Can't see

The hustle and bustle at the school gate receded like the tide.

Jin Jie and Qin Zhou disappeared into the surging crowd, while Lin Ye, carrying his heavy set of "53" practice books, walked into the campus with a dark expression. The noise gradually subsided, leaving only the crisp air of the early spring morning and the occasional sound of passing vehicles.

Qi Shuo sat in the driver's seat, but his gaze seemed fixed on the rearview mirror. In the mirror, a slender figure in a white down jacket was walking slowly but resolutely toward the car.

Every step felt like stepping on Qi Shuo's taut nerves.

In that instant, an extremely violent impulse surged into his heart without warning, like gasoline meeting a spark and exploding. His hands on the steering wheel tightened suddenly, his knuckles making a soft "crack" sound from the force.

His foot almost uncontrollably wanted to press the accelerator—to crash into him! To make him disappear! To make him pay for Xiaoshan's life!

His mind was filled with his younger sister Qi Shan's innocent and smiling face, but the next second it twisted into endless pain and fear. Tan Zhong's repulsive face, his father's gambling madness, his mother's desperate eyes when she fell... all the dark memories he had forcibly suppressed, along with his deep-seated hatred for the surname "Tan," engulfed him like a tsunami.

He bit his lower lip hard until a distinct metallic taste filled his mouth. The pain brought him to his senses for a moment. He stared intently at the approaching figure in the rearview mirror, his eyes as cold as a poisoned blade, his chest heaving violently, his breathing heavy and frightening.

"Qi Shuo?"

In the passenger seat, Xiao Jue keenly sensed his unusual aura. It was an almost tangible killing intent, so intense that the air inside the car seemed to freeze.

Xiao Jue's heart skipped a beat, and without hesitation, he reached out and gripped Qi Shuo's arm, which was trembling slightly from gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"Qi Shuo!" Xiao Jue's voice rose slightly, carrying an undeniable force, "Calm down!"

The warmth and strength from his arm were like a lifeline, pulling Qi Shuo back from the brink of losing control. He breathed heavily, closed his eyes, then suddenly opened them again. The bloodshot in his eyes hadn't faded, but the destructive impulse was finally forcibly suppressed.

Just then,

"Knock, knock, knock." The car window was gently knocked on.

Tan Huaiyu stood outside the car, watching him quietly through the glass. The boy's face appeared somewhat pale in the morning light, and his clear eyes no longer held the complex emotions he had felt while gazing at him from afar; only an almost stubborn calm remained, along with a barely perceptible...pleading look?

Qi Shuo didn't move, nor did he roll down the car window. He simply stared coldly back at the people outside through the glass.

Inside and outside the car, it felt like two separate worlds.

After a brief silence, Tan Huaiyu seemed to sigh softly, then raised his hand and knocked on the car window again. His voice, though somewhat muffled through the glass, came through clearly: "Brother Qi Shuo... can... we talk?"

His voice was soft, with the clear, youthful quality of a boy, and a slight, almost imperceptible tremor.

Qi Shuo's lips pressed into a pale line, remaining silent.

Sitting in the passenger seat, Xiao Jue frowned as he looked at Qi Shuo's tense profile and the stubborn young man outside the car. He knew Qi Shuo well and knew that any conversation at this moment could trigger the emotions he had just suppressed.

He leaned forward, rolled down his side window, and addressed Tan Huaiyu outside, his tone calm yet carrying a distant rejection: "Sorry, we're in a hurry. There's nothing to talk about."

After saying that, he closed the car window, patted Qi Shuo's still stiff arm, and said in a softer voice, "Let's go, Qi Shuo."

Qi Shuo took one last deep look at Tan Huaiyu's face outside the car window, a face filled with disappointment and stubbornness. He suddenly shifted into reverse, stepped on the gas, and the car practically shot forward, quickly merging into the traffic and leaving the white figure far behind.

The car drove away from Beicheng No.1 Middle School and merged into the morning rush hour traffic. The air inside the car, however, was as stagnant as a frozen lake in winter. Qi Shuo gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, as if he wanted to pierce the windshield.

