Best friend

After that day, Qi Shuo locked himself in his room for an entire day. The chaotic scene in the restaurant, Zhao Yu's harsh insults, Qin Zhou and the others' impulse to stand up for him, and... Tan Huaiyu's calm and unwavering eyes, which seemed to see through all his embarrassment, intertwined and repeatedly seared his nerves.

What he found most unbearable was his near-uncontrolled violence at that moment. During his eight years in prison, he thought he had at least learned to control his emotions and to lock the beast called "hatred" deep within his heart.

But reality slapped him hard in the face; a single, not-so-extreme provocation nearly plunged him back into the abyss.

He sent a text message to Manager Chen, simply and directly resigning. His reason was that he had caused trouble for the restaurant and was too ashamed to stay any longer.

Not long after the text message was sent, Manager Chen called. Qi Shuo stared at the name flashing on the screen, hesitating for a long time before answering.

"Qi Shuo! What are you up to?" Manager Chen's voice was urgent, but not very reproachful. "Resign? Who approved your resignation?"

"Manager, about yesterday..." Qi Shuo's voice was hoarse.

“Yesterday’s matter has been resolved!” Manager Chen interrupted him. “The customer, Tan… uh, it’s all been taken care of, the losses have been compensated, it’s all over! This wasn’t your fault, it was those thugs who deliberately caused trouble!”

“But ultimately it all started because of me,” Qi Shuo insisted.

He couldn't enjoy this peace with a clear conscience, as if it were a betrayal of the past.

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone, then Manager Chen's tone softened: "Qi Shuo, listen to me. I, Old Chen, have been in the catering industry for so many years. I may not be an expert judge of character, but I'm not blind either. Everyone has seen what kind of person you are these past few months. You're diligent, reliable, not talkative but efficient, and sincere to your colleagues. Yes, you have a past, but who says that someone with a past can't have a future?"

He paused, his voice tinged with sincerity: "To be honest, I did have some concerns when I first took you on. But everyone has seen your performance lately. Arlene, Qiangzi, and everyone else speaks highly of you. If you leave, it will not only be a loss for the restaurant, but also for all of us colleagues. So, I'll grant you three days of paid leave. Go back and rest well, and regroup. We can talk about resigning after you've taken your leave, okay?"

Manager Chen's words, like a gentle stream, silently seeped into Qi Shuo's parched heart. He hadn't expected that in the eyes of these "outsiders," he wasn't just a "troublemaker" who needed to be guarded against or pitied. This simple recognition was more powerful than any sympathy.

In the end, Qi Shuo didn't insist any further. He accepted the three-day holiday.

The atmosphere at home became somewhat oppressive because of his condition. Looking at Qi Shuo's persistent gloom in his eyes and his increasingly thin face, Sister Jin felt both heartache and anxiety.

She no longer offered only lighthearted words of comfort, but instead forcefully dragged Qi Shuo to see a psychologist.

In the consultation room, Qi Shuo remained silent, but under the doctor's professional guidance and Sister Jin's worried gaze, he still described some symptoms intermittently: insomnia, nightmares, hypervigilance, irritability...

The doctor diagnosed him with complex post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and prescribed some medications to help stabilize his mood and improve his sleep.

"Medication is an aid; what's more important is rebuilding the social support system and adjusting your own mindset," the doctor gently advised. "Don't put too much pressure on yourself; recovery takes time."

Back home, Sister Jin strictly supervised his medication according to the doctor's orders. Qin Zhou also became unusually clingy, dragging him out whenever he had free time. Instead of going to noisy places, they would take walks along the river, wander through the quiet alleys of the old town, or simply ride their electric scooters aimlessly along the city's edge, letting the wind blow away some of their pent-up emotions.

Song Yungui started coming more often. He always stayed quietly to one side, sometimes doing homework with Qin Zhou, and sometimes just sitting on the sofa in the living room reading a book.

But when he was with Qin Zhou, the lively chatter and occasional bickering between them brought a lot of life to the family.

The two boys were like two little suns, dispelling the gloom that shrouded Qi Shuo's heart in their noisy yet warm way.

Qi Shuo remained a man of few words, but with the help of medication, professional guidance, and the silent companionship of his family, his tense nerves finally began to relax little by little.

Although my sleep is still restless, I'm at least able to sleep for a few hours at a time. The frequency of nightmares also seems to have decreased somewhat.

Occasionally, a very faint, almost imperceptible look of reassurance would flash across his face.

On the morning the three-day holiday ended, Qi Shuo stood in front of the mirror, looking at the man whose eyes were no longer so empty and whose chin had sprouted some stubble, and remained silent for a long time.

His hair had grown long; it was no longer the buzz cut he had when he was released from prison. Stray hairs on his forehead slightly covered his eyebrows. He sighed and decided he would have to get it cut another day.

After being forced to sit down and shaved by Sister Jin, he changed into that black and white uniform.

When he reappeared at the entrance of the "Encounter" restaurant, his colleagues on the early shift were stunned for a moment, and then they all showed surprised smiles.

