Qiu Yun didn’t know Lu Xialan, but the title "daughter of the Dean of the Humanities College at B University" rang loud and clear.
Ignoring the dull ache in her backside from the hard bus seat, her gossiping heart skipped a beat. "Is Lu Xialan Mr. Liang’s girlfriend?"
Wang Chen’s eyes widened like copper bells. "Who told you that?"
"…Uh, I’m just guessing. Why else would she give Mr. Liang sunglasses?"
"You can’t just say things like that," Wang Chen said, her expression turning cautious. "They’re childhood sweethearts, but they’ve never explicitly said they’re dating. Lu Xialan likes to hang around our college, but neither of them has made an official statement. Besides, the school forbids dating."
"Forbids dating? What kind of ridiculous rule is that?" Qiu Yun mentally decried the "feudal" atmosphere. She asked again, "Then how do you know Lu Xialan gave him those sunglasses?"
"Someone saw it!"
"Well, there you go!"
"There I go what?"
"Mr. Liang and Lu Xialan are definitely boyfriend and girlfriend!"
Wang Chen’s brow furrowed into a knot. After half a minute, she suddenly burst out laughing. "Xiao Yun, I think you’re hilarious."
"What’s so hilarious?"
"Just that serious look you had just now. It was funny… and cute."
Qiu Yun felt goosebumps rise under Wang Chen’s gaze. "Don’t look at me like that…"
Wang Chen blinked. "?"
Qiu Yun muttered, "You’ve got this motherly glow… you look like my mom…"
Wang Chen bristled. "I’m only twenty and still a maiden in the boudoir, thank you very much!"
***
Back at the dormitory, Qiu Yun gradually realized that the "sunglasses incident" wouldn't be so easily brushed aside.
First of all, in this era, sunglasses were a highly fashionable, trendy item—a symbol of status and prestige. They were only sold at the city’s largest department store and were quite expensive. As a poor student who hadn't even figured out the source of Qiu Xiaoyun’s living expenses yet, buying a replacement was a major problem.
Secondly, the sunglasses were a gift from Lu Xialan to Liang He. Considering their relationship, the already valuable item took on an unusual significance. No wonder Liang He’s face had been so grim on the bus. Thinking back to that scene gave Qiu Yun a headache.
Seeing her troubled expression, Wang Chen tried to comfort her. "Why don't you write a letter to Mr. Liang?"
"A letter?"
"Yeah, a self-reflection letter or a letter of apology." Wang Chen winked. "He is our teacher, after all. He won't hold a grudge against a student."
"A self-reflection letter?" Qiu Yun couldn't help but repeat the words loudly.
"Yeah, what’s wrong?" Wang Chen was surprised by her reaction.
Qiu Yun opened her mouth but hesitated.
Liang He was her teacher, true, but the thought of having never written a self-reflection letter in her life only to have to write one at the age of twenty-four—to someone who was actually two years younger than her—made her feel stifled.
"My handwriting is terrible," Qiu Yun tried to deflect.
"That’s not the point. As long as your attitude is sincere and your words are earnest, Mr. Liang will surely forgive you," Wang Chen encouraged her. "Just write about your faults, your carelessness, your negligence. The humbler, the better. Make yourself sound as useless as possible, then plead piteously. Mention it’s a first offense, that it won't happen again, that you’ll never do it again… I guarantee the letter will work!"
Qiu Yun arched an eyebrow, her eyes darting. "Da Chen, you seem very professional at this… Do you write these often?"
Wang Chen froze, her face flushing slightly. "I was a bit of a brat when I was a kid…"
"Da Chen, Da Chen, you’re the best!" Qiu Yun immediately lunged forward and gave Wang Chen a bear hug, nuzzling her head against her friend’s C-cup chest. "Da Chen, help me write it. Whether Mr. Liang holds a grudge against me or not depends entirely on you…"
And so, a self-reflection letter was born—penned by Wang Chen, polished by Chang Huan and Liu Yujin, and signed by Qiu Yun.
***
When the sketch class ended on Wednesday, Wang Chen gave Qiu Yun a meaningful look and packed her things to leave first. Qiu Yun dawdled behind. Once the classroom was nearly empty, she shuffled awkwardly toward the podium where Liang He was still organizing the assignments.
"Um… Mr. Liang," Qiu Yun began.
