The Apple from 2003

Cheng Mengfei saw Fang Chang'an walking together with Shen Mo. She even noticed him greeting Chang Wei, but she didn’t pay much attention. In fact, seeing Fang Chang'an getting along so well with Shen Mo made her quite happy.

It wasn't that she was particularly open-minded. In this era, teachers and parents treated puppy love and internet use as if they were monstrous threats. But unlike the later generations, where children matured early, junior high students at this time rarely experienced early romance.

To Cheng Mengfei, Fang Chang'an and Shen Mo were still very young, Shen Mo being only ten. It wasn't yet time to worry about romantic entanglements. Besides, both were her well-behaved, exemplary students, so she didn’t fear they’d fall into early romance.

Of course, her fondness for Fang Chang'an played a part. Her little niece couldn't possibly remain isolated at school; if she was to make friends, Cheng Mengfei felt at ease knowing it would be with other good students she herself liked and approved of.

Over fifty students formed two lines—one with more than twenty people—stretching from the track to the edge of the playground. Fang Chang'an ended up standing toward the back among the boys, with Wang Ke in the same row, and Shen Mo four places ahead of her.

After several minutes of adjusting their formation, they stood in place for a few more minutes. Many students whispered quietly, reviewing the movements. Finally, the loudspeakers at both ends of the teaching building blared to life, and a vibrant male voice called out, “Second set of broadcast gymnastics, ‘The Times Are Calling’!”

A rousing melody followed, and the energetic voice began the count: “Ready... Go! One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight!”

At the sound of “One,” Fang Chang'an instinctively swung her arms, but then remembered that the first routine was meant to be still. She steadied herself, recalling the movements as she watched the students ahead, secretly relieved, “Thank goodness the class monitor doesn’t have to demonstrate this!”

Cheng Mengfei clearly didn't expect him to perform the exercises perfectly. She patrolled up and down, then chose a girl whose movements seemed particularly standard to lead the routine. Only then did Fang Chang'an truly relax.

Her reputation remained intact.

Since the broadcast gymnastics were promoted by the country, these movements had surely been devised by professionals. Fang Chang'an was intent on exercising, so he performed earnestly, but soon realized it was no easy task.

Four minutes into the routine, he was already out of breath halfway through. He barely managed to finish the last section, “Cool-down Exercise,” feeling drenched in sweat.

Today had begun early; even after finishing, the bell signaling the end of morning self-study hadn’t rung yet. Many students whispered anxiously, worried the teacher would send them back to the classroom to continue reading, until they heard Cheng Mengfei call out, “Dismissed, everyone go eat!” Only then did they breathe a sigh of relief.

Having stood closely together in formation, the students now dispersed rapidly. Shen Mo was barely a meter from Fang Chang'an. She turned to look, saw him watching her, and her pale, delicate face flushed. Fang Chang'an waved to her, and the young girl shyly waved back, skipping lightly up to Cheng Mengfei.

Many classmates didn’t yet know she was related to the class teacher; seeing her leave with Cheng Mengfei sparked a flurry of quiet gossip.

Fang Chang'an stretched his arms, saw Wang Ke and Zheng Lili walking arm-in-arm toward the cafeteria, and as he was about to leave, Wang Hao approached. “Where are you eating?” he asked.

“On the street. Want to come?” replied Fang Chang'an.

“What will we eat on the street?” Wang Hao asked.

“Fried buns.”

Wang Hao hesitated, so Fang Chang'an smiled, “The buns at that shop are pretty big—five are enough, and it’s cheaper than eating in the cafeteria.”

Wang Hao nodded, “Alright, I'll come too.”

The two left the school together. Halfway there, Wang Hao grew restless, not daring to complain to Fang Chang'an, but kept asking, “How much further?” “When will we get there?”

“Just around the corner,” Fang Chang'an replied.

“You said that just now.”

“This is the last corner.”

Encouraged by Fang Chang'an’s promises of tasty food, the two walked nearly twenty minutes before finally reaching the bun shop.

Wang Hao’s family was a bit better off, but he still couldn’t bring himself to spend a whole yuan on spicy soup. He hesitated, then ordered seven buns, sitting with Fang Chang'an to eat.

Fang Chang'an pulled out a carton of milk from his pocket, pierced it with a straw, took a bite of the golden, oily fried bun, and a sip of milk.

The fried buns were far tastier than cafeteria meals. Wang Hao quickly finished one, then took a big bite out of his second, noticing Fang Chang'an had milk. He chewed and asked, “You have milk too?”

“Shen Mo gave it to me.”

