Chapter 30

After the phone screen went dark, the silence in the room seemed to gain weight, pressing heavily on Jiang Ci's heart.

Wen Heng's words, "This isn't like you," swirled in his mind like a curse, disturbing his peace.

His father's roaring face, his stepmother's fake smile, the glaring numbers on the ranking list, and the scene of Xie Qingyan and Wen Heng looking for books side by side and talking in hushed tones in the bookstore all mixed together and fermented into a bittersweet and anxious emotion that he had never experienced before.

He couldn't sit still any longer.

He felt like he was going to suffocate or explode if he stayed in this cage for even a second longer.

I glanced at the time; it was a little past seven in the evening. Xie Qingyan should still be at the bookstore.

A thought, like wildfire, instantly took over his entire mind—he wanted to see him.

Now.

immediately.

Without hesitation or weighing the pros and cons, Jiang Ci acted almost instinctively. He quickly changed into dark clothes, used the same trick again, climbed out of the bathroom window, landed smoothly, avoided potential streetlights and surveillance areas, and hurried out of the villa area to flag down a taxi.

"Moyunzhai," he said, his voice slightly tense.

The car drove into the brightly lit city center.

Jiang Ci leaned against the car window, watching the night view rushing past outside, but his heart was beating faster than the car's speed.

He didn't know why he was doing this, just as he didn't know why seeing Wen Heng's message made him so agitated. He only knew that he had to see Xie Qingyan, he had to confirm with his own eyes... confirm what? He couldn't say for sure either.

Upon arriving at Moyunzhai, the bookstore was bathed in warm light. Jiang Ci pushed open the door and entered, the wind chimes tinkling softly.

Behind the counter, only Boss Shen was repairing a tattered thread-bound book while wearing reading glasses. Hearing the sound, he looked up, saw Jiang Ci, and was somewhat surprised.

"Young man, looking for a book so late?"

"I'm looking for someone," Jiang Ci said, his voice a little hoarse. "Xie Qingyan."

“Xiao Yan,” Boss Shen said suddenly, pointing outside, “he just left to have dinner. That kid insisted on finishing sorting out that batch of newly arrived ancient books before he would go, and he’s been hungry ever since. Look, it’s at Old Chen’s Stir-fry on the corner of the street ahead, he probably just started eating there.”

Jiang Ci thanked him, turned and left, his steps even more hurried than when he arrived.

Old Chen's Stir-Fry Shop wasn't big, but it was full of lively, everyday charm. Jiang Ci stood outside the glass window and immediately spotted Xie Qingyan sitting against the wall.

A simple plate of green pepper and shredded pork rice sits before Xie Qingyan, who is holding chopsticks, seemingly about to start eating. The warm yellow light shines on his quiet profile, contrasting sharply with the surrounding noise, yet strangely calming.

Jiang Ci pushed open the door and went inside. The bell on the door rang again.

Xie Qingyan looked up at the sound, and when he saw who it was, his chopsticks fell to the table with a "clatter," his eyes widened, and his face was full of disbelief: "Jiang Ci?! You, how did you get out? Did you...?" He lowered his voice and looked around warily, "...sneak out?"

Jiang Ci walked to the opposite side of him, pulled out a plastic chair, and sat down, his movements stiff and somewhat defiant. He didn't answer Xie Qingyan's question, but stared at the plate of rice, his tone harsh, carrying a sense of grievance and accusation that he himself didn't realize:

"Someone used to promise to take care of my breakfast and dinner. Now that their grades have improved and they've gained fame, are they just going to live off their promises?"

The sourness in his words was almost overflowing, but unfortunately, to Xie Qingyan, who was worried about Jiang Ci's safety, it sounded like a serious questioning of his promise.

Xie Qingyan quickly waved his hand, his expression earnest yet somewhat endearing: "I haven't forgotten! How could I forget? It's just..." He frowned, his voice lower, tinged with helplessness, "Didn't your father strictly forbid us from seeing each other? We even have to pretend we don't know each other at school. Otherwise, I would definitely bring you breakfast every day, even if you came to my house for dinner every day..." He paused, not finishing his sentence, but the concern and regret in his eyes were genuine.

