Rebirth in a Shura Field, but in an Abstract Version

As evening fell in Chengdu, the heat finally dissipated somewhat, replaced by a slightly damp breeze.

The first activity of the three-person tutoring group has come to an end.

Actually, although it was called tutoring, most of the time Song Zhiyi was lecturing, Jiang Di was listening, while Wang Zhe sat beside her like an old man, twirling a pen or staring out the window in a daze. However, this strange sense of harmony actually lasted until the end.

After the tutoring session ended, the trio attracted a lot of attention as soon as they stepped outside.

The boy in the middle was handsome and tall, with a calm expression.

The girl on the left was wearing a simple white T-shirt and skirt, but she habitually tied her jacket around her waist. Her walking posture had a touch of unruliness that hadn't completely faded, yet she would occasionally steal a glance at the boy.

The girl on the right is wearing an elegant long dress, quiet and pretty, and holding several review materials in her hands. She looks like the kind of good student in the eyes of teachers.

This configuration doesn't seem like it could be put together at all.

First, they dropped Jiang Di off at her apartment building.

"Then I'm going up..." Jiang Di stood at the entrance of the building, her eyes darting back and forth between Wang Zhe and Song Zhiyi, seemingly a little worried.

Wang Zhe nodded: "Go back and review the formulas we discussed today carefully, so you won't be clueless tomorrow."

Song Zhiyi smiled gently from the side: "It's okay, Jiang Di is actually quite smart, it's just that her basic skills are a bit weak."

Jiang Di pouted, thinking, "Who asked you to praise me for being smart?" Taking advantage of Song Zhiyi's inattention, she quickly reached out and lightly scratched the back of Wang Zhe's hand, then withdrew her hand guiltily, saying loudly, "I'm leaving now! See you tomorrow!"

After saying that, she turned and ran into the dimly lit stairwell.

As Wang Zhe watched her figure disappear, he felt a slight tingling sensation on the back of his hand, and a faint smile appeared on his lips.

"Let's go, I'll see you off." He turned to look at Song Zhiyi.

Song Zhiyi's home is in another residential area, not far away, only two streets away.

The two were walking on the sidewalk.

At this time, the streetlights were not yet fully lit, and the sky was an ambiguous deep blue.

The shadows of the young men and women were stretched long by the setting sun, occasionally overlapping before quickly separating again.

The silence lasted for a short distance.

"You were smiling so affectionately just now," Song Zhiyi suddenly said, her tone as calm as if she were discussing what they had for dinner.

With his hands in his pockets, Wang Zhe casually replied, "Really? I didn't even feel it myself."

Song Zhiyi turned her head, seemingly equally casual, and asked, "After you go to university, are you really planning to cheat on me?"

She had been thinking about this problem during her afternoon tutoring session.

When Wang Zhe said "I might cheat on you" to her face, her first reaction was shock, and her second reaction was that he was deliberately trying to smear himself to discourage her. But after observing him for an afternoon, seeing how skillfully Wang Zhe manipulated Jiang Di, and Jiang Di's slightly arrogant but actually obedient attitude towards him, she felt that this guy might actually have that potential.

Wang Zhe stopped, turned around, and looked directly at his childhood sweetheart.

"Who knows what the future holds? People change, especially in big cities where there are so many temptations. You've seen it yourself; I'm not the same Wang Zhe who only knew how to study by rote anymore."

Song Zhiyi: "..."

He paused, a wicked smile playing on his lips: "Anyway, you already know that I'm a scumbag who just wants to play around and doesn't even mind cheating on someone."

If these words were said to an ordinary girl, she would probably have slapped him, or cursed him as a "scumbag" with red eyes and run away.

But Song Zhiyi is not an ordinary girl.

She didn't back down or get angry; instead, she tilted her head back slightly and gave a quiet smile.

"Yes, I do know."

It was as if she really didn't care at all.

Wang Zhe then asked, "So, will you still come to tutor her tomorrow?"

"Of course," Song Zhiyi found a very reasonable excuse, "I might have to tutor to earn some money in college, so this is a good way to get used to this kind of work."

"That's really good..."

Ten minutes later, Wang Zhe dropped Song Zhiyi off at her apartment building without lingering.

"Alright, let's go up."

He waved his hand, turned around, and left decisively.

Song Zhiyi stood downstairs, watching that figure gradually disappear into the night.

The summer night breeze ruffled her skirt and tousled her hair. She didn't go upstairs immediately, but stood quietly for a while before taking out her frequently used small notebook from her purse.

Under the dim light of the streetlamp at the entrance of the building, she opened her notebook, turned to a blank page, and picked up her pen.

The pen tip hovers on the paper.

As was her usual habit, she should be overflowing with inspiration at this moment, and should be writing a poem about "brokenness," "quagmire," or "a true lie." Even the fleeting moment of heart palpitation just now would have been enough for her to fill half a page.

However, she hesitated for a long time, her pen tip trembling slightly, but in the end she still didn't put it down.

"I can't write anymore..."

She murmured to herself.

In the past, when I wrote poetry, I was searching for emotions and imagining the poetry in other people.

Now, she felt as if she had stepped into a whirlpool, but hadn't sunk to the bottom yet. The future seemed to hold a rather intriguing poetic promise...

Song Zhiyi closed the notebook and put it back in her bag.

She looked up in the direction Wang Zhe had disappeared and said softly, "It would be even more interesting if we could go to the same university. I want to see if you're really that bad..."

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The next morning, Wang Zhe was awakened by a series of urgent phone calls.

He groggily reached for his phone, glanced at the caller ID, and saw it was Jiang Di.

"Feed..." The voice was hoarse, as if the person was still half asleep.

"Wang Zhe! Are you awake? Did I disturb your sleep?" Jiang Di's voice was very low on the other end of the phone, as if she were making the call secretly from somewhere.

Wang Zhe rolled over and glanced at the blinding sunlight outside the window: "I've been disturbed. What is it?"

"Um... my dad called me specifically when he was at work," Jiang Di said, sounding both helpless and anxious. "He asked me to ask you how to bet on the next match, the semi-final between Germany and Italy."

Wang Zhe rubbed his temples, feeling a bit more awake.

It seems that Uncle Jiang is completely addicted, or rather, has developed a path dependence on Wang Zhe, this god of wealth.

"Tell him to bet on Italy to win," Wang Zhe said calmly. "Finish the game in regulation time, no need to drag it to penalties."

Although Jiang Di doesn't understand football, he's heard people around him discussing it: "But the news says that Germany and Italy are incredibly strong this season, with so many consecutive wins. Italy's defense seems okay, but their offense isn't, right?"

"Can you trust predictions in the news?" Wang Zhe scoffed.

He remembered clearly that in this match, the "Super Mario" who was contemplating life would descend from heaven and score two goals that would completely destroy the German-Italian machine.

"Okay, I'll tell him right away," Jiang Di said, trusting Wang Zhe's words unconditionally. "By the way, when are you coming to my house? My dad said he absolutely has to invite you over to watch the game tonight and show you his treasured wine collection."

"I'll go there tonight, before the match starts."

After hanging up the phone, Wang Zhe was completely wide awake.

He sat on the bed and began to think things through.

The European Championship now only has one semi-final and one final match left. My initial investment, after snowballing through the previous matches, has already reached a considerable sum.

The lottery tickets I bought yesterday that resulted in a draw will bring me over 40,000 yuan in cash today, once I claim the prize.

In 2012, 40,000 yuan was a huge sum of money for a high school graduate. Keep in mind that at that time, many people only earned two or three thousand yuan a month.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.