“Oh,” Wang Hao replied. After two buns, he couldn’t help but ask, “Why did she give it to you?”

“I traded her for candy.”

“Oh.” After two more buns, Wang Hao asked again, “It's all English on that carton—is it foreign?”

“Not sure.”

“Must be expensive then?”

“Probably.”

“Hey, maybe you could ask her if she'd trade milk for my candy too?”

Fang Chang'an glanced up at him, “Do you think her family doesn’t have candy?”

Given Shen Mo’s attire, anyone could tell her family was wealthy. Wang Hao munched on his bun for a while before asking again, “So why did she trade with you?”

“Because I’m good-looking.”

Wang Hao silently gnawed his bun and didn’t speak again until he finished.

“So,” Fang Chang'an asked on the way back, “was it tasty?”

“Mm.”

“Cheaper than eating in the cafeteria, right?”

“Mm.”

“Will you come again tomorrow?”

Wang Hao thought for a moment, then shook his head, “It’s too far.”

“It won’t make you late for class,” Fang Chang'an coaxed.

Wang Hao hesitated, but in the end still shook his head, repeating, “It’s too far.”

Fang Chang'an didn't press further; this was the answer he wanted.

Returning to school, the two stopped by the restroom. By the time they got back to the classroom, Shen Mo and Wang Ke were already there. Wang Ke was chatting with Zheng Lili, Wu Di, and some classmates in the back row. Shen Mo sat at her desk, listening to music through her headphones.

Seeing Fang Chang'an, Shen Mo stood up to let him in. What she held wasn’t the MP3 player Fang Chang'an had expected, but a rectangular electronic device with a white casing. The top half was a square screen, the bottom a circular array of buttons, resembling a steering wheel with a small circle in the center.

He sat down and pointed at the device in Shen Mo’s hand. “What’s that?”

Shen Mo took off her headphones and whispered, “iPod, for listening to music.”

Fang Chang'an was slightly taken aback. During his college years, smartphones were just becoming popular, Apple was king, and he admired them but couldn’t afford one. His desire to own one only grew, and he became one of those “knows all the specs but can’t afford it” amateur tech enthusiasts, familiar with most phone configurations.

He wasn’t unfamiliar with the iPod. By the time he could afford one, it was already outdated. He still bought an iPod Touch, which was essentially an iPhone that couldn’t make calls. Even though it was passé, it felt exquisite in hand.

Was the device before him also an iPod?

Had they been around since 2003?

That question flashed through his mind. The young girl misunderstood his expression and offered him an earbud. Fang Chang'an accepted and put it in his ear.

A familiar melody and voice played: “Time peels away on the wall, revealing childhood—I still remember how young we were back then…”

“East Wind Breaks” existed this early? The question crossed Fang Chang'an’s mind again as he pointed at the iPod, “Can I see it?”

Shen Mo handed the music player to him. Fang Chang'an took it, noting its squat, chubby shape. His first impression was that it felt rough—not quite the refined style he associated with Apple products. But considering this was over a decade ago, the existence of such a product already amazed him.

The familiar Apple logo adorned the back. He pressed a button and the screen lit up—a low-resolution black and white display, even less impressive than the MP3s he remembered.

Of course, that was mainly because Fang Chang'an’s first exposure to MP3s in his previous life was in 2006, after entering high school. This was his first encounter with a black-and-white electronic screen, both then and now.

He tried operating it, feeling as though he’d stepped from modern society back to primitive times. It was boring—there was nothing but music stored locally.

But after all, the iPod’s main function was to play music.

After fiddling with it for a while, Fang Chang'an returned it to Shen Mo and asked quietly, “Is it sold in China?”

Shen Mo shook her head, “I don’t know. My aunt gave it to me. She bought a new one and passed this old one down.”

Fang Chang'an nodded, inwardly marveling. Whether twenty years before or twenty years after, the same era could have vastly different worlds… In his previous life, it wasn’t until university that he learned Apple meant more than just the fruit. He’d never imagined that someone in his first year of junior high was already using their products.

Because of his desire and envy for Apple phones when he was poor, Fang Chang'an’s first purchase after earning money was an iPhone. For several years, he became an Apple devotee, always buying the latest release every year, as if compensating for the earlier self who had envied others using iPhones.

Later, the psychological imprint faded. With Apple’s throttling and environmental moves, coupled with the backdrop of the trade war, he switched back to domestic brands and lost interest in tech products.

By then, his life was so full that he had little energy left for studying phones. He simply bought the most expensive, and if that didn’t work, bought the cheap ones as well.