A Gentleman is Open-minded, While a Petty Person Sighs | Chapter 2 | A Summer Morning Echo | Novela.app

Chapter 2 - A Summer Morning Echo *Clang!* The security door slammed shut with a heavy, metallic resonance. "Chang Ying!" Tan Junzi’s voice was brimming with vitality. She stood in the entryway of Chang Ying’s home, clutching a bag of steaming soy milk and deep-fried dough sticks. Even as she kicked off her shoes and slid into a pair of guest slippers, her voice preceded her into the inner rooms. "Chang Ying! Get up! Chang Ying!" In truth, Chang Ying had heard the rattling of the key in the lock long before she stepped inside. However, exhaustion weighed on him like a physical shroud; his eyelids felt as though they had been sealed shut with lead. He was currently trapped in the throes of a classic post-exam nightmare: he was back in the examination hall, staring at his *Zhongkao* essay prompt. He had only written six hundred words, the eight-hundred-word requirement loomed like a mountain, and the proctor was already reaching for his paper. Just as the panic reached its zenith, Tan Junzi’s soul-piercing shout shattered the dream. The boy let out a muffled groan, violently pulling the thin summer quilt over his head to block out the world. "Great Ancestor... do you have any idea what time it is?" his voice drifted out from beneath the fabric, thick with sleep and misery. The next second, the air-conditioned chill of the room hit his skin as Tan Junzi unceremoniously whipped the quilt away. Chang Ying’s eyes snapped open. With the conditioned reflexes of an athlete, he lunged for the corner of the blanket. For a moment, they were locked in a silent tug-of-war, each gripping one side of the fabric. Tan Junzi stood over him, her school uniform crisp and immaculate, radiating an aura of unbearable righteousness. She looked down at him with a stern, maternal authority, refusing to let go. "Get up! Do you have any idea how late it is?" Chang Ying sat up, his hair a chaotic "chicken nest" of dark strands. His narrow, elegant phoenix eyes were squeezed shut in irritation as he let out a cavernous yawn. Still clutching the quilt with one long arm, he rasped, "What time?" "It’s seven-thirty!" Junzi bellowed. Chang Ying felt as though his brain had been tossed into a blender. He jolted, his heart hammering—*Seven-thirty?!* He scrambled with his free hand to grab his clothes from the chair, but then a realization dawned on him. The frantic urgency drained away. It was summer. The *Zhongkao* was over. "It’s *only* seven-thirty..." He gave a sharp tug, reclaiming the quilt with ease, and collapsed back onto his pillow with a theatrical sigh. He had been playing along with her tug-of-war, but in reality, Junzi’s slight strength was no match for his. Junzi looked at him with the disappointment of a teacher facing a hopeless student. She crouched by his pillow, her face inches from his. "Did you forget? The physical exam is today!" Chang Ying took a full ten seconds to process this. *Physical exam?* The two were quintessential childhood friends—same kindergarten, same primary school, same middle school. After the *Zhongkao*, both had secured spots at their alma mater’s senior high division, Tongcheng No. 1 Middle School. In a small pond like Tongcheng, there were only two top-tier municipal schools, and No. 1 Middle School was the crown jewel. The high school entrance physical was a mere formality, a bureaucratic box to be checked. Most students treated it with casual indifference, but not Tan Junzi. To her, every school-sanctioned activity was a mission of the utmost importance. It was July, two months before the official start of the semester. The school had distributed the forms, instructing students to visit the local health station at their convenience. Today and tomorrow were the designated window, but Junzi, ever the overachiever, had insisted on going the very first morning. As she spoke, the minty scent of her toothpaste brushed against his face. Chang Ying propped his head up on his hand, casting a lazy, sidelong glance at her. "The station doesn't even open until eight. Besides, we have all day. What’s the rush?" Junzi furrowed her brow. "If we go early, we beat the lines. If you wait until the afternoon, it’ll be a sea of people." Chang Ying knew her all too well. This girl was a Cancer with an Aries rising—a volatile combination that resulted in boundless energy and a punctuality that bordered on the pathological. On normal school days, when the bell rang at seven-thirty, she would be up at six, running laps in the park with the local elderly residents before heading to class to memorize English vocabulary. The romanticized trope of childhood friends cycling to school together in the morning mist? It didn't exist for them. Chang