The sound of waves pounding against the breakwater always reached the classroom a moment before the school bell.
South Bay High stood on the high ground of this seaside town. From the window-side seat in the back row of Class 3-2, the entire glittering blue ocean spread out below. Even in September, the sea breeze still carried the clinging heat and humidity left over from summer, making the old wooden window frames creak softly. Along with the old teacher’s low, even voice from the front of the room, it became the perfect background noise for an afternoon nap.
“Everyone, quiet down for a moment.” Ms. Lin tapped the teacher’s desk, her voice cutting through the classroom’s lethargy. “Before we officially begin this semester’s classes, there’s something I need to announce. We have a transfer student joining us today.”
The lifeless classroom immediately stirred with a small commotion. In this seaside town, where young people were leaving in droves and even the elementary school faced the threat of consolidation, having a transfer student arrive in the middle of high school was practically headline news.
“I heard he transferred from Taipei…”
“Taipei? Why would he transfer to a rural place like ours at this point in the year?”
“Do you think something happened at his old school?”
The low whispers spread through the air. Lu Yuan, sitting in the second-to-last row by the window, merely twitched his ears almost imperceptibly before turning his gaze back to the oddly shaped cumulus cloud in the sky outside. Who had transferred and why had nothing to do with him. His youth had already come to a complete standstill two years ago, in that heavy rain, along with someone who would never come back.
“Come in, Lu Zhou.” Ms. Lin waved toward the classroom door.
The sliding door was pushed open gently, and a tall, slender figure walked in.
He was a boy who was almost unnaturally tall, wearing South Bay High’s brand-new school uniform, not yet washed enough to fade. His skin was pale, as though it had gone a long time without sunlight. His hair was slightly long, covering his eyebrows, and his whole person gave off a cool distance that seemed completely out of place in this bright, sunlit seaside town.
“Hi, everyone. My name is Lu Zhou. Lu, as in land; Zhou, as in boat. Nice to meet you.”
Brief and cold, without even a trace of unnecessary expression. After the boy named Lu Zhou finished speaking at the front of the room, he lowered his eyes slightly and stood there in silence, as if every gaze and whisper around him were separated from him by a sheet of transparent glass.
“Uh… is that it?” Ms. Lin let out an awkward laugh, trying to ease the tension. “Lu Zhou just transferred here from Taipei, so he may still need some time to adjust. Everyone, please help him out. Oh, right, Lu Zhou, for now, why don’t you sit in…the last row by the window, in the empty seat behind Lu Yuan?”
Lu Zhou nodded, picked up his black backpack—which looked light enough to contain nothing at all—and headed toward the back of the classroom with long strides.
As he passed Lu Yuan, a faint scent like a forest after rain mingled with slightly bitter medicinal herbs drifted easily across Lu Yuan’s nose. Lu Yuan looked up instinctively, his gaze landing on Lu Zhou’s slightly raised wrist.
There was an unmistakable reddish scar there, like the mark left by wearing some heavy watch for a long time. Yet now, against that pale skin, there was nothing at all.
At an age when everyone cared about the time and checked their phones or watches at every opportunity, this transfer student’s wrist was bare except for a mark that refused to fade.
Lu Zhou sat down in the empty seat behind Lu Yuan, and the desk and chair gave a soft clack.
“All right, everyone, open your textbooks to page twelve…” The old teacher’s voice resumed at the front of the room.
Lu Yuan withdrew his gaze and turned his head back toward the window. But this time, for some reason, a strange, almost imperceptible sensation prickled across his back. The breathing behind him was quiet and slow, like some creature accustomed to suppressing its emotions, carefully maintaining its rhythm in an unfamiliar environment.
The moment the class bell rang, the classroom of Class 3-2 immediately came alive. A few of the more popular boys and outgoing girls quickly gathered around Lu Zhou’s desk, peppering him with questions about Taipei, why he had transferred, and all the gossip peculiar to boys and girls their age.
Lu Zhou responded politely but distantly. His answers were always limited to simple “Mm,” “No,” or “It’s fine.” His eyes remained as calm as still water, without a ripple, like an isolated island no outsider could easily set foot on.
