Rain

There was an indescribable feeling this morning—something vague, but persistent. I looked back on that hot summer, when I wasn’t very good at volleyball, but somehow felt more relaxed. Back then, I wasn’t close to anyone on the court, but maybe that distance spared me the burden of socializing. I just went to watch, quietly, a silent spectator. At that time, the boundary between me and volleyball hadn’t sunk in too deeply. Now that I’ve made it a part of my life, I find myself sometimes heading to the court with a certain weight—afraid of seeing someone, and equally afraid of not seeing someone.

Tonight was no different. I walked to the court with that quiet hope of running into COOL, but he didn’t show. I wore my volleyball shoes, slim black athletic pants, bundled up on top—green down jacket, layered with a Christmasy fleece jacket. Underneath was a green T-shirt, so I could shed my outerwear and jump straight into a game. Just in time, a few familiar faces were doing defensive drills. At first, I wondered why the first couple of balls always came to me—were they going easy on me? But then I realized it was a division of labor: I passed, Yueyue chased. It balanced out perfectly.

Playing as a setter made me genuinely happy. As long as my pass wasn’t wildly off, my set had a high chance of being right on target. And it turns out, setting to position two wasn’t as tough as I imagined. I started to get a feel for the distance. My confidence grew, and I even discovered a method—slightly angle the body toward position two in advance, then guide with the arms for more precision. Position four has become my comfort zone. Next time, I’ll definitely try setting to position three—get it right, I must!

I didn’t see COOL, but I ran into 69. And suddenly, I realized how easily human attention can shift. Maybe the trick to making life less painful is to spread that focus around—not just fixate on one person. That way, you’re less likely to get hurt.

69 is the classic type—tough with men, soft with women. I even joked to myself he might have the makings of someone who’d be violent in a relationship. Just kidding—he wouldn’t. He’s too well-raised. But if he hadn’t been, I do think there’s a hint of violence in his nature—the kind that stays gentle for a long time, then snaps. Weirdly, I kind of like that. I think a certain schoolboy shares that trait too, but I feel nothing for him. None at all. Why? Maybe I just know too much. Maybe I’ve judged him unfairly. Maybe it’s just bias. Or maybe it’s because I just finished watching Majo no Jōken (The Witch's Condition), that Japanese drama—and I’m reminded how people are naturally drawn to each other, like it’s just... love at first sight. So I had feelings for 69, and none for the schoolboy.

Back when the semester started, I stared at 69 and thought, how is he this handsome? Today I looked again—nah, he looked kind of dirty and greasy. Hahaha, what a drop. Guess it’s the beard. But hey, I’m not saying “dirty” is bad—I actually find it kind of hot. That kind of everyday-handsome? I’m toxic. Hahaha.