Chapter Twenty-One: Artistic Youth Versus Artistic Youth

At this moment, Ji Yunyun, the kind of girl who was easily swayed, truly felt a bit moved. Such a bold declaration of affection in front of so many people—it would strike anyone as a little romantic. The long-haired young man felt triumphant and believed victory was within his grasp. He added, “I don’t blame your classmate. He’s just concerned about you. Judging by his appearance, he probably hasn’t experienced love and can’t understand what it feels like. So, I forgive him.”

Cheng Xiaoyu, however, felt slightly irritated. He thought to himself, Why doesn’t this girl just pay and leave? Why linger here any longer? With a hint of annoyance, he said to Ji Yunyun, “Love at first sight is just lust at first glance. Don’t dream of being Snow White. Remember, the one riding a white horse isn’t always a prince—sometimes he’s just a bald monk.” Instantly, laughter rippled through the crowd.

Cheng Xiaoyu then picked up a book titled "Searching for the Most Beautiful Self in Absurd Years," written by the bespectacled youth. Having skimmed it earlier, he knew it was a collection of poems, most of which resembled the famous 'lower body' poetry of another world. With no concern for embarrassment, Cheng Xiaoyu shouted, “Don’t miss out, everyone! Let’s appreciate our friend’s work!” Though he knew it was the bespectacled youth’s book, he directed his words at the long-haired young man, leading everyone to subconsciously believe the poems were his.

Cheng Xiaoyu’s exaggerated performance drew an even larger crowd. Unfazed, he adopted a comedic tone and recited, “My car was fined by the traffic police, my license was revoked. My wife consoled me, ‘Darling, don’t be angry. When we have a son, let’s name him ‘traffic police.’ By day he’ll call you Dad, by night, well, you’ll have your way with his mother.’” After finishing, even Cheng Xiaoyu couldn’t help but laugh. “Buddy, is this poetry or a joke?” Laughter exploded around them, leaving the two literary youths restless and ill at ease.

Cheng Xiaoyu flipped through a few more pages and began to read aloud again: “Someone called, startling a couple making love. Someone knocked, startling a couple making love. We’ve been startled by others, and we’ve startled others too. So we often say, ‘Call before you come, knock before you enter.’ Until the earthquake struck—no one knocked, no one called, and the couples making love were crushed on their beds.” After reading, Cheng Xiaoyu turned to Ji Yunyun and joked, “Remember to call before you look for him. If something happens, you’ll be blamed!” Ji Yunyun had never heard such explicit poetry before. Her face flushed bright red; she wanted to laugh but dared not, suppressing her laughter with great difficulty. Cheng Xiaoyu’s expression, reminiscent of a famous comedian, finally broke her resistance, and she burst into tears of laughter.

The long-haired young man looked utterly embarrassed, thinking that just as he’d turned the situation around, it was once again slipping from his grasp. He silently blamed the bespectacled youth. Despite having earlier praised the bespectacled youth’s poetry collection as groundbreaking, he now felt humiliated by the very style he had just extolled. Yet he dared not protest that the poems weren’t his, for he couldn’t afford to offend the bespectacled youth.

All he could do was turn and stare at the bespectacled youth, whose face was now red with anger. The bespectacled youth shouted, “You idiot! You know nothing about poetry! This is art—art! It’s about opening the door of the body, releasing suppressed vitality, expressing primal, savage force. You uncultured fool are insulting my work!” With that, he lunged forward and snatched the book out of Cheng Xiaoyu’s hands, terrified he might read further.

Cheng Xiaoyu was unbothered. He handed the items he intended to buy to the cashier and said, “I’ll pay.” Then, with a mischievous smile, he asked the cashier, “How much for that poetry collection?”

The cashier hesitated before replying, “That’s a gift that comes free with Ma Hezi’s poetry collection, ‘Song of the Canglang.’ It’s not for sale…”

Cheng Xiaoyu grinned at the bespectacled youth, who had already suffered a thousand wounds. “Honestly, I think you’d be better at writing joke books than poetry. If you publish a joke collection, I’ll buy a hundred copies to support you.”

