Chapter 13: The Promise at the Observatory

When I was stepped on and woken up by the house cat on Saturday morning, my phone’s lock screen was still stuck on the message Xiao Yan had sent that day:

“Weekend, 12:00 PM, see you at the observatory.”

I stared at that line of text, my cheeks secretly heating up.

I had spent the entire night tossing and turning because of that dream.

In it, she blocked the entrance to the observatory, twirling the keys on her fingertip with a mischievous glint in her eyes as she said, “I have the keys, you know.”

Even though I felt nervous, I surprisingly didn’t hate the feeling.

The soft touch of her lips felt like a sweet orange candy that simply wouldn’t melt in my heart.

Today, I had to find out for sure whether she remembered what I used to look like.

Should I go?

I was afraid she would see through the secret hidden in my heart, and I was equally afraid I would get so nervous that I’d say something wrong.

Should I not go?

The small bit of expectation in my heart kept popping up like tiny bubbles.

I couldn’t keep it down at all.

I threw off the covers to get out of bed, but the moment my feet touched the floor, a shiver ran through me.

I quickly retracted them back into the warmth of the quilt.

‘This body is way too sensitive to the cold!’

In the past, I used to pull all-nighters on the rooftop during the winter to watch for meteor showers, and I could hold out until dawn just by wrapping myself in a thin jacket.

Now, stepping on the wooden floor felt like stepping on ice.

My toes were practically frozen stiff.

I grabbed my clothes from by the window and pulled them into the bed to get dressed.

***

It was 11:40 AM when I arrived at the school gates.

The school was terrifyingly quiet on the weekend.

The playground was empty, and the classroom buildings were tightly shut.

The wind whistled through the corridors, making a sound like an abandoned schoolhouse in an old movie.

I stood downstairs and hesitated for half a minute before clenching my fists and charging toward the sixth floor.

My lungs felt like they were about to burst, and my legs were as soft as soaked noodles.

By the time I finally dragged myself to the sixth floor, my legs were so weak I nearly collapsed on the stairs.

I gripped the handrail, gasping for air, beads of sweat forming on the tip of my nose.

I used to run up and down while carrying a telescope, but now I had to stop and rest for ages just from walking up the stairs.

At the end of the hallway, the door to the observatory was slightly ajar.

There was movement inside.

The moment I pushed the door open, the sunlight was so bright I had to squint.

Xiao Yan stood with her back to the door, standing on her tiptoes to reach a star map on top of a cabinet.

She wasn’t wearing her school uniform; instead, she had on a white sweater paired with jeans.

Her high ponytail was tied up, the curled ends swaying back and forth with her movements as she strained to reach.

The sunlight slanted in through the observation window, gilding the tips of her hair with a golden edge.

Even her shadow on the floor looked soft.

She reached for a long time, her fingertips just an inch short.

Frustrated, she gave a little hop on her toes, making her ponytail dance even more energetically.

I leaned against the doorframe, my mind suddenly wandering.

This girl had done the same thing when she first came to the observatory and couldn’t reach the eyepiece of the large telescope.

Back then, she wore a low ponytail, and when she hopped, her hair would brush against my face.

It felt fuzzy.

She failed to reach it even after hopping, so she sighed and turned around, seemingly prepared to move a chair over to stand on.

Our eyes met.

She froze for half a second before she smiled.

That smile was completely different from her usual ones.

It wasn’t a polite “Hello, Senior” or a formal nod.

Her eyes curved into crescents, the corners of her mouth pulled back to her ears, and even her cheeks puffed out.

It was a smile so bright it was dazzling.

“President! You really came!”

Her voice echoed in the empty observatory, carrying a slight skip of joy.

I gave a soft “Mm” and walked inside.

“As the new Astronomy Club President, the only key to the observatory…”

She jingled the keys in her hand, the metallic clinking sound exceptionally clear, “…is with me.”

She tilted her head as if showing off some sort of treasure, the light in her eyes even more radiant than the sun outside.

Her gaze landed on my hat, and she reached out to flip it off.

My messy, long hair was exposed.

I instinctively tried to dodge, but she caught my wrist.

Her fingers were warm, and her grip was light, like being wrapped in a ball of cotton.

“Your hair is a mess again.”

Her fingertips brushed across the top of my head, smoothing down the stray hairs that were sticking up.

Then, she carefully tucked the hair by my temples behind my ears.

For some reason, my face suddenly began to burn.

My heart beat so fast it felt like it would crash right out of my chest.

‘Oh my god! Being patted on the head by a girl feels way too good!’

My body felt like it had been put under a spell; I couldn’t move at all.

Even my fingertips were trembling slightly.

“Didn’t you sleep well last night?”

Her fingertips brushed past my earlobe.

It was itchy, like a tiny feather tickling me.

“Mm.”

I turned my head away, terrified she would notice how red my ears had become.

“What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

She stared at me for a few seconds but didn’t press further.

She simply smiled and pointed at the items scattered across the floor.

“We need to re-post the star maps and wipe down the telescope today. I can’t handle it all by myself.”

“How are we splitting the work?”

I asked, quickly changing the subject while my ears were still burning.

“The President will post the star maps, and I’ll wipe the telescope.”

She leaned down to move the star maps.

Her ponytail brushed against the back of my hand, feeling soft.

