Chapter 19

Xia Wan dashed into the hallway, almost as if fleeing. The sensor lights lit up one floor at a time, followed by the sound of her hurried footsteps, then dimmed behind her, like the frantic beating of her heart. Returning to the deserted little apartment, she closed the door, leaned against it, and finally dared to breathe deeply. In the darkness, only the pounding of her own heartbeat echoed in her ears.

The words, "Xia Wan, what kind of dream did you have about me?" swirled in her mind, carrying Jiang Yu's uniquely low, yet clear quality, intertwined with his bland "We're here" and "Watch out for the steps" in reality. The clash of the boy's cheerful banter in her dream and the man's steady demeanor in reality sent a throbbing, aching pain through her heart, more pronounced than the old rib injury.

"I didn't...I didn't dream..." She muttered to the cold air, repeating her answer in the car, her cheeks suddenly burning. How foolish. That tone that only made things more obvious, that panicked, evasive look... He must have found it baffling, even...ridiculous, right?

She shook her head, trying to shake off the embarrassment. She turned on the light, the warm yellow glow dispelling the darkness and calming her down a bit. She walked to her desk and set down the backpack she'd been holding, even when she'd practically frozen to death at the project office entrance. Her fingertips touched the surface, still carrying the chill of the late night.

Her gaze fell on the heavy backpack. The locked notebook she'd brought back from the Jincheng project, carrying all her teenage thoughts, now lay quietly inside. She hesitated, not touching it. Not now. The dream and the embarrassment in the car had already stirred up those carefully suppressed emotions. She needed more composure before she could face her eighteen-year-old self.

Fatigue washed over her like a tide. After a quick wash, she collapsed onto the bed, her exhaustion quickly dragging her into sleep. This time, there were no clear dreams, only a chaotic darkness and a familiar, sore feeling in her ribs.

For the next few days, Xia Wan forced herself to devote all her energy to the daunting task of reinforcing the walls of the old bank's underground vault. Data, blueprints, historical archives, and the performance parameters of various reinforcement materials filled her days and most of her nights. Her physical busyness effectively suppressed the churning thoughts of "dreams" and "chance encounters" in her mind. Only when she returned to her cold apartment late at night did the deliberately ignored loneliness and a hint of unspoken anticipation creep in.

On Friday afternoon, the project team wrapped up their work for the week early. With a rare moment of leisure, Xia Wan returned to her apartment, intending to thoroughly clean the dusty room and sort out her chaotic thoughts. As she reached the corner above the shoe cabinet in the entryway, where packages and other miscellaneous items were piled, a dark blue hard package caught her eye.

The box was quite large, carefully packaged and wrapped in bubble wrap. The sender's information was blank, except for her, and the address was correct.

Xia Wan's heart skipped a beat. A strange premonition gripped her. She carefully unwrapped the layers, peeling back the bubble wrap to reveal the contents.

A dark blue cloth-bound book. The gilded title, still clearly visible in the dim light of the entrance hall, was "A Study on the Construction of Modern Bank Architecture." It was the same old edition that Jiang Yu had helped her retrieve from a high place in the bookstore that day, accurately assessing its value!

The book was in better condition than the one she'd seen in the bookstore that day, clearly meticulously cleaned and cared for. The yellowed pages within exuded a rich, aged aroma, as if imbued with the wisdom of time. She gently flipped open the cover. The title page was blank, unsigned, without a note.

But Xia Wan knew who sent it.

Only he, that day, had clearly pointed out the book's value to her current project. Only he, too, could so calmly and precisely offer such a gift—a "tool" she couldn't refuse, and certainly didn't want to refuse.

There was no card, no signature, not even a single message. It was as if a piece of information, somewhere in the ocean of knowledge, had been conveniently delivered to her by someone who happened to know where it was. It perfectly fit the boundaries of being an "ordinary classmate," yet it precisely addressed her most core needs.

