn’t diminished him in the slightest.
When he smiled, it reminded one of vast flower fields in sunlight, with countless blossoms swaying in the gentle breeze across mountains and valleys.
“…A Yan, A Yan?”
Gui Yan snapped to attention, returning from his memories to see Bai Mingyue looking at him with concern.
“What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”
Gui Yan pressed his lips together and looked away, “No, nothing. I just remembered some things.”
So they continued playing in the amusement park, but Gui Yan couldn’t help thinking of A Yue from his dream—shy yet radiant in his smile.
He involuntarily compared A Yue with Bai Mingyue. Though Bai Mingyue had no companionship, at least his parents never shorted him on allowance. But A Yue grew up in an orphanage from childhood—not to mention playing, even food and clothing barely met minimum standards.
Yet even so, he remained optimistic and upbeat, like a blade of grass breaking free from stone cracks, radiating vigorous vitality.
Compared to A Yue, wasn’t Mingyue a bit too…
When this thought suddenly popped into his mind, he startled himself. They were preparing to ride the roller coaster, and because he was in a daze, he almost forgot to fasten his safety belt.
The roller coaster carried them into the air, then plunged downward at high speed.
Screams and laughter from around them echoed in his ears.
He turned to look at Bai Mingyue’s profile. Bai Mingyue was smiling with slightly curved eyes. Sensing his gaze, he turned back—the person who had once captivated his heart was right before him.
This person before him should be the one he liked.
Why was he demanding Bai Mingyue be like A Yue? They weren’t from the same social class to begin with. Mingyue was expensive jewelry that should be placed on soft silk and treasured in someone’s palm. A Yue was just a pendant ground from stone that you could buy for two yuan on the roadside—fine for playing with briefly for novelty, but ultimately couldn’t compare to real jade.
He and Mingyue both liked extreme sports. They were of the same class, had common topics, understood each other’s thoughts and ideas—one look was enough to know each other’s hearts.
They should be a match made in heaven.
But why did he remember when he taught A Yue to drive, supporting A Yue’s hands and gradually controlling the gear shift to accelerate—A Yue’s fingertips were slightly cool.
From then on, whenever he went to compete, A Yue’s gaze was always filled with worry.
These emotions were well concealed, hidden beneath smiles, making them difficult for him to discern.
Or perhaps he had never truly looked at him properly.
Until later, when they made love, he didn’t know his own strength and once again made A Yue faint. A Yue’s face bore a flush, yet he quietly shed tears. He thought it was because his actions were too rough and had hurt A Yue.
But the semi-conscious A Yue reached out to gently embrace him, murmuring.
“I’m so scared.”
Gui Yan softly comforted him, asking why he was afraid and what he feared.
A Yue’s tears wouldn’t stop falling. He just shook his head. When pressed urgently, he said through tears that he was afraid Gui Yan would get hurt in racing competitions.
Hearing this, Gui Yan only found it laughable, treating it as a joke that passed without taking root in his heart. But why was he remembering it now?
The thrill the roller coaster gave him was far less than racing. He and Bai Mingyue took no rest and headed toward the bungee jump next. They reveled in the amusement park, playing every attraction, finally boarding the Ferris wheel as night fell.
According to plan, he should confess to Bai Mingyue again here when the Ferris wheel reached its peak.
But looking through the Ferris wheel window at the flickering lights below, he thought instead that in his past life, even until he and A Yue completely fell out, he had never brought him here.
And that amusement park called “Golden City” had long since become desolate.
…
Stars filled the sky.
Bai Mingyue and Gui Yan walked back together, walking side by side in silence—neither speaking.
After a long while, Bai Mingyue finally said, “Gui Yan, do you have something on your mind?”
“Hm?” Gui Yan instinctively turned his head.
Bai Mingyue looked somewhat worried, “Today you seemed a bit… like you were thinking about something?”
Bai Mingyue’s smile, perhaps due to the darkness, seemed somewhat dim, making Gui Yan’s heart ache.
Gui Yan quickly said, “I just… just had some things happen at home. I suddenly learned about it and still can’t quite adapt. Did it affect you? Sorry.”
Bai Mingyue bore one point of resemblance to Gao Gusheng—at the corners of his eyes.
It was this one point of similarity—normally hard to notice without careful observation—that made Gui Yan think more and more often of his dream A Yue when facing Bai Mingyue.
“Sorry, Mingyue. I have some things to handle. I’ll go first.”
Gui Yan left in haste, afraid that continuing to look at Bai Mingyue would make his thoughts even more chaotic.
Bai Mingyue watched Gui Yan’s retreating figure, his expression unreadable.
***
Another month passed, and final exams drew closer. The atmosphere at college grew increasingly tense.
Beijing University’s exams were always strict, and this year students received additional news—this semester’s questions would be set by the “Deadly Four Kings,” with proctoring by the “Devil F4.”
Last semester, countless students failed under the first king’s hand. When grades came out, there were wails everywhere. This time all four kings would appear together—surely there would be rivers of blood, with Beijing University turning completely red.
After finishing one exam, there was a student with answer sheets scattered around, wildly pulling open their down jacket zipper and shouting loudly: “My fate is in my hands, not heaven’s!”
There was a student on the playground holding a guitar, raising his arms and yelling, “First came higher mathematics, then came heaven! Teachers are beautiful as fairy paintings! Through mountains and waters there’s always love—please give me one more point!”
And there were young couples hugging each other urgently like star-crossed lovers separated by the Queen Mother, causing tons of damage to passing single dogs.
For Gao Gusheng, a mere final exam was a piece of cake. But while he wasn’t nervous, someone beside him was pulling him into nervousness.
Zhou Jing looked at the political theory textbook before him like facing a formidable enemy, cautiously confirming with Gao Gusheng again and again, “I just need to memorize these? Do I need to memorize all of these? Must it be word-for-word perfect? Can I answer in my own words?”
Sun Jun, who had spent half the semester flying around to art exhibitions in various places, looked at the liberal arts courses before him with blackened vision. He buried his head in intense study, with dark circles under his eyes, completely different from his previous refined gentleman artist image.
Yun Zhiyi was multitasking—reviewing while handling student council affairs—making people curious whether she would get her wires crossed when answering exam questions.
“Labor is a special commodity… Hello? Mm, credit organization matters aren’t urgent, we’ll discuss after next semester… The use value of labor commodities is… Hello? Cheating disciplinary action? Cheating penalties specifically refer to Article 3 of school regulations. Anyone who covers it up will be dealt with equally… Use value is the source of value… Hello? Of course the library is open, so is the rooftop… What?! A student went up to the rooftop?!”
Everyone looked at Yun Zhiyi’s phone in unison.
A student’s voice came trembling from the phone.
“Teacher, the wind on the rooftop is so strong, I’m so scared…” TAT
***
Sam Williams On TYMIMA Chapter 152