Chapter 24
Xie Qingyan spoke calmly and deliberately, citing classical texts and making accurate judgments. He not only stated the approximate age and nature of the book, but also pointed out its potential special value.
The old man's hand holding the book froze, and his eyes behind his reading glasses suddenly widened, as if he were seeing the young man clearly for the first time. He looked down at the tattered book in his hand again, then suddenly looked up at Xie Qingyan.
"How...how do you know all this? Have you studied ancient book appraisal? Or do you have a family member who does this?"
Xie Qingyan humbly shook his head: "I just enjoy reading miscellaneous books in my spare time, and I only have a superficial understanding of ancient book versions and contents. I'm just showing off my limited knowledge, and I hope you won't laugh at me, sir."
This was far from just having a superficial understanding! The old man was deeply shocked. He himself had struggled to determine the book's specific value, yet this young man had been able to make such a clear and well-founded judgment in a short time!
He can sit still, he's meticulous, and he has an amazing knowledge of ancient books... This is practically a shop assistant tailor-made for him!
The old man's wrinkles smoothed out, revealing a smile. He carefully put the book down: "Good, good! I didn't realize you were such a talented young man. You're the one! What's your surname? What's your name?"
"The student's surname is Xie, and his given name is Qingyan."
"My surname is Shen, Shen Bojun. You can call me Boss Shen or Old Shen from now on." Boss Shen was in a great mood. "I'll pay you the highest hourly wage! You can come after school tomorrow? You can familiarize yourself with things first. The main job is to organize and shelve books. If customers ask you questions about old books, answer them if you can. If you don't know, just call me."
"Okay, Mr. Shen. I'll be there on time after school tomorrow." Xie Qingyan felt reassured; with this job, she was one step closer to her goal of buying a cell phone.
“Oh, right,” Mr. Shen remembered something and took out a slip of paper from his drawer, “I had another customer these past few days, about your age, who came several times asking about an ancient book specifically about observation records of ‘guest stars.’ I don’t have any here right now, but I’m keeping an eye out for him. If you know of any such books, or if you find any while organizing your books later, please remember to tell him. That young man seems genuinely eager to learn.”
Ancient times? Guest star?
Xie Qingyan's heart skipped a beat. This requirement was extremely specific and professional, far beyond what an ordinary enthusiast would expect. He noted the information down: "Student has taken note and will keep it in mind."
Stepping out of "Moyunzhai," the evening breeze carried a chill, dispersing the bookstore's rich, lingering aroma. Xie Qingyan glanced back at the quiet shop; the light in the shop window shone warmly and resolutely in the deepening twilight.
——
Meanwhile, on the other side of the city.
Li Ming didn't go home. He met up with Zhang Qiang and two other boys who were also unhappy with Xie Qingyan's grades, and they hid in a corner of a milk tea shop near the school.
Several sheets of paper were spread out on the table—copies of Xie Qingyan's past transcripts obtained through various channels, with shockingly poor scores on them.
"Look! This is his true level!" Li Ming pointed to the records of scores in the 20s, 30s, 40s, and 50s, his eyes red. "His Chinese has never been above 80! His math has consistently been in the 30s or 40s! He's never passed physics or chemistry! Someone like this, in less than a month, has made rapid progress in all subjects? Do you believe it?"
"There's definitely something wrong!" Zhang Qiang chimed in. "Teacher Long is just biased; he was fooled by that broken handwriting and the essay!"
“It’s no use if we don’t believe it ourselves.” Another boy named Zhao Feng was more composed. “We need to make more people suspicious. Didn’t the teacher say we should keep an eye on it?”
"How do we do it?" Li Ming asked eagerly.
"Once the results come out tomorrow, we'll keep an eye on his English score!" Li Ming said viciously. "If his English score also improves significantly, we'll jointly petition the grade head! We'll demand a review! Maybe even a retake! Then we'll see how he pretends!"
——
Night falls.
When Xie Qingyan returned home, dusk had already fallen. The aroma of food wafted from the courtyard. Xie's mother was busy in the kitchen, while Xie's father sat on the doorstep, gazing absently at the sunset.