“The old routine.”

The old routine.

Those three words were like a small pebble tossed into my heart, sending ripples of sweetness through me.

Did she still remember our daily division of labor back when I was still a boy?

The observatory was warm.

The dome was closed, and sunlight leaked through the gaps in the observation window.

Fine dust motes drifted lazily in the beams of light, looking like slow-motion snow.

I knelt on the floor to peel off the old star maps.

The yellowed paper was stuck firmly to the wall, making it a struggle to tear off.

My fingers subconsciously traced the lines connecting the constellations on the maps.

I could find the three stars of Orion’s belt and the position of Sirius even with my eyes closed.

My hand slipped, nearly tearing the corner marked with the Venus Conjunction with Moon.

I gasped and held my breath, quickly and carefully fixing it with tape.

These were observation points I had stayed up all night to mark in the past.

Xiao Yan heard the commotion and looked over with a smile.

“You still treasure these star maps as much as ever, President.”

She was nearby wiping the telescope with her sleeves rolled up, revealing her slender, white wrists.

She wiped the barrel in circles with a soft cloth, her movements so serious it was incredible.

The only sounds in the air were the rustle of paper and the friction of cloth.

It was so quiet it made one’s heart feel warm.

***

“President,” she suddenly spoke, her voice very soft.

“Do you still remember the first time I came to the Astronomy Club?”

My movements faltered.

How could I not remember?

Xiao Yan, a tenth-grader back then, had been clutching a thick notebook.

Her questions were incredibly tricky; she even insisted on knowing every single detail of the polar scope calibration process.

Back then, I couldn’t afford to be distracted for a second while answering her.

If I lost focus for even a moment, she would catch the flaw and come up with new questions.

“I remember,” I said.

“The questions you asked were harder than the final exams.”

She laughed, her clear voice ringing through the room like wind chimes.

“Back then, I thought the President was so amazing. You knew everything. When you taught me how to adjust the telescope, no matter how many times I asked, you never got impatient.”

“That’s because you were a fast learner.”

“Later, I realized that the President is actually quite clumsy.”

She ignored my compliment and turned to look at me.

There was a sly glint in her eyes, like a little fox that had successfully stolen a treat.

“You don’t know how to do your hair, you don’t know how to tie a scarf, and you can’t even handle a zipper properly.”

My face heated up again, feeling like I was cradling a small sun.

“But you work very hard,” she added, her tone softening until it was as sweet as cotton candy.

“The way you worked so hard to learn those things… it was very cute.”

My heart trembled.

I nearly tore the star map in my hands.

‘Cute? Being called cute by a girl… that’s way too embarrassing!’

Yet, little bubbles of happiness secretly rose in my heart, like I had just taken a sip of sweet soda.

Her voice suddenly dropped, as if she were talking to herself.

“That time the tripod was blown over by the wind, the President rushed over and blocked the counterweight rod with his back… I’ve always remembered that.”

My heart sank.

I had never mentioned that incident to anyone.

I was still a boy back then.

The wind had been absurdly strong, and the counterweight rod was swaying violently.

Seeing Xiao Yan standing underneath it, I had lunged forward without a second thought.

Even thinking about the pain of that iron rod hitting my back made me feel numb now.

“It must have hurt a lot back then.”

I looked up at her.

Her voice sounded tight.

She lowered her head, her fingers gripping the soft cloth.

Her knuckles were trembling.

“I saw it. When the President turned around, your brow was furrowed tight. When you moved equipment, your movements were half a beat slow. When you walked after school, your shoulders were slanted.”

She instinctively reached out and touched my back.

The old injury there still ached faintly on rainy days.

The movement was so natural that even I was stunned.

I had never told her where I was hurt.

How did she remember so clearly?

She looked up at me, her eyes red, as if holding a pool of sweet spring water.

“Does it still hurt now?”

“I’m fine.”

I turned away, not daring to look at her reddened eyes.

However, my body shivered slightly when she touched the spot where the injury was.

“Liar,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of nasal congestion. It was soft and tender.

“It must hurt.”

The observatory was terrifyingly quiet.

All that could be heard was the sound of our breathing, like two small deer panting softly.

She took two steps forward and stood before me.

Her silhouette against the light was incredibly gentle.

“That was the first time someone protected me like that.”

Her voice was light, like a feather landing on my heart.

“Why did you rush over, President?”

“Because you were there,” I blurted out, my voice as quiet as a whisper.

Her eyes lit up as if stars had fallen into them, twinkling brightly.

She looked at me and smiled, but tears began to fall, sliding down her cheeks and into her collar like two translucent pearls.

“That’s exactly it.”

She sniffled, her voice soft.

“Because I was there, the President rushed over.”

She turned and walked to the side of the telescope.

With her back to me, her voice was barely audible.

“Afterward, I thought about why the President would do that for a long time. Finally, I understood. That’s just the kind of person the President is.”

“When you see someone in trouble, you can’t help but rush in, regardless of whether you’ll get hurt yourself.”

“For many things, to keep others from being hurt, you take on too much yourself.”

She paused and turned her head.

Her gaze locked onto mine, the light in her eyes as gentle as water.

“That’s probably why the President became like this.”

“From now on, start letting go slowly. I will protect you.”

My heart skipped a beat.