It has nothing to do with him

The evening breeze in April, having shed its last trace of chill, carries the scent of budding plants and the warmth of the city's nascent nightlife, caressing our faces.

Qi Shuo pushed his bicycle out of the back door of the "Encounter" restaurant, ending his night shift.

The electric scooter was taken for maintenance; these two bicycles belong to Qin Zhou.

He didn't ride a bicycle; he simply pushed it slowly along the sidewalk towards the subway station. As night deepened, the streetlights gradually illuminated the area, casting long and short, bright and dim shadows on him.

Lately, it feels like she's being pushed along by an invisible hand, moving forward at a leisurely pace. Hospital, restaurant, home—a three-point line. Qingran's rehabilitation training is progressing slowly amidst stumbles and setbacks. She's learned to be a little cheeky, and she's also learned to find a balance between being coquettish and persistent.

Qi Shuo spent most of his rest time at the hospital, watching her take each shaky step, his heart rising and falling with her. Xiao Jue remained busy, running between the law firm's cases and the hospital; the dark circles under his eyes never faded, but the light in his eyes when he looked at Qing Ran proved that it was all worth it.

Qin Zhou and Song Yungui's exam preparation had reached its climax. Their home was piled high with test papers and reference books, and the air was thick with the smell of gunpowder and coffee. Sister Jin was making nutritious meals in various ways, but she spoke less, her eyes always unconsciously following them with a hesitant concern.

The days are full, even somewhat tiringly fulfilling, which has pushed those heavy, unthinkable emotions to the deepest part of my consciousness, only to quietly emerge in the stillness of the night.

He reached an intersection and waited for the red light. Qi Shuo braced himself on one leg, took out his phone, and glanced at the time. The screen was clean; there were no new messages. He swiped away, then opened WeChat. The only pinned contacts were his "family" group chat, Xiao Jue, and the hospital caregiver. His finger hovered over the screen for a moment, then he locked the screen and put the phone back in his pocket. He looked up, his gaze unconsciously sweeping across the street.

Then, he saw Tan Huaiyu.

He was standing next to the lightbox at the entrance of the convenience store across the street. He wasn't wearing his school uniform, just a simple white hooded sweatshirt with a thin denim jacket over it. His hair looked a little frizzy under the pale lights of the convenience store.

He looked down at his phone, the screen illuminating his overly refined profile. Beside him was a rather large duffel bag and two cardboard boxes stacked together, hastily tied with plastic rope.

Qi Shuo's heart skipped a beat almost imperceptibly. The light turned green, and the crowd around him began to move, but he seemed rooted to the spot.

Why is Tan Huaiyu here? At this time, in this place, and with luggage? He wanted to look away and pretend he didn't see her, but his gaze was stuck to her, involuntarily falling on the slightly thin figure opposite him, who carried a sense of loneliness that seemed out of place.

As if sensing something, Tan Huaiyu raised his head. His gaze pierced through the traffic and crowds, accurately and without obstruction meeting Qi Shuo's eyes.

Across the street, the streetlights cast a dim yellow glow, car headlights shimmered, and pedestrians hurried by. But in that instant, everything around seemed to blur, fade, and disappear, leaving only a pair of amber eyes looking over from across the street. There was no surprise, no panic, only an almost calm, long-awaited understanding, and a trace... a very faint, almost invisible, amber warmth reflected in the streetlights.

Tan Huaiyu nodded very lightly and slowly to him. There was no smile, no extra movement, just a nod, as if to say: You see me.

Qi Shuo's fingers tightened slightly on the handlebars. Almost subconsciously, he nodded as well, his movements stiff and awkward.

Then, he looked away, pushed his bike, and joined the flow of people crossing the street. His steps seemed a little unsteady, faster than usual, yet also slower.

The stagnant water in my heart, which had been forcibly suppressed, was stirred up by this unexpected encounter, creating ripples that could not be calmed.

He knew that Tan Huaiyu had left the Tan family.

After that phone call, he never contacted Tan Huaiyu again, and Tan Huaiyu never called back.

It was as if that phone call announcing his departure and pleading for "not to hate me" was just an illusion. He thought that was how things should be between them. They should go their separate ways, with no further connection whatsoever.

But at this moment, Tan Huaiyu stood there, with his luggage, on the street not far from his workplace, like a... homeless vagrant.

This thought stirred a subtle, almost imperceptible unease within Qi Shuo, a feeling he himself was unwilling to acknowledge. He pushed his bike across the street and stopped in front of the convenience store. Tan Huaiyu remained standing there, holding the strap of his duffel bag, watching him approach.

As the distance closed, Qi Shuo could see him more clearly. His face seemed paler than the last time he saw him, with faint shadows under his eyes, but his expression was calm, even... docile.

That deliberately feigned, cunning innocence is gone, replaced by a genuine weariness after a heavy burden has been lifted, and a hint of barely perceptible bewilderment.

