Chapter 17
The last day of the National Day holiday is the Mid-Autumn Festival.
On the clear morning of the Mid-Autumn Festival, Xie Qingyan sat at his desk, his notebook of incorrect science problems spread out in front of him, the questions marked in red pen each one piercing his heart, yet his gaze kept drifting towards the window.
The faint sounds of his mother bustling about in the kitchen carried a festive warmth, but could not completely dispel the gloom in his heart.
The pen tip hovered over the paper, unable to fall. Those complex problems involving electromagnetic induction and organic chemistry seemed to have lost their appeal at that moment.
Did Jiang Ci see the note?
If he sees this, what will his reaction be? Will he think I'm being nosy, or will he understand what I mean?
Those two words were written too hastily, too weakly. Within the vast, cold cage of the Jiang family, how much power could those two words convey? Wouldn't they instead bring him trouble?
Xie Qingyan put down his pen and rubbed his temples. His reason, typical of a top scholar, told him that impulsive actions often backfired, especially when facing a ruthless and class-conscious opponent like Jiang's father. He should be more cautious and tactful.
However, Xie Qingyan's own deep-seated concern and indignation grew wildly in his heart like weeds. He couldn't imagine how Jiang Ci would conduct herself in that kind of family on such a festival symbolizing reunion. Would she continue to feign indifference, or would she endure that incongruous loneliness alone in a deserted corner?
He wanted to see him. The thought was clear and intense.
It wasn't out of curiosity, nor simply out of sympathy, but rather an almost instinctive urge to comfort this tarnished gem. It was as if the threads of their destinies had been quietly intertwined through a series of coincidences across time and space, and he couldn't bear to watch the other end of the spectrum sink into darkness.
But how can I see him?
Arriving at Jiang Ci's door rashly would only worsen his situation and would inevitably result in him being turned away. Waiting and lingering outside the complex like last time? That would be too passive and too hopeless.
He didn't even have Jiang Ci's phone number or WeChat. This feeling of helplessness made his chest tighten.
A sense of unease mixed with a vague anxiety lingered in his heart, making it unusually difficult for him to concentrate. The words on the book seemed to tremble, transforming into Jiang Ci's eyes, filled with an indescribable mix of emotions, during their brief eye contact in the shopping mall.
"Xiao Yan, don't stay cooped up inside! Come out for some fresh air!" Mother Xie's booming voice pierced through the door.
Normally, Xie Qingyan might have politely declined, wanting to seize the time to tackle a few more problems. But at this moment, his mother's words were like a pardon, temporarily freeing him from his helpless and frustrated thoughts.
He closed the book he couldn't read at all and stood up.
"good."
Going out for a walk is good. At least you won't be trapped in this small space, facing that heavy, unfulfilled worry alone. Perhaps, a change of scenery and a clearer mind will help you find a solution.
He stepped out of the room, sunlight falling on his shoulders. The inner turmoil was temporarily suppressed, but his worry for Jiang Ci's situation remained like a deep, still stream, never ceasing.
In the kitchen, Mother was deftly kneading a large lump of dough, her forehead beaded with sweat, but a smile played on her lips.
He got up and went outside: "Mom, let me help you."
"No need, no need!" Xie's mother quickly blocked him with her elbow, her hands covered in flour. "Reading is too much for your brain. It's a holiday today, so you should rest! Go watch some TV instead."
Helpless, Xie Qingyan could only move a small stool to the kitchen doorway and help pick the vegetable leaves. The bright green spinach and tender white scallions were straightened and neatly arranged under his fingertips.
As the sun rose higher, the sunlight filled the courtyard. Xie's mother began preparing the mooncake filling: roasted black sesame seeds were crushed and mixed with sugar, while oily red bean paste was piled into a small mountain.
Just then, the courtyard gate creaked open. Xie's father dragged in with slightly tired steps, his shoulders empty and his hands carrying only a worn cloth bag. He didn't look like he was returning from shopping before the holidays as usual.
Mother Xie wiped her hands on her apron and greeted him with a smile: "You're back? How did the money go? I was saying I'd buy another duck when you got back..." She stopped mid-sentence, then noticed the look on her husband's face, and her smile slowly faded.