"Brother Qi! You're back!"

Are you feeling better?

"Come quick, we have some fresh beans today, I saved a cup for you!"

There were no excessive questions, no strange looks, only the same warmth and kindness as always. Arlene even secretly slipped him a small box of osmanthus cakes made by her mother, whispering, "Brother Qi, have something sweet, it'll make you feel better."

Qi Shuo accepted the still-warm pastries, feeling the warmth on his fingertips. He thanked them softly, his throat tightening slightly.

At that moment, he truly felt that this place might really become a small oasis where he could temporarily find refuge in his ruined life.

He threw himself back into his work, more silent than ever, yet more focused. It was as if only through this hands-on labor could he repay this hard-won tolerance.

The days slipped by uneventfully for some time. Just when Qi Shuo almost thought that life could continue to be maintained so cautiously, an unexpected figure appeared in the restaurant.

It was a weekday afternoon, and there weren't many customers. Qi Shuo was helping to wipe glasses behind the bar when he heard the wind chimes. He habitually looked up and said, "Welcome."

Then, his movements froze.

The man who walked in was dressed in a well-fitting dark gray suit. He was tall and imposing, his hair meticulously combed, and his face carried the composure of an elite individual mixed with a hint of weariness. Qi Shuo knew his features intimately—they were etched into his very being.

Xiao Jue.

He recognized him almost instantly. Eight years seemed to have left few marks on his best childhood friend; instead, the boyish naiveté had faded, replaced by a more mature and composed demeanor. Yet, a certain unyielding heaviness seemed to linger in his eyes.

Xiao Jue didn't notice Qi Shuo behind the bar. He went straight to a booth by the window, where a middle-aged woman who looked like a client had been waiting for a long time.

The two shook hands, exchanged pleasantries, and then sat down to talk in hushed tones. It seemed they were there to discuss work.

Qi Shuo felt as if an invisible hand was gripping his heart tightly, making it difficult to breathe. He instinctively wanted to hide in the kitchen, but his feet felt like lead and he couldn't move.

Her gaze followed Xiao Jue's figure uncontrollably, and eight years of accumulated questions, longing, and a hint of barely perceptible grievance surged into her heart in an instant.

Since his release from prison, he had never taken the initiative to seek out Xiao Jue. Partly, he felt a mix of trepidation and apprehension about how to face him; partly, it was also a hidden fear—

He was afraid of seeing the distance, pity, or... forgetfulness that might appear in Xiao Jue's eyes.

After all, eight years is enough time to change a lot of things.

Xiao Jue's conversation with his client seemed to go smoothly, ending in less than half an hour. The client left first, and Xiao Jue sat alone in the booth, taking out his phone as if preparing to make a call.

Right now.

Qi Shuo took a deep breath, suppressing the surging emotions in his chest, and strode over. He stopped by the booth, his voice low and hoarse with nervousness:

"Xiao Jue".

The finger that was about to dial suddenly stopped.

Xiao Jue raised his head, and when he saw who was standing in front of him, the composure on his face shattered instantly, his pupils contracted sharply, filled with disbelief and... a kind of panicked bewilderment.

"Qi...Qi Shuo?" His voice was dry and trembling noticeably.

Their eyes met, and time seemed to flow backward or freeze into solid ice.

Eight years apart, a close friend, separated by a small dining table, seemed to be separated by an insurmountable chasm.

Qi Shuo looked at the obvious panic and desire to escape in Xiao Jue's eyes, and his heart sank.

He forced a smile, revealing a bitter smile: "What? Don't you recognize me? Or... don't you want to?"

He thought that Xiao Jue was avoiding him because he didn't want to have anything to do with him, a person with a criminal record.

Xiao Jue abruptly stood up, opened his mouth as if to explain, but found his throat tight and unable to utter a single word. He looked at the familiar, yet more weathered, stubbornness on Qi Shuo's face, and the hurt deep in his eyes that he had deliberately ignored. A wave of immense guilt overwhelmed him.

It's not that he doesn't want to admit it, it's that he... doesn't dare to admit it.

How can he face the brother who once risked his life to save him, but who is now imprisoned and his family destroyed because of him (or at least he believes it is because of him)?

How could he tell Qi Shuo the secret that had been weighing on his heart for eight years and had almost suffocated him?

A thousand words stuck in their chests, ultimately turning into a silent heaviness. The two stood there, speechless, in the restaurant where soft music played.

The reunion was devoid of the expected excited embrace or angry questioning. Instead, there was only a heavy, almost suffocating silence, and unspeakable pain and estrangement in each other's eyes.

Eight years later, the best friends from eight years ago meet again. They look at each other speechlessly, and the bridge between them grows ever narrower until neither of them knows how to cross it so that they can embrace each other and drink and laugh as freely as they did when they were two passionate and unrestrained eighteen-year-old boys.

Eight years have changed more than just Qi Shuo.

And my former best friend.