The sky stretched wide and clear, streaked with drifting white clouds.
Ethan Cross and his new friend, Lila Hart, had spent the noon hour devouring snacks along the crowded food street until their stomachs were full. To them, it counted as lunch, though it had been more like a feast of small indulgences.
Now, the two of them sat side by side on a wooden bench near the mall entrance. The afternoon sun warmed their faces, casting long shadows at their feet.
Lila's azure-blue pleated skirt swayed in the breeze, revealing glimpses of her pale calves. Her feet, back in their white canvas shoes, swung idly up and down as though she had not a care in the world.
She tilted her face to the sky. "Ethan, are you going back to school this afternoon?"
"No," Ethan said firmly.
The decision came quickly, and he felt an odd thrill in voicing it. For once, the dutiful, rule-abiding class monitor wasn't going to follow the rules. The rebellious streak buried deep inside him finally had space to breathe.
After more than a decade of being the "good child," it felt exhilarating to skip half a day of classes.
And truthfully, sitting here with Lila was far more interesting than anything a classroom could offer.
For the first time in his life, Ethan experienced joy without guilt—and it was intoxicating.
"Then where should we go?" Lila leaned closer, her braid slipping forward over her shoulder. A faint, sweet fragrance drifted from her hair, and Ethan caught it, his pulse quickening.
Without realizing it, their "I" and "you" had shifted into "we."
Ethan thought for a moment, then asked, "Do you like fishing?"
Lila wrinkled her nose and shook her head vigorously. "Nope. I've never caught a single fish in my life."
Ethan puffed out his chest. "Then I'll teach you. I'm an expert."
It was an exaggeration. Every summer, when he stayed with his grandparents in the countryside, he had joined his grandfather by the river with a fishing rod. Those afternoons were leisurely and peaceful, some of the happiest of his childhood. But the truth was, the number of fish he had personally caught could be counted on one hand.
Still, Lila's eyes brightened at the idea. "Alright! Then you have to catch me a really big fathead carp."
Her smile curved like sunlight spilling across water.
---
They set off, and Ethan stopped by a small fishing shop to buy a rod. The cheapest one still cost over a hundred yuan. In the past, he would have hesitated to spend so much. But now—what use was saving money, when time itself was slipping away?
Outside, Lila tugged at his sleeve, her eyes sparkling as they passed a convenience store. "Let's buy some snacks. We can eat them by the river."
Ethan groaned. "Are you a reincarnated hungry ghost?"
She clasped her hands dramatically, staring into the glass window like a child at a candy shop. "Just a few little things. Please?"
He sighed in defeat. "Alright, alright. Whatever you say."
"Yay!" Lila beamed. "Go, go, quickly!"
Inside, Ethan grabbed a few things—nuts, beef jerky, cookies. He wasn't sure what she liked, so he chose a mix.
When he came back out, Lila was bent over her phone, giggling uncontrollably at some stale joke. She laughed so hard she almost toppled off the bench.
"Wow," Ethan teased, raising an eyebrow. "That's profound stuff you're looking at."
She caught his sarcasm and waved her hand dismissively. "Life's good when you're happy. Why bother being profound?"
Ethan considered it. "Fair enough. Knowledge doesn't always mean happiness."
"Exactly!" she said, grinning. "Even scientists and philosophers die in the end. So why overthink?"
Her casual use of the word death startled Ethan. For a moment, his chest tightened. Then he muttered quietly, almost to himself, "Yeah. I'm going to die too."
But she didn't hear him. She was already skipping ahead toward the river.
---
The school stood at the foot of a mountain, with a broad river flowing nearby. The water was green and clear, sunlight scattering gold across its rippling surface.
Ethan found a smooth spot by the bank, baited the hook, and cast the rod with exaggerated flair. He sat cross-legged on the pebbles, as though he were some ancient sage fishing without desire.
It would have been a serene moment—if not for the silver-bell laughter beside him.
"Keep it down," Ethan said sternly, though a smile tugged at his lips. "You'll scare the fish away."
"Sorry, sorry!" Lila giggled, shoving her phone in front of him. "But this joke is too funny. Look."
Ethan tried to resist. "Me? Someone as profound as I am, looking at childish jokes?"
"Just look!" she insisted, pouting.
Reluctantly, Ethan glanced at the screen. Then again. And suddenly, he was laughing too—helpless, wheezing laughter he hadn't felt in years.
"Hahaha!"
Their heads nearly touched as they bent together over the tiny screen, chuckling at the dumbest jokes imaginable. Lila's laughter was so contagious that Ethan, who usually prided himself on being hard to amuse, couldn't stop either.
They laughed until their stomachs hurt, until they had to stifle their voices for fear of scaring away the fish.
At some point, Lila nudged him. "Snacks! I'm hungry again."
Ethan rolled his eyes but pulled out the bag. "Nuts, cookies, beef jerky. What do you want?"
"You pick. I like everything."
He pulled out the cookies and handed them over.
"Crispy!" she exclaimed after one bite. Then, before he could refuse, she broke off a piece and stuffed it into his mouth. "Don't be so wishy-washy."
Ethan chewed obediently. The cookie was sweet and buttery, but somehow it couldn't compare to the sweetness of her smile.
The fishing rod was forgotten. The bait was long gone, stolen by clever fish. But Ethan didn't care. The afternoon slipped by unnoticed, time scattering like petals drifting in the breeze.
---
By the time the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson, Ethan finally stirred.
Lila stretched, her hair catching the glow of the sunset. "I need to catch the 6:10 bus home."
Ethan frowned. "But I haven't even caught a fish yet."
She grinned mischievously. "That's fine. I think you look like a big fathead fish yourself—so silly."
He groaned at her teasing, but his lips curved in a smile anyway.
They climbed the stone steps back to the street. As they passed a dessert shop, Lila stopped abruptly, staring at the delicate cakes behind the glass.
Ethan laughed. "Don't tell me you're hungry again?"
"No." She shook her head, her eyes thoughtful. "But you said you don't get along with your family. Why don't you buy them a cake? Eating sweets makes people happy."
Her gaze was sincere, free of judgment.
If anyone else had suggested it, Ethan would have refused outright. Years of coldness at home couldn't be patched up with something as small as a cake.
But when he looked at her eyes, bright with hope, he couldn't bring himself to say no.
So he bought a strawberry cake, though the price stung.
At the bus stop, the Route 19 bus pulled up just as they arrived.
"Goodbye, Ethan!" Lila waved brightly, then bounded onto the bus.
"Goodbye… my friend," Ethan whispered back.
But his voice was too soft. Only he could hear it.
The bus pulled away, carrying her off into the stream of evening traffic.
Ethan stood there, cake box in hand, watching until it disappeared.
Then he blinked.
"Oh no. I forgot to ask her for her phone number."
He laughed at himself, shaking his head.
What an interesting girl.