"Dad, Mom, I'm home." Xie Qingyan put down her schoolbag.
"You're back? Quickly wash your hands and eat." Xie's mother poked her head out, a smile on her face. "Have your grades come out today? How did you do?"
"It's alright, it's an improvement over before, but we still need to work harder."
Mr. and Mrs. Xie were both surprised and delighted; their son's previous efforts had finally paid off!
Xie Qingyan paused, then sat down next to her father. "Dad, Mom, there's something I want to discuss with you."
Xie's father turned to look at him: "What is it? Speak."
"I found a part-time job. It's at a used bookstore near the school called Moyunzhai. I help organize books and mind the store after school and on weekends," Xie Qingyan said clearly. "The hourly wage is pretty good, and I've already told the boss I'll start tomorrow."
As Xie's mother came out of the kitchen wiping her hands, her brows immediately furrowed: "Going after school? How can that be! I thought going on the weekend would be more appropriate. This is the most crucial time for seniors; if they're distracted by working, how will they study?"
"Mom, don't worry." Xie Qingyan's eyes were earnest. "The bookstore is very quiet, and there aren't many customers. Mr. Shen—the owner—is very kind. He promised that I could read and study in my spare time. And..." He looked at his parents, his voice steady and strong, "I want to rely on myself and buy a cell phone as soon as possible. With a cell phone, it will be convenient to look up information, contact classmates and teachers, and it will also help with my studies. I promise you both that it will not affect my regular studies, and my grades will only improve in every exam."
Mr. Xie looked at his son's increasingly resolute profile. This child, ever since he woke up from that fall into the water, was like a different person. Sensible, opinionated, and capable of taking responsibility.
“Honey, it’s a good thing that Xiao Yan has this intention and wants to rely on himself. We can’t always treat him like a child. Since he made a promise, let’s trust him this once.”
Xie's mother looked at her husband, then at the unwavering determination in her son's eyes, and finally sighed, reassuring him: "Well... you'd better make the most of it. Don't let it interfere with your studies! If you feel tired, quit right away. Our family doesn't need your part-time job for the money."
"Thank you, Dad. Thank you, Mom!" Xie Qingyan felt a warm current flow through her heart and solemnly promised, "I will definitely make arrangements."
After dinner, Xie Qingyan helped wash the dishes and returned to his room. He didn't start studying immediately, but sat quietly for a while. The moon was just rising outside the window, its gentle light like water.
He recalled Jiang Ci's test paper with a score of 62, the line "Even plants and trees have their own nature, why should they seek the favor of a beauty?", and the silent figure waiting under the moonlight when the library closed.
A sentiment needs a response.
He got up and went to the living room. Xie's father was wearing reading glasses and reading a newspaper, with his mobile phone on the coffee table beside him.
"Dad," Xie Qingyan said softly, "Could I borrow your phone for a moment? I want to send a message to a classmate. It's very important."
Mr. Xie looked up from above the newspaper, glanced at his son, and without asking any further questions, simply nodded: "Use it."
Xie Qingyan picked up the old keypad phone, its touch heavy and unfamiliar. He walked to the window, and by the moonlight, with extreme clumsiness yet utmost solemnity, he began to press the small keypad.
In the recipient field, he entered the string of numbers he already knew by heart.
He slowly typed out the message: seven characters and one punctuation mark.
The orchid grows in a secluded valley, its fragrance undiminished by the absence of admirers.
There was no salutation, no signature. He knew that was enough.
My fingertip hovered over the send button for a moment, then I pressed it gently.
"Message sent."
A faint indicator light flashed, and then the screen went dark.
Xie Qingyan deleted the sending history and gently placed the phone back on the coffee table.
"It's all done, Dad."
"Hmm." Mr. Xie responded through his nose, his gaze still fixed on the newspaper, but the corners of his mouth curved almost imperceptibly.
On the other side of the city, at the Jiang family villa.
