Cherry Blossoms for a Long Time (Part 1)

 "Sakura Seven" isn't a soft drink.

Nor is it the seventh blossom to fall from the old flowering tree at the end of Yandai Street in April.
"Sakura Seven" is a name.
For a long time, this name represented all sorts of cynicism, violence, and recklessness on Yandai Street.
In the afternoon, Sakura Seven, wearing a short-sleeved oversized T-shirt and ripped jeans, sauntered towards a group of people taking wedding photos under the cherry blossom tree, a popsicle he'd snatched from the freezer outside Aunt Zhou's small supermarket. First, he took out his phone and snapped a picture of their license plate, then patted the photographer on the shoulder and spread his palm: "My grandma planted this cherry blossom tree. You have to pay for the photos, fifty!"
His tone was sassy and brooked no refusal.
After the photographer refused, he simply pulled out his phone and held up the photo in front of them: "The studio's car isn't cheap, is it? If someone scratches it one night, will fifty yuan be enough to fix it?"
And so, that noon, Sakura Seven successfully got fifty yuan.
His phone had a QR code tucked inside its transparent case, making it easy for victims to scan and pay if they didn't have cash.
Of course, even Yingqi had people she feared, like Grandpa Zheng, a retired soldier living in a detached house at No. 36 Yandajie Street. He liked to wear his old military uniform with the collar insignia removed, and every time he saw Yingqi, he would shout, "Comrade Yingqi!"
At that moment, the usually slouching Yingqi would immediately stand ramrod straight and loudly reply, "Present!"
With the final syllable of that "Present," Grandpa Zheng's camouflage shoes would kick him hard in the backside: "Report on what mischief you've gotten yourself into today?"
Grandpa Zheng's face was smiling, but it was a smile clearly different from the smile on his granddaughter's face—a smile with an air of quiet authority. His granddaughter's smile, however, was one of disdain.
"Reporting, sir, I've already changed,"
Yingqi replied, glancing at Grandpa Zheng's granddaughter, Zheng Jiujiu, out of the corner of her eye, a slight, attractive curve appearing at the left corner of her mouth.
"Hmph, I knew you wouldn't dare!"
Grandpa Zheng's expression was like that of a child who had won a game. He held up the cloth bag in front of Ying Qi: "Here, take two, for your grandma."
Grandpa Zheng never used plastic bags when shopping at the market. It was said that his patched-up military green cloth bag had been with him for many years, ever since he became a company commander.
The bag was filled with many round oranges, and some ugly oranges that looked as ugly as Han Dong's Shar Pei. Ying Qi naturally wouldn't be polite. He wiped his hands on his pants, picked out the two largest ones, and shouted to Grandpa Zheng without a care in the world, "Thank you, Commander."
But just as Ying Qi was about to turn and leave, Zheng Jiujiu grabbed him, snatched the oranges from his hands, and stuffed them back into his grandfather's cloth bag, looking annoyed.
Zheng Jiujiu, who had entered the only key university in Yanhai with the highest score in the city, had always been at odds with Ying Qi. This was something all the residents of Yandai Street knew. One was a high-and-mighty princess, the other a disheveled, hapless boy; it would be the most ridiculous thing in the world if they could become friends.
Fortunately, Yingqi wasn't angry with Zheng Jiujiu. He scratched the back of his head, grinned, revealing two rows of neat, white teeth.
When facing Zheng Jiujiu, Yingqi always unconsciously felt a sense of inferiority. This feeling didn't just stem from her being in a prestigious university while he was in a vocational school, but from a certain aura emanating from Zheng Jiujiu. Thinking about it carefully, this feeling seemed to have a pleasant, bittersweet taste, like strawberries.
Holding the fruit that Grandpa Zheng had snatched from his hand and put back in his, watching the grandfather and grandson's departing figures, Yingqi was momentarily lost in thought. Then, he was hit straight in the backside by a bicycle.
"What are you looking at, Ah Qi? It's harmless for a toad to have a few dreams, but dreaming of eating swan meat all day long seems a bit presumptuous."
Han Dong, riding his bicycle, pulled Ying Qi back to reality with a single sentence, tossing him a bulging backpack containing a baggy camouflage outfit smeared with colorful paint.
His grandmother had cared for Ying Qi since he was a toddler, and now that she was getting old, Ying Qi had taken on the responsibility of caring for the family.
He and Han Dong had enrolled in a housekeeping company founded by a classmate from their vocational school, and the highest-paying position in the company was undoubtedly the "Spider-Man," working at heights.
Of course, Ying Qi kept his "Spider-Man" job during holidays a secret from his grandmother, which is why he always tossed the "work clothes" to Han Dong.
Han Dong, on the other hand, risked his life to become a "Spider-Man" mainly for the latest gaming laptop—a high-performance laptop that looked like Ultraman. He had tried it out at the computer mall more than once and couldn't forget it.
Unlike Grandma Yingqi, who doted on her grandson, Han Dong's parents adhered to the principle of "boys should be raised freely," especially after Han Dong went to vocational school, they rarely interfered in his affairs.
Yingqi took out an ugly orange and stuffed it into Han Dong's hand, put the other one in her backpack, turned around, scanned the code to unlock a bicycle by the flower bed, and hopped on.
If she remembered correctly, today she was going to help paint the exterior walls of a high-end residential area, and it was said that everyone would get a commission of more than 2,000 yuan after the job was done.
"The old house at home needs a thorough waterproofing."
Thinking of this, Yingqi couldn't help but smile. That way, when the rainy summer comes, he wouldn't have to carry bottles and jars around to collect the rainwater dripping from the roof with his grandmother, right?

