Chapter Forty-Three: The Date

Waiting for the sun to set in the west.

Yet the crowds at the Happy World amusement park in Yangcheng did not diminish. The parade of fantastical circus-themed floats was underway. Performers dressed as various circus characters strolled around the floats, putting on their acts.

Juno, as excited as the group of children beside her, waved and shouted. Rousseau, seeing such a spectacle for the first time in his life, found it beautiful and dazzling. Yet his thoughts lingered on how nice it would have been to bring Lu Xiaoyu along.

By the time the parade ended, it was nearly eight o’clock. Rousseau felt it was time to return to the group. Juno reluctantly agreed.

At the entrance to Happy World, Juno pulled a small, exquisite red phone from her jeans pocket. Her phone had been switched off earlier, but as soon as she turned it on, it chimed nonstop with incoming messages.

Under the streetlamp, Juno furrowed her brow at the screen, replied to a few texts, then flashed a resigned “whatever will be, will be” expression at Rousseau, raising an eyebrow.

“We’re in trouble. Your coach found my coach, and now both of them are looking for us,” Juno said, adding, “They’ve been searching all day.”

Ah... Rousseau felt a tingling at the back of his head; things seemed to have gotten out of hand.

“They even went to my house. Old Tian said my dad’s looking for me now. Both the team and my family think we’ve eloped... um, disappeared.” Juno had meant to say “eloped”—she was sure Tian Shiwei would use that word, but it was too sensitive, so she held back.

“This is really bad. This can’t be solved with ten laps around the track, can it?” Rousseau mused, a bit worried.

“At least a five-thousand-word self-critique,” Juno said, dejected.

So... the two glanced at each other.

“Come on! Let’s go get sweet and sour pork with pineapple!”

Of course, to keep the coaches from worrying too much, Juno asked Tian Shiwei to apologize to them on their behalf. If he were a real friend, Tian Shiwei would be able to soothe their anger.

Tian Shiwei replied, half-joking, “Went out without me? I have to clean up your mess? Bullying the honest guy?”

...

A place called “Hong Kee”—the restaurant Juno claimed had the best sweet and sour pork with pineapple in all of Yangcheng.

Rousseau had imagined this place, so often mentioned by Juno, would be grand and impressive. In reality, it was a small roadside eatery, with a dusty sign reading “Hong Kee Cantonese Cuisine.” Fewer than ten tables inside, and a queue outside.

Seeing the line of diners under the summer trees, Rousseau took a number. The attendant told him the wait would be about an hour. Though it was long, they had come all this way, so they might as well wait.

Besides, they were already late returning to the group and would surely face the coaches’ wrath, so Rousseau decided to enjoy himself while he could. He was never one to follow the rules strictly, and with that thought, he felt at ease.

“I’m really happy today—haven’t felt like this in ages,” Juno said. “Old Lu, thanks for keeping me company. We’re definitely going to get scolded, but you’re a true friend.”

“Let’s treat it as a celebration—celebrating our championship wins and record-breaking performances. I’ll give myself a day off,” Rousseau laughed. “And since you’re treating, I’ll take you out when I get paid.”

“Money doesn’t matter!” Juno laughed. She almost blurted out, “I know you’re broke,” but suddenly stopped herself.

She realized this might hurt Rousseau, which was odd, since she wasn’t usually so sensitive to others’ feelings.

She glanced at Rousseau. Night had fallen; under the deep blue sky, the streetlamp cast a half-lit glow on Rousseau’s profile, sharpening the lines of his face like chisel and axe.

Juno felt her heartbeat quicken inexplicably.

...

It didn’t take an hour.

Only about forty minutes passed before their turn came. Both were famished by then. Seated, Juno began ordering, so familiar with the menu that she didn’t need to look.

“Sweet and sour pork with pineapple, steamed perch, salt-baked chicken, boiled shrimp, two claypot rice, and a plate of stir-fried vegetables, thanks~”

The waiter jotted down the order and left.

Rousseau marveled, “You really know this place inside out.”

“Of course. My mom loves their sweet and sour pork with pineapple,” Juno replied as she rinsed chopsticks, bowls, and plates.

“My mom liked Cantonese food too,” Rousseau said, then shook his head, “I can’t remember well—it was ten years ago.”

“You still remember your mother?” Juno asked curiously, then felt it was intrusive. Everyone vaguely knew Rousseau’s background, but they’d never spoken directly about it. “Sorry, it’s just that I barely remember mine. She left when I was very young. All I remember is this restaurant.”

“Your mother...?” Rousseau wasn’t sure of Juno’s story.

“She passed away when I was little. It’s just me, my dad, and lots of beautiful aunties now,” Juno said with a self-mocking smile. “They used to be ‘aunties,’ now some I have to call ‘sisters,’ and maybe later even ‘little sisters.’”

“I sympathize. But having a dad... must feel pretty good,” Rousseau said. “I never had one. Then my mom abandoned me. I guess having a bad parent is better than none at all, right?”

“You have a point. At least he gives me money,” Juno replied. The mood should have been somber, but she found it oddly amusing. “Do you think it’s necessary for us to expose our wounds and comfort each other?”

“We’ve talked ourselves into it, and the mood’s right. Should we sob in each other’s arms?” Rousseau laughed.

“No need!” Juno waved it off. “I’m working hard to be someone who can control her own life. At least, before the high jump bar, I’m free—and strong.”

“Yes, me too,” Rousseau said, looking at Juno, whose optimism and purity shone like crystal. He couldn’t help but admire her.

Rousseau, without a doubt, liked Juno. Who wouldn’t like such a cheerful, interesting girl? She was also understanding.

Then the food arrived.

Rousseau tried the sweet and sour pork with pineapple first—delicious.

Steamed perch—also delicious.

Excellent.

He gave Juno a thumbs-up, praising her choices.

Juno dug in, savoring “a taste I haven’t had in ages.”

Once their hunger eased, they had energy to continue chatting.

Suddenly, Juno brought up, “Old Lu, have you heard of the East Youth Games?”

“What’s that?” Rousseau hadn’t.

“The East Asian Youth Games—an international competition for 14 to 18-year-olds from nine East Asian countries. It’s this year, late October to early November,” Juno explained. “It’s an international event—champions get to carry the national flag and hear the anthem on the podium.”

“Sounds smaller than the Asian Games, but still impressive...” Rousseau said, then realized why Juno mentioned it. She was seventeen, right? Eligible for the games?

“So, you’re going to compete in the East Youth Games?” Rousseau exclaimed.

“That’s right,” Juno said proudly, though her chest had little to boast of.

“Amazing! I wish I could go!” Rousseau couldn’t help saying. He dreamed of representing his country on the world stage.

“No chance this time. The selection for athletes ended long ago, before you joined the team. Old Tian’s results weren’t good enough then. If he’d had his performance from this provincial meet, he could have qualified,” Juno said. “Too bad.”