Water Lily

The wind of September, carrying the lingering warmth of late summer, filtered through the dense parasol tree leaves of Mingde University, casting dappled light and shadow by the window seat on the third floor of the library. As Lin Yan pulled the last thick copy of Principles of Economics out of his canvas schoolbag, the strap slipped off his arm once again — this strap, mended three times, always seemed to remind him of how out of place he was with his surroundings. He bowed his head to tidy the desk quickly, his fingertips accidentally brushing the crumpled banknotes in his pocket. Those were the eighty yuan he’d earned washing dishes for three hours at a restaurant near the school last night; he still needed to buy the cheapest discounted vegetables and vermicelli at the supermarket for lunch today. Grandma’s medicine back home was almost finished, and he had to save another five hundred yuan to send to her by the weekend. "Crash —" A crisp rustle of paper suddenly sounded beside him. Lin Yan looked up instinctively, only to see a girl in a cream-colored dress squatting on the ground, picking up books scattered all over the floor. The sunlight fell just on her wavy hair tips, gilding them with a soft golden edge, and even the parasol leaf that had landed on her skirt looked like an elaborate ornament. "Sorry, did I disturb you?" The girl looked up, her voice like honey steeped in warm water, sweet yet not cloying. Her eyes were bright, like holding the starlight of a summer night, and in her hand she held an exquisitely bound album, with Monet’s Water Lilies printed on the cover. Lin Yan stood up abruptly, moving so fast that he knocked over his chair with a harsh screech. Several students buried in their books around them glanced over, and his cheeks blushed crimson instantly. He hurried to bend down and help the girl pick up the books: "N-no, it’s my fault." His fingers accidentally touched the girl’s back of the hand. The touch was delicate and warm, and he pulled his hand back as if shocked by electricity. The girl didn’t seem to mind; she smiled and handed him the last book, Compendium of Art History: "Thank you! I’m Su Wan, from the Fine Arts Department. And you?" "Lin Yan, Economics Department." His voice felt tight, his gaze lingering on the delicate silver watch on the girl’s wrist. He’d seen the same style in a mall window last week, its price equal to three months of his living expenses. Su Wan stacked the books neatly and placed them gently on the adjacent desk. As she pulled out her chair to sit down, Lin Yan noticed the delicate lace trim embroidered on her skirt — it must be custom-made. He’d seen similar designs in magazines, and even the cheapest ones cost over a thousand yuan. "The light here is perfect," Su Wan propped her chin with one hand, looking out at the parasol trees. "I checked several seats, but this one’s the most comfortable." She spoke with a natural ease, unlike Lin Yan, who was always on edge, fearing he might make a mistake at any step. Lin Yan sat back down, but he could no longer focus. The faint scent of gardenias from the girl beside him drifted over, mixed with the smell of sunlight, making his heart race for no reason. He stole a glance out of the corner of his eye, seeing Su Wan flipping through the Water Lilies album with her head bowed. Her long eyelashes cast soft shadows under her eyes, and even the way she turned the pages was as elegant as a painting. He remembered hearing two girls talking about Su Wan while he was working at the restaurant yesterday. They said Su Wan was the only daughter of the Su family, whose family owned a chain of art galleries. For her birthday last month, her father had given her a limited-edition sports car directly. At that time, he’d only regarded it as someone else’s story, never imagining he’d meet the person in the story in such a way. "Do you like Monet too?" Su Wan suddenly turned to ask him, holding a silver fountain pen between her fingers, with intricate patterns engraved on the pen body — it was the limited edition he’d seen in the stationery store, its price enough to buy him half a month’s worth of groceries. Lin Yan froze for a moment, then quickly shook his head: "I-I don’t know much about art. I’ve only seen his paintings in textbooks occasionally." He dared not say that the only art he’d ever been exposed to was the cross-stitch grandma had embroidered on the wall back home. "That’s okay! Art is meant to relax people; you don’t have to understand it to like it." Su Wan smiled and pushed the album toward him. "Look at this Water Lilies — Monet could barely see in his later years, but he still painted such beautiful colors. Isn’t that amazing?" Lin Yan followed her pointing finger. The water lilies in the album loomed faintly amid light and shadow, with blue and purple intertwined, as hazy as a dream. He suddenly remembered when he was a child, grandma had taken him to watch lotus flowers by the village pond. The lotus flowers under the setting sun had been just as beautiful, so beautiful it took his breath away. "Yeah, it’s amazing." He said softly, his gaze involuntarily lingering on Su Wan’s face. When she smiled, two shallow dimples appeared at the corners of her mouth, like little suns after a rain, instantly dispelling all the gloom in his heart. At that moment, Su Wan’s phone rang. She glanced at the screen, made an apologetic gesture to Lin Yan, and walked to the window to answer it. Lin Yan heard her say in a brisk tone: "Mom, I’m at the library. I’ll go home for dinner later... No need to send the driver to pick me up; I want to walk by myself." After hanging up the phone, Su Wan picked up the books on the desk: "I have to leave now; I have class this afternoon. Thank you again, Lin Yan." She waved her hand, her cream-colored skirt brushing the floor like a butterfly’s wings, and soon disappeared at the stairwell. Lin Yan sat there, holding a sticky note he’d accidentally pulled out while helping Su Wan pick up the books. On the note was a string of phone numbers written in elegant handwriting, with a small smiling face drawn beside it. He carefully tucked the note into page 128 of Principles of Economics — the key chapter he’d marked just yesterday. The parasol leaves outside the window rustled in the wind. Lin Yan stared in the direction Su Wan had left, his heart still pounding uncontrollably. He knew that he and Su Wan were like two parallel lines that would never intersect. She lived high up in the bright sunlight, while he could only struggle in the mud. But he couldn’t help thinking of her bright eyes, her warm smile, and the accidental touch of her hand when she handed him the book. He buried his face in his arms, but the corners of his mouth couldn’t help but curl upward — so this was the feeling of a crush, like the late summer wind, coming quietly yet leaving the whole world filled with tenderness. In the evening, Lin Yan went to the supermarket to buy discounted greens and eggs. Passing the flower shop at the school gate, he stopped, staring at the beautiful roses in the window. He hesitated for a long time, then finally turned and left. He knew that such flowers were worthy of a wonderful girl like Su Wan, and all he could do now was hide this newly sprouted crush deep in his heart, like guarding a precious treasure. Back in his rented room, Lin Yan carefully pasted the sticky note on the wall in front of his desk. He turned on the desk lamp, picked up Principles of Economics, but when he flipped to page 128, he thought of the girl in the cream-colored dress in the library again. He took a deep breath and wrote a line of small characters in the blank space of the page: "Su Wan, Monet’s water lilies are beautiful, but you are more beautiful than the water lilies." After writing, he quickly covered the words with correction fluid, leaving only a faint white mark, like a secret only he knew. The moonlight outside the shabby window streamed in, falling on the desk. Lin Yan picked up his pen and threw himself back into his books. He knew that only by working harder could he get closer to Su Wan’s world, even if just a little bit. And this quietly growing affection would become the warmest light on his journey forward, supporting him through all the difficult times.