Scenery along the way

    Late autumn. Night. Dusk.
    I stand alone by the French windows, watching the bustling traffic under the moonlight. Tomorrow will be another day of global significance, and my thoughts drift back to that year. Yes, ten years have passed in the blink of an eye. A poem says, "Ten years have passed, life and death are separated by a vast distance," but looking back on these ten years, the days seem to have flown by.
    Ten years ago, we had desks; we sat in front of and behind each other.
    If youthful innocence is the most beautiful part of life, then she must have been the most beautiful scenery of that time! The pressure of the college entrance exam was both tempting and daunting for every immature heart. Back then, I sat behind her, playing with her hair, yet I could still hear everything the teacher said perfectly. Her hair was scattered on my books, and the delicate, alluring scent of shampoo always made me want to stroke it. I knew she could feel it. Because every time she turned around with a mischievous smile, it felt so warm and endearing.
    At that time, we were both considered promising students by our homeroom teacher. She was quiet and studious, while I was mischievous and clever. However, under the homeroom teacher's prohibition, neither of us spoke more than a few words to each other; our conversations were limited to playful banter during discussions.
    But fate often plays cruel jokes. Two months before the college entrance exam, a disaster plunged us into despair. I was a strong child, but I was always emotionally exhausted. Parents' divorce leaves a lasting scar on many children. And for me, it was even more so! The pressure of the college entrance exam, the shattered family. Every time I returned home and saw my mother's bloodshot, tearful eyes and her feeble nagging, I felt utterly drained. At that moment, all I wanted to do was run to a deserted mountain, shout at the heavens and earth, and release all my helplessness. But before I could muster the courage, my body began to rebel. My
    mother took me to the best hospital in the county. The doctor said it was a stomach problem and I needed to be hospitalized for observation. He came then too—the man I once admired, and the young, beautiful "girl" beside him. My mother's silent suffering made me feel that I should stand up for him like a man at that moment. But I was powerless. He placed a wad of red banknotes on the blue hospital blanket and left with his beautiful bride. Looking at that wad of red banknotes, I held back my tears until my mother stuffed something I hated into my hands. Only then did I come to my senses.
    She said, "Child, just accept it! It's his way of showing his love for you!"
    I hugged my mother and burst into tears. The emotions I had suppressed for days could finally be released. At that moment, I forgot about her, forgot about the college entrance exam, forgot about everything. I had no reason to complain about their unusual concern when I needed it so much, but since it was there, I had no choice but to accept it.
    Three weeks later, I returned to school, to the familiar desks. All my classmates were making their final push for the exam in a little over ten days. I quietly sat down in my seat and packed the books that had been making my heart clench into my bag. She quietly turned around and glanced at me, saying, "Are you alright?"
    The long-lost fragrance, the long-unseen face—I asked her, "Can I come out with you for a
    moment?" It was the weekend, and only a group of busy figures remained at school; the playground was deserted. I stopped by a willow tree, turned back, and said to her, "I'm not planning to take the college entrance exam. Good luck!" Only when she turned and ran away did I feel a burning pain on my face. I never imagined she would leave a red mark on my last days at school.
    An illness had made me think a lot; I couldn't appear in the exam hall relaxed and carefree. So I resolutely told my mother my thoughts. Sure enough, she listened to my choice, just as I expected.
    Back home, I quickly tidied my books. A sticky note slipped quietly from between the pages:
    "The long hair I grew for you is now unrelated to love. I only wish you well!" "
    On the morning of my college entrance exam, because of that resounding slap, I still showed up at the exam hall, only to find the result as disastrous as I expected. Later, I learned that she was admitted to one of the top universities in the province, while I stayed in the local area and went to work as a clerk in my uncle's company.
    Now, I have established my own small cultural media company, which has given me some explanation for not taking the college entrance exam back then. Ten years have passed, and those memories are still so clear. I admit, I have no regrets. It's just that I feel a little regretful about life. And that long hair that grew because of me, that beautiful girl, where is she now?
    Life is a gamble; as you walk along, perhaps the flowers will bloom. And what changes will those lost whispers of wind experience in the seasons? This is a story of no return. I engraved the name of my protagonist in the plot and then forgot about it. Not every story can return to the beginning. I know you are the scenery in my memory, and that's enough."