The image of Tan Huaiyu walking towards him step by step, and the violent impulse deep within him that was about to burst forth and want to destroy everything, were still clashing wildly in his mind.

He could even clearly recall the metallic, sweet taste of metal that came from biting his lower lip when Tan Huaiyu knocked on the car window.

If Xiao Jue hadn't grabbed his arm in time and pulled him back from the brink of losing control, he doesn't know what he would have done.

Xiao Jue didn't disturb him, but silently tightened his seat belt, gently holding the handrail on the roof with one hand, and watching the road ahead warily.

He knew that Qi Shuo needed to vent.

The car weaved and overtook other vehicles somewhat recklessly through the morning traffic, its engine emitting a deep roar. The scenery outside the window rushed past, and a cold wind blew in through the gaps in the not-quite-closed windows, stinging the cheeks.

After driving for more than ten minutes, circling most of the outer ring road of the northern city, Qi Shuo's tense lips finally relaxed slightly, and the car gradually slowed down.

"Pull over for a bit." Xiao Jue's voice broke the suffocating silence, carrying an undeniable calmness.

Qi Shuo didn't argue. He turned on the turn signal as instructed and slowly pulled the car over to the side of a relatively quiet side road. The engine shut off, and the world instantly fell silent, leaving only the two of them breathing heavily.

Xiao Jue didn't speak immediately, but instead unbuckled his seatbelt, turned to the side, and looked intently at Qi Shuo's tense profile. Sunlight streamed through the car window, illuminating the fine hairs on his face and his slightly trembling eyelashes.

"Now, can you tell me?" Xiao Jue's voice was very soft, with a guiding patience. "Just now... what were you trying to do?"

Qi Shuo closed his eyes, leaned heavily against the back of the chair, and his Adam's apple bobbed with difficulty.

What does he want to do?

At that moment, only one crazy thought occupied his mind—to step on the gas and crash into him. To make that boy, who represented the source of all suffering, disappear.

The idea was so clear and so intense that it made him feel a wave of fear and unease.

"I..." he began, his voice hoarse, "I want to crash into it."

Xiao Jue's pupils contracted slightly, but his face didn't show much surprise, as if he had already noticed something from his earlier demeanor. He remained silent for a moment before slowly asking, "Because he's Tan Zhong's son?"

"Yes!" Qi Shuo suddenly opened his eyes, his eyes bloodshot, and his suppressed emotions finally found a breakthrough. "Because his surname is Tan! Because he has that beast's blood in his veins! Whenever I see him, I will think of Xiao Shan... I will think of my mother... I will think of that bastard Dad! I will think of these past eight years..." His voice choked up, and he could not continue. He could only slam his fist on the steering wheel in vain, making a dull sound.

Xiao Jue didn't stop him, letting him vent. Only after his heavy breathing subsided slightly did he continue, "And then what? You crashed into it, and then what? What are you planning to do? Go back? What about Sister Jin and Xiao Zhou? What about me...?"

A series of questions, like cold awls, pierced Qi Shuo's mind, which was filled with anger and hatred.

He was stunned. Yes, and then what? After a moment of impulsiveness, there is utter ruin.

He had just begun to glimpse the edge of a normal life. Was he really going to destroy everything again for Tan Huaiyu? Destroy the home that Sister Jin and Qin Zhou had worked so hard to build for him? Destroy the friendship with Xiao Jue that he had reconciled with?

“Qi Shuo,” Xiao Jue’s voice was deep and powerful, “It’s only natural to hate Tan Zhong. I hate him too, I wish I could dig him out of his grave and tear him to pieces. But, Qi Shuo, hatred shouldn’t blind you, much less make decisions for you.”

Qi Shuo didn't answer immediately. He leaned back wearily in his chair and rubbed his temples hard. After a long while, he spoke in a hoarse voice, filled with a confusion he himself couldn't understand: "...I don't know."

He genuinely didn't know. He didn't know why such a terrifying thought had arisen at that moment, nor did he know what this turbulent agitation and suffocation in his heart was all about.