As Jiang Ci listened to his serious and honest answer, and saw the genuine worry in his clear eyes, the anger that had been rising in her heart because of Wen Heng, as well as the cold and stifling feeling she had brought from home, suddenly dissipated as if swept away by a gentle breeze.

So that's what Xie Qingyan was worried about.

It turned out that Xie Qingyan hadn't forgotten, but was afraid of being punished by her father.

Jiang Ci's tense lips softened almost imperceptibly for a moment. He didn't say anything more, but simply picked up a pair of unopened sterilized chopsticks from the table, broke them open, and then very naturally took a large chopstickful of shredded meat and green peppers from Xie Qingyan's plate of rice and put it into his mouth.

Xie Qingyan: "...?" That was his dinner!

But seeing Jiang Ci's pale face and travel-worn appearance, Xie Qingyan swallowed the words that were on the tip of her tongue, silently pushed the plate to the middle, and then waved to the owner: "Boss, please bring another one of the same rice bowls, and add a tomato and egg soup."

Two simple rice bowls and a bowl of hot soup. The two sat facing each other, eating quietly. The small restaurant was bustling with noise, the smell of cooking oil mingling with the aroma of food—a warmth that Jiang Ci's refined yet cold home would never have.

Jiang Ci ate slowly, wanting to ask you what you and Wen Heng had talked about, but in this quiet dinner moment, it suddenly seemed less important, even a little childish. He didn't want to spoil the atmosphere.

After finishing his meal, Jiang Ci took out a tissue to wipe his mouth, then pulled out a brown paper envelope from the inside pocket of his coat and pushed it in front of Xie Qingyan.

"What is this?" Xie Qingyan asked, puzzled.

"Money," Jiang Ci said succinctly. "I'll buy a phone after you finish your part-time job. Saving money slowly is too slow."

Xie Qingyan was startled and quickly pushed the envelope back: "No! I can't take this money. I said I wanted to save it myself."

“It’s a loan.” Jiang Ci pressed down on the envelope, preventing him from pushing it back, his gaze fixed on him. “Consider it a loan. Pay me back when you’ve saved enough, installments are fine too. As for the interest, you can bring me breakfast a few more times in the future.”

He paused, as if trying to find a more reasonable excuse for his impulsive behavior, and tried to keep his tone calm:

"The second mock exam is at the end of December. You need to be able to contact me anytime so you can ask me questions. Otherwise, if your grades drop, all my previous tutoring efforts will have been wasted."

The reason sounded reasonable. Xie Qingyan looked at Jiang Ci, whose eyes, which were always filled with gloom or irritability, now held an almost stubborn persistence and a well-hidden urgency that Xie Qingyan couldn't understand.

A slight tremor ran through Xie Qingyan's heart. He seemed to understand something, yet he was also more confused. But looking into Jiang Ci's eyes, he nodded, almost as if possessed.

"Okay. I'll borrow it. I'll pay you back as soon as possible."

Jiang Ci breathed a barely audible sigh of relief.

The two returned to Moyunzhai. Xie Qingyan still had half an hour before he got off work, so he asked Jiang Ci to sit and wait on the old sofa in the corner of the bookstore while he went to organize the remaining books.

Mr. Shen peered through his reading glasses at the aloof young man in the corner. The young man's demeanor seemed out of place in this old bookstore, yet his gaze kept unconsciously following Xie Qingyan's figure.

Boss Shen glanced at Xie Qingyan, who was working diligently, and a knowing smile appeared on his face.

After a while, Boss Shen strolled over and patted Xie Qingyan on the shoulder: "Alright, Xiao Yan, we can finish the rest tomorrow. You're tired today, and there won't be any customers coming in at this hour, so you can leave early."

"Ah? But Mr. Shen..."

