Chapter 11 "Touch me?"

"I'm not quite sure which class he's in," Liang Kongxiang said honestly.

His knowledge of Jiang Jiaoming came from Ruan Jiayan. She didn't pay much attention to those rumors, just letting them pass by without really noticing. According to Jiang Jiaoming's explanation, when answering his mother's question, he said, "His coat was dirty, but his family is strict and he didn't dare to take it back, so he asked me to dry clean it for him and then return it to him."

Grandma was speechless. She popped a glistening green grape into her mouth, juice flying everywhere: "You actually believe this kind of trick?"

“She doesn’t believe,” Feng Yidong said, carrying the clothes to the washing machine and squatting down to stuff them in. “She just doesn’t care.”

The washing machine is new, only a little over a year old. We rented this place because it would be more convenient for Liang Kongxiang to attend high school. The previous tenants took good care of it; the house was very clean when they moved in.

Three women living together is always more orderly. Liang Kongxiang's maternal grandfather passed away early from illness, and her parents divorced when she was in kindergarten. At that time, Liang Kongxiang was as tall as a 24-inch suitcase. Feng Yidong pulled the suitcase with one hand and Liang Kongxiang with the other, moving her out of her father's house.

Clothes were drying next to the washing machine. Liang Kongxiang reached out and took them off, hanging them on her arm. She didn't refute what her mother said, but just smiled.

Grandma sat cross-legged on the sofa with a look of disgust on her face after hearing Feng Yidong's negative words. The wrinkles at the corners of her eyes spread out in a fan shape, but her mentality was still young. With a piece of fruit still in her mouth, she mumbled to Liang Kongxiang, "Don't listen to your mother. She's been bitten by a snake once and is afraid of ropes for ten years. Not all men are like your father, that bastard."

Liang Kongxiang glanced at her mother and smiled.

Before closing the washing machine, Feng Yidong tilted his head and asked her, "Do you need the clothes washed?"

Liang Kongxiang remembered Jiang Jiaoming's special request for dry cleaning and shook her head: "No need." The dry cleaner downstairs opens very early; all she had to do was get up a few minutes earlier.

Feng Yidong picked out his clothes from his daughter's hands. Two of them were already slightly stiff and had a faint scent of laundry detergent.

Liang Kongxiang folded the remaining clothes and remembered her mother's insightful comment that she was only doing it because she didn't care.

Was it because they didn't care?

The next evening, she arrived at the riverbank at her usual pace. There were only a few people scattered along the riverside street at around 10 p.m., and the wind blowing from the river rustled the leaves of the two rows of trees.

Jiang Jiaoming has not arrived yet.

She leaned against the marble railing of the river, head tilted back, headphones on her ears, listening to a very old song.

The shadows of the trees at the end of the road were swallowed up by the night. The wind blowing from that direction had the same smell, carrying a hint of grass, sometimes cool and sometimes stuffy.

In the distance, someone was riding a bicycle closer and closer. The night wind billowed his light gray T-shirt, making him look like a ship raising its small sails on the Yellow Sea under the dim streetlights.

Jiang Jiaoming braked in front of her, stopped, and sat up straight, reaching out to Liang Kongxiang: "Where are the clothes?"

Liang Kongxiang's back was bulging, and it wasn't hard to tell what was inside. Jiang Jiaoming's question was completely unnecessary.

She pulled off her headphones, slid her backpack in front of her, turned her head to unzip it, and took out the clothes she had already washed.

After Jiang Jiaoming took it, he just hung it on his arm without wearing it.

"We're even," he said.

Liang Kongxiang nodded.

She thought this was the end of the story, and after pulling her bag and taking a couple of steps, she heard Jiang Jiaoming suddenly say, "You're reading Han Pingsong's 'Ants Moving House'."

Liang Kongxiang paused, turning her head to look at him.

When Liang Kongxiang heard someone calling her from behind last night, she turned off her phone and didn't know when she saw the person in front of her.

“You’re really not surprised at all,” Jiang Jiaoming said, squinting at her as if trying to make a judgment.

Her face looked calm, like a lake under the lamp.

Jiang Jiaoming felt that getting close to Liang Kongxiang was like getting close to a lake; only by constantly throwing pebbles into it could he know whether her lake was truly calm and undisturbed.

He kept looking at her, his gaze fixed on her.

"Hmm," Liang Kongxiang admitted, but after she finished speaking, Jiang Jiaoming didn't say anything and started to leave again.

"Oh, I haven't seen it." Jiang Jiaoming's voice was cold, his tone almost condescending.

Liang Kongxiang turned around and met the gaze of Jiang Jiaoming, who was still smiling.

He's playing pranks again.

Silence spread through the increasingly empty streets, and the atmosphere grew colder.

"Do you believe me?" Jiang Jiaoming asked again. He observed Liang Kongxiang's expression and noticed that she frowned slightly. He looked at her for a few seconds, then said seriously, "So this is what it means to be angry."

