Summer in Your Name - Extra 3

“I must’ve told you I loved you hundreds of years ago.”  

—Missed Lover

The cat Sheng Xia raised was originally a stray. After being fed for a few months, it showed up at her doorstep on its own. That day, Sheng Xia was down with a fever and stayed home. Zhang Shu skipped work to take care of her, simmering millet porridge when he heard scratching at the door. Thinking it was some kid messing around outside, he ignored it. But soon, a cat’s meow rang out, first soft and milky, then escalating to a full-on tantrum, loud enough to wake Sheng Xia. Zhang Shu had no choice but to open the door and check.

The moment the door cracked open, a cat’s head poked through, its body slinking in like water, then leaping straight into Sheng Xia’s arms.

It settled in and refused to leave.

“You’re weak right now; don’t hold it.” Zhang Shu grabbed the cat by the scruff of its neck, lifting it up. “Pretty heavy. This stray’s been scamming folks out there, huh? Gotten this fat.”

“Orange cats are just built to be chubby; it doesn’t actually eat much. Can we keep it?” 

Sheng Xia’s voice was always gentle, but softened by sickness, it was even more tender. Never mind eating a little—Zhang Shu would’ve nodded without hesitation even if the cat devoured a mountain of gold.

Zhang Shu called it ‘Fatty', but Sheng Xia thought the name lacked elegance. They settled on ‘Xi Xi: instead.

Zhang Shu was puzzled—Xi Xi? Like, pitiful Xi Xi? How was that any more elegant than Fatty?

Never mind. As long as she was happy.

---

On the way to the vet for a checkup, Sheng Xia sat in the passenger seat, cradling Xi Xi. One of the cat’s paws clutched her waist, the other gripped her chest, its head buried in her armpit, silent as could be.

“It’s so well-behaved,” Sheng Xia said, stroking Xi Xi’s head, her eyes brimming with tenderness.

Zhang Shu, driving, glanced at the cat, then reached over to scratch Sheng Xia’s chin, muttering, “Dummy.”

Sheng Xia didn’t get it.

“Scheming cat,” Zhang Shu added. Playing the pity card.

Sheng Xia laughed and started chatting idly. “You know why I didn’t want to call it ‘Fatty’? I had my reasons.”

“Oh?”

“I had a friend called Fatty, so this one couldn’t be ‘Fatty’ too.”

Zhang Shu, now fluent in her quirky way of talking, knew she wasn’t referring to a person. “You raised one before?”

Sheng Xia shook her head. “My mom never let me keep pets. My time with Fatty only lasted fifteen days, during high school military training at the base. Funny thing, it was an orange cat too, just short-haired. No idea if it was sneaking extra meals, but it felt heavier than ten pounds when I held it, so I named it Fatty. I still remember one day it…”

“Was No. 2 High School also training at Long Tan Base?” Zhang Shu interrupted, something clicking in his memory.

“Yeah.”

“Did you give all your chicken drumsticks to feed that cat?”

Sheng Xia blinked. “How’d you know?”

“It’s a cat thing.” Zhang Shu’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly, the car slowing as he asked softly, “What happened that one day?”

“That one day…”

That one day, the little cat had climbed up a high wall and couldn’t get down, meowing pitifully all afternoon.

Zhang Shu remembered that day clearly, the sun blazed fiercely, and military training was halfway done. Everyone was exhausted, dodging drills with whatever excuses they could muster. Zhang Shu was no exception. Too lazy to even come up with a reason, he skipped training to buy a soda.

On his way back from the canteen, he stuck to the shade along the wall to avoid the sun. That’s when he heard a cat’s desperate cries, drowning out the cicadas’ hum.

As he got closer, a soft female voice mixed in with the meows. “Fatty, don’t be scared. Big sister’s got you… Don’t be afraid… How’d you even get up there? I’m so worried… Look, I’m reaching out to catch you. I’m not lying, just jump a little, don’t be scared…”

On the other side of the wall, a girl was trying to coax the cat to jump down.

Big sister to a cat? What the heck?

Zhang Shu kept walking but, for some reason, stopped and turned back.

Fine. Saving a cat’s life is worth more than building a seven-story pagoda, right?

The wall looked about four meters high. No way that dumb cat was jumping.

Zhang Shu scanned around and spotted a few bicycles parked at the end of the wall, probably belonging to canteen staff.

It took some sweet-talking, but he managed to borrow one.

The girl’s voice on the other side was trembling with tears now. “Big sister has to go assemble soon. Come down, please. The sun’s so hot, you’ll get roasted dry up there…”

This girl was something else. Talking so much, did she think the cat could understand her? Pointless.

Zhang Shu shouted, “Dumb cat!”

The cat twisted its head toward his voice. It was so chubby to balance properly and nearly slipped, too scared to move, squinting at him pitifully.

The crying on the other side stopped abruptly.

The girl seemed to be watching, but Zhang Shu figured she was probably panicking, showing up here meant she was likely skipping training too, afraid of getting caught.

Longtan Training Base hosted several military districts, and most schools from Nanli trained there. Each school had its separate training area, but the canteen and bathrooms were shared, with staggered meal and shower times. Zhang Shu knew some guys in his class would line up early for showers just to sneak a peek at girls from other schools.

Zhang Shu didn’t care much for that. Girls were all the same, right?

But now, he found himself wondering.

He didn’t know much, but her voices seemed different—this girl from other schools spoke softly, almost delicately, and apparently cried easily.

Zhang Shu hoisted the bike up against the wall, the basket just half a meter from the cat.

The cat hesitated, stretching out a paw, pulling it back, sticking out its butt, then pulling back again…

Zhang Shu couldn’t look up easily in that position and could only sense by weight whether the cat had jumped. After waiting forever with no movement, sweat beaded on his forehead. He couldn’t help but yell, “Dumb cat, get in!”

His shout came out gruff from the strain, sounding fiercer than intended. The cat froze, but there was a rustle from the other side—a dry twig snapping underfoot, followed by a faint gasp.

This girl was so jumpy. Unbelievable.

Definitely a match for that dumb cat. 

Right then, the cat suddenly leaped into the basket, catching Zhang Shu off guard and nearly knocking him and the bike over.

He steadied himself with a lunge, slowly squatting, and set the bike down.

Looking at the soft, chubby lump filling the basket, Zhang Shu caught his breath, half-laughing, half-annoyed. Roasted dry? How long would it take to roast a cat this fat?

He grabbed the cat by the scruff and set it on the ground. The second its paws hit dirt, it bolted through a drainage hole, vanishing to the other side. Zhang Shu blinked, no thanks to your savior? So heartless?

What’s so great about the other side of the wall?

“You’re finally down! Thank heavens!” The girl’s voice was full of joy, as if she’d already forgotten someone was on the other side.

Thank heavens? Not thank me?

Zhang Shu crouched and peeked through the hole, catching sight of a pair of military training shoes. The dumb cat rubbed against them, and as if sensing his gaze, it squinted back at him.

The girl’s hand stroked the cat’s ears, her fingers brushing over them like green onion sprouts grazing rough earth.

The assembly broadcast blared, and the girl stood to leave.

The shoes vanished, then reappeared.

A faint voice carried over, light as a clear day’s breeze, “Um, thank you.”

The shoes disappeared again.

Zhang Shu dusted off his hands, returned the bike, grabbed his now-warm soda, chugged it, and headed back to the training formation. 

The next day, he passed by the wall and glanced over—no cat, no person.

The day after, he bought a sausage and passed by again. No cat, no person. He tossed the sausage by the wall.

On the fourth day, he brought nothing, didn’t even look, but voices hit his ears—cat and person, loud and clear.

“You can’t eat sausages. You’re a cat, not a person, got it? Even if this person meant well, you can’t eat it…”

“Meow!”

Zhang Shu: “…”

“Eat this chicken drumstick. I washed off the soy sauce, but there’s still a bit of salt. Make do, okay?”

“Meow!”

Zhang Shu: “…”

Make do? He didn’t even eat as well as that cat. 

On the fifth day, Zhang Shu brought a drumstick. The cat was there, but no person. It licked his hand but wouldn’t eat.

“Fine, don’t eat.” He started to walk away, then turned back, scolding, “Eat or not? I washed off the sauce, it’s edible!”

A canteen auntie passing by laughed. “Someone’s already fed it. It’s full!”

Annoyed, Zhang Shu tossed the drumstick and left.

That same day, Zhang Shu, who never understood his roommates’ antics, followed them to line up early at the showers.

Noticing his attention drifting to the voices of passing girls, Zhang Shu touched his nose, realizing with regret—he couldn’t tell that school’s girls from the others.

Because he didn’t hear her voice.

They all sounded about the same.

The next day was the final drill; military training was almost over.

That night, each camp held a bonfire party, with singing and dancing, everyone buzzing with excitement. No wonder they called military training bonfires ‘prime mate-picking grounds’, hormones were flying, hearts hotter than the flames.

His roommates egged Zhang Shu to sing, but he was in a foul mood, feeling hot and bothered. He’d rather go pet a cat.

That’s when Chen Mengyao took the stage, the crowd roaring, guys and girls equally hyped, like they’d spotted a celebrity.

“Zhang Shu, it’s Chen Mengyao! Your school’s art student who tested in!”

“Do you think I’m blind?” 

“Her legs are so long.”

Zhang Shu glanced over. Across the bonfire, he couldn’t make out her face, just mid-length wavy hair. Who? Didn’t know her. He got up to leave, but then a chord struck—

He turned back.

