Chapter 4: 4

I remember there was a popular Taiwanese idol drama called “I might not love you,” wherein the male and female leads have been close friends since their school days. 

They refused to fall in love because they felt a deep affection for each other, just like family. They felt that their friendship would last longer than if they were lovers. 

This was almost the case with the third master and me. I uphold the lofty ambition of being good friends with him for a whole lifetime and never thought to “tarnish” the pure friendship we had. 

But the reality of the situation was like a line from a TV series — when I say, “I may not love you,” it’s actually…… I love you.

   

The Third Master and I were both students in the experimental class of curriculum reform, which was an amazing class. It selected students still in junior high school to send them to high school for early high school education. So I started high school in my junior year, and after several shifts, the Third Master and I were in the same class.

We were classmates for four years.

My first impression of the third master was of that about a week after school started. At the time, my close friends and I would go to the cafeteria rooftop to eat.

One day, I was late for lunch, and when I was walking to the third floor, I suddenly wanted to buy another bottle of drinks. So I hurried downstairs. The cleaning aunt in the cafeteria must have been lazy that day; otherwise, the stairs wouldn’t have been so greasy. 

If it weren’t for that… I wouldn’t have slipped and landed on my butt.

It was like playing the slide with obstacles in an amusement park for free. It was exciting and painful, and I slipped at least five to six flights of stairs.

While screaming, I finally grabbed the handrail and stopped myself from sliding even further. After that, I moved my wrists and ankles to find they were in good shape and uninjured. 

Then, I saw the third master.

He stood three steps below me, and if I hadn’t stopped, I might have taken him along in this “fun” staircase sliding game with a nice shoveling move.

He had obviously witnessed the whole process and was stunned. We looked at each other for three seconds, and I thought he would console me if I were hurt. After all, we both recognized each other as classmates.

As a result, he bent down and picked up the half-pack of chicken fillets that I had spilled. After looking inside, he frowned and asked, “Why don’t you go down and get another one?”

Probably because my mind was already on track with the normal plot of him asking me, “Are you hurt?”. So when he asked if I wanted to go get a chicken fillet, I said, “The pain is killing me.”

He let out an “oh” before pointing to the corner of the stairs and telling me, “Then you sit there first, I’ll help you.”

The pain I felt in my nerves paralyzed my thinking ability, and I went over and sat, then gave him my meal card and said, “And a bottle of Coke, thanks.”

And we got to know each other like this inexplicably.

I thought this was our first ever conversation, but the third master told me things were not as romantic as I had thought, “The first time we spoke was the day we reported. At the reporting office on the first floor, I asked you where to get the forms, and you kindly gave me the forms and told me which places to fill out.”

But I didn’t have the slightest impression of it, and kept asking, “Really? We talked so early? On the first day of school?”

“Yes, on the first day. Not only did you talk to me, but you were also lively and communicated with almost half of the class.” 

When he said the adjective “lively”, he emphasized his tone.

As witty as I am, I guess that shouldn’t have been a compliment.

   

The Third Master had a quiet personality. At that time, we had a group of friends who liked to stroll around the laboratory building during the evening self-study session. Yes, they were the ones who liked to eat on the rooftop.

Because we were recruiting students from high school, we did not have classes in the teaching building, and the principal approved our two classrooms in the empty laboratory building. The laboratory table was especially spacious, with a pool between the two rows of tables, but no water came out of the faucet.

Our big hearts were as big as the board. Under the brainwashing of the headteacher, we all thought that if we could get into the experimental class, we would have one foot in Tsinghua University and Peking University.

Now, when I think about the naivety of that time, it was embarrassing enough to make me blush for a while.

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Back to the evening self-study, it was early autumn, the evening wind was not cold, and the whole laboratory building was very quiet.

Our group of fake high school students of “one foot in Tsinghua University” were singing while walking in the autumn breeze. What impressed me the most was the song “Boundless Oceans, Vast Skies” because when I mentioned to the others that I would sing this song, I found that it was different from what they sang.

At that time, we were singing, “After being brave, we will break the lock of fate with persistence,” and were howling like ghosts, but the third master just followed us quietly.

I asked him, “You can’t sing, huh?”

He just smiled and didn’t say anything.

I thought he was being acquiescent, and it wasn’t until years later, when he participated in a singing competition and won a prize, that I understood why he laughed that year — presumably meant as, “You stupid humans. I do not want to go crazy with you.”

  

I was always a noisy person, and my mother took me to see a doctor when I was a child. The old white-haired Chinese said I was hyperactive, and the medicine that was prescribed involved using ten silver needles to stick on the joints to the points of my fingers, letting them bleed. 

It was said that after getting stabbed with these, I became honest. My mother would chant that old man’s skills for years.

Only I knew I was just scared by the needles — so painful!

The reason I became friends with the third master was probably caused by the impression he gave me, that he was someone calm and quiet. Moreover, I also found those boys who could talk more than me to be very different. So my favorite part of class activities was playing table tennis with the third master or sitting on the concrete table listening to songs and talking.

Most of the time, he didn’t say anything, just sat silently and listened to me talk about the sky, the moon, the stars, and talking about everything from poetry to the philosophy of life.

There were many differences between boys and girls. Although I also had a lot of good girlfriends, I could similarly play with boys without much issues, and the usual content and angle of the conversation were also very broad. 

So I said to the third master in such an exaggerated way at that time, “You are my best friend in the whole universe.”

I think the third master liked this title very much.

One night, the two of us went to the school gate to take the shuttle bus. That day, he left first. 

When I finally caught up to him, I patted him on the back hard and thought he would be frightened, but the result was that he very calmly turned his head to me and said, “I felt it when you were just a meter away from me.”

I thought he was talking nonsense.

He continued, “You have a certain scent on you.”

I lifted my arm to smell it but ended up smelling nothing.

He said, “One can’t smell their own scent. I can smell it, and everyone’s smell is distinct.”

I somewhat understood his previous sentence. For example, whenever my father came home, he would take off his shoes, and the smell of his feet alone could make my dog faint, but he himself was not aware of it.

I asked the “dog nose” of the third master, “You can smell everyone’s scent?”

The third master went, “uh,” and said, “No, not really, but I can smell you anyway.”

I asked again, “Why?”

He saw me off at the door of the car I was going to sit in and said with a smile, “Because I’m your best friend in the universe.”

How kind and simple a child at that time the third master was.

Now, whenever I ask him again, “Can you smell me?” He usually sniffles and kicks me away before telling me to go wash my feet……

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