Chapter 129: Whom Did You Give Your Button To That Year?

"When I came up here just now, I asked myself: why did you walk up here and stand in this spot? This place should belong to the territory of the top students—people like my class monitor, Li Liwei, or my sister, Su Yuxi.

"My sister just complimented me a moment ago. Well, I'm still trying to figure out whether that was a compliment or a dig." Cheng Xiaoyu spread his hands with a smile, drawing a burst of laughter from the students below.

"So, I stand here to remind myself that we must constantly view things from different perspectives. Having made it up here today, I’ve found that the view is indeed different. If you don't believe me, you can come up and see for yourselves later.

"Just like when reading a book—you shouldn't focus on what the author was thinking, but rather imagine how you see it yourself.

"Students, you must strive to find your own voice, because the longer you wait to start looking, the less likely you are to find it.

"Thoreau said, 'The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.' Don't fall into that trap; break out. Don't run away like a coward; look around you. Dare to challenge yourself. If you want to be a good student, study hard. If you want to be a great artist, hone your craft tirelessly. If you want to be a writer, start writing and submitting your work right now. As for those of you who have a crush on my sister, I’d advise you to give up."

As soon as he finished, deafening applause and jeers erupted from the audience, so intense it felt as if they might blow the roof off the auditorium.

Cheng Xiaoyu paused, smiled, and winked at Su Yuxi. He waited until the hall returned to silence, with everyone’s eyes locked onto him. His voice was deep and magnetic, filled with emotion and rhythm, making it a genuine pleasure for the students to listen to him.

"I see the strongest, most brilliant people here, yet your potential is being wasted. You are only busy studying, playing sports like soccer or basketball, or thinking about pretty girls and handsome boys. You haven't thought about what kind of person you want to become or what you want to do in the future. Perhaps most of you will settle into a routine, living an ordinary life, buying houses, cars, and clothes under the temptation of advertisements, working yourselves to death for things you might not even need.

"We are a generation forgotten by history, without a purpose, without a place, without a world war, and without an economic depression. Our war is a spiritual war; our depression is our own lives. We grew up watching television, dreaming that one day we would become millionaires, high-ranking officials, or entertainment superstars. But most of us won't. That is the reality we are gradually facing, and perhaps one day, we will be very, very angry.

"But whatever life you lead, it is ultimately your own choice. So you must ask yourselves now: what are you fantasizing about? World peace? Likely."

Another round of laughter filled the auditorium—clearly, this was the rhythm and effect Cheng Xiaoyu intended. Holding the microphone, he stepped away from the podium and asked loudly:

"Are you fantasizing about international fame? About winning a Pulitzer, a Nobel Prize, or a Huaxia Music Award? Are you fantasizing about meeting a brilliant, sexy beauty or a handsome man who seems a bit bad or aloof on the surface, but secretly shines with noble passion and is willing to spend a romantic night with you?

"The crux of Lacanian philosophy is that fantasy must transcend reality because the moment you actually get it, you can no longer want it. To continue to exist, the object of desire must remain forever unattainable. You don't want the thing itself; you want the fantasy of it. Desire and wild fantasy go hand in hand—this is what the Basques call 'true happiness,' which comes from daydreaming about future joys. Otherwise, why would we say the hunt is more enjoyable than the kill? Or, 'be careful what you wish for,' not because you won't get it, but because once you do, you will no longer want it.

"So, the lesson Lacan gives us is that those who get exactly what they want are never happy. The truest essence of humanity is to live fully within your ideas and ideals, not to measure your life by how many desires you have fulfilled, but by how many moments of sincerity, compassion, reason, and even self-sacrifice you have achieved. Because in the end, the only standard for measuring the weight of our lives is how you treat the lives of others. The joy you gain comes solely from within yourself.

"So be the person you want to be. There is no time limit on this; you can start whenever you are willing. You can change starting now, or you can stay exactly the same. There are no rules for this. You can live the most magnificent life, or you can make a total mess of it.