Father Xie placed the cloth bag on the small table, sighed, and said nothing.
"Didn't you bring it back?" Mother Xie's voice lowered, her fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of her apron.
"Hmm." Mr. Xie responded sullenly and sat down on the threshold. "I've visited about ten households, and they all say that the price of vegetables isn't good lately, and they'll settle the payment next month."
After a long silence, Xie's mother suddenly became anxious: "Next month! Next month! It's been two months already! We helped them sell vegetables, and the total compensation wasn't much. How can they still owe us money? Our family isn't well-off either, and Xiao Yan still needs money..."
She stopped abruptly as she spoke, glancing instinctively at her son quietly picking vegetables beside her, a hint of regret flashing across her face.
But Xie Qingyan already understood.
Even the most basic mobile phone costs one or two thousand yuan.
The vegetables that parents handle often only cost a few cents per kilogram at wholesale prices.
That means selling thousands of kilograms of fresh vegetables, and having parents bend over countless times to harvest, wash, and carry them, in order to obtain such a lightweight metal box.
And I, so naturally, regarded it as a reward for progress, a necessary tool for connecting with friends. I never thought about how difficult it was for my parents behind it.
A mixture of shame and bitterness gripped his heart. That feeling left him even more helpless than when facing the most complex physics formulas.
He put down the groceries he was holding, stood up, and walked to his parents. His voice wasn't loud, but it was exceptionally clear and firm:
"Dad, Mom, you don't need to buy a cell phone."
Mr. and Mrs. Xie were both startled and looked up at him.
Xie Qingyan met their gazes, her eyes clear, without any resentment or grievance, only a calm acceptance that came from understanding: "I didn't think things through before. I know my family's situation; a cell phone isn't a necessity, at least not now. As for my studies, I can borrow notes from classmates—it's the same thing. I can't let a cell phone cause trouble for my family."
"That won't do!" Xie's mother immediately objected. "Mom promised you! Besides, you need it for your studies right now..."
“Mom,” Xie Qingyan interrupted her, her tone gentle yet firm, “What I need is knowledge, not tools. As the ancients said, ‘A single bamboo bowl of rice, a gourd of water, living in a humble alley—others would find it unbearable, but Yan Hui did not change his joy.’ Yan Hui sought knowledge; what need did he have for external things? I am fortunate to have books to read and schools to attend. As for a cell phone, I can do part-time work and buy one when I earn the money.”
His words were logically clear, well-researched, and imbued with a maturity and responsibility beyond his years. Mr. Xie stared blankly at his son. Mrs. Xie's eyes reddened slightly; she opened her mouth as if to say something, but ultimately turned her face away, quickly wiping her eyes with the corner of her apron.
The courtyard fell silent for a moment, with only the faint sounds of the bustling city in the distance and the soft bubbling of red bean paste in the pot.
After a long silence, Xie's father sighed heavily, stood up, and patted his son on the shoulder. His hand was rough and thick, carrying the strength and warmth of years of hard work.
“Xiao Yan has grown up.” He only said this much, his voice a little hoarse. Then he turned to Xie’s mother and said, “My dear wife, listen to your son. His ambition is more important than anything else. Our lives are a bit tight, but when the whole family is together, it’s sweeter than anything else.”
Mother Xie nodded vigorously: "Okay, okay! Let's not talk about that anymore! Come on, Xiao Yan, let's make mooncakes together! You're so skillful, you'll definitely make some beautiful ones!"
The small kitchen bustled with activity once again. Xie Qingyan washed his hands and, imitating his mother, flattened the oily dough, filled it with sweet fillings, and used molds to cut out round mooncakes with the character "福" (fortune) or other patterns. His movements were a little clumsy at first, but he quickly mastered the technique, and the mooncakes he made were quite impressive.
As she was working, Xie's mother suddenly remembered something and sighed, "Sigh, speaking of which, I've been thinking about Jiang Ci ever since I ran into him at the mall that day. That kid... he seemed off. Is something wrong at home?"
Xie Qingyan paused slightly in her hand as she shaped the mooncake.
