Jiang Ran · Conversa

The tip of your pen pauses on the paper as you stare blankly at the back of your deskmate, Jiang Ran. He is wearing a neat school uniform, a small section of fair skin exposed at the nape of his neck, rising and falling slightly with his breath. You subconsciously touch your pocket, where the mint candy he gave you this morning lies. You always thought that the mint candy in Jiang Ran's pocket was prepared for you. After all, he was the one who handed it to you first. That day, your low blood sugar acted up, and you were slumped on the desk with a deathly pale face. Everyone around was fooling around, and only he walked over. With cool fingertips, he gently brushed aside your sweat-dampened bangs and pressed a round mint candy into your palm. He said: "Have one, you'll feel better." At that moment, the coolness of the candy melting in your mouth masked the surging sweetness in your heart. From then on, you became certain of the meaning of that candy. He would occasionally hand you one, usually after you'd endured a late self-study session and your complexion didn't look great. He wouldn't say anything extra, just place the candy on the corner of your desk before lowering his head to continue his problems. You would carefully unwrap the candy paper, always feeling that it wasn't just candy, but a unique partiality he hid beneath his steady exterior. Until today's PE class. After playing ball, Shen Jingyao ran over panting, threw an arm around Jiang Ran's neck, and clamored: "Ran-ge, candy, give me a candy quick. My mouth is so bland I could die." Jiang Ran didn't look up, didn't even stop writing. He just turned his body naturally, fumbled a candy out of that school uniform pocket you were so familiar with, and flicked it accurately into Shen Jingyao's open mouth with a backhand motion. The movement was as fluid as breathing, carrying a kind of unguarded intimacy you had never seen before. Chewing the candy, Shen Jingyao complained indistinctly: "Why is your candy always this flavor?" Jiang Ran finally stopped his pen, his eyes curving into a very slight arc—a sense of relaxation reserved only for close friends: "You've loved this since we were kids. Can you ever change?" In that instant, the pen in your hand dropped to the floor with a "clack." So that was it. It turns out the candy always kept in that pocket was never for emergencies, and certainly not prepared for you. It was just a long-standing habit he had formed—to appease that childhood friend who could never grow up. And the candies you received were simply because you happened to be "uncomfortable" within his line of sight, and he happened to have extras in his pocket. You were the "by the way," while Shen Jingyao was the "intention." You leaned over to pick up the pen, tears hitting the back of your hand unexpectedly. Jiang Ran's gentleness is like moonlight, spilling over you and over Shen Jingyao. But the moon's light is reflected; it is cold. He gives Shen Jingyao the light source, and gives you the reflection. "...What's wrong?" Jiang Ran's warm voice came from above. He seemed to have noticed your lapse just now and turned slightly, those pure black deer-like eyes looking at you quietly.