On Saturday morning, Lin Murun woke up naturally. He sat on his bed in a daze for a moment before remembering that he didn't have to go to his part-time job at the piano shop today.
The sky was barely beginning to brighten. He picked up his phone and saw the time: 6:08 AM.
His uncle and Lin Qingqing were still asleep. After a quick wash, Lin Murun went downstairs to wash rice and start some porridge.
His aunt had worked the night shift and had just reached the front door. Pushing it open, she saw Lin Murun busy in the kitchen, still in his pajamas.
"Why didn't you sleep a bit longer?" She changed her shoes, set down the fresh greens she had just bought, and came over to help.
"I woke up early today," Lin Murun replied.
His aunt smiled, putting the greens into the sink. "Let me do it. Go get some rest."
"I've got it, Auntie." Lin Murun poured the rice and minced meat into the electric cooker. "You've been busy all night."
"If only Qingqing were as sensible as you," his aunt said appreciatively.
"Qingqing was busy with practice problems last night, so she went to bed a bit late," Lin Murun said.
Hearing that her daughter was studying hard, the smile on his aunt's face deepened.
"By the way, Murun, isn't your school's Arts Festival coming up soon?" she asked.
Lin Murun nodded. "Yes, it's scheduled for next Friday and Saturday."
"Qingqing mentioned you signed up for a performance?"
"Yes," Lin Murun said. "The auditions were held yesterday."
His aunt placed the washed vegetables into a plastic basket and asked, "How did it go? Did you make the cut?"
"We did," Lin Murun said. "Auntie, I'm going to school to practice after breakfast."
"Oh?" His aunt glanced at the clock, surprised. "This early?"
"Yes, I made an appointment with a classmate," Lin Murun replied.
The Student Union was highly efficient; they had sent out the notices to the arts representatives of each class before Friday's evening self-study session.
Class 2's group chorus had been a half-hearted effort that barely managed to stay in tune, leaving the judging teachers shaking their heads. Consequently, Lin Murun and Li Menglai’s duet was selected as a matter of course.
His classmates had all come forward to offer their congratulations.
"Numbers don't equal talent, right? Look at Class 1—so unoriginal. A massive crowd swarming the stage for a poetry recital; it makes you want to nap," Shen Hao remarked. "Now look at our Class 2. It's about quality, not quantity!"
This sentiment stirred a sense of collective pride in many students.
"Li Menglai and Lin Murun are the faces of Class 2," the math representative teased.
"We all knew Li Menglai was great at the piano, but who knew the new student was a dark horse too!"
"I'm definitely bringing my friends to watch on the day of the festival," one girl said cheerfully. "Our class's performance is easily on par with the art students from Sixteenth Middle School!"
Sixteenth Middle School was located near Lin Qingqing’s neighborhood and was famous in H-City for training art students.
Praise like this flooded toward Lin Murun.
The nature of young people is simple; once a newcomer is accepted by the group, they integrate quickly. That evening, a girl even took the initiative to ask Lin Murun for help with a problem.
"I used to think you were hard to approach," the girl said with a smile, looking at the steps he had written on her scratch paper. "I didn't expect you to be so patient. I’ve been brooding over this problem for ages and couldn't figure it out."
Lin Murun remembered her name was Wu Shuyi; she was very popular in class.
He was taken aback. "Do I look like I have a bad temper?"
"Not exactly," Wu Shuyi thought for a moment. "But you give off a vibe... well, a bit 'aloof.'" She added sheepishly, "At least, that's the impression before someone actually talks to you."
"He's not aloof at all," Yu Qianyi laughed. "Lin Murun has a great temperament. It's just that he's the type who only moves if you give him a poke."
Lin Murun turned his head in confusion.
"If others see you're having trouble, they might offer to help. Lin Murun is different; he's the passive type. But as long as you ask, he usually won't say no," Yu Qianyi explained to Wu Shuyi.
"Oh! It's just because he doesn't talk much and has such good grades," Wu Shuyi said with a laugh. "Actually, it's not just me. A lot of students thought Lin Murun was hard to get close to."
"No, no, you've all got it wrong." Yu Qianyi spilled what she considered to be inside information. "He already has a girlfriend. How could he be cold and unapproachable?"
Lin Murun: "..."
"Right, right, we get it! We totally get it!" Seeing his expression, Yu Qianyi immediately put on a knowing look.
Wu Shuyi giggled, covering her mouth. "I heard about that from Shen Hao! By the way, Lin Murun, which class is your girlfriend in?"
"He won't say," Yu Qianyi teased. "If he's shy, let's just leave it. we'll find out sooner or later."
And so, this legendary girlfriend—originally just an excuse Lin Murun used to ward off unwanted attention—transformed into a figure who was very real yet incredibly mysterious in the eyes of his classmates.