Unaware of what was happening, Xie's mother continued her rambling, her voice full of simple concern: "That child came to our house before. Although he didn't say much, I could tell he was a good person, but he seemed to have something on his mind. And it's such a holiday..."
She stopped what she was doing, looked at the plump mooncakes lined up on the table, and suddenly said, "Xiao Yan, after dinner, take a few mooncakes and go visit the Jiang family?"
Xie Qingyan suddenly raised her head and looked at her mother.
He took a deep breath, suppressed the pounding in his heart, and nodded solemnly:
"good."
——
That night, the moon was full and families were reunited.
In the luxurious villa community, the Jiang family's Mid-Autumn Festival night turned into a meticulously prepared banquet.
The villa was brightly lit, with crystal chandeliers reflecting dazzling light.
Jiang's father invited his business partners and relatives and friends over. The huge living room, dining room and even the garden were filled with laughter and the aroma of expensive wine and food.
The men gathered in the study or on the terrace, cigar smoke swirling around them, discussing the stock market, policies, and projects.
The women, in the living room and side rooms, discussed everything from new handbags and their children's Ivy League offers to beauty and skincare, to subtle comparisons. Every compliment concealed a measure, and every smile could turn into a silent threat.
The noisiest were the children who were brought along, chasing and screaming on the gleaming marble floor, spilling juice, knocking over decorations, which drew soft exclamations from the nannies and gentle replies from the mothers saying, "Oh, it's alright, it's alright."
The whole world was celebrating a joyous reunion, but Jiang Ci felt like an outsider, or rather, like a flawed product that had been displayed and then abandoned in a corner.
He retreated to his room on the second floor early. The heavy solid wood door barely blocked out most of the noise, but the omnipresent, superficial atmosphere of jubilation still seeped in like a viscous liquid through the cracks, making it hard for him to breathe.
He sat at his desk, an open book of "Complete Practice Problems of the International Physics Olympiad" in front of him. Only these absolutely rational, cold, challenging symbols and logics could calm his frantic heartbeat and allow him to grasp a familiar, controllable order in this noise that didn't belong to him.
Downstairs, Jiang's father's voice, slightly intoxicated and deliberately raised, faintly drifted through the floorboards:
"...That brat, let's not even talk about him! He's got a strange temper, he'll never amount to anything! The only good thing is that he's not completely useless..."
Perhaps it was intentional, to let him hear, or perhaps it was just about discussing an insignificant asset. The pen nib paused heavily on the paper, leaving an abrupt crack.
His face was expressionless. There was no anger, no hurt, not even a flicker of emotion. It was as if salt had been rubbed into a festering, numb wound; the body could do nothing more than know that it must hurt.
But the urge to escape had never been so strong, almost bursting through his cold body.
He put down his pen, got up, walked to the door, stood still for a moment, then abruptly turned the doorknob and, in a voice loud enough for someone downstairs to hear, said curtly to the nanny who happened to be passing by, "I'm going to sleep. Be quiet!"
Then, with a loud "bang!", he slammed the door shut.
The loud noise indeed brought a brief silence downstairs, followed by Jiang's father's angry shouts coming from the direction of the stairs: "Jiang Ci! What kind of attitude is this! Don't you have any manners?!"
Jiang Ci leaned against the closed door, listening to the reprimand, and a cold, indifferent smile appeared on his lips.
He turned off the lights, creating the illusion of falling asleep. Jiang Ci tiptoed into the ensuite bathroom connected to the bedroom and locked the door. He pushed open the glass window. Fortunately, his room was on the second floor, around a corner. Below the bathroom window was the roof of a relatively secluded storage room in the backyard of the villa, and further down was the soft lawn.
Without hesitation, he nimbly climbed out of the window, carefully stepping on the windowsill and the decorative moldings below, and nimbly landed on the roof of the storage room before gently jumping down. The whole movement was fluid and decisive, carrying a sense of all-or-nothing resolve.
A night breeze caressed his face, carrying the scent of freedom. He strode towards the back gate, his heart pounding in his chest.
Just as his hand was about to touch the door lock, a rustling sound suddenly came from the shadows beside him. Jiang Ci froze, his blood almost freezing.
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