Summer's Rose

Their encounter painted the golden summer skies, Parting, a gentle whisper as time flies. His little rose forever lingers, Hidden within that eternal summer’s room. — Zhou Nan September 1, 2015 The summer heat in City A was unbearable. Li Jun tucked a milk bottle into Wen's bag, gently reminding her, “Wen Wen I’ve packed milk in your bag, along with some hot water and your medication.” “Got it, Mom. I’m leaving now.” The girl’s smile was sweet. She wore a pale-colored dress that revealed slender, porcelain-white calves. Even after Wen disappeared from view, Li Jun stood there, hesitant and uneasy. That year, Wen was diagnosed with late-stage stomach cancer. The doctor had said there was no chance of a cure—at most, she had three years left. “Let her do whatever she wishes,” the doctor had advised. Li Jun and Jiang Loong, Wen’s father, were often away for work. Wen was left alone at home, their rare returns marred by endless quarrels. When Wen fainted one day, it was Liu Ma, the housekeeper, who rushed her to the hospital and informed her parents. Upon seeing the diagnosis, the couple argued loudly in the hallway. “It’s your fault for never being home to care for her! How could you not notice your child was so sick?” Loong accused. “Oh, and you’re always home? What have you ever done for her?” Li Jun retorted bitterly. Their voices stabbed through the silence until a weak voice broke in, “Could you both stop? I just want to rest.” They fell silent. Loong adjusted Wen’s blanket, tears silently streaming as she watched her daughter close her eyes. Outside, their hushed argument continued. Wen wasn’t asleep. She lay awake, gripping and releasing the bedsheet, staring at the ceiling above her. Later, Wen told them she wanted to transfer to a school in City A. Her parents immediately arranged it for her. When the transfer was finalized, she called her best friend, Helen. “Which school?” Helen asked after a pause. “Sixth High School in City A,” Wen replied. “Which class?” “Seventeenth.” “Alright. Take care of yourself. If I visit and see you’ve lost weight, you’re in trouble, little one.” “Got it,” she chuckled. Helen was her closest confidant—an unlikely duo of boldness and gentleness. Beneath Helen’s spirited exterior lay a tender heart, and behind Wen’s quiet demeanor hid a rebellious streak—a little rose adorned with thorns. “Hey, Bro! Our class is getting a transfer student!” Yong Ming turned to inform Zhou Nan. Zhou Nan lounged at the back, his school uniform casually unbuttoned at the collar, revealing sharp collarbones against his pale skin. He lazily lifted an eyebrow, “Where’d you hear that?” “This morning. The new kid’s a boy and a top student,” Yong Ming declared. Zhou Nan repeated the words, “Boy, top student,” with little interest. He knocked Shikun lightly on the head. “Eavesdropping again?” “No, Bro! I overheard the teacher talking in the office!” By afternoon, the rumor had spread throughout the class. “Class, let’s welcome our new student,” said the slim, wiry teacher on the podium, glancing toward the door. Heads craned as everyone tried to catch a glimpse of the newcomer. Wen stepped up, her voice soft yet steady, “Hello, everyone. My name is Jiang Wen.” Zhou Nan raised his eyes. This was the rumored top student? The girl was delicate, slender, dressed in a light lavender dress. Her almond-shaped eyes shimmered like water under sunlight, her smile deepened by dimples that softened her expression. “Wow, a beauty!” someone whispered, drawing chuckles. Wen’s ears flushed faintly pink. The teacher, Miss Loh, scanned the room and pointed to the back. “There’s an empty seat back there. Would you mind sitting there?” “No problem, thank you, Teacher.” Jiang Wen smiled politely and walked toward Zhou Nan’s desk. Pulling out the chair beside him, she sat down. Zhou Nan was labeled the “problem student”—fighting, skipping class, and sleeping through lectures. Miss Loh had relegated him to the back row and never assigned him a desk mate. He was about to nap when he felt a gentle nudge from beside him. “Hi, what’s your name?” she asked softly. “Zhou Nan.” She smiled briefly, turning back to her seat. The first period was English, taught by a strict middle-aged man known for his temper. He entered the room, placing a book on the desk, “Open your textbooks to page 130. We’ll start with this passage.” Walking to the back, his gaze landed on Zhou Nan—sleeping yet again—and the girl beside him with no book in sight. Furious, he slammed the desk. “Zhou nan! Sleeping in class again? Should I bring you a blanket? Perhaps you’ll catch a cold!” “Sure, thanks, Miss ” Zhou Nan replied, unfazed. The class struggled to stifle their laughter. The teacher, now fuming, turned to Wen. “And you? No textbook? Is this your attitude toward learning?” Before he could continue, a book was tossed onto Wen’s desk. “She’s new. I’ll stand outside,” Zhou Nan muttered, exiting the room without a backward glance.