Every Saturday felt like a holiday. The rest of the time, I studied hard, as I’d promised him. I want to get into your school, then you can be my professor, I said. He said, No, you ought to go to a better university. This went on till the winter, and just like that the first year of the millennium was almost over. New Year’s Eve wasn’t a Saturday, but there were no classes and I didn’t feel like going to a party, so I went to the loft. I found Yin Zheng getting ready to go out—Meng Jing’s friends were having a gathering. I stood at the doorway and watched him clearing the teacups from his desk, putting on his jacket. You could not go, I said. He said, I promised, I have to. He patted me on the shoulder but I didn’t move. Could you come back here after your party? I asked. It depends, he said. I’ll be waiting here, I said immediately, It doesn’t matter how late you are. He sighed and said, Fine, but if I’m not back by the time your dorm locks their gates, don’t keep waiting, okay?

But I waited long past that time. I didn’t know if he would come back, but I didn’t want to be anywhere else. When he finally showed up, I was dozing on the stairs. I felt a hand on my head, warmth cascading down me from my scalp, then he helped me up and kissed me on the forehead. Silly girl, he said softly. I wept. He led me inside, poured me some warm water, and produced some fruits and a piece of cake he’d bought along the way.

It was almost midnight, and fireworks kept shooting up into the sky. We stood at the window watching them. Could you kiss me again? I said. Call it a New Year present. He hesitated, then bent to kiss me. In the glow from outside, the kiss was red, then green, then white, blazing in different directions, shattering into tiny stars. Sparkling, then vanishing. We broke apart and went back to the window. I said, I want you to want me. In silence, he went over to his desk. Is that okay? I said. Come here, he said, sit down. I shook my head and remained where I was. I must look like a giant joke, I thought, but my dignity was nothing in the face of the vast desire inside me. I asked, Is it because I’m your old schoolmate’s daughter? No, he said, it’s because you’re still a child, and this is foolish talk. I’m eighteen, I said. But you’re still a child, he said. He led me to the bed and pressed on my shoulder to make me sit.