"But I hope you live the most magnificent version of yourselves. I hope you see things that surprise you, and travel to see different landscapes. I hope you experience emotions you have never felt before and share in happiness together. I hope you meet people with different ideas and engage with them. I hope you feel proud of your life. When you grow old, even if you haven't achieved what others define as success, haven't received worldly praise, or haven't stood out in this ostentatious world, as long as we feel comforted that we did not waste our time, then we should be happy.

"If you look at yourself now and realize you haven't done that, I hope you have the courage to start today."

Cheng Xiaoyu finished, bowed to the teachers and students of Fudan High School, and stepped down from the podium. This time, the applause was thunderous and long-lasting. His speech was similar in theme to Su Yuxi's, but simpler and more direct, making it more touching than her somewhat obscure content. Both were worth savoring, but in terms of technique and audience interaction, Cheng Xiaoyu was superior; Su Yuxi had never considered the audience's feelings, nor did she care. In a deeper sense, however, Cheng Xiaoyu knew he was no match for her—after all, he was just a plagiarist.

Cheng Xiaoyu let out a quiet sigh of relief, glad he hadn't embarrassed himself. He had gone up without any preparation, and fortunately, his powerful memories from his past life had served him well. These philosophical lines were all excerpts from films he had watched in his previous life. Still, selecting these classic lines on the spur of the moment was no easy feat.

As he returned to his seat, Wang Ou, filled with emotion, stood up and hugged him. "Xiao Pang, what you said just now was so good. It made me feel like I’ve found the meaning of life."

Cheng Xiaoyu smiled and patted his shoulder. As he sat down, Wang Ou took the opportunity to tug at the first button of his uniform.

Cheng Xiaoyu was a bit stunned. He knew about the Japanese custom of asking one's sweetheart for the second button, but he was unaware of the traditions at Fudan High School, nor did he know what the first button signified. He asked Wang Ou, who whispered a detailed explanation, leaving Cheng Xiaoyu enlightened. He thought Su Yuxi was making a fuss over nothing, as he was sure no one would ask him for a button.

After the graduation ceremony, the class organized a gathering at a restaurant near the school, paid for by the parents of a wealthy student. Before the dinner, they had to take group photos in front of the teaching building.

The students of Class 2, Senior Year, flowed out of the auditorium. The members of Guilty Crown walked together. Several girls had already approached Chen Haoran for his second button, only to be coldly rejected by his poker face.

Wang Ou watched as a cute girl turned away in tears after being rejected by Chen Haoran. "It's just a button," he couldn't help but say. "What's the big deal with giving it away?"

For once, Chen Haoran responded to Wang Ou's questioning, saying expressionlessly, "You can give yours away if you want. I won't stop you."

This infuriated Wang Ou, who began to protest loudly. Among the three boys, only Cheng Xiaoyu had lost his second button.

Xia Shamo looked at the empty space on Cheng Xiaoyu's chest with a mix of relief and regret. The sweltering weather made everyone radiate intense heat, and she stood very close to him, sensing the boiling temperature of his body. Under the sun, their shadows shrank into small blobs. Cicadas buzzed noisily in the camphor trees, and a warm breeze blew, stirring the hair Xia Shamo had grown long for someone. She reached up to tuck it behind her ear. This lazy, lingering movement stunned the summer. That slow, elegant motion became a mottled scroll of a fading dream.

Graduation is the most pleasant kind of sorrow. Every class had red banners for their graduating year. Some classes took photos in front of the teaching building, some in front of the gym, others under the camphor trees on the playground.

Cheng Xiaoyu stood on a stool in the back row. Under the noon sun, amidst shouts of "Cheese!", he left a wide, bright smile for the camera. Chen Haoran and Wang Ou stood on either side of him, and Xia Shamo stood in front.

The school's white-tiled building looked grand and shimmering. The teachers smiled with approachable kindness, and every student displayed a face brimming with youth.

His high school days were forever frozen in this moment. Many boys were missing their second buttons, though no one knew whose necks those buttons were now hanging from, strung on red threads.