The curtains were drawn in the second-floor room. Jiang Ci sat leaning against the headboard, a copy of "The World as Will and Representation" lying open on his lap. He would open this book whenever he had a depressive episode, seeking spiritual resonance within its pages. His fingertips paused on the sentence, "Life is a bundle of desires; when desires are not satisfied, there is pain; when they are satisfied, there is boredom. Life oscillates between pain and boredom."
The phone screen next to my pillow suddenly lit up.
A new text message notification.
From an unknown number.
Jiang Ci's fingertips paused almost imperceptibly. Very few people knew his number; besides his father, stepmother, driver, and perhaps one or two teachers he absolutely needed to contact. Who would send a message at this hour?
He didn't want to pay attention, but some inexplicable premonition compelled him to take off one earphone and reach for the phone.
Click to open.
There are no redundant characters, only a single line of extremely concise information:
The orchid grows in a secluded valley, its fragrance undiminished by the absence of admirers.
Jiang Ci's breath caught in his throat for a moment.
His pupils contracted sharply, staring intently at those seven words. It was as if molten lava surged from the depths of his cold chest, instantly breaching the dam of reason.
Orchids grow in secluded valleys, their fragrance undiminished by the absence of admirers.
He naturally knew this passage from the *Huainanzi*.
The previous line he had just given Xie Qingyan was: "Even plants and trees have their own nature, why should they seek the favor of a beautiful woman?"
A single orchid in a secluded valley possesses its own fragrance, its beauty undiminished by the absence of anyone to gather and admire it.
A single plant, growing in the mountains, possesses its own spirit, which remains unchanged even if plucked by a beautiful woman.
They achieve the same result through different means.
Different paths lead to the same destination.
A mirror image of the soul, a resonance of the will.
He was telling him: I understand your perseverance and aloofness. And so do I. We are the same kind of people, blooming in secluded valleys, growing in quiet mountains, not to please anyone, but simply to live up to our own nature.
All the speculations, all the probing, all the unspoken words under the moonlight, were illuminated by these seven words at this moment.
It was him.
It can only be Xie Qingyan.
Jiang Ci gripped the phone, his fingertips trembling slightly from the pressure. The cold metal casing seemed to absorb the warmth and determination of the sender at that moment.
He slowly put down his phone, as if setting down a fragile treasure. Then, he stood up, walked to the bookshelf, and gently and steadily pulled out the book, *The Myth of Sisyphus*. The pages were quickly and accurately turned to the middle, where the colorful candy wrapper containing the "Don't be afraid" note lay quietly.
He picked up the candy wrapper, and in the soft light of the lamp, the colorful cellophane refracted tiny, warm spots of light. The candy wrapper was ordinary, even somewhat cheap, but at that moment, it was more precious to him than any jewel.
He looked at the candy wrapper, then looked down at the line of poetry on his phone screen that hadn't yet dimmed.
The corners of her frozen lips slowly, bit by bit, curved upwards.
That wasn't his usual cold laugh, nor the distorted smile that appeared when he was frustrated. It was a genuine, clear smile, even tinged with a sense of relief and warmth. It was faint, yet like the first rays of sunlight cracking through ice in early spring, it resolutely melted away the frost that had remained for years, illuminating the long-barren land deep within his eyes, a land that had never truly died.
He carefully tucked the candy wrapper back into the book, closed the book, and hugged it tightly to his chest, as if holding a lost dream that had been regained.
The city lights outside the window are dazzling yet cold, and the night sky is dyed an ambiguous purplish-red by neon lights, with no starlight visible.
But in his heart, a flame was steadily kindled and ignited by another equally lonely yet incredibly resilient flame in the distance.
The fire was neither blazing nor ostentatious, yet it was enough to illuminate the cramped space beneath his feet, enough to warm his cold hands and feet, and enough to give him the courage to look towards the long road that might be full of thorns, but which he would no longer have to walk alone.
Orchids grow in secluded valleys, their fragrance undiminished by the absence of admirers.
Um.
I know.
He closed the book, put on his headphones, and the intense drumbeats flooded his eardrums. The drumbeats seemed to have a different, steady rhythm than before, gradually merging with the powerful and clear heartbeat that had returned to his chest.
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