"Brother Qi Shuo." Tan Huaiyu spoke first, his voice not loud, but excessively clear in the noisy background of the night market. He didn't call him "Brother Qi Shuo" with the deliberate sweetness or probing as before, but simply stated the title in a plain and declarative manner.

Qi Shuo's Adam's apple bobbed, and he hummed in response. His gaze swept over the luggage bags and cardboard boxes on the ground, then returned to Tan Huaiyu's face. He remained silent, waiting for Tan Huaiyu's explanation.

Tan Huaiyu followed his gaze to his luggage, his lips twitching as if he wanted to laugh, but he didn't, only managing a slightly self-deprecating smile. "I came out in a hurry, so I don't have much stuff. I'm just looking for a place to stay." He paused, then added, "I rented a short-term apartment near the school and came here to buy some daily necessities."

His explanation was brief and direct, without any unnecessary emotional embellishment or complaints.

Qi Shuo remained silent for a few seconds.

A night breeze swept through the street, carrying the smell of cooking oil from a distant barbecue stall and the faint sound of music. He heard himself ask in his usual, flat tone, "Are the paperwork... all done?"

"Mm." Tan Huaiyu nodded, his amber eyes appearing exceptionally clear and spacious under the light. "The papers are signed, and the money has arrived. The paperwork for the house and car is being processed, but it won't be quick. Everything else is settled."

When he said "cleared up," his tone was very soft, yet it carried a resolute determination, as if he were shaking off not an enviable vast fortune, but a filthy, heavy shackle.

Qi Shuo fell silent again. He didn't know what to say.

In the end, he simply asked the most practical and irrelevant question: "Have you settled into your accommodation?"

"Yes, I moved in this afternoon. It's small, but clean," Tan Huaiyu replied, his gaze calmly meeting Qi Shuo's, as if he were talking about something perfectly ordinary. "It's in that old residential area behind the High School Affiliated to the Normal University, called 'Yucaiyuan'." He even gave the specific address, which was surprisingly frank.

Qi Shuo knew that neighborhood; it was old, the rent wasn't expensive, the environment was average, and it was mostly inhabited by students and young people who had just started working.

He nodded, offering no comment on the location choice. Another silence fell between them, even more tense than before.

The "ding-dong" of the convenience store's automatic door opening and closing, the laughter of passersby chatting nearby, the honking of cars in the distance... all these sounds became blurred background noises, making the silence between them all the more stark, hollow, and unsettling.

Tan Huaiyu didn't seem embarrassed. He just stood there quietly, looking at Qi Shuo. His eyes no longer held the obsession, probing or sorrow of the past, but only a calm and almost serene composure, and beneath that calm, a bottomless, cold weariness.

Qi Shuo had seen this kind of exhaustion in the mirror at times. It was a hollow weariness left after all intense emotions had been drained away.

"You..." Qi Shuo finally spoke again, his voice a little strained, "Have you eaten?"

Tan Huaiyu seemed to pause for a moment, then shook his head: "Not yet. I was just about to buy some instant noodles to take back."

Qi Shuo's brows furrowed almost imperceptibly. Instant noodles. He recalled Tan Huaiyu's past refined, almost picky, lifestyle when it came to food, clothing, and daily necessities.

But he didn't say anything, only that, "There's a noodle shop up ahead that's still open. Let's just grab a bite."

He was stunned for a moment when he said those words.

What is this? Sympathy? Charity? Or... merely a casual suggestion based on basic humanitarianism to someone he "knows"? He couldn't say.

He only saw Tan Huaiyu's pale face and the shabby luggage at his feet, and the words just slipped out of his mouth.

Tan Huaiyu looked at him, and something extremely subtle seemed to flicker in the depths of his amber eyes, too fleeting to grasp. Then, he nodded gently: "Okay."

There was no refusal, no politeness, and not even any superfluous expression.

Qi Shuo said no more, turned around, pushed the cart, and walked towards the noodle shop.

Tan Huaiyu picked up his duffel bag, then unsteadily lifted the two stacked cardboard boxes with one hand, following half a step behind him. The boxes looked heavy, and he struggled to carry them, but he kept up quickly.

The noodle shop was small, with only four tables. There weren't many people there at this time, and the proprietress was yawning behind the counter.

Qi Shuo ordered a bowl of beef noodles, then thought for a moment and said to the proprietress, "Two bowls. One without cilantro."

He remembered that when he was a child, Tan Huaiyu didn't seem to like cilantro when he ate at the Tan family's house.

Tan Huaiyu was putting down his luggage and cardboard boxes at the door when he heard this. He paused for a moment, said nothing, but walked to the opposite side of Qi Shuo, pulled out a plastic chair and sat down.

The chair legs scraped against the ground, making a screeching sound.

The noodles arrived quickly, steaming hot and fragrant. Qi Shuo broke off a pair of disposable chopsticks and buried his head in his food. He ate quickly and intently, as if eating was simply a task that needed to be completed as soon as possible.