Ying usually skidded into the classroom just as the final bell rang, clutching a carton of milk, only to find that Junzi had already finished transcribing an entire textbook chapter from memory. To Chang Ying, Tan Junzi was a whirlwind. Initially, that whirlwind had tried to sweep him up in its productive path, but eventually, it realized that Chang Ying was simply too heavy to lift. With a resigned sigh, he sat up, the quilt bunched around his waist. He used his long legs to nudge the crouching Junzi aside. "Move. I need to put on my pants." He was wearing loose sleeping shorts—nothing scandalous—but as they grew older, he had become increasingly mindful of such boundaries, despite having shared a bed with her when they were toddlers. Junzi skipped out of the room, her ponytail swinging. "Hurry up! Be quick with the teeth and the face!" Even so, she couldn't resist hovering. As he stood at the bathroom sink, she leaned against the doorframe, watching him. "Aren't you supposed to do ten strokes on the left and ten on the right?" She mimicked the motion with her hand, attempting to coach his technique. Chang Ying shoved the toothbrush toward her. "If you have so much to say, why don't you do it? Come on, Teacher, show me the way." Between the eighth and ninth grades, Chang Ying had undergone a massive growth spurt, shooting up to 1.8 meters. He wasn't done yet; he’d likely clear 1.85 before graduation. Now, he had to stoop uncomfortably low just to reach the faucet, one hand braced against the vanity so he could actually see himself in the mirror. Junzi recoiled from the dripping toothbrush. "Just hurry!" He finished quickly, splashing water over his face and running his damp fingers through his hair to tame the "nest." A quick swipe with a towel, and he was done. Junzi pointed at the corner of his mouth. "You missed some toothpaste foam." Chang Ying glanced in the mirror, wiping his lip with his thumb. "Who is this guy in the reflection? Why is he so handsome?" Junzi let out a derisive "Pfft" and turned toward the door. He spotted the breakfast on the table and reached for the soy milk, but Junzi stopped him. "Wait! We have blood tests today. You have to fast. We’ll bring it with us and eat after." Chang Ying nodded, stuffing his wallet and keys into his pocket. He grabbed the bag of food and followed her out. As they descended the stairs, Chang Ying hooked a long arm around Junzi’s neck, pulling her into a playful half-headlock. "I heard that 'pfft' earlier. You’re not convinced of my charms?" His voice was drawling and relaxed. "Show some respect. You’re looking at the No. 1 High School hunk." Junzi struggled against his grip, rolling her eyes. "Self-proclaimed, surely? I’ve never seen a 'school hunk' who leaves toothpaste on his face." Chang Ying gasped in mock horror, releasing her to wipe his mouth again. He leaned in, trying to use her pupils as a mirror. "Is there more?" Junzi burst into laughter and sprinted down the remaining steps. "I lied! Hahaha!" It was the height of summer, but the early morning sun had yet to unleash its full fury. Still, the air carried the heavy promise of heat. The poplars lining the street stood tall and lush, filled with the rhythmic drone of cicadas. Junzi walked ahead, frequently stopping to wait for him, silently judging his long legs for being seemingly decorative rather than functional. Chang Ying trailed behind like an old official inspecting the provinces, walking with that characteristic slouch common to teenage boys. The more Junzi fumed with impatience, the more he enjoyed his leisurely pace. "Seriously, what is the rush?" he asked, hands in his pockets, the breakfast bag dangling from his wrist. *** The bond between Chang Ying and Tan Junzi stretched back to their grandfathers' generation. Decades ago, in the military, Chang Ying’s grandfather, Chang Sheng, had been the squad leader of Junzi’s grandfather, Tan Zhengqi. When Tan Zhengqi first enlisted, he was a raw recruit—poor physical stamina, but a massive temper. It was Chang Sheng who had ground down those sharp edges, forging a brotherhood in the process. After a few years, Tan Zhengqi had been discharged and transitioned to civilian work, while Chang Sheng stayed in the service, eventually rising from squad leader to a high-ranking commander. Despite the gap in their eventual ranks, Tan Zhengqi always referred to him affectionately as "Old Squad Leader." Tan Junzi, notably, took her mother’s surname. Her mother, Tan Shuixian, had been a legendary beauty in the old city district. Her father, Guan Qiuyue, wasn't a uxorilocal son-in-law in the traditional sense; he was a professor of Chinese literature, a man possessed by a romantic, scholarly spirit. At the time of Junzi's birth, the elder Tan had a prized *Junzilun* (Kaffir