Green plums cannot become lovers.

"Okay! I want the biggest doll!" Marina said with high spirits.

Everyone laughed and joked as they continued to stroll through the festival. Anna, caught up in the joyful atmosphere, temporarily forgot her sorrow at parting. She laughed heartily and played to her heart's content, as if trying to compress all her happiness into this one night.

She looked at An and Asuka beside her. The boy's smile was warm and his eyes were bright under the festival lights. He demonstrated shooting techniques to Marina, helped Shizuka win a small keychain, taught Ai how to play ring toss, and patiently accompanied her to catch goldfish, eat cotton candy with her, and watch every interesting thing with her.

Such a gentle person, such a beautiful time.

Banami's heart was filled with sweetness, yet also pierced by bitterness. She thought, "Now is the time. Before the fireworks start, while the atmosphere is just right, I'll tell him my gratitude."

She took a deep breath, preparing to speak.

Just then, a group of people rushed past from the side, and Banami saw that Anina was bumped on the shoulder by one of them, causing her to sway involuntarily.

When Banana saw Anna regain her footing and looked up to look for the boy, he had already been pushed forward by the bustling crowd. She wanted to catch up, but her yukata and wooden clogs restricted her speed. She wanted to call his name, but her voice was drowned out by the surrounding noise.

She could only watch helplessly as his figure receded into the distance, eventually disappearing into the crowded throng.

Her eyes suddenly stung. Banana saw Anzu standing there, still holding the plastic bag containing the goldfish. The goldfish swam restlessly inside, as if sensing their owner's emotions.

The festival was as lively as ever, the lights were as brilliant as ever, and the laughter of the people was as joyful as ever.

But she felt so lonely.

When An and Asuka found Hanami Anna, she was standing alone under a tree.

She carried the plastic bag containing the goldfish, looking up at the sky, her profile appearing somewhat forlorn in the lantern light. People came and went, creating a lively atmosphere, but she stood there, as if isolated by a transparent barrier, out of place with the surrounding clamor.

Anhe Feibiao's heart tightened slightly. He quickly walked over and took her hand without saying a word.

"Xingcai, are you alright?"

"Oh, you found me so quickly. I thought you hadn't noticed me."

The girl turned her face, her voice light and cheerful, but the bright smile she had shown at the beginning of the festival was gone.

Her eyes were a little red, and although she tried to keep a calm expression, the emotions in her eyes were so complex that he couldn't read them.

“How could that be? I was the first to notice you were missing,” An and Asuka said softly. “Let’s go back quickly, everyone is waiting for us.”

As he spoke, he reached out to take the girl's hand and walk forward.

But Banai noticed that Anzu didn't move at all.

"Xingcai?"

"Um, Asuka." Yana heard Anza holding An and Asuka's hands and spoke softly, her voice almost inaudible amidst the surrounding noise.

"What's wrong?" An and Asuka softened their tone.

Anna took a deep breath, as if summoning immense courage: "How about right here?"

She looked up and stared directly into his eyes: "Right here, just the two of us."

She wanted to spend some time alone with him, even if it was just a few minutes, even if it would worry everyone, even if it meant missing the best viewpoint.

“Everyone is still waiting for us,” An and Asuka said softly. “Besides, the view from here isn’t good, so we probably won’t be able to see the fireworks.”

He knew he should insist on taking her to the observation deck, should remind her that everyone would worry, and should handle the situation rationally. But seeing the increasingly dim light in Anna's eyes, and her almost pleading expression, those rational words stuck in his throat.

Seeing that Anja was silent for a few seconds, Bana forced a smile and said, "That's true, I was being willful. I'm sorry."

She lowered her head, her voice as soft as a sigh: "Then let's go find everyone."

As she spoke, she turned to leave. But An and Asuka didn't let go of her hand. He gripped her hand tightly, feeling the coldness of her fingers.

At that very moment, a "whoosh" sound came from afar, and the first firework rose into the sky.

An and Asuka looked up and then made a decision.

"Fine, let's just stay here."

Hana saw that Anzu was stunned and looked at him in disbelief.

“This is the only time,” An and Asuka added, their tone tinged with a hint of helplessness and indulgence. “I won’t let you be so willful next time.”

The girl was stunned for a long while, and then a genuine, heartfelt smile bloomed on her face. That smile was like a night-blooming cereus suddenly blooming on a summer night, brief yet beautiful.

"Yes!" She nodded vigorously.

An and Asuka took out their phones and sent a message to Marina: "We found Anja. We're watching the fireworks downstairs. Have fun."

Then he turned off his phone and looked at Anna Hanami again.

The two stood there under the cherry blossom tree, surrounded by a bustling crowd, with fireworks beginning to bloom overhead. Their hands were still clasped together, neither of them letting go.

An and Asuka could sense that Anna had something she wanted to say to him. Her palms were sweating, her breathing was rapid, and her eyes were darting around. But he didn't ask. If she wanted to say it, she would. If she didn't want to say it, he wouldn't force her.

Some words need the right moment to be spoken. Some emotions require enough courage to be expressed.

And now, on this night of fireworks, in this summer of impending farewell, perhaps this is the right time.

