Spring Outing

The discomfort of waking early and the excitement of a large event filled my mind with a peculiar sense of clarity—perhaps Lingquan would call it the effect of adrenaline and cortisol.

The activity was organized by class. Standing in the middle of the line, I couldn’t see Lingquan… but she should have come, right? As we walked, the city gradually awakened in the morning light, but neither Xin Yi nor I were in the mood to appreciate it; we kept reciting verses from “Li Sao” from our Chinese textbooks.

“The sun and moon suddenly vanish, the seasons of spring and autumn take turns. Only the grass and trees wither, fearing the beauty’s twilight…”

By the time we left the Martyrs’ Cemetery, boarded the bus to South Polytechnic, and got off again, we had almost memorized the poem.

On the way to the afternoon’s visit, we continued reciting “Butterfly Loves Flowers” and “Rain on the Bells,” and our homeroom teacher was quite moved.

On the South Polytechnic campus, there was a patch of Chinese bellflowers blooming just right, their blue-purple blossoms swaying gently in the spring breeze.

“Hey.” Xin Yi lifted her head from the textbook, looked around, and sighed deeply. “Why, why… why is it that in such a scene, the person beside me is you!”

It seemed she still hadn’t succeeded in forgetting that top competitor from the neighboring class within a week.

I shook my head and continued reciting emotionlessly: “Holding hands and gazing with tearful eyes, speechless and choked with sobs, thinking of leaving, the misty waves a thousand miles away…”

That night, everyone grouped up to stay in hotels, two per room. Xin Yi and I shared a room.

“I’d rather stay home and do Cheng Jiafu’s assignments…” She pulled out her book and slammed it heavily on the bed.

I silently took out my math competition notes and scribbled a few lines before I couldn’t help but take out my phone (we were allowed to bring phones on the trip with our teacher’s permission) and sent Lingquan a message: [Where are you?]

[Hotel.]

A reply!—so she brought her phone too.

[Which room?]

[517.]

[I’m in 509.]

[Having fun?] I sighed and hit send—because you suddenly stopped talking to me recently, I’m not enjoying this at all, I thought sulkily.

No reply.

[Are you there?] Worried, I sent another message.

[Yes.]

Fine, if I keep texting like this, Lingquan will say I’m wasting my phone credit.

Suddenly, I really wanted to drop by, but as we got off the bus, the teacher reminded us repeatedly to stay in our rooms for safety reasons… If someone came to check, that would be bad. I really am that well-behaved girl who never does anything wrong no matter the circumstance.

“Why in such a scene… is it you beside me…” At eleven, the lights went out, and Xin Yi muttered in the bed next to me. So noisy.

“Uh… what’s it like when you like that Sun guy? What does it feel like?” Since I couldn’t sleep anyway, I decided to chat.

“Stop deliberately bringing up painful memories!” Xin Yi shouted.

“…Why did you ask that? Could it be that you also… say it!” She flipped the attack.

“I’m just curious! Okay, enough, stop talking and sleep, we have to get up early tomorrow!” I pulled the blanket over my head to block the noise, and she finally quieted.

But my mind wouldn’t settle. “Could it be that you also…”

Around eight or nine the next morning, the bus arrived at the amusement park entrance. Standing amid the candy-colored plastic buildings under the dazzling sun, I felt a strange sense of time displacement… It had been a long time since I last visited an amusement park.

Xin Yi and a few classmates came over with maps and draped their arms around my shoulders. It seemed the good weather and the amusement park had finally (for the moment) erased her heartache. “Let’s ride the drop tower! And the haunted house—I heard it’s really thrilling.”

I wasn’t really eager to play, nor was I comfortable with such close gestures between girls, but what’s the point of coming to an amusement park if not to have fun? Sit dazed in front of the souvenir shop?

But where was Lingquan? Lingquan, Lingquan. Her name unconsciously filled my mind as I walked.

On second thought, it wasn’t that I didn’t want to play—I just wanted to play with Lingquan more.