Is it hatred?

Of course, it's hatred.

The hatred for Tan Zhong was deeply ingrained and never faded.

But this hatred became complex and twisted when he faced Tan Huaiyu. He hated that he was Tan Zhong's son, hated that he had the blood of that devil flowing through his veins.

But whenever he saw Tan Huaiyu's eyes, and his unusually calm and cautious demeanor, his hatred felt like it had hit a wad of cotton, finding no foothold and instead rebounding back, making him even more anxious.

He even... couldn't see himself clearly anymore.

"I don't know... Xiao Jue, I don't know... I just feel so choked up, I can't get over it. When I see him, I feel terrible, I can't control myself..."

He raised his head, his eyes filled with confusion and pain, like a lost child: "Should I hate him? Can I hate him? He was clearly... he was only eight years old at the time... but... but I can't help but feel angry... whenever I think of Xiaoshan..." Tears welled up unexpectedly, and he stubbornly raised his head, desperately trying to hold them back, "I don't even know what I'm thinking anymore... I feel like I can't see myself anymore."

Xiao Jue was silent for a moment, not answering the question directly, but saying, "Qi Shuo, hating someone is easy, but also difficult. But more importantly, don't let hatred turn you into someone you hate." He paused, looking at Qi Shuo, "The way you were just now was very unfamiliar."

Qi Shuo's body trembled almost imperceptibly.

Xiao Jue continued, “Tan Huaiyu… he’s a thoughtful person. But what he’s thinking isn’t that important. What’s important is what you’re thinking, what you want. You can’t let yourself be trapped in the past just because he’s someone’s son. Look at Sister Jin, look at Xiao Zhou, look at… us. We all want you to be okay.”

"Eight years, Qi Shuo." Xiao Jue's voice was low and earnest. "How many days have you lived for yourself? Living for hatred, living for others, is too exhausting. Try... living for yourself just once, okay?"

The wind from the river blew in through the car window, carrying a damp chill, but it also cleared Qi Shuo's confused mind somewhat. He listened to Xiao Jue's words, remaining silent for a long time.

Live for yourself?

This word was completely foreign to him.

His life, starting from that dusk eight years ago, seemed to have been put on pause, and then completely veered off course. Living became more of an instinct, a responsibility to those around him, rather than an enjoyment or a pursuit.

The appearance of Tan Huaiyu was like a stick stirring up stagnant water, stirring up all the silt that had accumulated for eight years, allowing him to see clearly the barren wasteland in his heart that had never healed and was still bleeding.

He couldn't see Tan Huaiyu clearly, and he couldn't see himself clearly either.

Qi Shuo sat by the river for a long time, until the chill in his body grew stronger, before starting the car again. "Let's go, I'll take you to the law firm."

After dropping Xiao Jue off at the law firm, Qi Shuo drove back to the "Encounter" restaurant alone. He drove slowly and steadily the whole way. Xiao Jue's words echoed repeatedly in his mind.

When they arrived at the restaurant, it wasn't open yet, and only the early shift colleagues were busy preparing. Everyone greeted Qi Shuo as usual when he entered.

Qi Shuo changed into his uniform, walked to the familiar workbench, and began his routine of wiping the tableware. The cool glass felt real to the touch. Outside the window, the sunlight gradually brightened, and the streets bustled with traffic, brimming with the vitality of everyday life.

Should he hate him?

This question may have no answer. Or rather, the answer itself is not important.

The important thing is that he can no longer let that out-of-control murderous intent control him. He has to live, not for hatred, but for those who want him to live well, and also for... perhaps one day, to truly see what he really wants.

He picked up a gleaming glass and looked at it in the light. The glass reflected his blurry, still weary face.

Can't you see yourself clearly?

Then take your time and watch it.

There's still a long way to go.

He put down his cup and began preparing the coffee beans he needed for the day. The grinder emitted a steady hum, and the rich aroma of coffee gradually filled the air, masking the faint, metallic taste of blood on his lips.

A new day has just begun.