The bespectacled youth glared, barely restraining himself from lunging at Cheng Xiaoyu. The long-haired young man hurried to restrain him. He knew Cheng Xiaoyu was not someone to trifle with, but as long as he could still get Ji Yunyun’s number, it wouldn’t be a total loss. Ignoring Cheng Xiaoyu, he turned to Ji Yunyun and said, “I’m sure your classmate doesn’t do well in school. He lacks literary refinement, so he can’t understand the emotions we poets try to express…”

Cheng Xiaoyu, seeing the long-haired youth still pestering Ji Yunyun, grew impatient and cut him off. “Why make a spectacle of yourself? Neither of you understands love nor poetry. You’re both just fake literati, putting on airs to trick girls.”

The long-haired youth mustered what he thought was a magnanimous smile. “And you do? Then tell me: what is poetry? What is love?”

Cheng Xiaoyu let out a cold laugh, took out pen and paper from his bag, and wrote in beautiful, calligraphic script:

“The farthest distance in the world
Is not the distance between life and death
But when I stand before you
And you don’t know that I love you.
The farthest distance in the world
Is not when I stand before you
And you don’t know that I love you
But when I love you to distraction
Yet dare not say ‘I love you.’
The farthest distance in the world
Is not that I cannot say ‘I love you’
But that I miss you so deeply
Yet must keep it buried in my heart.
The farthest distance in the world
Is not that I cannot say I miss you
But that, though we love each other
We cannot be together.
The farthest distance in the world
Is not that we love but cannot be together
But that, knowing true love is invincible
We pretend not to care.
So, the farthest distance in the world—

Is not between tree and number
But between branches from the same root
That cannot lean on each other in the wind.
The farthest distance in the world
Is not that branches cannot lean on each other
But that stars gaze upon each other
With no intersecting paths.
The farthest distance in the world
Is not that stars do not cross
But that, even if they do,
They vanish in an instant.
The farthest distance in the world
Is not that they instantly vanish
But that, before meeting,
They are destined never to unite.
The farthest distance in the world
Is that between a bird and a fish—
One soaring in the sky,
The other diving deep in the sea.”

As Cheng Xiaoyu wrote, the bespectacled youth watched and muttered along, shifting from scorn and disdain to a pale, stricken silence. When Cheng Xiaoyu finished, the bespectacled youth didn’t even say goodbye to the long-haired youth. Head lowered, he left the bookstore in silence, still whispering, “the farthest distance in the world…”

The long-haired youth forced a smile and said, “Well written. It seems you truly care for this young lady. I wish you both the best.” He then chased after the bespectacled youth. As he walked out, he breathed a sigh of relief, thinking, At least I maintained some dignity at the end. I’d better stay away from Fudan in the future and stick to Jiaotong University. Even these high schoolers from Fudan Affiliated are so formidable; in a couple of years, there’ll be no place left for us here. With a sigh, he adjusted his trench coat, smoothed his hair, and hurried off after the bespectacled youth.

Cheng Xiaoyu swiped his card to pay. Ji Yunyun was still in a daze, so Cheng Xiaoyu paid for her items as well. He grabbed the plastic bag with their books and other things and walked straight for the door, thinking, These pseudo-intellectuals are sick—they need a cure!

Only after Cheng Xiaoyu had walked some distance did Ji Yunyun snap out of it and call loudly, “Hey, what’s your name?”

Cheng Xiaoyu turned back, flashed a dazzling smile, and announced, “Call me Lei Feng,” then strode out of the bookstore without looking back.

Ji Yunyun wanted to chase after him to return the money, but the cashier called out, “Miss, your things!” She had to go back to collect her belongings and carefully folded the sheet of paper with Cheng Xiaoyu’s poem, tucking it away in her bag. By the time she left the bookstore again, the chubby boy who had initially annoyed her was nowhere to be seen.

“Lei Feng really is a strange name!” Ji Yunyun thought to herself on her way home. Then she recalled the poem he wrote for her, and her cheeks flushed again.