Lin Murun’s expression went numb. "Is there anything else you don't understand?"
"Huh?" Wu Shuyi snapped back to reality. She flipped through her workbook and shook her head. "No more. Thank you!"
As soon as Wu Shuyi returned to her seat, Li Menglai approached him.
"Do you have time tomorrow morning?" she asked. "I borrowed the key to the small music room from Teacher Li. We can go there to practice our duet."
"I do," Lin Murun said. "What time?"
"How about eight o'clock sharp?" Li Menglai explained. "I have cram school in the afternoon, so I'm only free to practice in the morning."
Lin Murun agreed. "Okay."
Thus, early Saturday morning, Lin Murun arrived at First Middle School as agreed.
The third-year students had already begun their weekend supplementary classes, so even on a Saturday, the school gates were wide open, allowing teachers and students wearing IDs to pass through freely.
The autumn morning light still carried a chill. The thin mist had not yet fully dispersed, and transparent dewdrops clung to the leaves and grass, sparkling with crystalline clarity under the warm sun.
It was still early. When Lin Murun reached the music building, the time had just ticked over to 7:30 AM.
Since Li Menglai hadn't arrived yet, he went to sit on a nearby stone bench.
A stray cat spotted him and darted through the greenery in front of the music building, vanishing into a corner of the small garden.
Lin Murun watched the cat leave, suddenly thinking of Xiao Bai, whom Si Bin had adopted. Not long ago, Xiao Bai had been just like them, living a life of fear, never knowing where the next meal would come from.
But things were better now. It had a new owner, a home to shield it from the wind and rain, and more cat food than it could ever eat.
Thinking of Xiao Bai, Lin Murun took out his phone and opened his photo album.
His phone was filled with photos and videos of Xiao Bai. Some were sent by Si Bin, and others he had taken himself while practicing at Si Bin's house.
In one video, the blue-eyed white kitten was spinning in circles trying to bite its own tail, accidentally tumbling off the sofa.
A smile touched Lin Murun’s eyes. Just as he swiped to the next photo, he heard the sound of running nearby.
He looked up and met Si Bin’s surprised gaze.
Si Bin was wearing a light-colored athletic top today. His slightly long hair was tied back with a band, and sweat clung to his temples. Clearly, he had come to the school for a morning run.
"What are you doing here?" Si Bin asked as he walked over.
"I came to practice," Lin Murun replied.
"Oh..." Si Bin sat down beside him, radiating the warmth of his exercise.
"Not going to the piano shop?" he asked.
Lin Murun shook his head. "Li Menglai and I are practicing our duet this morning."
"This early?" Si Bin checked the time.
"It's alright. We agreed on eight," Lin Murun answered. "She has cram school in the afternoon."
"Have you had breakfast?" Si Bin asked. "There's a shop by the school gate that makes great tofu rice cakes."
Lin Murun was about to say "I've eaten," but after hearing the second half of the sentence, he shook his head instead and asked, "Which one?"
"I'll take you there." Si Bin stood up.
Just then, Lin Murun’s phone screen lit up.
*I'm here.*
It was a WeChat message from Li Menglai.
*I'm waiting for you at the entrance of the music building,* Lin Murun replied.
"I probably can't today," Lin Murun said, standing up to explain to Si Bin. "Li Menglai is already at school."
Si Bin nodded. Though he didn't say anything, he looked slightly displeased.
"Next time, then."
"I'm heading out." Just as Si Bin said this, he spotted Li Menglai in the distance.
The girl had messaged Lin Murun just as she reached the music building. As she turned the corner into the small garden, she met Si Bin’s gaze from afar.
Li Menglai froze, unsure whether to go forward and say hello or pretend she hadn't seen him. In the midst of her awkwardness, she heard Si Bin’s voice.
"Good morning."
Aside from Si Bin and Lin Murun, she was the only one there. This "good morning" was clearly directed at her.
"Good... morning," Li Menglai responded hesitantly.
"I'm off."
This was said to Lin Murun.
"Goodbye," Lin Murun said.
Si Bin turned and ran toward the other side of the music building.
The trees in the small garden were lush, and the morning light filtered through the leaves, casting dappled spots on the pebble path. The faint mist of early morning, which had not yet dissipated, was soft and light—not thick enough to dampen one's clothes, yet it hung in the air like a hazy smoke.
Fragments of sunlight scattered across Si Bin’s back. His legs were long and lean, his stride light. In the blink of an eye, he had run far away.
Lin Murun turned and walked into the music building with Li Menglai.
In the corridor, he looked through the glass window toward the tree-lined path where Si Bin had gone. He could not have known then that this seemingly ordinary scene would be deeply etched into his mind. Many years later, Lin Murun would be unable to recall anything else that happened that day, yet he would still remember the silhouette of the boy running through the morning light.
***
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