For the Day I Meet You Again

It was just another ordinary week. After finishing my training, I returned to the classroom for night study. But like many nights before, I ended up sleeping on my desk instead of doing homework.

In my dream, I found myself thinking of the boy with the fluffy hair—Ding Yi, the one who once gave up his locker for me. It had been half a month since he left for the math competition in Beijing, and I often wondered how things were going for him. In my dream, he smiled at me, his eyes like black holes in the universe—mysterious, magnetic, and somehow…dangerous.

A sudden noise snapped me out of sleep. When I opened my eyes, I saw something unbelievable: my locker—technically, Ding Yi's—was covered in black ink. The damage was focused entirely on it, and a crowd had gathered to enjoy the "drama." It didn't take long to figure out who was behind it: the same fat boy who had taken my original locker stood smirking, holding a broken gel pen like a weapon.

Fury overtook me. I lunged forward and punched him straight in the face. He hadn't expected me to fight back and collapsed to the ground, nose bleeding, frozen in shock.

Our head teacher rushed in and took us both to the office. After listening to the boy's exaggerated version of events, the teacher blamed everything on me. I was too drained to defend myself.

The next day, my parents were called to school. That's when I learned the real reason for the bias: the fat boy's parents were colleagues of the teacher.

My parents said nothing on the way home. My mother just held my hand tightly, the same way she always had—gentle, warm, full of love.

Eventually, I was transferred to another public school in the suburbs.

It wasn't a bad school. Most of the students came from farming families, and they were kind to me. But if there was one thing the school lacked, it was Ding Yi.

His name had already been etched into my heart. I used to imagine seeing him again in the hallway or by the classroom window. I kept the paper frog with his name on it tucked safely in my backpack, hoping that fate would cross our paths again.

Over time, I received love letters, even had a few brief romances. But no matter what, there was always a soft place inside me reserved for him.

I knew Ding Yi was brilliant—he would surely go on to the best high school in the county. My grades weren't strong enough for that school, but I made up my mind. I would get in. I would cut off distractions. In eighth grade, I ended all my relationships and devoted myself to study and training.

My days became filled with books and sweat. My effort wasn't driven by ambition—it was driven by longing.

I didn't just want to see him again.

I wanted to walk into the classroom as his equal. To share a dorm. To sit beside him.

And this time, I would properly introduce myself:

"Hi, Ding Yi. I'm Li Hua. It's a pleasure to meet you. Can we be friends?"

I rehearsed that line over and over in my head as I studied harder than ever before.

For the day I meet him again.