The phone had been in the suitcase for too long and was out of battery when he took it out. Jiang Que took the charger to the bedside and plugged it in, then sat by the bed waiting for it to turn on.

A few minutes later, the phone started up successfully. As soon as the boot screen ended, Jiang Que clicked on Weibo without hesitation.

The login interface prompted that the identity verification had expired, but he ignored it and simply chose to skip it and entered the homepage as a visitor.

As soon as he entered, he saw the highly popular and conspicuous live broadcast prompt in the square:

[@Songyecheng is live streaming, come and watch! ]

Jiang Que tapped lightly with his fingertips, and within a moment, the live broadcast image popped up on the screen.

The background of the picture is a large and familiar bamboo forest.

Jiang Que recognized it at a glance. This was the terrace outside the study on the second floor.

Song Yecheng was sitting at the table, with an open laptop placed on the corner. Next to the computer was a glass of jasmine tea, emitting a faint wisp of mist. Song Yecheng was looking down at something that looked like a stack of scripts in front of him.

Seeing the face he hadn't seen for a long time, Jiang Que was a little dazed for a moment. He stared blankly at the tiny spots of light cast by the swaying bamboo shadows on the angular outlines, and watched the slender fingers gently turning the pages, as if he was looking at a dream that was both close at hand and far away in the horizon.

After a moment, the person in the dream raised his eyes and looked towards the camera.

That glance was like a gaze through the screen, causing Jiang Que's heart to skip a beat.

Song Yecheng didn't know what he saw on his phone screen. He seemed a little helpless and a little amused. He said, "Why do you ask the same question every day? Do you have a goldfish brain?"

Despite saying this, he still patiently responded to the comment: "Why am I always live streaming lately? Because I'm afraid people will miss me if they can't see me."

It was clearly just a joke, but it seemed to be engraved on Jiang Que's heart from a distance, making his eyes slightly hot and his fingers lightly clenched on the phone.

Yes, he missed him very much.

Some emotions are deliberately not touched and are avoided silently, but as long as they are gently poked, it is like a transparent bubble bursting with a "pop" sound, and all the longings hidden in it will spread out.

He carefully traced the features of the person on the screen, greedily absorbing the bright and warm feeling of familiarity, as if he wanted to quietly make up for the time they had not been able to meet.

"I went to see a friend this morning," Song Yecheng seemed to be still answering questions from the comment section, "...Which friend? You guys don't know him even if I tell you, so why are you asking around?"

Just as the young nurse said, Song Yecheng's live broadcast seemed to have no theme at all. He only occasionally responded to a few questions raised in the barrage, and most of the time he just let it run and did his own thing.

Today he is screening new scripts.

So after a brief chat, he lowered his head and continued to flip through the pages in his hand.

Jiang Que watched quietly, seeing his focused expression as he sometimes pondered and sometimes explored, seeing his neat handwriting as he took notes, seeing his Adam's apple rolling slightly as he drank tea, and accompanying him to listen to the rustling sound of the wind blowing through the bamboo forest, and the occasional subtle sound of pages turning.

The familiar background environment made him feel as if he was there, very close to him, as if he could smell the faint fragrance of tea with just a sniff, and touch the warm fingertips with just a stretch of his hand, turning the next page of the script for him.

Just as he was lost in thought, a crisp "ding dong" sound of a message suddenly came from the laptop on Song Yecheng's desk.

When Song Yecheng heard the noise, he didn't rush to look up. He just reached out and touched the touchpad to wake up the computer screen. After a few seconds, he slowly looked over.

The moment his eyes touched the screen, his originally idle gaze paused, and then the corners of his mouth couldn't help but curl up as if he had seen some pleasant news.

The next second, he turned to the live camera with an unstoppable smile.

Jiang Que didn't know if it was an illusion, but he felt that the look in Song Yecheng's eyes was suddenly completely different from before, as if he had suddenly developed a strong interest in the live broadcast, and the look he gave the camera was tinged with a different meaning.

"Do you miss Baimao?"

Song Yecheng asked with a hint of a smile, and then, regardless of how abrupt his question was, and regardless of the reactions in the live broadcast room, he slid his chair back lightly, stood up, picked up the phone that was broadcasting live, and said to the camera, "I'll take you down to see it."

Take you.

Not "you guys".

This slight difference in one word made Jiang Que dazed for a moment, as if he was not watching a live broadcast, but having a one-on-one video call.

Before he could think about it, Song Yecheng had already walked out of the study, crossed the corridor, and in a moment he went downstairs to the living room on the first floor.

At the same time, he switched the front camera of the live broadcast to the rear camera, and the next moment, the little world belonging to Baimao appeared in his field of vision.