What are the things about having a crush?

 The precious time

spent on recess exercises. The boy hated recess exercises the most; 15 of the 20-minute break was taken up by them, preventing him from playing ball, buying snacks at the canteen, or exploring the school's woods.

But he never missed a single recess exercise.

After arriving at the playground, the boy chatted with his best friend about the game he played the night before, while secretly watching her.

She was petite and thin, wearing a simple T-shirt and light blue jeans. Sunlight shone on her shoulder-length hair, giving it a soft chestnut sheen, making her look bright and beautiful.

He silently began counting the number of girls in front of her: three, four, five, six… nine! He carefully counted again—nine, that's right!

Then the boy quickly counted the number of boys in front of him: nine, ten… thirteen.

The boy frowned, interrupting his best friend's animated discussion about beating the game, and said, "It's too noisy here, let's move to the front!"

He then pulled his friend forward, who glanced suspiciously at the loud voices talking ahead.

The homeroom teacher quickly arrived at the playground and began lining up the class. Urged on by the teacher, the boys and girls in the class began to form two neat rows from clusters of flowers. The boy nervously checked his and the girl's positions. "

They should be about the same!" he mentally reassured himself.
Soon, the two rows began to align, and the boy anxiously watched the horizontal position on his right.

Finally, a bright color he had been waiting for appeared on his right. After confirming that the rows wouldn't change, his joy was indescribable; even the announcements repeated hundreds or thousands of times seemed more pleasant.

The boy pursed his lips, keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead, but his peripheral vision was fixed on the blurry, slender figure, as if afraid others would see his inner tension and joy.

Gymnastics, first section, second section, third section…

“Fourth section, body rotation!” The broadcast gymnastics announced the news the boy had been waiting for.

Finally, the boy could openly seize the opportunity to turn right and look at the girl.

The girl's loose hair danced in the air as she spun, the bright sunlight filtering through, making her look radiant and beautiful.

…

Have you ever carved the initials of your crush's name on your desk?

Have you ever written poems about that person in your notebook?

Have you ever deliberately gone without your stationery to borrow an eraser?

The most sincere and purest emotion in this world is unrequited love.

First love

 On a warm afternoon, two people were already sitting on the stone bench behind the school.

I didn't know when they had sat there, or when they would leave.
Curiosity led me to get a little closer, and then a little closer.
When I saw them clearly, I realized that they were a boy and a girl.
The girl had her head down, seemingly lost in thought, while the boy seemed to be making a major decision.
My heart suddenly started beating faster, and a strong intuition made me look directly at the boy.
The moment I saw him clearly, my eyes widened and my thoughts drifted back to that morning.
...
On the stone bench behind the campus;
I grabbed her hand under the pretense, very tightly, and with no intention of letting go;
after she struggled for a moment, I moved closer: "Let's go together, okay?" She
naturally stopped struggling, but didn't say anything;
I was secretly delighted;
a long time passed like this,
like a blink of an eye, yet also like an eternity;
I hugged her, she was a little shy, but still leaned against me;
after a long tender moment, I held her close in my arms, buried my head in her chest, and took a deep breath;
she asked me what I was doing;
I looked up, into her eyes: I want to remember your scent.
"And what do I smell like?" she asked;
"Stinky socks!" I teased;
she punched me lightly, with very little force;
in that instant, I felt that
for people who like each other, every word is the best love confession;
I picked her up, and she, like a clingy little imp, wrapped her arms around my neck and buried her head in my chest again;
I looked down at her, and said very softly: I'll take you home.