The first firework exploded in the night sky, showering down golden light like rain, illuminating the entire expanse. A gasp of amazement rose from the crowd.

Immediately following, the second, the third... fireworks of all colors arrived one after another—red, blue, green, purple—some like blooming flowers, some like twinkling stars, some like flowing galaxies. The night sky became a vast canvas, and the fireworks were the fleeting yet dazzling paintbrushes.

Amidst the sounds of fireworks and the cheers of the crowd, Anna finally spoke.

Her voice was soft, but it reached An and Asuka's ears clearly.

"Birds".

"Ok?"

"Thank you."

These three simple words contain so much emotion. Thank you for your companionship over the past five years, thank you for your gentle care, thank you for your patience when catching goldfish, thank you for your explanations in math class, thank you for your support in the light music club, thank you for being with me at every festival, and thank you for indulging my willfulness at this moment.

Thank you for appearing in my life and making my ordinary daily life shine.

An and Asuka turned their heads and looked at Hanami Anna. The light of the fireworks flickered on her face, and her eyes sparkled, reflecting the colors of the fireworks and his figure.

"You're welcome," he said softly, squeezing her hand. "I'm the one who should be thanking you. Thank you for your constant companionship."

Anna finally couldn't hold back her tears and they fell. But she was still smiling, smiling like the most brilliant firework of the night.

"Asuka, there's something else I want to tell you."

"Ok?"

"Actually, I sprained my ankle, it hurts so much... You might have to carry me home later."

"..."

Volume 1: Chapter 161 Parting is Inevitable [6k]

The summer breeze blew away the afternoon downpour.

It was a sudden downpour at the end of August, coming and going quickly. The sky darkened first, with thick, inky clouds churning, then thunder rumbled, and large raindrops pounded against the classroom windows. Rainwater trickled down the glass, blurring the world outside.

In the classroom, An and Feiniao put down their pens and looked out the window. The campus, shrouded in rain, appeared hazy and tranquil. The playground was a deep green, soaked by the rain, the flagpole swayed slightly in the wind, and the distant school buildings were reduced to blurry outlines. This rain seemed like a farewell ceremony for summer, washing away the summer heat and bringing the coolness of early autumn.

When the rain stopped, a faint rainbow appeared in the sky, spanning between the school building and the gymnasium. Several younger students rushed out of their classrooms, excitedly pointing at the rainbow and screaming on the playground. An and Asuka watched them, a smile unconsciously playing on their lips. Such pure joy was a rare sight in the classrooms of the ninth graders.

The autumn leaves dyed the mountains a deep crimson.

In October, the maple trees lining the road began to change color. First, the edges of the leaves turned a pale yellow, then orange, and finally varying shades of red. Looking out the classroom window, the street outside seemed to be ablaze, burning with brilliant colors under the autumn sun.

During lunch break, Anwa Asuka, Hanami Anna, and Himegami Karen went to the rooftop of the teaching building. Leaning against the railing, they ate their bento boxes and looked at the high autumn sky and the colorful world.

"This time next year, we won't have the chance to be like this again, will we?" Anna's voice was very soft.

An and Asuka didn't answer. He took a bite of his rice ball, gazing into the distance. Yes, this time next year, he should already be in Tokyo. What will autumn be like there? Will the sky be as clear as this? Or will only a few scattered trees between the skyscrapers barely show the changing seasons in the gaps of the city?

Himegami Karen ate her bento box silently, without saying a word. A tacit sadness lingered in the silence between the three of them.

An autumn breeze carries the fragrance of maple leaves and the coolness of distant mountains. A few red leaves drift down from somewhere and land on the rooftop, like letters from autumn.

As the entrance exams draw closer, the atmosphere in the ninth-grade classrooms becomes increasingly tense.

The once cheerful atmosphere of students coming and going in the corridors is gone. Some hurry by, clutching thick reference books; others gather in small groups to discuss problems, their brows furrowed; still others lean against the wall, making the most of their time to memorize vocabulary or formulas. During breaks, more and more students are taking naps at their desks, and dark circles under their eyes have become a standard feature of ninth graders.

The teachers' expressions also became serious. The pace of the classes noticeably quickened, the explanations of knowledge points became more in-depth, and the amount of homework increased exponentially. After each mock exam, the grade rankings would be updated on the blackboard at the back of the classroom; that number was like an invisible whip, urging everyone to keep up and not relax.

An and Asuka still maintain their top position in the grade, but their lifestyle is quietly changing.

He stopped attending to other matters and devoted most of his time to tutoring the girls. Based on their grades, they should be able to get into a decent high school. But if they could get into an even better school, why not try harder?

The activities of the Light Music Club have been completely stopped. In fact, all school clubs no longer allow junior high school students to participate, under the pretext of "concentrating on exam preparation".

After school, the four members of the Light Music Club gathered in the activity room for the last time.

The setting sun streamed through the windows, casting long shadows on the wooden floor. Everything in the activity room remained exactly as it was—photos of past performances adorned the walls, musical instruments sat in the corners, and bookshelves were piled high with sheet music and music magazines.