"No buts, I see your friend is getting impatient too." Boss Shen gestured towards Jiang Ci with his chin, lowered his voice, and said with a hint of teasing, "Is that your classmate? You two seem to be on good terms?"

Xie Qingyan's ears warmed slightly: "Yes, she's my deskmate."

"My deskmate..." Boss Shen smiled meaningfully and waved his hand, "Go on, don't keep people waiting."

Jiang Ci stood up almost the instant Xie Qingyan walked over.

After leaving the bookstore, Jiang Ci, familiar with the area, led Xie Qingyan straight to the nearest large electronics store. Instead of choosing the latest and most dazzling models, he selected a mid-priced, stable, and long-lasting domestic brand mobile phone, and then took Xie Qingyan to the nearby mobile phone store to get a SIM card.

The whole process was so fast that Xie Qingyan couldn't react for a moment. It wasn't until the cold phone was shoved into his hand and the boot screen lit up that he felt a sense of reality—he really did have a phone. He could contact Jiang Ci now.

Under the bright lights of the store, Xie Qingyan, head down, clumsily but earnestly operated his new phone. His first action was to save Jiang Ci's number into his contacts. He hesitated for a moment before typing "Jiang Ci" as the contact name. Simple and straightforward, yet representing the most special and unique identity.

Jiang Ci stood by, watching him operate the system, watching his thick eyelashes cast a small shadow beneath his eyes, watching him save her name into the empty contact list. In her heart, something that had been frozen for a long time by the harsh winter was quietly breaking through the soil, carrying a strange itch and a flutter of excitement.

It was getting late. The two prepared to go home.

"I will definitely pay you back as soon as possible," Xie Qingyan solemnly promised again.

"Hmm, no rush." ​​Jiang Ci looked into his eyes. "Pay it back slowly. Be careful on the road."

"You too. Be careful on your way back." Xie Qingyan said meaningfully.

Xie Qingyan boarded the bus, and Jiang Ci watched it drive away before hailing another taxi.

The car had barely started moving when Jiang Ci's phone vibrated. Three words appeared on the screen—Xie Qingyan.

My heart skipped a beat without warning, and then began to race.

He steadied his breathing, pressed the answer button, and held the phone close to his ear.

"Hello?"

First came the soft, slightly rapid breathing from the other end of the phone, followed by Xie Qingyan's clear yet distinctly nervous voice, soft and slightly distorted through the airwaves:

"Jiang, Jiang Ci, it's me. I, I just wanted to try out how to make a phone call."

A clumsy excuse. Yet, it caused Jiang Ci's ears to visibly flush a light red. Luckily, it was in the dimly lit car, and no one saw it.

"Mmm," he responded, his voice low and soft without him even realizing it. "You've learned it?"

"Yes, I've learned it." Xie Qingyan's voice seemed to relax a little. "Will your phone always be on?"

"Yes," Jiang Ci answered without hesitation. "Anytime you need anything, you can call me directly."

"Okay," Xie Qingyan replied, paused for a moment, and then said, "Then I'll hang up. Be careful on your way."

"Um."

The call ended. A busy tone followed.

Jiang Ci remained in the same position as when answering the phone, the phone pressed tightly against his ear, as if he could still hear the other person's breathing just before they hung up. The carriage fell silent, with only the hum of the engine and the indistinct sounds of the city outside the window.

But in his world, all that remained at that moment was the deafening, arrhythmic, violent pounding of his heart in his chest.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Each sound was clearer and hotter than the last.

It was as fast as if it were trying to break free of the constraints of his ribs, burst through his chest, and proclaim to the world some emotion that he had been trying so hard to suppress and avoid.

He slowly put down his phone, the screen still seeming to retain a trace of the warmth from the other person's voice as his fingertips touched it.

Gazing at the dazzling yet rapidly receding night view outside the window, for the first time, a hint of bewildered panic and an undeniable, trembling glimmer were clearly reflected in the depths of Jiang Ci's eyes, which were usually filled with gloom or coldness.

He seemed to understand the meaning behind Wen Heng's words.

It seems that I understand myself even less now.