Unexpected Youth

 Some say youth is the most wonderful part of our lives, yet fate is unfair, often leaving us confused. They always say that fleeting years are like a bright bonfire, or as fleeting as fireworks. Fireworks, though beautiful, are but a fleeting moment; youth, though pure, is only remembered for a few years.

They say unexpected encounters leave our hearts restless. University life is full of variables; perhaps you won't find long-lost friends until six months later; perhaps you'll have a heart-fluttering encounter on your very second day. In the bloom of youth, we enter the free classroom, and many thoughts gradually sprout. Curiosity makes us dare to try and touch anything. They say that the people we meet in university are all people who have others in their hearts, so everyone is eager to try yet also guarded. Love, unrequited love, long-distance relationships—some dream of starting a business, others contemplate suicide. Every university is a microcosm of society, and we, in our ignorance, are surrounded by countless unknowns. Occasionally we travel, occasionally we try something new; so many temptations catch us off guard. In those brief moments of relaxation, we suddenly contemplate life and reminisce about the past.

Facing the computer every day, our blank minds often leave us unsure of what to do. In this environment, some forge new paths, while others fall into confusion. Stubborn people harbor a past experience, clinging to that experience to live on. Time flows like a song, an elusive melody leaving behind countless emotions. Some anger has no outlet, some longing has no release, and some ideas have no way to be realized. So many things leave us stagnant. Picking up fallen petals at dusk, we find only withered remnants. We often like to hide our thoughts in Lin Huiyin's poems, in the April days of our dreams, fading away with the fleeting beauty of youth.

The unfairness of the college entrance examination (for entertainment purposes only)

 Please read carefully this story:

A boy from Hengshui No. 1 High School fell in love with a girl from the same school.
The boy had paid a special admission fee to get in, but the girl was exceptionally talented.
The boy tried everything to get her attention.
A week into the semester, he swaggered into the classroom with his dyed yellow hair styled in a fashionable way, leaving the homeroom teacher speechless.
The whole class burst into laughter, but
the girl didn't even look up, quietly sitting in her seat doing her homework.
Later, the boy would always respond to the teacher in a strange voice during class, and during breaks, he would loudly proclaim who he had fought with the day before, and how he had been scolded by the principal during the flag-raising ceremony for smoking in the restroom.
He would always act nonchalant, only stealing a quick glance at the girl. But the girl's face remained completely unmoved.
Finally, he could no longer contain his feelings. One evening after school, he gathered a group of his friends downstairs in the school building. As the girl quietly walked out of the stairwell, he confessed his love to her in a nearly hoarse voice.
The crowd erupted in cheers, shouting for them to get together.
She froze, her slender, pale hands gripping her backpack straps tightly.
After a moment, she quietly walked up to the boy, looked up, and said, "My dream is Tsinghua University. I want to wait for you there."
The crowd burst into laughter, and the boy blushed.
With his grades, he couldn't even get into a vocational college.
He shoved the flowers into the arms of the person next to him, turned away, and squeezed through the crowd without looking back.
The next day, news came that the boy had transferred to another city.
Afterwards, the girl would often stare blankly at that empty seat in class.
Three years later, at the entrance of Tsinghua University, she stood quietly, much thinner than three years ago, carrying her luggage, just standing there, as if waiting for someone.
But she didn't know what she was waiting for. She sighed and walked into the school gate.
Suddenly, a bright voice rang out behind her, "Weren't you going to wait for me? Why aren't you waiting anymore?"
Tears streamed down the girl's face as she turned around.  
The boy had dyed his hair back to black, wearing a simple white t-shirt and jeans, seemingly bathed in sunlight.
He handsomely took her hand and walked into Tsinghua.
Later, after being the boy's girlfriend for many years, she casually asked, "Where did you transfer to that year? How could you get such a good score?"
The boy replied, "Altay No. 2 Middle School in Xinjiang. You only need 200 points to get into Tsinghua University."

My Youth:Chapter 10

 　　On our third day in Lhasa, the fifth day of our trip, just as dawn was breaking, Chen Yueran and I went to photograph the horses.