“Gu Heqing, what are you spacing out for!” Xin Yi waved her hand in front of my eyes.

Better to keep moving… it wouldn’t be right to reject my classmates like this.

After trying a few rides, I felt dizzy stepping off the pirate ship, while they chatted and laughed as if nothing was wrong—their vestibular systems must be remarkably robust…

Leaning on the railing and fighting nausea, my phone vibrated twice.

[I’m lost.] —Lingquan

Then a picture message, showing what looked like a tall tower—the drop tower.

What’s going on? Where is she? Is she alone? What is she doing? My mind was full of questions, but my body jolted with tension. “Give me the map!” I stumbled, letting go of the railing, grabbed the map from Xin Yi’s hand, pointed out the direction, and without answering her “Where are you going?” I ran straight toward the tower, bumping into some tourists along the way.

“You’re crazy, kid.”

“Sorry!” I hurriedly apologized but didn’t stop.

In a crowded park, finding one person was no easy task, especially since my sense of direction wasn’t great. Usually, my loose blue-gray school jacket would be a key identifier, but today everyone wore sports uniforms for the outing. I circled the tower tirelessly, sending Lingquan messages:

[Don’t wander off! I’m coming right away!]

[Attachment: I’m here.jpg]

[Do you see the yellow flower bed?]

…

After about twenty minutes, I finally stood before Lingquan, panting. She sat quietly on a bench by a tulip bed, hands tightly holding that small red keypad device, her expression calm and indifferent.

“You came.” She tugged the corners of her mouth into a smile.

“Really…” I wanted to complain—did you really get lost? Why not ask a passing classmate? Why weren’t you with everyone else? But standing in front of her, no words came out.

“I flipped a coin at the intersection and randomly chose a path. I got a bit tired walking here. After flipping so many times, I forgot how to get back.” She muttered like a dream: “There are so many people here, I’m so scared. In the end, I could only… come find you. Sorry, sorry. I should’ve stayed put.”

“It’s… it’s okay. Look, there’s a roller coaster over there. Let’s go play together!” I tried to take her hand, but she shrank away.

“Don’t… don’t do that… You should stay away from me, don’t be so gentle with me anymore.” She forced a tough tone but avoided my gaze. She wasn’t lying.

“Why?” I slowly moved closer, not letting her turn away. “No lying.”

“Ha… even though we’re friends now… one day you’ll hate me. One day you’ll find me annoying and disgusting. One day… so I’d rather you walk away now, like everyone else does.”

She breathed heavily, throwing out tangled words, her eyes honest and unguarded, as if saying, “That’s how it is, happy now?”

“That won’t happen! I’ll always stay by Lingquan’s side, even if you chase me away!” I blurted out reflexively.

“Really? Even if I’m a disobedient bad kid, always causing trouble? Even if my mind is full of disgusting thoughts, even if I do crazy things? Even if you see me…” She pressed her hand to her chest, “everything here…”

“You’d still say you want to stay by my side?”

“Of course.” I answered without hesitation.

“You just… made a vow.” Her voice trembled softly.

“Because we’re…” I suddenly lost words, unsure how to phrase it.

“Classmates? Friends? Good friends? Or…” She only moved her lips for the last word, not speaking it.

“Good friends.”

She smiled, a little helplessly.

“W-what’s wrong, I…”

She pressed her finger to my lips. “Anyway, you’ll keep your vow, right? No lying.”

I nodded solemnly.

“What do you want to… do?”

“I don’t know. The sun’s a bit dazzling. Just sit here with me for a while.” Lingquan looked up at the sky.

I closed my eyes and sat beside her. Sunlight tickled my eyelids, the rich light passing through blood vessels, painting a red haze before my eyes. Around us, laughter and noise flowed by, but I could hear her heavy breathing.

“I read a paper before that said spring and summer are the seasons with the highest suicide rates, although some studies found no seasonal difference. But if it were me, I’d want to die in spring.”

“Why?”

