展开

a glimpse of passion, meng yiran's unforgettable summer

作者：王志侑

不要放词用不到可以当备用标签本周官方渠道传达新成果

02万字| 连载| 2026-05-30 02:19:51 更新

The scorching sun of midsummer seemed to cast a golden filter over the entire A University campus. The cicadas' drone was incessant, and the air shimmered with heat waves, yet nothing could dampen the youthful energy and fervor that pulsed through the school grounds. In the computer science department's building, the air conditioning hummed steadily, but the atmosphere in the laboratory was anything but cool. The national programming competition was approaching, and the team led by Xiao Nai was in the final, intense stage of preparation. Lines of complex code scrolled across the screens, and the clicking of keyboards formed a tense symphony. Xiao Nai, with his usual calm and focused demeanor, was debugging a critical module, his brow slightly furrowed under the stark fluorescent lights. Meanwhile, in the music department's practice room, a different kind of "high heat" was unfolding. Meng Yiran stood before the floor-to-ceiling mirror, dressed in a fiery red dance costume. The fabric clung to her curves, and the deep V-neckline and high slit skirt design were bold and eye-catching, a stark contrast to her usual image of a pure and elegant music department goddess. Beads of sweat gathered at her temples and traced a path down her slender neck, disappearing into the shadows of her collarbone. The practice room was not air-conditioned, and the heat was stifling, yet she repeated the same series of dance moves over and over. Every extension of her arm, every turn of her waist, every pointed toe was executed with meticulous precision, her gaze in the mirror growing increasingly determined. This was a dance she had prepared specifically for the upcoming campus arts festival. She wanted to prove that she was not just a delicate flower in a greenhouse; she could also be passionate and dazzling. The two seemingly parallel worlds collided at a most unexpected moment. The arts festival's backstage was a chaotic whirlwind of activity. Dressed in her striking red costume, Meng Yiran was making final adjustments to her makeup when she suddenly realized her beloved violin was missing—it must have been left in the practice room. With no time to change, she wrapped a light shawl around herself and hurried out. The early evening campus was still bathed in the lingering heat of the day. As she passed by the computer science building, a sudden, sharp pain in her ankle made her gasp—she had stumbled on the uneven pavement. At that very moment, Xiao Nai, having just finished a discussion with his teammates, walked out of the building. He saw a figure in red leaning against a tree, head bowed, shoulders slightly trembling. It was a stark and unfamiliar image of Meng Yiran, one far removed from her usual poised and distant self. A flicker of surprise passed through Xiao Nai's eyes, but his steps did not hesitate. He walked over and asked in his characteristic calm tone, "Are you okay?" Meng Yiran looked up, her eyes momentarily widening in surprise at seeing him, quickly followed by a mix of embarrassment and pain. The redness of her costume seemed even more intense under the setting sun, and the light shawl had slipped, revealing smooth shoulders glistening with a faint sheen of sweat. "I... I think I twisted my ankle," she said, her voice barely a whisper. Xiao Nai glanced at her visibly swollen ankle, frowned slightly, and without a word, bent down to examine it. His fingers, accustomed to tapping keyboards, were surprisingly gentle as they lightly probed the injured area. That touch, cool and precise, sent an inexplicable tremor through Meng Yiran, distinct from the prickling heat of the summer day. It was a strange sensation, both unsettling and somehow anchoring. "Can you stand? The infirmary is closed at this hour. I have some first-aid spray in the lab," Xiao Nai said, looking up at her. His gaze was deep and composed, without the admiration or special attention she was accustomed to seeing in others' eyes, yet it held a certain undeniable force. Meng Yiran bit her lip, nodded, and attempted to put weight on her foot, only to wince in pain and stumble. Almost instinctively, Xiao Nai reached out to steady her. The moment his arm supported her, Meng Yiran felt the firm strength and warmth emanating from him. The scent of sunshine and a clean, soapy fragrance surrounded her, momentarily cutting through the dizzying heat. Leaning on him, she hobbled towards the computer science building. The path was short, but for Meng Yiran, every step was imprinted with a complex flurry of emotions—the pain in her ankle, the awkwardness of her appearance, and the