　　The horses of the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau are unlike any we've seen before; they vividly convey the powerful vitality of this land, making us marvel at their galloping spirit and envious of the innate freedom of the plateau. This is a natural yearning for freedom in everyone.
　　Green grass swayed, horses galloped, their arrow-like speed reaching the horizon, their manes fluttering in the wind—what a magnificent scene! The herders riding on their horses looked serene, following their steeds towards the horizon. They wore traditional Tibetan clothing, their garments flowing freely and openly. What a magnificent Qinghai-Tibet Plateau! What a magnificent and unrestrained spirit! Amidst
　　the blue and green, brown horses galloped across the plains, heading straight for the distance—only under the azure sky and amidst the green grass of the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau could this scene be expressed so vividly!
　　After taking a few pictures, we were getting bored and were about to wander around when we spotted a group of people in the distance. They wore navy blue shirts with teardrop-patterned badges on their collars; it was undoubtedly the Bitch Photography Group.
　　"What are these people doing here?" Chen Yueran suddenly asked beside me, whether to me or herself, I couldn't tell.
　　"They're probably here to take pictures, right?" I answered uncertainly, but seeing Chen Yueran's slightly gloomy expression, I didn't reply.
　　"Let's go," she said, pulling me to turn and leave.
　　"Chen Yueran, long time no see," a rather young man called out to her, his tone laced with sarcasm.
　　Chen Yueran paused slightly, glanced at him, then ignored him and turned to walk away, not uttering a single word to this restless man.
　　"It's been years, and your temper has only gotten worse. But besides that, what else do you have that's noteworthy? If it were back then..."
　　"Enough! You weren't the one who ultimately profited back then, so what gives you the right to act so arrogantly? Even though you have that so-called 'Bitch Photography Group' behind you, I, Chen Yueran, am not someone to be trifled with!" This was the first time I'd seen Chen Yueran so angry, and I became even more curious about this photography group. What on earth had angered her like this?
　　The person being reprimanded by Chen Yueran, feeling humiliated, flew into a rage and was about to start arguing again when the middle-aged man leading the group shouted coldly, "Qiao Luo, that's enough! Haven't you made enough of a scene?" The young man
　　named Qiao Luo immediately lost his arrogance, seemingly quite afraid of the middle-aged man. He secretly glared at Chen Yueran and then slipped into the crowd.
　　After the middle-aged man finished shouting, he said to Chen Yueran, who was still furious, "Yueran, what happened just now was Qiao Luo's recklessness. We didn't want to cause any more trouble. I, Cai Fan, apologize on his behalf. Let's just leave what happened
　　back then behind." "Cai Fan, control these troublemakers! If you keep letting them run rampant, someone will eventually take action for me!" With that, he grabbed me and left without looking back, still seething with anger.
　　Once outside, I cautiously asked, "What's going on between them and you?" I really didn't understand what connection Chen Yueran had with the Bitch Photography Group. Her usually calm and collected nature was unusually volatile today.
　　She took a deep breath of fresh air to calm herself, but only vaguely replied, "It's all old news... You'll understand later." She didn't explain further.
　　Seeing this, I didn't ask any more questions, letting her wander freely across the plateau, only occasionally catching a glimpse of a faint sorrow on her brow...

My Youth:Chapter 9

 　　In the evening, we walked along a narrow path to the restaurant. It was dinner time, and there were many people around, which puzzled me slightly. Lhasa is sparsely populated, and there were very few tourists. Then I thought, perhaps it was a large tour group. Chen Yueran seemed to be in a good mood today, ordering lamb chops and milk tea for me to try the highland flavor.

