Part i Auspice at Dawn

Mid August, late summer 2023. Birds chirped in the bushes, welcoming the arrival of dawn.

Waves of vibration came from my left wrist along with weak buzzing sounds, perceptible but not harsh, dragging me in and out of oblivion. Glancing at my alarm watch, it was 5:50 a.m., 10 minutes away from the morning alarm going off. I pulled out a wet wipe from the edge of my pillow, trying to get rid of the wet, sweaty stickiness on my skin.

A ray of sunlight pierced through the half-drawn curtain, brightening up the dorm room. People were washing up at the sinks, making chit-chat and spitting water out of their mouths, their faint sound drowned out by conspicuous, continuous snoring of my roommates. Swiftly, I went through my morning routine within minutes and strode out of the building right before the clock hit 6.

Three weeks ago, a group notice popped out of my Notifications, abruptly, yet as expected, fasted forward my summer turmoil and shoved me right into senior year. Eventually, there I was, stepping into the last two semesters that I feared for ages. Only two weeks in, the change of pace had been palpable, with dozens of new books constantly piling up inside my filled-up storage case. I randomly pulled out several shabby books gathering dust at the bottom to make space for some new “house guests”, their brand new, shiny covers reflecting gloss under the bright light.

The campus was utterly silent at the break of dawn. The hallway was still empty around 6 a.m., the sound of my footsteps bouncing off the concrete walls and kept on reverberating. I ascended the stairs, slid the key in the latch and switched on the lights as well as the air conditioner, which somehow had two fan leaves missing but was still able to add to some coolness and ease the sultry sensation inside the room to some extent. Soon, people walked in one after another, their full-mouthed rambling kept building up until our class teacher, Mrs.Yang, trotted onto the podium.

“Time to get down to business! Seize the day and make your lives extraordinary!”, said Mrs. Yang in a resounding voice.

Envisioning life after 300 days, I took a deep breath, standing up with my word booklet and read the daily motto out loud—

Carpe Diem.

Part ii The Trail

The teaching buildings were named after all four seasons, neatly arranged in a row on the east side of the campus. A trail, with parasol trees planted alongside, separated that row and the fences serving as the boundary, traversing the northernmost and southernmost area. At night, the streetlights by the trail were dim and slightly scattered, yet somehow students piled in that trail at the sound of the night alarm, flooding in the dormitory before 10:45 p.m., right when the gates were closed. I was no exception. I cherished the melodious chirping of cicadas, the brief babble after 16 hours of constant brainstorm, and the tranquil atmosphere brought by gentle breeze stroking my cheeks.

As much as I tried to keep up the spirit of being “the early bird”, occasionally I overslept and failed to duck the “rush hour”, resulting in being late for the morning deadline. At this point, I always turned my route to that less traveled, somewhat more unnoticed trail where “checkpoints” usually weren’t set, managing to escape punishment and hurtling into the classroom at the final moment (most of the times). Consequently, it wasn’t hard to catch sight of couples taking their time and strolling on the asphalt trail, no matter day or night. Walking upon it, I constantly sensed the scent of hormones lingering in the air, strong and tantalizing. Sometimes things unfortunately went sideways for couples with our counselor sneaking into the crowd dressed up in student uniforms as disguise. Still, it publicly became a secret venue for everyone, and for me.

Miles and I used to walk on that trail a lot. I first met Miles in sophomore year during a school-wide National Day performance at backstage. I was the singer of the opener, and he was one of the six-feet-tall flag bearers dressed in military uniforms and carrying the national flag on their defined shoulders. He looked straight ahead, his eyes solemn and determined. Seemingly sensing my gaze fixed on him, he slightly turned his head to me and flashed a smile across his face. Eleven months later, there we were on the trail every night, spontaneously becoming each other’s ten-minute late-night company on the way back.

“300 days until the college entrance exam now.” He said, looking up above at the bright red LED school title. “I’m actually not so nervous about it as I thought I would’ve been.” “Really?” I replied with a slightly astounded tone. “The exhaustion is already kinda hitting for me, to be honest.”

“Hang in there. It’ll go by in no time.” “Yeah. I guess.” Letting out a gasp, I followed him across the scarlet light, into the darkness.

Part iii Silver Lining

That October night, after hours of tossing and turning in misery, I lifted up my patch and took a glance of my watch screen, which read “4:40”. Insomnia, my biggest enemy, had come back to turn my life into an utter shambles once again, constantly haunting me like a never-ending nightmare.

“I can’t go to class like this, mom.” The green phone number light stung my eyes. Autumn wind sent shivers down my spine, offering my drowsy head some slight sobriety. “Maybe we should reconsider the boarding thing.” “Meet me at the gate in two hours.” Mom’s concerned tone gave me solace. “I’ll help you ask for leave.”

The transition to day school mode was swifter than I thought thanks to my caring head teacher. Mom and dad rented a house two blocks away from the northern gate, thus making dad’s mountain bike my sole and foremost transportation both in the morning and at night. I can still recall zooming back and forth upon that lane next to the school gate day after day. I remember the howling gale raging by my ears, the feeling of ecstasy when heading home, and the rush of adrenaline when riding at full throttle 5 minutes before half past 6, the requested time of classroom arrival. It surely was a more demanding lifestyle, but as far as how the year had gone, I felt less imprisoned and more liberated than ever.

Still, anxiety failed to vanish. Oftentimes, my mind kept hopping from one place to another ceaselessly with relentless random thoughts flooding in. I tried to sleep it off with my eyelids tight shut, only ending up sober at 2 a.m., covered in sweat and heart pounding.  I can’t count how many times I had sobbed out of despair in the middle of the night.

I battled with my demon all the way through that winter and the following spring. The countdown kept reminding me time was running out, while repeated exam setbacks made me suffer unspeakably. Fortunately, every night I set foot on the porch, the blazing light would inject a doze of warmth throughout my body - there she was as always, my dearest mother, sitting by the table with a heartwarming smile and holding a bowl of fruit in her hands. “Put your bag down, sweetie. You deserve a break after all that.”

“Thanks, mom.” Weary but relieved, I put a blueberry on my tongue. “It’s very sweet.”

Part iv After the Storm

June 8th,2024 , that fateful day of Gaokao’s closure, came faster than I had expected. Before I know it, I had stepped out of the gate and spotted my mother’s smiling face in the crowd. “Well done.” My sister appeared from behind my mom and walked up to me with a big hug. “Let’s go have a feast.”

I decided to cut myself some slack and chose an exquisite Thai food restaurant. I shoved everything on the plate down my throat, trying to compensate for the loss of relief and happiness in the past year. On the way home, my sister kept nagging about grades estimation, school choices and college GPA, but through the window pane all I saw was the golden afterglow at the horizon, painting the misty clouds crimson.

After carrying my sundries from the trunk to the storage room, I wandered outside and skirted around the lake, watching the black swans elegantly floating around and fish agilely making their way inside the water. They kept their composure, regardless of the overwhelming summer heat.

All of a sudden, I felt water drips on my skin. Soon, the rain started pouring. With an urge out of nowhere, I took a few steps backwards to the empty ground and lay down on my back, facing the broad sky and thick dark clouds, embracing the serried raindrops.

Suddenly, I laughed. Suddenly, I felt alive again.