Shuangling: Braving the Rapids

It was midday, the autumn sun was high in the sky, and the eastern ridge was a barren expanse of yellow, so quiet it was eerie.

Yue Chuan sat alone under the withered persimmon tree on the chrysanthemum terrace, his head buried between his knees. Judging from his distraught appearance, he had ultimately failed to "apprehend" Pipi.

For some unknown reason, the boy suddenly looked up and stared at the sun. The late autumn sun wasn't too glaring, but it wasn't something this mortal could look down upon with arrogance. After a moment of dizziness, the boy lowered his proud head again.

A dry mountain wind howled past, sweeping away the few remaining yellow leaves from the withered persimmon tree. Yue Chuan casually grabbed a leaf and clutched it in his palm, venting all his pent-up frustration on the withered leaf—crushing and crumpling it, then tossing the fragments into the air.

Even this didn't quell his anger, so Yue Chuan got up and started punching and kicking the mute persimmon tree. Well, karma caught up with him; the boy's fingers were cut by the persimmon bark, and blood flowed freely.

To stop the bleeding as quickly as possible, he hurriedly put his finger in his mouth. The moment the smell of blood filled the air, tears that had been building up for days burst forth. With no one around, there was no need to hold back anymore; crying out loud was the best way to release his emotions.

The older child actually cried because of a little brat; if word got out, the whole village would probably laugh their heads off. However, seeing how heartbroken he was, it couldn't be just because he failed to catch Pipi.

While his classmates were all studying in class, he had been "cooped up" at home for three days. Yue Chuan was anxious, but when he picked up his math Olympiad workbook and saw the problems, his head started to ache even more. The math Olympiad selection competition was just around the corner, and if he continued like this, he would probably have to wait until next year to try again. It's always better to start early than late. If he still couldn't get a ranking by his senior year, he would miss out on being recommended for university admission.

The more I think about it, the more anxious I become. But "illness comes like a landslide, but recovery is like pulling silk from a cocoon." It's not true that the stronger one's willpower, the shorter the recovery time. That's just not true! All I can say is to take precautions to avoid catching a cold and reduce the probability of rhinitis recurrence.

Unfortunately, Yue Chuan currently lacks awareness of health preservation. He washes his hair and takes showers with cold water. Others might not think it's a big deal, but his small frame might not be able to handle it. In fact, it's a lingering effect from working at a car wash during the summer vacation.

Back then, the dormitory was as hot as a steamer. He would take cold showers three or four times a night and soak in cheap cleaning solutions all day, which eventually led to allergic rhinitis. Now, this troublesome little illness has become the biggest obstacle on his path to higher education.

Whether it's the National College Entrance Examination (Gaokao) or the International Mathematical Olympiad (IMO), many factors influence performance. Under pressure, those with better physical condition, better mental state, and more comprehensive knowledge have a greater chance of success. In short, exams test not only mental ability but also physical fitness and mental fortitude.

It was only when he was sick and suffering that the young man realized the importance of health—a painful realization indeed!

Just as he was lost in thought, the roar of a motorcycle came from the mountain road below Jutai. He knew that sound all too well—his uncle had driven him to and from school on that motorcycle every day for three years of junior high, and he could recognize it just by the sound.

"Huh? What's my uncle doing up the mountain?"

Muttering something under his breath, Yue Chuan stood up and looked closely. He was certain it was his uncle, Qin Aimin, riding the motorcycle!

The mountain road was difficult to travel, and to make matters worse, a hoe and sickle were strapped to the back of the motorcycle. Fortunately, Aimin knew the way well and the wheels precisely followed the old tire tracks, managing to drive the motorcycle steadily and smoothly.

The sun gilded everyone and everything, even the faded paint on the motorcycles gleamed with a metallic sheen. My uncle looked like a knight straight out of a story; the bumpy mountain road couldn't stop him. His wheels kicked up clouds of dust as he sped along, as if he were rushing to put out a fire.

"Uncle! Look here!" Yue Chuan smiled through his tears and waved to his uncle.

"Xiao Chuan?" Ai Min stopped the car, paused for a moment, and then said, "It's not the weekend, what are you doing here? What happened?"

"I..." Yue stammered, unsure how to answer. If he told his uncle that he had been "led" here by a little brat, wouldn't he be laughed out of the room?

Seeing his nephew's face turn red, Aimin reached out to touch his forehead: "Hmm, you don't look well. Are you sick? Should I take you home first?"

"Drinking bitter medicine for three days would have made me fine!" Yue Chuan suddenly perked up, changing the subject and asking, "Shouldn't you be teaching at school right now? Why are you carrying a hoe up the mountain?"

This seemingly ordinary question left Aimin speechless. Yes, what was he doing carrying farm tools to Jutai?

It turned out that a few days ago, Professor Meng took Aimin to the provincial capital for medical treatment, where a neurology expert performed a brain CT scan and MRI. After a lot of work, they only found "abnormal electrical activity in the brain," but this alone was not enough to diagnose epilepsy. The old doctor was also at a loss, and finally contacted experts in Beijing for consultation. They still recommended going to Beijing for further examination, since the medical equipment in the capital is better than in the province.

This result put Aimin in a difficult position. The school only granted him a week's leave, and the little money he had wasn't even enough for commuting, let alone a brain scan.

Over the years, he's spent his salary either sponsoring impoverished students or planting chrysanthemums; he hasn't saved any money at all. He really couldn't bear to spend his hard-earned money just to confirm if he was sick.

While he was hesitating, Professor Meng took out his wallet, deciding to pay the expenses in advance and "arrange" for Chen Yun to accompany him. This silly girl had been waiting in the provincial capital, afraid of hurting his pride, which was why she hadn't accompanied him for the checkup. Now that Li Baihe was married, she felt that there were no more obstacles between her and Aimin, and whether he was healthy or not would not stop her from expressing her love.

Yes, at the entrance of the provincial hospital, Chen Yun confessed her feelings to Ai Min again. This time, Ai Min didn't agree immediately. With tears in his eyes, he said: "If the BJ test is normal, we'll date; but if he is diagnosed with epilepsy, I will never be a burden to anyone in this life."

This time, the two spoke frankly, and unlike last time, things didn't get awkward. Professor Meng then acted as a go-between, bringing the two back to the Agricultural University. That evening, after a casual dinner at the staff quarters, Chen Yun invited Aimin to stroll around the campus.

Two middle-aged young people strolled along the tree-lined path, reminiscing about embarrassing moments from their school days and sharing their experiences after graduation. The streetlights cast their shadows closer and closer. Reaching the corner of the experimental field, Chen Yun, her eyes filled with allure, tiptoed and nestled against Aimin's shoulder, uttering those deeply meaningful words: "Aimin, life is too short. Let our past loves and hates become a memento of our new life!"

Is love truly rational? If so, how could Chen Yun fall for Ai Min? Putting aside whether he has a hidden illness, given Ai Min's current situation, how could a well-bred young lady from a high-class family, with a high degree, possibly fall for a rural teacher who doesn't even have a degree?

If not, why does Aimin, who is clearly moved to tears, always use "rationality" as an excuse to keep people at arm's length?

Feelings are complicated and hard to explain, just like the breeze that night. It has no form, but people can feel its presence.