　　At the next table was a group of people about Chen Yueran's age, who had ordered a lot of food, which was quite eye-catching.
　　"Do you know them? The photographers from the Bitch Photography Group. Looks like they're here to take pictures. They love to travel in groups... If it weren't for that year... sigh, never mind..." Chen Yueran put down her milk tea and introduced them to me.
　　"Bitch Photography Group? Well, I'm not as knowledgeable as you. I don't think I've ever heard of them." I only caught the first half of her sentence and didn't understand the second half. It wasn't until much later that I realized what she meant.
　　She chuckled softly, then said, half-laughing, half-crying, "Please, I know you like photography, but I didn't expect you didn't even know this. Bitch Photography Group is one of the top photography agencies in the country, excelling in pastoral, street, and portrait photography. They already had a large membership several years ago. The group you see here is probably just a small team from Bitch Photography Group, which shows its massive scale.
　　" I smiled awkwardly and asked, "Then how did you know they were from Bitch Photography Group?"
　　"Did you notice they only brought their phones and no other video equipment? That's because they're not only a top-tier photography group in China, but they also use mobile phones to take pictures—that's a characteristic of Bitch Photography Group. They all wear water droplet-patterned badges on their collars; that's unique to them. Otherwise, who would bring so many people for no reason? A tour group would have children or elders, but here there are only young people and a few middle-aged people," Chen Yueran explained, pointing to them.
　　"That's true." "I nodded. 'Sigh, these people are all experienced photographers. How far can I go on my photography journey?'
　　" "You'll go very far," Chen Yueran thought to herself. "I'll do my best to help you fulfill your and my photography dreams.
　　" "By the way, do you need to get to know the Bitch Photography Group sometime?" I noticed Chen Yueran seemed quite familiar with the group, but I wasn't sure what her attitude would be, so I asked.
　　"No need, we'll meet again sometime," Chen Yueran said softly, gazing at the twilight sky outside the restaurant, her expression completely calm.
　　"Okay, whatever you say," I said, but I was also a little confused. What did "we'll meet again sometime" mean? In the vast sea of ​​people, meeting is a coincidence, yet she was so certain about meeting again? I pondered, forgetting the lamb chops in my hand, just sitting there blankly.
　　"Eat up, this meal is on me. We'll pay the bill later, then we can explore Lhasa properly." She smiled again, looking at me, who was lost in thought.
　　I quickly snapped out of it and focused on eating dinner. Tomorrow will definitely be a colorful day.

My Youth:Chapter 8

 　　Time flies in Lhasa. Before I knew it, the morning had flown by. It was a clear, sunny afternoon, and Chen Yueran and I strolled through the shallow grass, enjoying a very pleasant afternoon.

　　"This is our first day in Lhasa. How is it? How do you feel?" Chen Yueran asked.
　　"The altitude sickness isn't too severe. It gives you a sense of faith, making you feel connected to this land. The azure sky and lush green grass seem to be naturally suited to the plateau. The rich creativity of nature is truly amazing," I said. Lhasa is a wonderful place, something I can't experience when I'm trapped in the high-rise buildings of the city.
　　"Mmm, it feels wonderful," she said. "When I was your age, I came here too, captivated by this beautiful place. Back then, I was with someone capturing the most beautiful moments of Lhasa, but that beauty has now faded into dust, lost to the passage of time, never to be found again, only fragments of memory remain." She said with a touch of melancholy. She herself back then was as innocent as the girl before her, but since that incident, the dust in her heart could never be erased.
　　"It's alright, you're revisiting now," I comforted her. "But who is that photographer you mentioned? Is he special?"
　　"A very special person. As for his name, you'll find out sooner or later." She looked at me meaningfully, a hint of melancholy in her eyes.
　　I nodded. It must have been very important to her. About my age then? That's over ten years ago. For a memory from ten years ago to be so clear, it must be etched deep into her soul. Since she didn't want to tell me, I decided to let things take their course. I thought to myself,
　　"The timing is good; we can consider taking the photos." The melancholy in Chen Yueran's eyes had vanished, replaced by joy. This must be the true love for photography; no matter how troubled one is, the moment they hold a camera or phone, it all disappears.
　　I nodded again. We missed the opportunity to photograph the clear blue sky in the morning, but unexpectedly discovered a verdant willow tree in the distance. On the plateau, only one stood quietly. Unyielding to the wind and battered by the rain, its courage for life was on full display.
　　Choosing the right light and angle, I pressed the shutter. The image of the willow tree was projected into my phone's album, and even more so, imprinted in my heart. Ah, what a tenacious willow tree!
　　"The path of photography is difficult; it requires the courage to face the disapproval of others and to admit one's own failures. Photography is not simply about preserving scenery, but about using your own sweat to discover the little things in life, the beauty of a fleeting moment, the warmth of a moment—things worth keeping not only in photographs but also in your heart. Unwavering determination and diligent effort are the first steps on the road to success." Chen Yueran's moving voice gently drifted into my ears and into my heart...

My Youth:Chapter 7

 　　I don't know why, but Chen Yueran miraculously solved one of the biggest challenges of my photography trip. Even I was a bit baffled. But going to Lhasa seemed like a good idea, so under my father's calm gaze, I packed my bags, ready to leave in three days.

