The cold snap in the spring of 2005 came out of nowhere. The weather had been steadily warming, but on the first day of March, temperatures plunged back to freezing.
Shao Xue shivered as she crawled out of bed, calling for her mom, only to remember that Yu Dong Ge and Shao Hua had gone out to visit relatives.
It had been only a short while since the new school term started, and her internal clock was still sluggish, stuck in vacation mode. It was also a weekend, so she leisurely washed her hair in the bathroom. But when she plugged in the hairdryer, she realized it was broken.
After soaking several towels without managing to dry her hair, Shao Xue’s neck ached from trying to fix the hairdryer, and she had soaked herself in the process. With no other option, she wrapped her wet hair in some clothes and headed to Zheng Su Nian’s house.
It was quite something, a girl heading to two guys’ house just to borrow a hairdryer.
When Zheng Jin opened the door, he was startled. Shao Xue, with her neck tilted awkwardly, tried to be polite, “Uncle Zheng, can I borrow your hairdryer for a bit?”
He didn’t use such things himself, so he rummaged through the living room and bookshelf for a while before finally calling out toward the bathroom, “Su Nian, where’s the hairdryer?”
The sound of an electric razor hummed from the bathroom. A moment later, Zheng Su Nian emerged, towel in hand, drying his hair as he walked. He pulled the hairdryer out of a drawer and handed it to Shao Xue.
Seeing that she was about to leave, Zheng Su Nian grabbed her by the collar and pulled her back to the living room mirror. “Where do you think you’re going? It’s freezing outside. Just dry your hair here.”
As the hairdryer roared to life, Shao Xue heard Zheng Jin call out, “I’m going to buy breakfast. When I come back, you and Xiao Xue can eat together.”
The hairdryer in their home was powerful, and Shao Xue’s long hair fluttered like Mei Chaofeng’s in the breeze. After watching for a while, Zheng Su Nian finally couldn’t resist and took over.
“No girl dries her hair like that.”
She let go of the hairdryer, feeling her hair gently swept back as the warm air caressed her neck.
“Not bad,” she tilted her head, teasing, “This is definitely worth the twenty bucks at a beauty salon.”
Zheng Su Nian didn’t respond. Her hair was thick and fluffed up quickly, feeling heavy in his hands. Once it was mostly dry, he turned off the hairdryer and asked, “What shampoo do you use?”
She thought for a moment but couldn’t remember.
“It smells nice. Let me know later.”
“No need,” he turned away, “I was just asking.”
In two days, he would be taking the art entrance exam. He had stopped going to the art studio, staying home to practice his sketches instead. A pile of scrap paper filled half a sack, and the more he drew, the more unsure he felt.
It wasn’t like regular classes. When you solve a problem, you know it’s right, and when you memorize something, you’re confident you’ve learned it. But art was different. Having started later than most, he couldn’t help feeling anxious. Shao Xue, curious, grabbed one of his sketches and lay down on the sofa.
“Su Nian-ge, what do they test for the art entrance exam?”
“Calligraphy, quick sketches, and a half-body portrait.”
“Which one are you best at?”
“None of them.”
Shao Xue frowned at his defeated expression. “Then which one are you worst at?”
“Worst? The half-body portrait is the hardest.”
She looked down at his sketch. Being an outsider, she couldn’t judge the technicalities, but she thought the nose and eyebrows seemed pretty realistic, and the shading was well done.
“Su Nian-ge, Su Nian-ge,” she pestered him, “What are you going to draw today?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t feel like drawing anything.”
“Then,” she tilted her head, her voice full of hope but uncertainty, “Would you like to draw me?”
He was taken aback, turning his gaze toward Shao Xue.
Her freshly dried hair was fluffy, making her look like a soft woolen blanket, cheerful and light. The early spring sunlight streamed over her face, and Zheng Su Nian’s cheeks suddenly flushed.
The last time Zheng Su Nian reacted like this was when Shao Xue wore a qipao. The little girl had just started developing, yet she carried a seductive charm that only a mature woman would possess. But in this moment, Shao Xue seemed utterly harmless, making him want to fold her up and squeeze her gently.
So he said, "Alright… I’ll draw you."
And that sketch took three hours.
When Zheng Jin returned with breakfast, he saw Shao Xue sitting primly, being sketched. He quietly placed the breakfast on a nearby table. He still had some miscellaneous fees to pay, so he informed Su Nian and left again.
The house fell silent, with only the sound of the pencil moving across the paper.
It was March 1, 2005. The first signs of spring were stirring, the water just beginning to rise, and the trees starting to bloom. Zheng Su Nian had no idea what the future held, nor whether he would get into the Academy of Fine Arts.
All he knew was that he was drawing Shao Xue.
Eyebrows, eyes, nose.
He thought that was enough.
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