On the carpet in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, Baimao was fiddling with a small copper cage that made a clanging sound. He pushed it to the side of the nest with a clang, then rushed over and pushed it to the other direction with another clang. He just enjoyed listening to the noise and tossing it back and forth like this.

Song Yecheng walked over to it and sat down, reaching out to lift it to his legs. The white-haired cat quickly grabbed the small cage and did not express any dissatisfaction with his sudden displacement. He just lay down on his side and continued to scratch his small cage with his tail raised.

"Has it gained weight?" Song Yecheng rubbed its belly and muttered casually, "It's been eating more than me lately. Not only can it eat, but it's also very picky. I've changed cat food several times, and I have to rotate canned cat food every day. I'm afraid if it keeps eating like this, it will get so fat that its mother won't recognize it, so I bought it a bunch of new toys and let it exercise more..."

Jiang Que looked at the obviously fuller white hair on the screen and listened to Song Yecheng's chattering voice, as if he was sitting next to him, chatting with him.

At the same time, the barrage in the live broadcast room is rapidly refreshing:

[??? Is this my imagination? Why is my brother suddenly so happy?]

You are not alone. I also look dazed.

[It seems like I just glanced at the news on my computer and suddenly got excited? What did I see?]

[To be honest, I have a feeling my brother isn't live streaming with us, but is talking to someone on the phone...]

"son?"

Song Yecheng suddenly called out to Baimao.

Baimao ignored him completely and continued to play with his little copper cage with his paws.

Song Yecheng tutted in dissatisfaction, reached out and snatched the copper cage, and lifted it up to the level of the phone camera: "Come and say hello to your father."

Baimao raised his head following the copper cage, and in the camera, his forehead looked like a pile of question marks: ???

"Hurry up." Song Yecheng was still urging.

Baimao endured the humiliation and said, "...Meow?"

Song Yecheng chuckled triumphantly, and Jiang Que couldn't help but curl up the corners of his mouth through the screen.

The next second, he was stunned again.

Because at that moment, the feeling of the previous "video call" came back, and he subconsciously felt that Baimao's "greeting" was directed at him.

However, the live broadcast did not give him time to think deeply.

After receiving the "hello", Song Yecheng returned the small copper cage with satisfaction. Baimao quickly picked it up and ran away, not forgetting to look back and stare at him, with a face full of warning.jpg

Seeing it shrink into its nest, Song Yecheng stopped bothering it. He turned the rear camera back to the front, pointed it at himself, and leaned against the floor-to-ceiling window next to him.

The camera was very close to him at this time, making his entire face a clear close-up in the camera, so clear that even his eyelashes could be seen clearly, and the ease and joy in his eyes overflowed like water.

He stared closely at the camera, maintaining a casual tone. "I haven't had any plans these past two days, so I just looked at the books that Brother Ming picked out. There are a few that are pretty good, but I haven't chosen anything yet."

"There's an event at the company tomorrow, and I have to go. I don't know what time I'll be back this afternoon. If I'm late, the live broadcast might have to be postponed."

"I'm going to visit Director Zhuang the day after tomorrow morning to discuss the post-production of 'Searching for the Lantern' with the team. I should have lunch with them at noon..."

Listening to his detailed "report", the barrage of comments became lively again:

What's going on? Why do I feel like I'm listening to my boyfriend's itinerary?

"I was saying it doesn't look like he's live streaming! It feels like he's on the phone with someone!"

[Wait, I think I understand... Could it be that the message on the computer just now was sent by Teacher Bai? He said he was watching the live broadcast too, so brother...?]

【！ ！ ！ ！ ！】

[Fuck, now it all makes sense!]

[Sister, you must have known the truth!!!]

Jiang Que was originally listening quietly, but when he caught a glimpse of the comment that mentioned him, he was stunned for a moment.

Of course he knew that it wasn't him who sent the message.

But thinking back to Song Yecheng's series of actions since he received the message, and then thinking about the repeated video call déjà vu he had experienced, a thought suddenly popped up in his mind:

Song Yecheng...does he really know that he is watching the live broadcast?

So that computer message...

Jiang Que thought for just a moment before he suddenly remembered something and inexplicably turned his head to look at the surveillance camera behind him.

From that angle, you should be able to see the phone screen.

so……

Is it what I think?

at the same time.

The other end of monitoring.

Zuo Jianqing looked at Jiang Que who was looking at him on the screen and couldn't help but raise his eyebrows in surprise.

No way?

Are you so sensitive?

He didn't usually keep an eye on the surveillance camera all the time, but today he heard the nurse in charge of the ward say that Jiang Que went for a walk in the garden in the afternoon. He originally felt quite relieved, relieved that Jiang Que finally decided to step out of the hospital building and go out for a walk, but unexpectedly, after a while, the nurse reported that he had returned to the ward.