Lily) that rarely bloomed. During the pregnancy, however, the plant bloomed three times in a single year. The old man was overjoyed, declaring, "Let’s call her Tan Junzi." Guan Qiuyue, swept up in the poetic sentiment, agreed immediately, caring little for the convention of surnames. Chang Ying’s name had an equally storied origin. Chang Sheng had joined the army in 1945, catching the tail end of the War of Resistance against Japanese Aggression. He was only fourteen then, a member of the Eighth Route Army for a mere two months before the war ended. He hadn't even touched a rifle, yet he spent the rest of his life humming the song *Red Tassel Spear*, as if to ensure everyone knew he had "fought" the invaders. *Red tassel spear, red tassel spear, the tassel is red like fire, the tip shines like silver! Take up the red tassel spear, to strike the Little Easterners!* Because of this nostalgic sentiment, the boy was named Chang Ying (Long Tassel). It was certainly better than being named Chang Hong (Red) or Chang Qiang (Spear). In more recent years, their fates remained intertwined. Both families had originally lived in the old tenement buildings. When Tongcheng began developing new residential complexes in 2000—a time when commercial housing was still a novelty—both families happened to buy units in the same building. The Changs were on the second floor, 202; the Tans were on the fourth, 401. In the late nineties and early thousands, Tongcheng was still a developing backwater. Most families lived modestly, though the Tans and Changs were slightly better off than most. Chang Ying’s father, Chang Jianguo, had broken the family tradition of military service to go into the construction materials business. He had earned his first pot of gold when everyone else was still struggling, eventually achieving a leap in social class, though that was a story for later. Because Chang Jianguo was always traveling for business and Chang Ying’s mother, Yue Yuqing, was a renowned cellist frequently on tour, the boy was often left alone. They couldn't rely on the elderly Commander Chang to raise a child, and while they hired nannies, a nanny was no substitute for family. Consequently, Chang Ying grew up trailing behind Tan Junzi. There had always been a small folding bed in the Tan family’s study, kept specifically for him. As he grew older and the nannies were let go, he would eat dinner at the Tans' every day after school before heading downstairs to sleep in his own home. Most children in such a situation—watching another family’s warmth while their own parents were absent—might have felt a pang of sorrow. But the Tan household was also incomplete. Tan Shuixian had passed away from heart disease shortly after Junzi was born. Guan Qiuyue, whose own parents had died young, never remarried. He lived in a rented apartment near the university, entirely consumed by his academic research. He provided for Junzi financially but was largely absent from her daily life. Thus, Junzi had grown up with her grandfather, and with Chang Ying as a permanent fixture at their table, the three of them functioned as a single, cohesive unit. *** Chang Ying often wondered if other people’s "childhood sweethearts" were like this. Their dynamic felt like a counterfeit version of the trope; it often felt like *he* was the delicate "green plum" (the girl) and Tan Junzi was the "bamboo horse" (the boy)—and a bamboo horse made of reinforced steel, at that. Any hope for the misty, budding romance found in shoujo manga was obliterated the moment one encountered the Tan family. Tan Zhengqi had spent his post-military years working in a printing factory. The deafening roar of the machinery had left the old man with a booming voice that resonated like a temple bell, leaving an echo in the air long after he finished speaking. He raised Junzi with military discipline—posture, conduct, and ideology were all strictly monitored. While other kids were reading *Mickey Mouse* or humor magazines, Junzi was different. Chang Ying vividly remembered her sitting on a small stool in the community courtyard, reading *Reference News* aloud to the neighborhood elders, a Xinhua Dictionary by her side to look up unfamiliar characters. When the neighbors spoke of the Tan girl, they described her as "spirited"—a little spinning top of a girl, dashing here and there. She was beautiful, but not in a fragile way; with her high ponytail, she looked sharp and heroic. Unlike the 1.8-meter youth he was now, the young Chang Ying had been a "bean sprout"—thin, short, and constantly tugging at the hem of Junzi’s shirt. "Tan Junzi, I’m hungry," "Tan Junzi, I’m tired," "Tan Junzi, I want to go home..." All the kids in the courtyard followed her lead, but Chang Ying had special status. He was the one she protected.