"Hmm?" Liang He grunted in response. He looked up, saw it was Qiu Yun, and then lowered his head to continue his work.
*Is he still angry?* Qiu Yun wondered. *Was the young Liang He always this prideful?*
Qiu Yun lowered her voice by three notches. "This is my assignment for today."
"Leave it there."
"Oh… and this is the work from Saturday’s field trip."
"I’ll collect it in a moment."
"Mr. Liang," Qiu Yun continued to play the part of the well-behaved student, handing over an envelope. "This is my self-reflection letter."
"Self-reflection letter?" Liang He finally looked up.
"Yes."
"Reflecting on what?" Liang He asked with a half-smile.
"For being late on Saturday morning, and for breaking your sunglasses in the afternoon…" Qiu Yun peeked at him cautiously.
Liang He remained unmoved. He silently took the letter, opened it, and scanned it rapidly. Two seconds later, he folded it. "I’ve received it."
*That’s it? What now?*
Qiu Yun stared at him blankly. "So… is this matter settled?"
Liang He stopped what he was doing. He leaned one hand against the edge of the podium, his body tilting casually. "Did you write this yourself?"
Qiu Yun froze, a sense of foreboding rising within her, but she forced herself to answer, "Yes."
Liang He let out a soft chuckle and asked, "Do you know the history of those sunglasses?"
Qiu Yun’s heart thudded. *Oh no.* Was Liang He really going to make a big deal out of this? She immediately lowered her posture even further, feigning ignorance. "I don’t know… they must be very expensive… right?"
"They are indeed expensive. They were brought back from Hong Kong."
Qiu Yun panicked slightly. Brought back from Hong Kong in the early days of the Reform and Opening-up…
"I remember when you borrowed them, you said it was for your painting?"
"…Ah, yes."
"Fine then." Liang He straightened a stack of assignments and smoothed them out. "If your work from this field trip makes it into the inaugural issue, I won’t hold this against you."
"And if it doesn't?"
"Pay," Liang He said, a single, definitive word.
"Pay…?" Qiu Yun took a deep breath and asked, "…And who chooses the works?"
Liang He gave a sly smile, revealing his white teeth. "I do."
***
The idea for the magazine *Wild Wind* had actually been proposed by Professor Chen Jingtao. A few years after the college resumed its operations, it had cultivated a core group of talent. Professor Chen suggested the idea of the Fine Arts Academy having its own magazine, which received support from the university leadership. However, the actual implementation was handled by the younger teachers, with Liang He being the central force.
He put extraordinary effort into the first issue. Not only did he gather the main young teachers, but he also invited several highly respected veteran professors from the college and department to help review the submissions.
As they were selecting the works together, a low exclamation came from a corner: "This one is interesting! Very interesting!"
The speaker was none other than Professor Chen Jingtao.
Everyone’s gaze shifted. They saw Professor Chen with his reading glasses perched halfway down his nose, a look of pure joy on his face as if he had found a hidden treasure. "Everyone, come take a look. This painting is very interesting." He then looked up and called out, "Xiao Liang, come see. Is this from the field trip you organized?"
Liang He walked over quickly. On the table lay an A2-sized watercolor. The architecture depicted was simple—what looked like monks' quarters in a temple, with the shadow of a bell tower standing beside them. But the composition was exquisite; the shade, the light, and the shadows were all perfectly placed. The most brilliant part, however, was that the entire scene was viewed through a pair of sunglasses. The world outside the frames was the real world, rendered realistically, while the scene inside the frames seemed to have been intentionally changed in style—the colors and perspective were completely different.
The theme of the painting was titled: *World - Vision*.
"Clever! Very clever!" one teacher praised. "Class of '88… this is from one of the new kids…"
"The younger generation is to be feared… there’s even a hint of philosophy in it."
Liang He stared at the painting for a full three minutes before his gaze slowly drifted to the signature in the bottom right corner:
*Yun, 1987.*
***
In the library, Qiu Yun let out three loud sneezes in a row, causing the surrounding students to glance at her involuntarily.
"Someone must be thinking of me," she muttered, looking out the window.
This was her second month in 1987.
She wanted to go back to 2018, but she had made no progress.
She wondered if Chen Liping had truly been heartless enough to leave them. How was her father, Sima Feng, doing in prison? She couldn't visit him; would he be worried? She should have visited her grandfather at the nursing home last month; he would likely be disappointed again this month. Had Wu Liu received his due punishment after hitting the gas? How had Liang He, as a witness on the scene, reacted? In 2018, did the person "Sima Qiu Yun" still exist, or had she long since passed away?