The night grew quieter and quieter.

"What exactly do you want to do?" Liang Kongxiang looked at him calmly, her tone flat.

"So fierce?" Jiang Jiaoming crossed his arms, feigning fear, then lowered his arms, placed his hands on the bicycle handlebars, leaned forward, and moved closer to Liang Kongxiang: "He's one of the directors in my dad's program to support new directors. You like him?"

Most people don't watch niche short films. Those who pay attention to the Berlin Film Festival are either film lovers or only follow a particular director. Before changing careers, Han Pingsong was a photographer with a strong personal style. His style was calm and restrained, and he was good at telling stories from an observer's perspective. Jiang Jiaoming speculated that Liang Kongxiang liked Han Pingsong.

“I like Han Pingsong’s style…” Jiang Jiaoming thought for a moment, rummaged through his brain and thought of several directors, and asked, “I guess you would also like directors of the same type, such as Ye Que.”

For several seconds, Liang Kongxiang just looked at him without saying a word.

Jiang Jiaoming knew he had found the starting point for the conversation.

Wouldn't that make her give him a nice look? She usually has a cold and aloof demeanor, but it turns out she'll stop and stare at him for a long time.

In the silence, Liang Kongxiang began to scrutinize the person in front of her for the first time.

Her past encounters with him, or the whispered words Ruan Jiayan uttered in her ear, were like eels slipping through her fingers, leaving little impression. These kinds of popular, high-achieving teenagers weren't her type; she had never paid them any special attention.

At this moment, she suddenly became curious about him, "What's your name?"

Liang Kongxiang looked at him.

Jiang Jiaoming paused for several seconds, as if keeping her in suspense, before staring at her and saying, "Are you pretending not to remember to get my attention?"

"……What?"

“No need to admit it.” He straightened up, his upright back pressed against the air like a wooden board, and looked down at Liang Kongxiang’s slightly open mouth, guessing that this was her genuine expression of surprise, and perhaps a little bewildered… It was quite interesting. He felt as if a snake had shed its skin in front of him.

Jiang Jiaoming stared into Liang Kongxiang's dark eyes and said, word by word, "Jiang, Jiao, Ming."

"Did you remember?"

His name was Jiang Jiaoming.

Liang Kongxiang matched those three words with his flamboyant appearance and was about to nod and go home when Jiang Jiaoming, presumptuously assuming she was about to introduce herself, raised his hand to interrupt.

“Your name is Liang Kongxiang,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “I know.”

If fate had brought them to this unexpected night, perhaps Jiang Jiaoming would still remember many of Liang Kongxiang's expressions and words that were worth pondering, and would still arrogantly believe that those who fall in love are all hopeless young men.

But fate had other plans.

At that time, Liang Kongxiang hummed in response to Jiang Jiaoming saying his name, and then there was no further follow-up.

Several months later, the two were like strangers.

Liang Kongxiang walked along the riverbank, while Jiang Jiaoming rode his bicycle along the sidewalk. Before Jiang Jiaoming turned to look at her, Liang Kongxiang caught a glimpse of the slow-moving wheels of her bicycle. Before Liang Kongxiang noticed, Jiang Jiaoming continued to observe the rhythm of her white shoes.

At the traffic light, both students stopped to cross the zebra crossing. A car on the right side of the road sped through the green light, whizzing past the two high school students in school uniforms and kicking up a cloud of dust.

They remained silent the whole way until Liang Kongxiang entered the residential area, at which point she stopped and looked around a few seconds later.

Jiang Jiaoming had long since disappeared, and it seemed that every chance encounter was just Liang Kongxiang's fantasy.

One evening, Liang Kongxiang was entering the residential area when she heard no sound of wheels. Had he not left yet? Liang Kongxiang did not turn around.

Suddenly, someone behind her called out, "Hey."

Liang Kongxiang turned around and saw Jiang Jiaoming sitting on his bicycle, holding two movie tickets in his hand, asking her, "Want to go see 'Golden Dew'?"

It's a French film, but I haven't heard any news about it being re-released in mainland China recently. It's the 20th anniversary of its release recently, and I thought there would be a re-release event, but Liang Kongxiang checked the ticketing software and couldn't find it listed.

Unexpectedly, Jiang Jiaoming also liked it.

That night, Liang Kongxiang, unusually, went to the movie theater after 10:30 p.m. and didn't return home until 12:50 a.m.

On the empty, dimly lit street, a tall boy pedaled his bicycle closely beside a girl. They didn't talk much, usually only discussing movies.

Later, this happened many times. Sometimes Jiang Jiaoming would give her movie tickets, and sometimes Liang Kongxiang would buy tickets for her to watch the movie.

Jiang Jiaoming always managed to buy tickets for screenings that were never occupied. After this happened several times, Liang Kongxiang noticed something was wrong and asked him, "Why are there never any people at the screenings you buy tickets for?"