Xia Wan cradled the heavy book, leaning against the cold shoe cabinet, her fingertips unconsciously caressing the smooth, cloth-bound spine. A complex tangle of emotions welled up within her. Gratitude? Confusion? Or perhaps... a thrill of having her professional value so clearly "recognized"?

He remembered. Not only did he remember the book's name, but he also remembered that it would be useful to her. He even...found a copy in better condition and sent it to her.

This "seeing," silent and yet more powerful than any deliberate words, did not transcend the boundaries of "classmates," but quietly cast a glimmer of light on the barren land of "Jiangyu" in her heart, illuminating the value of "Xia Wan" as an independent individual and a professional.

She took a deep breath and clutched the book tightly to her chest, as if absorbing the silent recognition and strength imbued within the pages. The cold apartment seemed to have a touch of warmth thanks to the book's presence.

On Sunday afternoon, Xia Wan decided to visit the Local Documents and Special Collections Department of the Municipal Library. Since Jiang Yu mentioned that there might be more valuable internal reports there, she didn't want to miss any information that might be helpful for the project.

The Special Collections Department is located on the library's quiet top floor, requiring a special ID for entry. The interior is softly lit, the temperature constant, and filled with a unique aroma of paper and time. Following the administrator's guidance, Xia Wan found the area where the historical architectural archives were stored. The bookshelves were tall and dense, and the lighting was somewhat dim. She was looking for a series of internal technical reports on the internal structure and hidden engineering of bank buildings from the Republican era, reportedly circulated only among a small circle of craftsmen and engineers at the time.

She stood on tiptoe, searching the top shelf for the faint file number. The report books were thin and old, and the writing on the spines had long been blurred. She could only pull them out one by one by feel.

"A-7... isn't right. B-3... isn't either..." She muttered to herself, her fingertips brushing over the dusty spines of the books, concentrating on identifying them.

Just as she was concentrating, a steady sound of footsteps approached from afar and stopped at the entrance of the bookshelf where she was. Xia Wan subconsciously turned around.

Jiang Yu stood at the intersection of light and shadow at the entrance to the passage. He wore a well-tailored dark gray coat, a pressed white shirt underneath, no tie, and one button undone at the collar, giving him a scholarly and casual air instead of formality. He held two thick books that looked like engineering yearbooks. Seeing Xia Wan, he seemed slightly startled, his gaze fixed on the dusty old file in her hands and the way she stood on tiptoe.

"Are you looking for "Records of Internal Structure Technicians of Banks in the Republic of China"? " His voice was not loud, but it was exceptionally clear in the silent Special Collections Department, with his usual confidence.

Xia Wan was stunned again: "How do you know?" Then he remembered that day in the bookstore, he did mention that the Special Collections Department might have unpublished internal reports.

Jiang Yu didn't answer her question, but took a few steps closer, his eyes scanning the numbered sections on the top shelf. His sight seemed much more precise than Xia Wan's, quickly locking onto an inconspicuous corner.

"They should be numbered 'Special Collection-JG-1927-03' to '07'." He raised his hand and pointed to the top right shelf. "It's too high. I'll help you get it."

Without waiting for Xia Wan's reply, he placed the yearbook on the cart beside him, stretched out his arm, and easily pulled out three thin, thread-bound volumes with faded covers from where Xia Wan had struggled to reach just now. His movements were clean and neat, without a trace of hesitation.

He handed her the booklet: "Look, are these the ones?"

Xia Wan quickly took it, unconcerned with the dust, and quickly flipped open the yellowed, fragile pages. Though the contents were obscure, the hand-drawn detailed drawings and notes noting the special materials and processes were exactly what she had been searching for! Her eyes lit up instantly, as if she had discovered a treasure.

"Yes! That's it! Thank you so much!" She looked up at Jiang Yu, her face showing an undisguised excitement of discovering a key clue in her professional field. Her slightly raised almond-shaped eyes were surprisingly bright at this moment, and her previous alienation and defensiveness were temporarily washed away by her professional enthusiasm at this moment.