Tan Huaiyu also picked up his chopsticks. He ate slowly and stiffly, seemingly unaccustomed to this greasy roadside stall. But he ate very cleanly, even drinking quite a bit of the soup.

The two remained silent, the only sounds being the slurping of noodles and the soft tapping of chopsticks against the rim of the bowls.

The atmosphere once again fell into an odd, stagnant state. Qi Shuo could feel Tan Huaiyu's gaze occasionally falling on him, very lightly, and then quickly moving away, like a feather brushing past, leaving no trace. He also tried his best not to look at the other person, only staring at the few remaining noodles in his bowl.

Finally, Qi Shuo finished his last bite, put down his chopsticks, and took a tissue to wipe his mouth. Tan Huaiyu also put down his chopsticks at almost the same time, leaving only a little clear soup in his bowl.

"How much?" Tan Huaiyu asked, his hand already reaching for the backpack on the chair next to him.

"I've already paid," Qi Shuo said, standing up and picking up his coat from the back of the chair.

Tan Huaiyu's hand, which was reaching for the backpack, froze in mid-air. She glanced at him, then didn't insist further, and whispered, "Thank you."

Qi Shuo didn't respond with a thank you. He simply walked to the counter, scanned the code, and paid for two bowls of noodles. As the proprietress gave him his change, she smiled and said, "Young man, is this your brother? He's really handsome, but too thin. Eat more!"

Qi Shuo froze, mumbled an "uh-huh," took the change, and turned to leave. Tan Huaiyu had already packed his luggage and was waiting at the door with a cardboard box in his arms.

The night grew deeper, and the wind grew cooler. The two walked out of the noodle shop one after the other and stood under the streetlights again.

"I'm going that way." Qi Shuo pointed in the direction of the subway station, his voice devoid of emotion.

“I’m going back over there.” Tan Huaiyu pointed in the opposite direction, which was the location of the “Yucaiyuan” residential area.

"Mm." Qi Shuo nodded, pushed his bicycle, and prepared to leave. This unexpected encounter, this silent meal, should come to an end.

That's how it should be. Nod and go your separate ways.

"Brother Qi Shuo." Tan Huaiyu suddenly called out to him again.

Qi Shuo stopped in his tracks, but didn't turn around. He simply turned to the side and gestured with his eyes that he had something else to do.

Tan Huaiyu looked at him, her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, all her words were swallowed up in the depths of those overly calm eyes.

He simply said very softly and slowly, "The noodles are delicious. Thank you."

Thank you again.

Qi Shuo felt that strange feeling resurfaced, a mix of irritability and an inexplicable sense of suffocation.

He frowned, then simply hummed in agreement. Without lingering, he hopped on his bicycle, pushed off, and it disappeared into the night.

He didn't turn around. But he could feel the gaze behind him following him until he turned the corner and disappeared from Tan Huaiyu's sight.

The gaze was calm, lacking its usual fervor or sorrow, yet like the cool breeze of this spring night, silent and persistent.

After riding for a while, Qi Shuo slowly came to a stop. He braced himself on one foot and stopped in the shade of a sycamore tree by the roadside. He lit a cigarette, the scarlet flame flickering in the darkness. He took a drag, the pungent smoke rolling through his lungs, bringing a brief numbness.

When did he start smoking? It seems like it was right after he learned that Qi Shan was still alive.

Xiao Jue was right, cigarettes were no good, but he needed something to numb himself.

The scene kept replaying in my mind—Tan Huaiyu's pale face, the shabby luggage at his feet, his silent profile as he ate noodles, and that last, light "thank you."

He really left the Tan family.

He traded his inheritance rights for money, a house, a car, and so-called "freedom."

He didn't seem to have gotten any better. On the contrary, he was thinner, his eyes were vacant, like a vine that had been forcibly transplanted and lost all its support, stretching its branches aimlessly in unfamiliar soil.

Qi Shuo exhaled a puff of smoke, the white smoke quickly dissipating into the night.

He felt no pleasure, nor any sympathy. Only a heavy, complex weariness.

He had no right to judge Tan Huaiyu's choice. He chose that path himself, and he would naturally bear the consequences.

Between them lay a deep-seated blood feud, eight years of indelible pain, and Qingran's innocent eyes that would never recognize him again.

It was already a dead end.

After finishing his cigarette, Qi Shuo stubbed it out on the trash can and got back on his bike.

A cool night breeze blew in his face, carrying away the faint smell of tobacco from his clothes. He stopped thinking about Tan Huaiyu, stopped thinking about that silent meal, and stopped thinking about the unfathomable weariness and emptiness in those amber eyes.

He just wanted to get home as soon as possible.

The wheels rolled over the road, making a rhythmic rustling sound. Behind us, the city's neon lights stretched into a blurry band of light.

Ahead, in the direction of home, there is a light, perhaps still on.

As for the shadow he left behind, sinking into the night, and the boy within that shadow who was just beginning to learn to face the world alone, his future uncertain...

It's none of his business anymore.

Qi Shuo told himself this, and increased the force with which he pressed down on the pedal.