“The school has announced that starting next week, this space will be used by second-year students,” An and Asuka calmly announced.

Hana saw Anzu biting her lip, remaining silent. Himegami Karen lowered her head, her fingers unconsciously twisting together. Hoshino Ai also remained silent; although they had known this day would come, they still felt an indescribable reluctance when it actually arrived.

This small activity room holds so many memories for them. The awkwardness of their first ensemble performance, the nervousness before their first performance, the joy of receiving applause for the first time, and countless nights of practicing until dark, yet still enjoying themselves... This is not only a place for club activities, but also their second home, the place where their dreams began.

"Can we still come back to visit occasionally?" Xiao Ai asked softly.

“In principle, it’s not allowed,” An and Asuka said. “But if we’re just here to sit and not take up any of the activity time, it should be fine.”

But that's different now.

It's no longer "the activity room of the Light Music Club," but "someone else's activity room." They are no longer the owners here, but just occasional visitors.

Anna walked to the wall and gently stroked the photos. One of them was a group photo after their performance at the first-year school festival; the five of them were crammed in front of the camera, their smiles almost blindingly bright. Back then, they didn't know what the future held; they were simply enjoying the joy that music brought them.

"Time flies," she said softly.

Hoshino Ai nodded, walked to the bookshelf, and pulled out a sheet music book. It was the original score of "Hotaru no Hikari" (The Light of Fireflies), handwritten by the boy. The paper was yellowed and the edges were slightly curled from being looked at so many times.

“What should we do with these sheet music?” she asked.

“Let’s leave it for the next class,” An and Asuka said, “if they need it.”

Karen Himegami walked to a corner, picked up her guitar, and gently plucked the strings. The clear notes echoed in the activity room, carrying a lingering sadness.

She played a short intro to "Hotaru no Hikari" and then stopped.

"Will we be able to play together again in the future?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

“Of course we can,” An and Asuka said confidently. “Even if we’re not in the same school or the same city, music will still connect us. We can play together via video, collaborate remotely, and so on…”

He didn't continue; some words, even he himself felt, were pale and inadequate to say. Distance changes many things; that's an undeniable reality.

"Let's play another piece together."

Seemingly aware of what the boy was thinking, Banami simply smiled and made a suggestion.

They stayed in the activity room until very late, and no one suggested leaving, as if staying a little longer would stretch out the time. The sun completely set, twilight descended, and the light in the activity room grew dimmer and dimmer.

In the end, it was An and Asuka who took the initiative to put down their drumsticks and stand up from their chairs.

"It's time to go."

The four of them took one last look around the familiar room before leaving one by one. An and Asuka walked last, glancing back before gently closing the door behind them.

A soft "click" sounded, as if the end of a certain phase had arrived.

From then on, the Light Music Club existed in name only.

They used to relax in the activity room during lunch or after school, but now they have to spend their precious free time in other places. The rooftop, the corner of the library, the benches by the playground, the steps behind the teaching building... these places have become their new gathering spots.

But the feeling was completely different. There were no instruments, no sheet music, no focused joy immersed in music. More often, they simply sat together, eating lunch, chatting, or quietly reading their own books.

Sometimes, An and Asuka would bring their guitars to school. During lunch break, they would sit on the rooftop; he would play, and the others would softly sing along. Their singing would drift under the autumn sky, attracting the attention of some younger students. But those moments became increasingly rare—the pressure of exams left everyone exhausted, barely having the energy to calm down.

In December, light snow began to fall.

It was the first snow of early winter. Fine snowflakes drifted slowly down from the gray sky, like a silent poem. The trees on campus had already lost all their leaves, and a thin layer of white covered their bare branches. On the playground, several students, undeterred by the cold, were having a snowball fight, their laughter ringing out crisply in the frigid air.

The classroom was warm and cozy. The doors and windows were closed, and the air conditioning's warmth enveloped me, making me feel drowsy. The first class in the afternoon was Chinese. When Ms. Tomoyo Takanashi entered the classroom, she wasn't carrying textbooks; instead, she was holding a cardboard box.

"Class, we won't be having a lesson today," she said, standing on the podium with a smile.

A slight commotion arose in the classroom. Everyone was somewhat surprised that the teacher wasn't lecturing during the most stressful time of exam preparation.

Ms. Takanashi opened the cardboard box and took out a small lottery box: "Today, I want to use a class period to have everyone stand on the podium and tell the class about their future ideals and plans."

She paused, then continued, "I know everyone is working incredibly hard for college entrance exams right now, their minds filled with exercises and scores every day. But sometimes, we also need to stop and think about what we're striving for. What are our ideals? What kind of person do we want to become? What kind of future do we want?"

The classroom fell silent. Everyone looked at the teacher, their eyes filled with doubt, curiosity, and a hint of anticipation.

"Let's start by drawing lots to determine the order," said Ms. Takanashi. "Don't worry about not speaking well, and don't feel embarrassed. This is our class, our home. Here, you can speak freely."

The first person called was a usually introverted boy. He walked to the podium, his face flushed, his fingers nervously twisting together. But when he began to speak, his voice, though soft, was very firm: