Chapter 452 - 214: The So-called Sense of Ritual

Chapter 452: Chapter 214: The So-called Sense of Ritual

"Go ahead and take some."

Li Zhi nodded, then took out three boxes of apples.

After the apples were handed out, Shen Yuan and Ah Jie returned to their seats.

"That’s it, I can’t bring myself to eat it either," Ah Jie lamented, weighing the gift box in his hand.

But just because some couldn’t bear to, didn’t mean everyone felt the same.

The gluttonous ones had already torn open the packaging and started eating.

"Post-meal fruit, acquired!"

"CRUNCH!"

The crisp, juicy sound was accompanied by a chorus of praise.

"Mmmph—! It’s so sweet!"

"Ah~ Sister Shui is the best! I hereby declare, from now on, Sister Shui is Shuibao!"

"Long live Shuibao!"

Listening to the chatter in the classroom, Shen Yuan’s gaze fell upon Li Zhi beside him.

The girl wasn’t paying much attention to the apple in front of her; instead, she quickly put it away.

It was clear that Li Zhi wasn’t particularly interested in this whole Christmas Eve tradition of giving out Peace Fruits.

But if he were to take her to a claw machine to win an apple-shaped doll or something, Shen Yuan felt that his Li Bao would be more than happy.

Just as Yang Ze had once said, what Christmas Eve do third-year grunts get?

It’s just practice tests and review sessions.

Aside from some first and second-year students who rushed over to Class 15 at the end of lunch break to give Li Zhi apples, nothing much else of note happened.

And Li Zhi ended up giving all those apples away.

This was what Ah Jie meant earlier when he said Li Zhi would be giving out apples.

Regifting Peace Fruits was a lot like passing around presents to relatives during the New Year.

Your family gives a gift to my family, and my family gives it to his. His family gives a gift to my family, and my family gives it to yours.

It’s all about recycling; you just have to be careful not to send it back to the original giver.

The lights for evening self-study washed the classroom in a cold, white glow. The rustle of pen tips scratching across paper and the soft flipping of pages wove together into the unique nocturne of senior year.

The windowpanes reflected the inky black sky, the chill held at bay, leaving only the faint warmth that misted from the students’ breaths.

On this Christmas Eve, only the third-year students remained in the entire school.

The first and second years had already been let out for the holiday.

After the first period of evening self-study, Ah Jie leaned back in his seat and sighed. "All we can do is give apples, but some people get to give bananas and milk."

"Remember to bring the baby-stoppers. Safety first, for a peaceful, peaceful night."

"Or maybe they won’t need them."

"Then it won’t be a very ’peaceful’ night."

"Ha!"

Yang Ze and Ah Jie looked at each other and snickered.

Shen Yuan’s gaze swept over Li Zhi, who was sitting beside him, her head bowed as she worked on problems.

Her neck bent in a gentle arc, and stray hairs swayed with the motion of her writing. Under the light, her profile had a porcelain-white glow, a testament to her Concentration.

Shen Yuan’s fingertips unconsciously fiddled with the edge of his schoolbag in the shadows beneath his desk.

Inside the bag lay the Peace Fruit that Shen Yuan had prepared.

It was his "exclusive secret," which he had retrieved from Yang Yishui after dinner.

He remembered Li Zhi’s indifferent expression that afternoon when they were unpacking the apples for the class. She truly lacked interest in these holiday rituals.

She even had a natural aversion to the sense of ceremony manufactured by marketing campaigns.

Shen Yuan was the same.

But that didn’t mean they were against rituals altogether.

’The so-called ’sense of ceremony’,’ Shen Yuan thought, ’is more about doing something different on an otherwise ordinary day.

’It’s not about demanding all sorts of things on specific dates.

’An ordinary life does need a sense of ceremony, but that doesn’t mean demanding all kinds of material possessions.

’It’s more of a spiritual supplement.

’Watching the sunrise and sunset together is a wonderful thing.

’Doing something you both enjoy, bringing home a bouquet of flowers, writing a handwritten letter.

’In this regard, I think the two at my own home are excellent role models.

’Old Shen would take Ms. Zhang Yuyan on trips. They weren’t the type to travel constantly—just two or three times a year, for both short and long distances.

’And Ms. Zhang Yuyan would play games with Old Shen, and it had even gotten to the point where she started putting the pressure on him.

’But did Old Shen really mind the pressure?

’Not at all. He would be laughing his head off.

’It was the same with Old Li and Aunt Xu, actually.

’Every month, Old Li would pick a day to bring home a bouquet of flowers on his way home from work. They didn’t have to be expensive; sometimes it was just a single flower.

’Oh, no, at least two flowers.

’One was for his precious daughter.

’Aunt Xu would always take good care of the flowers Old Li brought home. I’ve even heard Li Zhi complain about Aunt Xu before.

’Li Zhi said her mom was always showing off her affection for Old Li right in front of her, saying "I love you" several times a day, as if she could never get tired of it.

’But what’s so hard about saying "I love you" to the person you love?

’The purpose of rituals is to make you feel like you’re truly living.

’And the people who create that sense of ceremony for you are usually the ones who love you.’

The bell signaling the end of evening self-study finally pierced the silence of the winter night, bringing the curtain down on this "Christmas-Eve-that-wasn’t."

The lights in the academic building began to go out, and a stream of students, wrapped in exhaustion and the cold air, flowed toward the school gate.

Shen Yuan, carrying both of their schoolbags, let his hand slide down with practiced ease before they had even left the classroom, his fingers precisely closing around Li Zhi’s cool fingertips.

Li Zhi let out a soft, habitual hum. Her fingers instinctively curled back, finding a reassuring warmth in Shen Yuan’s sturdy palm.

The dim, yellow halos of the streetlights blurred into the crisp air, and the festive atmosphere of the streets now felt particularly distinct.

People who had been hurrying about during the day seemed to have slowed their pace. The faint melody of a cheerful Christmas carol drifted through the air, wafting out from the small shops that were still open along the road.