Jiang Yu watched the sudden glow on her face, a genuine joy born from the knowledge itself. His gaze lingered on her sparkling eyes for two seconds, as something seemed to pass through them so quickly, so quickly it was hard to grasp. Then, he regained his usual composure and nodded slightly. "You're welcome. As long as the information is useful, that's fine."

He turned and picked up the yearbook he had placed on the cart, appearing to prepare to leave the narrow aisle.

"Mr. Jiang is here to look up information too?" Xia Wan asked casually while holding those precious booklets. Her tone was much more natural, with the calmness of communication between colleagues.

"Hmm." Jiang Yu paused and turned sideways. "It's an old town renovation project involving some early concrete mix technology. I'll check the original data to verify it."

It was a very professional answer, and it fit his identity and the reason for his presence. Xia Wan nodded, "This kind of raw data is indeed hard to find. The Special Collections Department is a treasure trove."

"Indeed." Jiang Yu responded, his eyes once again sweeping over the books in her arms, "These reports are unique copies. Be careful when you look through them. The paper is very brittle."

"I understand. Thanks for the reminder." Xia Wan responded seriously.

Without further ado, Jiang Yu pushed the cart loaded with the yearbooks and headed towards the reading area deeper in the Special Collections Department. Xia Wan also walked towards the reading table in the other direction, holding her "treasure."

The two walked in opposite directions, like two paths that briefly intersected and then separated in a quiet, historically dusty space. There was no spark of ambiguity, only a pure, mutually understanding calm based on their shared professional field.

Xia Wan sat at the large reading table, carefully unfolding the book "Records of Internal Structural Engineers of Banks in the Republic of China (1927-03)." Under the dim light of the desk lamp, the fragile, yellowed pages revealed the structural secrets and wisdom captured in minute calligraphy by artisans centuries ago. Like a dormant code, it slowly awakened under her fingertips. She was completely absorbed, oblivious to time and, for a moment, to their brief encounter at the bookshelf entrance.

It wasn't until the administrator announced the library's closure that Xia Wan was awakened from the vast sea of ​​materials. She carefully returned the precious volumes; according to regulations, special collections could only be viewed within the library. Xia Wan made photocopies of some of the materials and left the library with a thick stack of copies.

It was a winter evening, the sky had already darkened, the lights just coming on. The wind was still biting, stinging her face. She wrapped her scarf tightly around her and walked to the side of the road to hail a taxi.

A black car slowly slid in front of her and stopped. The window rolled down, revealing Jiang Yu's face. He had obviously just come out.

"Going back to the city?" he asked, his tone purely questioning.

"Yeah." Xia Wan nodded.

"Get in the car, it's on our way." His invitation was still direct and frank, and the reason was still fully reasonable - it was on our way.

This time, Xia Wan didn't hesitate, nor did she entertain any unnecessary speculation. She opened the car door and got in. "Thank you, Mr. Jiang."

The car remained warm, filled with the faint scent of fir trees. Xia Wan carefully placed the precious stack of copies on her lap. The car smoothly merged into the evening rush hour traffic.

"Is the information useful?" Jiang Yu asked casually while looking straight ahead and driving attentively.

"Very valuable!" Xia Wan's voice was filled with a hint of excitement. "The records of some of the hidden structural treatment methods and the special material ratios used at the time are very inspiring for us to solve the settlement problem of the vault wall! Especially the description of the use of a now-lost 'glutinous rice mortar' to reinforce key joints is simply..."

She spoke nonstop about her discoveries, speaking a little faster than usual, her eyes bright, completely immersed in the joy of her professional discovery. This was her area of ​​expertise, the land where she had taken root, and here she was confident and radiant.

Jiang Yu listened quietly, without interrupting. Occasionally, when the traffic light turned red, he would tilt his head slightly, his eyes passing over her cheeks, slightly flushed with excitement, and her sparkling eyes. His fingers on the steering wheel tapped lightly, almost imperceptibly.

The car finally stopped downstairs of Xia Wan's apartment.