　　Time flies. Three days later, on the morning of the third day,
　　I sat by the window on the bus, wearing a white T-shirt and jeans. Patches of holly trees whizzed by, and cars flowed by like water. Time seemed to drag on, and it was a long time before I finally saw Chen Yueran's pretty figure.
　　"Good morning," she said.
　　"Good morning," I replied.
　　"Let's go, we'll be on the bus soon."
　　"Okay. It seems like it'll take at least two days, right?" I asked Chen Yueran in the waiting room.
　　"Pretty much. It's just a photography trip, so there's no need for expensive plane tickets. You can't afford them right now, and altitude sickness will be more severe. It'll be better to acclimatize with more time, and besides, we need to use that time to plan the route," she said.
　　"Okay, tickets are being checked, let's go." The words "Tickets being checked" appeared in the distance, and I urged Chen Yueran.
　　"Let's go, this is our own Lhasa trip."
　　The carriage was fairly clean and had air conditioning, so spending two days traveling here shouldn't be too tiring. Chen Yueran and I sat by the window, looking out at the rolling mountains and rushing rivers. The journey wasn't long, nor was it short; I only knew that when the morning sun shone through the clouds two days later, what greeted our eyes was an endless expanse of green grassland.
　　Stepping off the train, altitude sickness wasn't too severe for me, probably because I often travel for photography. Chen Yueran also didn't have much of a reaction. Altitude sickness wasn't a problem, but the visual impact seemed to showcase the beauty of the plateau to its fullest extent.
　　On the plateau, there are no flashy colors, no dazzling lights of bustling cities; what it possesses is a tranquility that seeps into the soul.
　　The sky was a deep, clear blue, almost like a ribbon of blue silk, with occasional wispy white clouds drifting across it, but mostly an elegant, ethereal sky blue.
　　The grass was green—emerald, light green, yellowish-green, dark green, grayish-green, and grassy green—every imaginable shade of green was gathered on this vast expanse of land. The grass seemed boundless and endless, soft and supple.
　　In this world, azure and grassy green reigned supreme; the blue was flawless, the green invigorating, a breathtaking beauty. On the distant hills, horses galloped, cattle and sheep grazed—a perfect blend of stillness and movement.
　　Chen Yueran and I left our luggage at the inn and walked between this vast expanse of sky and earth. I suddenly felt so small. Looking back at her, I saw that she, like me, wore an undisguised reverence. This wasn't just a fascination with the place, but a faith in nature, a sincere praise for the creativity of the natural world.

My Youth:Chapter 6

 　　In the afternoon, at home.

　　I was working on a set of practice problems, countless words and formulas crashing down on my shoulders, making it hard to breathe.
　　"Ring—" Thank goodness, I could finally escape the sea of ​​problems for a while.
　　"Hello, who is it? What's up?"
　　"It's me! Can't you recognize my voice?" The young woman chuckled on the other end of the phone.
　　"So it's the famous female boss. What's your name? I can't keep calling you 'female boss,' can I?" I said with a wry smile. Although we'd known each other for over half a month, I always forgot to ask her name.
　　"My name is Chen Yueran. Is that satisfactory? By the way, Lin Lu, are you free lately?" Chen Yueran asked.
　　"Pretty much, time can be squeezed out. What's up?" I asked. Although we'd only known each other for a short time, when did Chen Yueran have the leisure for this?
　　"The shop's not busy lately, and I'm thinking of going to Lhasa for a photo shoot. Do you want to come? If you do, the train ticket will be half price
　　." "Of course I want to go, but my father is keeping me from going." I smiled wryly. With my father's personality, how could he let me, who's about to enter junior high school, go out so easily? That's practically wishful thinking.
　　"It's okay, I'll take care of your trip. If you have time now, pack your camera equipment, travel expenses, and luggage. We'll leave from station X at 7:00 AM in three days."
　　"Hmm, if it's really as you say. But should we bring Xia Meng?"
　　Chen Xinran said, "I asked her, and she said she's a homebody and wants us to bring some souvenirs so she can take some photos of her." She smiled on the other end. Making friends with someone who smiles so much is probably not a bad thing, because she is as sunny as a sunflower, just like Xia Meng.
　　"Okay, I'll go prepare now." With that, I hung up the phone.
　　The New Year's money should be enough for the travel expenses. A phone and a macro lens will suffice for photography equipment; I'm always quick and easy. I've never bought a large camera before—firstly, it's not suitable for travel, and secondly, I don't have the funds—saving me the trouble of that step. The real challenge is convincing my father. I looked at him watching the game in the living room, a hint of distress in my voice. My studies are getting heavier, and Lhasa is so far away, making it extremely difficult. But Chen Yueran doesn't seem like the type to joke around. So, I'll just have to hope for a trip to Lhasa with her someday. I hope my wish comes true, I thought to myself.