It was Su Su, the song that got him through the grueling, anxious days of his high school entrance exams, looped endlessly day and night. He could recognize any snippet of its melody.

Su Su, an old track by Zhang Sujin from over a decade ago.

He hadn’t studied music theory, but he could tell she was mimicking Zhang Sujin’s style, a common thing in covers. It sounded almost identical, save for slight differences in diction.

Before the exams, Zhang Shu had secretly gone to Heyan alone, trying to dig into Zhang Sujin’s past. He wanted to know what Zhang Sujin was like in a place where he didn't exist.

At that old bar, he’d seen a photo of Zhang Sujin with her band.

In his mind, that photo overlapped with the figure before him—static turning dynamic. Same mid-length waves, guitar in hand, lips parting slightly.

Even the overexposed light of the old photo merged with the bonfire’s glow, leaving him dazed.

Zhang Shu doubled back, ignoring his roommates’ teasing. His ears buzzed, drowning out everything else.

But she only sang half the song, skipping the chorus—his favorite part. When she stepped offstage, Zhang Shu rubbed his face and followed.

“Chen Mengyao, could you sing that song again for me?”

“Sure.”

She was straightforward, and Zhang Shu liked that no-nonsense vibe. Later, they crossed paths in the music club and naturally became friends.

In adolescence, whenever a guy and girl got close, rumors would fly. But Chen Mengyao was so easygoing with him that he didn’t pay it any mind. Besides, he knew she was chasing Lu Youze, so he never thought of her romantically. 

It wasn’t until years later that Zhang Shu realized the rumors might’ve started that night.

That night, everyone held up lanterns and sang until the bonfire died and the universe fell quiet. Only then did they scatter.

Zhang Shu noticed the lights go out at the neighboring training field and slipped away from his roommates to head to the wall.

The cat was gone, leaving only a plastic bowl by the drainage hole.

Zhang Shu trudged back to the dorm, catching a late-night chat session. Someone asked what kind of girl he liked. He answered offhandedly, “Kind ones.”

“Lame!”

“Too vague, be specific!”

He didn’t brush it off this time. For once, he thought seriously about what ‘liking’ meant but came up empty. “Then, someone with a nice voice.”

“Oh!”

“Got it, got it!”

That’s probably where the misunderstanding began.

Lost in his roommates’ teasing, Zhang Shu zoned out. He couldn’t wrap his head around it, she called herself ‘big sister’ so warmly, yet she left without saying goodbye to that dumb cat? Or did she take it with her?

The next day, training ended. Everyone shed their uniforms, packed their bags, and boarded buses back to school.

The parking lot was chaos—people rushing past, brushing shoulders, eyes never lingering on strangers.

In the crowd, no one knows who they’re meant to pause for.

“I still can’t figure out how the person on the other side got Fatty down…” Her voice overlapped with the one in his memory, from youthful to mature. Zhang Shu snapped back to the present.

He and Sheng Xia were in the vet waiting area, talking about a shared past they hadn’t known they shared.

She leaned on his shoulder, speaking softly. “Did Fatty only listen to people who sounded fierce?”

Zhang Shu looked down, gazing at the crown of her head, her lashes, her nose, the fine hairs on her face.

Incredible.

Zhang Shu, who’d always scoffed at fate, couldn’t help but marvel. Fate was incredible.

Back then, was it liking?

Hard to say.

The feeling was too subtle, barely noticeable, insignificant, yet vivid at the lightest touch.

In youth, feelings spark easily but burn out fast, rarely lasting. In the long stretch of years, they’re nothing. Without a reunion to confirm it, they’d scatter like windblown fluff.

But fate is so incredible.

His heart warmed. Zhang Shu tightened his grip on their interlaced fingers.

Sheng Xia looked up, puzzled. He leaned in, kissing her lightly, like a dragonfly skimming water.

He asked, “Why didn’t you ask?”

“Huh?”

“How he got Fatty down.”

“I was…” 

“You were skipping training, afraid of getting caught.”

“How do you know that?”

“What doesn’t your husband know?”

“…”

“Actually…” Zhang Shu started, but the clinic called out, “Appointment for Xi Xi. Xi Xi’s guardians to Room 1.”

“Our turn!” Sheng Xia pulled him up.

Zhang Shu saw ‘Xi Xi’ glowing red on the screen and smiled, the same smile as that day by the wall.

He wanted to ask why she didn’t say goodbye to Fatty, to tell her how he got the cat down, but she was already tugging him toward the room.

No rush. They had time. They’d talk slowly.

The clinic door opened. Xi Xi looked over, pitiful, its eyes just like Fatty’s in the bike basket.

Outside, the sky was clear blue, just like that summer long ago.

Under that vast blue, lush camphor trees held up Nanli’s summer.

In their shade, a fleeting spark of feeling, unnoticed then, finally met the touch of fate in some grand summer to come.

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