"Thank you, Mr. Jiang." Xia Wan prepared to get off the car with the documents in her arms.

"Xia Wan." Jiang Yu called her.

Xia Wan paused and looked back at him.

Jiang Yu's gaze fell on the thick stack of copies in her arms, a culmination of her hard work and professional discoveries. He then slowly raised his eyes and met hers. His gaze was deep, like the starry night sky, calm, yet filled with an indescribable solemnity.

"Those craftsmen from a hundred years ago," he said in a low but clear voice, echoing in the quiet carriage, "the things they left behind deserve to be treated seriously."

He paused, his gaze lingering on her face for a moment, as if to carve these words into her heart.

"The same to you."

After he finished speaking, he did not wait for Xia Wan's reaction, but calmly withdrew his gaze and looked forward again, as if the weighty words just now were just a statement of a natural fact.

"Goodbye." He said lightly.

Xia Wan was completely stunned. The weight of the copies in her arms seemed to vanish in an instant, leaving only his last words, like a scorching star, crashing into the depths of her heart with immense force, stirring up a raging wave that swept through all her senses and thoughts.

"The same to you."

——You deserve to be taken seriously too.

The sound of a car door closing startled her awake. The black sedan had silently slid into the night, leaving only the halo of its taillights fading in the cold air.

Xia Wan stood in the biting cold wind in front of the apartment building, her arms clutching a heavy pile of materials, her cheeks burning frighteningly hot. The joy she had felt from discovering treasures in the library was completely overshadowed by this unexpected, heart-piercing maxim.

He saw it.

He saw her hard work, her professionalism, and her value.

He even told her in this way that she was worth it.

This "seeing" was no longer a distant glimpse through the distance of "classmates," nor was it limited to recognition within the professional field. Like a guiding light, it brought a quiet, all-seeing power, unexpectedly illuminating the door of her heart, which had been closed for ten years. That door, in a corner she hadn't even noticed, had quietly opened a crack.

The chill wind whipped across her frail frame, but Xia Wan felt no chill. She simply stood there, staring at the car as it disappeared, her heart pounding wildly in her chest, deafening. An unfamiliar, surging emotion, a mixture of immense shock, bitter resentment, and an indescribable warmth, instantly overwhelmed all her carefully constructed defenses.

She froze, trudging toward the hallway. The sensor lights on the first and second floors slowly lit up, then the ones on the floors behind them suddenly lit up, as if on fast-forward. That was Xia Wan running down the hallway. At the door, she leaned against the cold wall, gasping for breath. Her cheeks burned, her fingers cold. The words, "You too," echoed in her mind like thunder.

This time, she had nowhere to escape. The man she had personally defined as her "classmate" had, with a single, simple yet profound statement, dropped a bomb of astonishing power on the world she had clung to. Amidst the ruins, something seemed to be irresistibly breaking forth. And for the first time, she clearly realized that deep down, she had been waiting, or perhaps even longing, to be "seen" in this way.

The key trembled several times in the keyhole before it was inserted. He opened the door, slammed it shut with his backhand, and slid down to the ground with his back against the cold door panel.

The precious copies in her arms scattered across the floor, but she had no time to care. She rested her forehead on her knees, gasping for air, trying to calm a heart that threatened to leap out of her throat. In the darkness, only the words "you too" echoed repeatedly in her mind, as clear as if he were whispering in her ear.

That night, Xia Wan couldn't sleep.

I tossed and turned, my mind filled with Jiang Yu's image. His bony hands as he precisely pulled out the copy of "Construction Research" in the bookstore; his determined eyes as he calmly pointed out the location of a book in the dark aisle of the Special Collections Department; his cold, hard profile as he focused on driving in the car; and finally, the indescribable solemnity that flashed across his deep eyes when he said, "You too."

And... that absurd dream in the car, about a senior year classroom. The clear voice of the young boy Jiang Yu in the dream intertwined with his deep voice in reality.

be terribly upset.