A bright moon hung outside the window. Mid-Autumn Festival was approaching, and the entire sky was illuminated.
But to Qiu Yun, that light felt cold, chilling her to the bone.
"Hello, classmate." Someone greeted her in a low voice.
Qiu Yun snapped back to reality. It was a tall, thin boy who looked somewhat familiar.
"My name is Gao Zhifei. We’re in the same class," the boy introduced himself. "We went to Guiyun Zen Temple together for the field trip last time."
Qiu Yun remembered him. He was the one who had sung on the bus: *"Young friends, we meet today, rowing our little boats as the warm breeze blows softly..."*
"Hello," Qiu Yun said.
"Is anyone sitting next to you?"
"Oh, no."
"May I sit here?"
Seeing that Gao Zhifei had already placed a copy of *The Collected Works of Zhu Guangqian* on the table, Qiu Yun could only say, "Go ahead."
Fortunately, once Gao Zhifei sat down, he focused on his book and didn't try to force a conversation.
The library closed at 9:30 PM. Qiu Yun packed her books and walked out slowly. Gao Zhifei followed her out at some point.
"Do you come here to study every day?" he asked casually, searching for a topic.
"No, just occasionally." Qiu Yun wasn't exactly a fanatic for studying.
"No wonder I rarely see you. I’m here basically every day," Gao Zhifei said. "I can save a seat for you next time."
"Oh, thanks, but I prefer reading in the dorm." Qiu Yun wasn't in the mood for much. "I only came today to borrow a book."
"What kind of books do you like?" Gao Zhifei immediately seized the topic. "Mystery? Romance? Wuxia? I heard Qiong Yao’s books are really popular lately. You girls must love them, right?"
Normally, seeing how talkative he was, Qiu Yun would have teased this "young friend," but looking at the distant moon, she had no interest. She replied, "Physics."
Sure enough, Gao Zhifei was momentarily speechless.
After a while, he managed, "Oh… our art college really doesn't have many books on physics…"
Qiu Yun walked with her head down.
Gao Zhifei asked again, "Why do you want to borrow a physics book?"
"…Research."
Gao Zhifei choked for a moment but quickly found a way out. "If there’s something specific you want to read, you could ask our counselor, Mr. Liang He…"
"Ask him?" Qiu Yun was puzzled.
"Yeah, his father is a university physics professor."
So Liang He’s father was a famous physics professor. No wonder his manner of speaking suggested he came from a scholarly family. However, Qiu Yun had also heard rumors that, for well-known reasons, Chinese intellectuals had suffered quite a bit in previous years. She wondered how Liang He’s father had fared. But that was none of her business. Her claim about wanting to read physics books was just a lie; as a liberal arts student, she had long since returned what little physics knowledge she had to her teachers.
Qiu Yun parted ways with Gao Zhifei at the intersection. Before she reached the dormitory, the sound of a guitar drifted from afar.
College students of this era… could be quite romantic too. Qiu Yun smiled faintly as she heard the voice singing:
*"Walking on the country road,*
*The old cow returning at dusk is my companion,*
*The blue sky wears a sunset on its chest,*
*The colorful clouds are the evening glow’s dress..."*
The simple melody, the catchy lyrics, the melodious guitar, and the clear voice spread through the quiet night air. Qiu Yun was mesmerized.
So, this era had such beautiful songs too. The melancholy in Qiu Yun’s heart was swept away. She looked up at the sky, and a poem surfaced unbidden in her mind: *"People today do not see the moon of old, but today’s moon once shone upon the ancients."* She was born in 1994, which meant her father and mother were exactly the people of this era. Was this what their lives were like? When her mother was young, had she ever stood by a window, listening quietly to a song? When her father was young, had he ever played a guitar under the window of a girls' dormitory?
Perhaps—she thought—was it possible to encounter her parents in their youth here?
Qiu Yun was lost in thought when a bright beam of light suddenly swept across her face.
"Who’s there? What are you doing?"
Qiu Yun jumped in fright. She instinctively stepped back, her hand rising to shield her eyes before she could even react. She felt herself go into a brief free fall, landing steadily and decisively. Her raised hand looked exactly as if she were waving a thank-you to an Olympic judging panel!
***
