Our Youthful Years

The bell signaling the end of class finally rang. The teacher hadn’t left yet, but the students were already cheering. Amidst the joyful laughter, the girl by the window in the last row was especially noticeable. Her long black hair tumbled carelessly around her shoulders as she rested her head lazily on the desk, eyes closed, utterly at ease.

“Quiet, everyone!” the teacher at the podium called out loudly, trying to calm the students whose hearts were already restless with anticipation. Yet students are students; no matter how mischievous, they still feared the authority of their teacher. Those who quieted down sat obediently in their seats, though the room still hummed with whispered conversations. None of it seemed to disturb the girl at the back, who remained sprawled by the window as if in her own world.

“Tonight, everyone must attend evening study. I’ll be taking attendance personally,” the male teacher announced, delivering the news that made the students want to collapse in despair. No sooner had he finished than someone protested, “Teacher, we’re in our senior year. Can’t you give us a break? Evening study every day is driving us crazy. Don’t they say we need to balance work and rest?” The speaker was Wang Quan, the class troublemaker.

Though he had a reputation for mischief, Wang Quan was well-known around school—for better or worse. On the bright side: he stood at six feet tall, was very handsome, and his slanted bangs gave his sunny looks a hint of playful rebellion. Naturally, basketball was his way of showing off. On the downside: he didn’t