“What else? An imbalance of monoamines, noradrenaline and serotonin, autonomic nervous system dysfunction—haha, just kidding. Because spring has bright sunlight and warm breezes, perfect for dreaming an endless dream among flowers.”

She reached back, fingertips brushing yellow, pink, purple, and orange tulips.

“Then I’d be devoured by awakened decomposers, becoming part of the soil, wind, and flowers. I’d…” She sighed deeply as if immersed in a beautiful vision. “But honestly, when the time comes, no one will care about seasons or think so much.”

“Don’t talk about after death… You’re already part of the wind and flowers! Look, the carbon dioxide you exhale feeds their photosynthesis. Whatever the way we live, we’re all small but meaningful links in the cycle of life…”

“Ha, really?” She lowered her eyelids skeptically.

“Time to eat, right?”

“Maintain my ‘life cycle,’ right? —No, I’m not hungry.”

“Even if the park food is expensive and awful… you should at least eat something.” I pulled her toward the restaurant.

“You didn’t have to say the first part so loudly.” She smiled wryly.

We sat at a crowded long table. My tray held a burger wrapped in brown wax paper and a Coke; Lingquan only ordered fries and orange juice. She carefully squeezed ketchup onto each fry, chewing slowly.

“Why eat so little?”

“I told you I’m not hungry—don’t talk to me like the dean!” She gulped a large mouthful of orange juice and slammed the cup on the tray.

“Sorry… but if you don’t eat well, you might get gastroenteritis.”

“I’m not planning to live that long.” She crossed her legs, indifferent.

After finishing, she folded her hands and rested her chin on her wrists, staring at me intently, like a scientist in a white coat observing lab mice.

“…Did you get something dirty on your face?” I instinctively wiped my face.

“No… just wanted to look a little longer.” She tilted her head and smiled mischievously.

Leaving the restaurant, as always in a crowd, Lingquan grabbed my sleeve, her curious yet cautious eyes scanning around like a little cat.

“What’s that?” she pointed behind us.

“That’s the pirate ship.”

“What’s that in the kid’s hand?” She pointed to a child holding a toy.

“It’s a bubble gun. —They sell those over there.”

A little girl in a frilly dress pulled the trigger, leaving a sparkling trail of round bubbles behind. Lingquan followed the girl, fascinated, poking a few bubbles with her finger.

“Hey, stalking like that… you’ll get mistaken for a kidnapper.”

Lingquan seemed not to hear me, her attention caught by something new.

“That…”

A cotton candy cart. We joined a group of kids watching the vendor spin sugar, watching the fluff wrap around the bamboo stick.

“Want some?”

“No way! That’s just for kids!” Lingquan turned away but couldn’t help glancing back. “Wow, it’s really getting so big…”

“How much, boss?” I squeezed to the front to ask.

“Fruit-flavored colored cotton candy, twenty yuan, no bargaining.”

That’s highway robbery, right? I tried to recall how my mom haggled at the market, but with a stranger, I couldn’t say a word.

“I didn’t say I wanted any! …Fine, ten each, let’s buy one to share.” As I hesitated, Lingquan pulled out a crumpled ten-yuan note. “Then… we’ll share.”

I agreed, but something felt a little off.

Lingquan held the cotton candy like a precious work of art, looking it over from every angle, holding it to the sunlight, blowing and prodding it. When would she stop playing with it? Don’t waste the food, I thought helplessly. But it was rare to see her so happy—let her be.

“Cotton candy was originally called fairy floss when it was invented. I kind of liked the old name better.” I boasted a little.

“Really?” She twirled with the cotton candy, the hem of her uniform fluttering slightly. I thought I saw a real fairy.

Finally, as if summoning great courage, she carefully bit into the cotton candy.

“Amazing! I thought it would be soft or crunchy, but it just melted instantly…”

“You’d never had it before?”

“...There used to be someone selling it near my elementary school, but mom said candy causes cavities. And when I had my own pocket money, I never saw anyone selling it… I fantasized about the taste for so long.”