unexpected, close proximity to Xiao Nai, the object of her long-standing, secret admiration. The laboratory was quiet and cool. Xiao Nai helped her sit in a chair, retrieved the first-aid spray from a cabinet, and knelt down on one knee before her. He carefully removed her high-heeled shoe, his movements steady and focused. Meng Yiran watched his profile—his long eyelashes, straight nose, and tightly pressed lips—and felt her heartbeat, which had finally begun to calm, suddenly accelerate again. The cold spray on her skin provided a sharp contrast to the burning sensation in her ankle and the heat rising within her. "Why... why are you helping me?" she finally couldn't help but ask, her voice soft. Xiao Nai finished applying the spray, looked up, and met her gaze. A faint, almost imperceptible curve appeared at the corner of his mouth. "Because you're a student of A University, and you're injured," he paused, then added meaningfully, "and because that dance just now, I happened to see a part of it during my break. It requires a lot of ankle strength. You should be more careful." So he had seen it! Meng Yiran's face flushed instantly, the heat spreading from her cheeks down to her neck. The boldness of the dance and her current disheveled state combined to create an unprecedented sense of exposure and shyness in front of him. At that moment, the laboratory door was pushed open, and Bei Weiwei walked in holding some documents. She was taken aback by the scene before her—Meng Yiran in her dazzling red costume, with Xiao Nai kneeling before her. A flicker of surprise passed through Weiwei's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by her usual calm and friendly smile. "Senior Xiao Nai, here are the materials you wanted." She then turned to Meng Yiran with concern, "Are you hurt? Does it hurt a lot?" Faced with Bei Weiwei, Meng Yiran felt a sudden pang of inexplicable guilt and defeat, as if her secret thoughts had been laid bare. She shook her head stiffly, "It's nothing, just a little sprain." Xiao Nai stood up, naturally took the documents from Weiwei, and briefly explained the situation. His demeanor was composed and frank, without any hint of ambiguity. Yet, this very normalcy made Meng Yiran's heart sink even further. She understood that in Xiao Nai's world, there was a clear distinction between what was important and what was not. And she, at least for now, likely belonged to the latter category. After her ankle was treated, Meng Yiran insisted on leaving on her own. Xiao Nai did not press her to stay, only reminding her to rest and avoid straining it. Standing at the entrance of the computer science building, watching Meng Yiran's retreating figure—limping yet stubbornly straight-backed, the red costume gradually fading into the twilight—Xiao Nai's eyes held a thoughtful depth. The girl was far more resilient and determined than she appeared. Bei Weiwei walked up beside him, following his gaze, and said softly, "Senior, Meng Yiran... she seems different from what I imagined." Xiao Nai retracted his gaze, turned, and walked back into the building, his tone as calm as ever. "Everyone has multiple sides. Go over the algorithm for that last problem again; there's still room for optimization." That encounter, like a sudden summer storm, came and went quickly, leaving behind a damp, lingering heat. Meng Yiran did not perform at the arts festival. Her ankle injury required rest. Lying in the dormitory, listening to the distant sounds of music and applause, her mind kept replaying the scene in the laboratory—his focused gaze, his gentle touch, and that faint, almost elusive curve of his lips. She finally understood that some people were like distant mountains, their peaks shrouded in mist, never truly approachable. The "high heat" of that summer, whether it was the scorching weather, the passionate dance, or the turbulent emotions within her, eventually subsided with the season, becoming a unique, vivid, and bittersweet memory in her youth. She was still Meng Yiran, the talented and beautiful music department goddess, but something deep within her had quietly changed. She began to spend more time in the practice room, not just for the violin, but also for dance, channeling all her unspoken emotions into every note and movement. Occasionally, on campus, she would still see Xiao Nai and Bei Weiwei walking together, their默契默契默契默契默契默契默契默契默契 (默契, mòqì, tacit understanding) and harmony evident. She would simply smile faintly, offer a slight nod in greeting, and then pass by gracefully. That fiery red costume was carefully stored away at the bottom of her closet, along with that unforgettable summer, sealed as a testament to her once passionate and brave self.

立即阅读 目录