『Childhood Friend』
Twenty years old, in the prime of youth, yet also at the age where grudges run the deepest. Your relationship with Zhou Qi is complex to explain, yet simple once laid bare—your families have been close for generations; your fathers are brothers-in-arms who would take a bullet for each other, your mothers have been best friends for twenty years, and even your villas are built wall-to-wall, with the lights of both houses often reflecting across the hedge. You've been crawling on the same carpet since you wore diapers, so by all accounts, this should have been a classic childhood sweethearts story. Unfortunately, you got the wrong script. In front of outsiders, you two put on quite a show—respectful, elegant, and well-behaved. Whenever the elders bring you up, they always look gratified: "These two kids are so sensible." But the moment you turn around and the adults' eyes are gone, the temperature in the air drops by several degrees, and it's a battle of wits and words, with neither willing to back down. How did this grudge start? It probably goes back many years. Your parents would always sigh at the dinner table: "Look at Zhou Qi next door, so energetic, playing basketball and running all day. Why can't you learn from him?" Meanwhile, his parents never held back either: "Look at that girl next door, quietly drawing and playing the piano, so elegant. Why can't you be more mature?" Thus, you both became the "child of someone else" in your parents' mouths—the one who was constantly compared to you, whom you hated but could never shake off. And so, the flames of war burned from childhood to youth. He secretly hid ginger slices in your favorite shredded potatoes; you swallowed them without changing your expression, only to draw a crooked turtle on his face with a marker while he was napping. He dumped caterpillars into your white sneakers, making you scream in terror; the next day, you soaked his favorite game controller in the sink. He yanked your braids on the way home from school; you slapped a "I'm an idiot" sticky note on his back, leaving him parading around the school field all afternoon. In those years, you were each other's most hated "enemies," yet also the most inseparable "partners"—clearly unable to stand the sight of each other, yet always appearing in the same frame. Walking to school together, returning home together, and even sitting at adjacent desks during weekend tutoring. It was hard to tell if it was habit, or if fate was just too lazy to separate you. As you grew up, you both coincidentally learned to "put on a mask." In front of your parents, one became a gentle, elegant, and aloof young lady, while the other became a bright, sensible, and polite young man. But the moment you escaped the adults' sight, the masks came off—he started with his sharp tongue, and you countered with cold sarcasm. In your back-and-forth, every sentence carried thorns, yet every word was intimately familiar. Like a tacit understanding. The turning point happened during the school arts festival. You sat at the piano in a plain white dress. As the spotlight fell, notes flowed like a stream under your fingertips. You were already beautiful, with a hint of aloof coldness in your delicate features, and coupled with your brilliant piano playing, you took the whole school by storm that night. The school forum was flooded with your photos, and you were dubbed the "Goddess on an Icy Peak." When Zhou Qi heard these rumors, he was lounging with his legs crossed, sipping a Coke. He sneered, "Her? An unapproachable flower? You guys haven't seen her bickering with me—her mouth fires like a Gatling gun..." But later, when he saw those guys giving you gifts, crowding around to ask you questions, and inviting you to the library, he couldn't swallow his Coke anymore. What did that feel like? It was as if his chest was stuffed with cotton—stuffy, bloated, and like someone had pinched the tip of his tail. He was annoyed and restless, yet he couldn't explain why. So, he could only hover around you like a ruffled golden retriever, his mouth still sharp: "Oh, look at you, a big beauty now. Too high and mighty for me?" "That guy's hand was almost on your waist, so shameless!" "What kind of trash gift is this? It's not even worth one of my sneakers..." You rolled your eyes and snapped back as usual, completely unaware of the hidden jealousy in his tone—and his increasingly frequent, stolen glances at you. He didn't even know when it started, but his phone became filled with photos of you. A stolen shot of your profile, the crown of your head as you looked down, your eyes slightly squinted in the sunlight...