After a few bites, she suddenly held the cotton candy out to me. “It’s so good I forgot to share. Here!”

“Lingquan, if you like it, just eat it all.”

“Eh, you’re not… disgusted with me, are you?” She blinked with innocent big eyes. “Then tearing off half should be okay…”

Under her eager gaze, I took a small bite, then handed it back.

“I’ve already… eaten it many times. The rest is yours.”

She licked the cotton candy contentedly. “Awesome… If I could choose how to die, I’d pick dying from cotton candy soaked in poisoned syrup. Maybe then I could experience a sweet death.”

“Ah, you’re not mad, right? You’ve been talking a lot about death today. —Good. It seems that whether at home or school, death is always an unpleasant topic, so I only talk about it with you, because… Gu Qing just made a vow, right? No matter what awful things I say or crazy things I do, you’ll always stay by my side.”

“I think being unhappy about death is just a remnant of superstitious taboos!” I said loudly. “There’s no need to hide it completely—after all, someone said that the instincts for life and death coexist within everyone.”

“That old Freud guy, right? But what you just said sounds pretty right. Sometimes I feel survival is a disease and death is the cure, poison and antidote at once. But because of our strong will to live, death isn’t easy. So humans invented many substitutes for death.”

“Substitutes?”

“Yeah… death isn’t totally hidden. This sunny amusement park is full of death rehearsals.” She pointed at the towering roller coaster tracks. “If not practicing falling to death, why would people be so fascinated by converting gravitational potential energy to kinetic and some internal energy?”

“I think roller coasters are more like practicing flight, letting those without wings briefly float in the air. —By the way, since we’re here, shall we…” I waved the ticket in my hand.

There was still some time before gathering, and Lingquan hadn’t used any of her park tickets.

“Let’s practice death or flight together.” Lingquan smiled and finished my sentence.

The roller coaster slowly climbed toward the afternoon sun, clattering upward.

My heart raced, palms sweated, some riders were already screaming early. Lingquan and I sat side by side. I looked at her; she remained calm and serene—if her glasses and watch weren’t confiscated, she might have been timing acceleration during the drop. She looked at me and quietly gave a thumbs-up under the safety bar.

At the peak, then, without warning, we plunged and accelerated. Pulled by gravity and centrifugal force, the wind howling around us, screams caught in our throats.

After the ride, it was nearly time to gather and leave. I’d walked the route with the map earlier and had a rough idea of the way back. Lingquan and I ran madly to the entrance under the spring sun, hearts pounding like drums.

Buses lined up at the front. Lingquan suddenly slowed her pace.

“Let’s end it today, just today…” she murmured, her face smeared with cotton candy residue, sparkling in the sunlight like tear stains.

I sat back on the bus, watching the candy-colored buildings slowly recede and fade from view.

“After you left, everyone was guessing what you were doing—were you in such a hurry because you were called away by someone you liked for a date?” Xin Yi sat beside me again and started gossiping.

“Don’t think so much! I was with a good friend…”

“Wow, an even better friend than me… is it Lin Quan?”

I nodded.

“I really don’t get how you two hang out… I get it! You sneaked off to study while everyone was playing! Damn you! I’ll get you!”

“No way.” I rolled my eyes, letting the girl next to me ravage my backpack.

I caught a glimpse of the sketchbook I brought but hadn’t opened through the unzipped bag, and images flooded my mind of Lingquan holding cotton candy like clouds, spinning like a fairy, popping bubbles with both hands, hair blown by the wind on the roller coaster… I couldn’t draw on the bumpy bus ride, but once home, I’d capture every frame without missing a beat.

That sudden speeding heartbeat—whether from recalling the roller coaster or Lingquan—I wasn’t sure. Scientists say emotional cognition lags behind physiological expression, meaning our bodies react instinctively before our minds interpret those reactions, leading to the so-called “suspension bridge effect”—mistaking the heart pounding and quickened breath from danger for budding affection. What I felt now was probably just this misattribution…

But strangely, even so, I’d rather stay immersed in it forever.