Lu Yuan didn’t join the excitement. He put away the notebook on his desk and walked straight out of the classroom.
He followed the old wooden staircase of the old school building upward, pushed open the metal door that was usually locked but whose lock had long since broken, and stepped onto the school rooftop.
This was Lu Yuan’s secret hideout. Nowhere else at South Bay High caught such a pure sea breeze, unobstructed by the school buildings. A few discarded desks and chairs sat in one corner of the rooftop, heated by the sun and giving off the warm, woody scent of age.
Lu Yuan walked to the railing, drew in a deep breath of salty sea air, and closed his eyes.
Only here could he briefly pull away from the guilt and regret pressing down on him until he could barely breathe. His father’s expectations, his mother’s cautious gaze, and, each time he dreamed, those hands slowly loosening in the freezing seawater…
“You can’t smoke here.”
The unexpected voice abruptly interrupted Lu Yuan’s thoughts.
Lu Yuan’s eyes flew open, and he turned his head.
At some point, the transfer student named Lu Zhou had made his way to the rooftop too. He stood not far from Lu Yuan in the shade, one hand in his pocket, watching him quietly.
Lu Yuan raised an eyebrow, pulled an unlit strawberry lollipop from his pocket, tore open the wrapper in front of Lu Zhou, and stuck it in his mouth. Speaking around it, he said, “Who said I was going to smoke? And…how did you find this place?”
Lu Zhou looked at the lollipop stick between his teeth. A rare flicker of blank bewilderment crossed his eyes before they quickly returned to their usual unruffled calm. “Sorry. I just followed the direction of the wind up here.”
“Followed the direction of the wind?” Lu Yuan couldn’t help snorting. There was something absurdly poetic about the way this transfer student spoke. “The rooftop door’s broken, and hardly anyone comes up here. If you want to be alone, you can have that spot over there. Just don’t bother me.”
Lu Yuan pointed toward the railing on the other side, then turned his back to Lu Zhou and continued chewing on the lollipop.
The air fell silent again. Only the sea breeze rushing past and the faint but distinct sound of their breathing remained between them.
Lu Zhou didn’t leave, nor did he move to the spot Lu Yuan had indicated. He simply stood in the shade where he was, tilting his head slightly upward as he watched several seagulls fly across the sky.
After a long while, Lu Yuan finally couldn’t resist speaking. He usually appeared cold and indifferent to everything, but some inexplicable instinct deep inside him had made him curious about this new desk mate in a way he couldn’t put into words.
“Hey, transfer student.” Lu Yuan didn’t turn around, and his voice sounded somewhat blurred by the wind. “Where’s your watch?”
Lu Zhou, standing in the shade, paused slightly. The fingers hanging at his side tightened unconsciously.
“What watch?”
“The mark on your wrist.” Lu Yuan turned around and leaned both hands against the railing, staring fixedly at Lu Zhou’s right wrist. “You wore it for a long time, right? Why’d you suddenly take it off?”
Lu Zhou was silent for a long time. The sea breeze tousled the bangs over his forehead, hiding his eyes and making his emotions impossible to read.
Just as Lu Yuan began to think he wouldn’t answer—and was even preparing to apologize, though he rarely apologized—Lu Zhou spoke. His voice was so soft it was almost scattered into the air by the sea breeze.
“Because…a watch that keeps perfect time can sometimes make people forget that time has already stopped.”
Lu Yuan froze.
He looked at the pale, distant boy before him, who seemed as though the sea breeze might carry him away at any moment, and the lollipop in his mouth suddenly tasted a little bitter.
He didn’t understand the specific meaning behind Lu Zhou’s words, but he felt an uncanny resonance with them—that was the scent of stagnation, something only people equally trapped in the past could detect in one another.
“Is that so?” Lu Yuan lowered his head and nudged a small stone by his foot. “Funny. My watch broke a long time ago too.”
Lu Zhou raised his head and looked deeply at Lu Yuan.
At that moment, the afternoon sun emerged from behind the clouds. Golden patches of light spilled across the rooftop and over the two boys, each carrying secrets of his own. Along the coastline where the sea breeze fell silent, two parallel lines that should never have crossed quietly formed their first faint intersection.