Zuo Jianqing couldn't help but feel puzzled, so he turned on the surveillance to see what was going on, but unexpectedly discovered that Jiang Que had turned on his mobile phone for the first time and was watching the live broadcast for the first time.

Wow, I finally got it.

So Zuo Jianqing said nothing and immediately informed Song Yecheng, who had been guarding the live broadcast for 18 years.

As a result, not long after the message was sent, Jiang Que actually turned around and looked at the surveillance camera.

What's going on?

This was discovered?

Or... was it Song Yecheng who sold him out?

Just as he was at a loss for words, on the other side of the live broadcast screen, Song Yecheng had already leisurely and carefully counted his arrangements for the next few days. At the end, he chuckled as if with emotion and said, "Tsk, now that you mention it, you have quite a lot going on lately, huh?"

After that, he quickly and easily changed the subject and said, "But this is also considered as doing what needs to be done, right?"

To others, these words were just a casual summary, but when they fell into Jiang Que's ears, they suddenly made him think.

Just do what you need to do.

This is what he said to Song Yecheng in the car outside the police station that night -

"Just do whatever you need to do... Anyway, don't hang around me or visit me."

It's like a thread being pulled apart.

In an instant, the intentions behind all of Song Yecheng's actions became clear—

That night, he heard the hidden worry in Jiang Que's words.

So these days, he has been taking practical actions to resolve this concern.

He followed Jiang Que's requirements, doing what he should do and living the way he should live. He never tried to forcibly break the safety distance set by Jiang Que, nor did he ever put any sense of urgency or pressure on him.

But at the same time, he also carefully considered more——

"Because I'm afraid someone will miss me if they can't see me."

This answer is not a joke, that is exactly the original intention of his daily live broadcast.

He patiently used this roundabout way to ensure his "existence", allowing Jiang Que to see his life and grasp his dynamics at any time whenever he thought of him or wanted to know about him, as if telling Jiang Que:

Don't worry, I'm always here.

In the ward.

Jiang Que clenched his cell phone slightly, his eyes gradually becoming moist and hot, filled with emotion and a hint of bitterness.

He looked at the person on the screen who was half leaning against the French window, and thought with pity and helplessness:

How could there be such a person in this world?

I will always embrace you in the softest way and understand you in the most appropriate way.

He uses his gentle yet passionate love to melt the ice and snow, dispel the darkness, and make all the cold and loneliness disappear.

And such a person actually belongs to oneself.

Even though he had experienced so many misfortunes, at this moment, he just felt that he was the luckiest person in the world.

Because God had actually given him the most precious luck a long time ago, starting from that midsummer when cicadas were chirping.

On the screen.

Song Yecheng was still leaning quietly against the floor-to-ceiling window. The green shadows of the bamboo forest outside the window made his outline clearer.

He looked at the comments, occasionally picking out a few questions to answer casually, and the comments became more active because of his answers:

[Didn't my brother say that Teacher Bai was in seclusion?]

[Are you still in retreat now? ]

Seeing this question, Song Yecheng chuckled, his eyes softened a little: "Yes, he is still in seclusion."

As he spoke, he looked deeply into the camera, as if he were looking into someone's eyes through the screen. Those eyes were clearly smiling, and within their glittering brilliance, there was even a hint of anticipation and pride: "—He's in seclusion, preparing his big move. His next book is going to astonish the world."

Jiang Que couldn't help laughing.

These words were obviously nonsense, but coming out of Song Yecheng's mouth, they sounded like something that was taken for granted and could be done effortlessly, as if Jiang Que could do it easily, and he had just given him a heads-up in advance.

That full confidence was like a pair of hands, gently picking up the dusty pearl in Jiang Que's heart, brushing off the dust on it, and placing it safely back in a high place.

When the live broadcast ended, the smile on Jiang Que's lips still did not disappear.

He turned his head to look at the bright sunlight coming in through the window, and felt that the light was more colorful than ever before, like a dye pen, repainting everything around him and making up for all the dim colors.

After a while, he put down his phone, got out of bed and went to the suitcase, took out the computer that he had not used for a long time, sat at the table, and opened the document of the unfinished new book.

The afternoon sun flowed quietly behind him, and his fingertips danced lightly on the keyboard, typing out lines of words like playing music, writing down the quietly returning inspiration and new ingenuity.

His story is not yet finished.

But now "finishing it" is no longer the only goal, he also wants to make it more perfect, more exquisite, and more impeccable.

after all--

Jiang Que pursed his lips to suppress a smile.

He wants to amaze the whole world.