“Oh, I did it on purpose,” Jiang Jiaoming said casually, looking at her. “This is my family’s movie theater.”

Liang Kongxiang frowned: "Why?"

"For no reason, isn't it fine to look at it alone? Or do you have something to hide?"

He started talking nonsense again.

"No," Liang Kongxiang denied with a hint of helplessness.

Jiang Jiaoming sneered, sat down, and slammed the popcorn between their chairs, warning her, "You'd better be."

A few kernels of popcorn spilled onto the ground. Jiang Jiaoming bent down to pick them up and wrapped them in a tissue, only to look up and meet Liang Kongxiang's smiling eyes.

A faint smile appeared on her calm face, but it vanished in an instant.

Jiang Jiaoming paused for a moment, then looked away.

The video was still playing on the screen. Jiang Jiaoming tapped his thigh with his index finger, then suddenly turned his head and stared at her. "What were you laughing at just now?"

He did ask, as expected.

But Liang Kongxiang wasn't one to lie, so she clumsily changed the subject: "The movie has started."

Jiang Jiaoming narrowed his eyes at her, but didn't press her for more information.

After a while, Liang Kongxiang reached for popcorn, but accidentally touched Jiang Jiaoming's slightly cool hand. She paused for a moment, then quickly moved away.

"Touch me?" Someone suddenly leaned close to my face, their voice low. "You're usually so reserved, but you can't hold back anymore?"

Liang Kongxiang didn't respond, and didn't touch the box of popcorn again until the movie was over.

For the first time in eighteen years, she couldn't watch a movie with her full attention.

...

Late September that year was the tail end of summer. Liang Kongxiang had only been walking upstairs from the playground for a short while when sweat began to bead on his forehead.

The boy next to her handed her a note: "Wipe it off."

Liang Kongxiang didn't stand on ceremony, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Gao Hui smiled gently, staring intently at Liang Kongxiang. "There aren't many people participating in this competition; it's just the two of us from our class, so we'll help each other out."

"Of course." Liang Kongxiang walked through the corridor, which was half-lit and half-shadowed, close to the classroom door. When she passed a certain classroom, she suddenly felt a chill on her cheek and heard a loud "thump" in her ear.

She subconsciously turned her head to look.

The window was open, and a boy sat beneath it, his left hand supporting his chin. He glanced briefly at the boy next to Liang Kongxiang. The bottled water in his hand fell onto the table, the shimmering light reflecting off his face, making his pale skin appear even more menacing.

They exchanged a silent glance and hurried past.

No one seemed to care, yet everyone seemed to know the truth.

That evening, when Liang Kongxiang was returning home, Jiang Jiaoming was indeed riding his bicycle on the same road.

After she came out of the tutoring class, she saw a bicycle parked in the distance. She knew that Jiang Jiaoming was deliberately waiting for her tonight.

In the past, they would always meet halfway. Either Jiang Jiaoming would ride faster than Liang Kongxiang and slow down after meeting her, and then they would walk the rest of the way together. Or Liang Kongxiang would be faster than Jiang Jiaoming, and after enjoying the breeze on the river for a while, Jiang Jiaoming would catch up, and the two of them would continue walking in silence.

Tonight is different.

Jiang Jiaoming waited for Liang Kongxiang directly at the starting point, making Liang Kongxiang feel that Jiang Jiaoming might have something to say.

Seeing her come downstairs, Jiang Jiaoming said coldly, "You're here."

Liang Kongxiang glanced at him, but didn't stop. She continued walking forward, albeit slowly, and sure enough, the person behind her caught up.

From the moment he came downstairs to the moment they arrived at the entrance of the residential area, Jiang Jiaoming did not say another word. Liang Kongxiang thought she had misjudged him and wondered in her heart why Jiang Jiaoming was acting so strangely tonight.

"Liang Kongxiang".

Before she even entered the residential compound, someone called her name.

This was the first time in a long time that he had called out to her.

He would silently follow behind her, or she would silently allow him to get closer. Neither of them were the type to talk much; they would simply follow each other when they met, and slow down when they didn't. If they never met, then nothing more would happen.

Therefore, Jiang Jiaoming's words broke their long-standing relationship, forcing Liang Kongxiang to turn back and face Jiang Jiaoming with a completely new perspective.

She looked at him quietly.

"That ugly boy from this afternoon," Jiang Jiaoming asked expressionlessly, "who was he?"

A note from the author:

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Hahahaha, what do you think are Jiang Jiaoming's methods for pursuing someone?

A. Acting arrogant and aloof, waiting for someone to pursue him.

B. He relentlessly pursued Kong Xiang, who ignored him, and then frantically sought to make his presence known.

C. None of the above. Please add your answer in the comments section.

(I misremembered yesterday... the next chapter will be the Now route. I guess I'd call it sweet? Is it sweet?)