Memory is a curious craft. It rivals design and creation.

Before it’s netted from the river of memory, a recollection is unknown.

You don’t know if the wet shard you catch got sanded smooth by Time’s torrent, its shape lost to the current.

When you start recalling, the past already tastes different. It’s salted and sweetened by your mood, like tea steeped too long.

If you’re riding joy now, the scene takes bright paint. If you crave saving, it veils itself in despair’s gauze.

There’s that saying: childhood wasn’t that magical. It’s just gone and unreachable, so you hang every pretty lantern on it to mourn your youth. That line proves the point.

And yet.

No matter how many bricks you add, how much color you smear, you only sway your own recollection. Facts lie downstream, stone-cold, beyond blessing or curse.

Like a mirror. Smear pigment on the glass and your reflection shifts hues. The object stays untouched. Even the reflection dodges your fingers.

As people understand it, Time runs one way. It won’t—and shouldn’t—flow backward.

“It’s not going to—and it shouldn’t run backward.”

She said it while standing on the railing of the teaching block, looking down like a swallow at the eaves.

...

...

But.

Every rule has an exception.

As I said just now—won’t flow backward—

“That’s what people understand.”

She said it in a café, gaze through glass, watching the boy in the “distance” like a star seen across a river.

...

...

Bang.

Fireworks opened in a chain, soft and tingling, like flowers uncurling petals in the night sky.

Under that flicker, a cold wind came from far off. It slipped between the standing classroom blocks. It lifted the fallen leaves at Yexiaobai’s feet and his hair.

His eyes flew wide. In the fluttering light in his pupils, a long-haired girl fell from the sky.

...

“Hold on!”

“Huh?”

Li Hang stared at Yexiaobai. “Fell from the sky? You sure you weren’t looking for a magical girl?”

“I hadn’t finished. Why rush me?” Yexiaobai scowled. “Of course I mis-saw her. It was dark. The streetlight behind the music room was dead. Without that instant when Lantern Festival fireworks lit up, I couldn’t even tell boy or girl. Thinking back, she must have jumped from the second-floor window of the music room.”

“Mm. That could be.” Li Hang blinked and nodded on reflex. But something itched in his chest. The pieces didn’t sit right.

He saw Yexiaobai draw breath to go on and held his tongue.

...

Just as Yexiaobai hadn’t expected to meet anyone in the narrow, shadowed slice between the music hall and the outer wall at midnight.

That girl who fell from the sky hadn’t expected to meet anyone like that, either.

In that flash, Yexiaobai saw her. Midair, surprise flickered across her face for one second. Then, after she saw him, it vanished like dew.

Or maybe—

The fireworks died. The world slid back into dark.

He couldn’t see again. He only sensed her land and turn. She walked away over crushed leaves and wild grass, as if he were air, as if his shock had no words.

Her windblown hair brushed his lashes. A clean scent broke over his breath like spring water.

Boom!

Right then, the brightest firework of the night burst in that icy height. Across the sky, Stardust became a fistful of flowers blooming to the utmost.

Under a faint, gentle moon, it melted into powder and drifted down like light rain.

The fine light crossed the Lantern Festival cold. It came from far, only to rim the girl’s slim, proud back with a soft halo.

Her back was clean of hesitation. Her bearing was austere, resolute—like a valkyrie striding to war. Like a lone traveler in the night, too proud to show fatigue.

That figure fell into Yexiaobai’s trembling eyes. Something inside him went bang.

Not the fireworks.

His heartbeat.

Urgency surged first, like a wave hitting rock. He suddenly felt he had to say something. Or it would be gone.

“Uh—wait—classmate—”

He blurted it, clumsy as a bird taking off in wind.

...

“And what did you ask?”

“...I forgot.”

“What?” Li Hang almost tripped over his own feet.

“Really. It’s weird to me too, but I can’t recall it.” Yexiaobai sighed, frustrated. “My head went blank. I forgot what I asked.”

“Goodbye.” Li Hang gave him a look that said beyond saving and turned to go.

Yexiaobai grabbed him fast. Li Hang was his last resort. “But I do remember what she answered. She said she’s from Class One... and I remember a name, ‘Yuhan’... and the four words, Qinghai University.”

“Mm? Is Yuhan her name?”

“Not sure... because I don’t remember what I asked.”

“Then Qinghai University is the college she plans to apply to?”

“Uh, maybe. But why would I ask a stranger, ‘Which college do you want?’”

Li Hang rolled his eyes. “Who knows what your overheated brain blurted.”

Yexiaobai wilted for a beat, then perked up. “At least I know she’s in Class One!”

Li Hang’s eyes turned odd. “You’re sure she said she’s ‘Class One’?”

“Yes. Her exact words were—‘I’m Class One.’”

“Then how are you sure you’ve got the right Class One?” Li Hang deadpanned. “Ever think she might be in middle school? Or at least another grade in high school—uh, fine, forget I said it.”

Yexiaobai froze like a deer.

Seeing that face, Li Hang understood at once. This guy never even considered which grade and which Class One. He just assumed she’s his year. An idiot, right?

“They told me your file says ‘idiot trait.’ I didn’t feel it before. Now I’ve got to admit, the Organization’s dossiers are kind of reliable.”

“File?!” Yexiaobai shivered. “Boys have files?!”

“Of course. We’ve got plenty of female members. And besides, the audience for boys’ files isn’t just women.” Li Hang waved it off. “Alright. Back to the point.”

“No. She’s not from another grade.” Yexiaobai wanted to ask about that ‘audience,’ but another thought cut in. “I’ve seen her in Class One before, once in a while!”

“You sure?” Li Hang eyed him with doubt. By now he barely trusted a word. Idiots are not credible.

“Uh—” Challenged, Yexiaobai grew unsure.

He hesitated. He sifted his memory like silt through fingers.

Was she there.

Or—

Not there?

...

...

“Xiaokong, what are you thinking?”

In the café of the Humanities Building at Qinghai University.

Fang Mengyuan saw the long-haired woman across from her pause. Her slender right hand, two fingers on the white porcelain handle, stilled. Then the owner’s lips curved.

On that usually cool face, the smile bloomed clean and bright. The men who were already stealing glances had hearts thump and eyes drop, flustered like sparrows.

“Nothing.” Wrapped in tight denim, her long legs shifted. Yexiaokong shook her head. “Just remembered my little brother. His troubled face—God, it’s delightful.”

“You total brocon.” Fang Mengyuan sighed. Who’d guess this ice-queen of Qinghai’s architecture school—famed for height and looks—was a super brother-lover?

She teased, “Being your brother must be exhausting.”

“How could it be?” Yexiaokong’s full, cherry-red lips pressed, and a ripple of smile spread. “I love his flustered look. But—”

“As long as it’s what my brother wants, I’ll make it happen for him.”