Chapter 37
For the entire day, it was as if there was a wall between Xie Qingyan and Jiang Ci.
After the uproar over Lin Wei's confession, Jiang Ci reverted to his state when he first transferred schools—no, worse than before. Back then, it was a cold indifference that kept strangers at bay; now, it was a complete, empty silence. He no longer looked at Xie Qingyan, no longer did competition problems, and even when Xie Qingyan's pen accidentally rolled to his side, he would simply use his fingertips to flick it back into the crack of the desk with a blank expression, as if dealing with a lifeless piece of trash.
Xie Qingyan tried to speak several times, but swallowed the words back.
say what?
Saying, "I'm sorry, I denied it in front of the teacher"? But what did he deny? He hadn't even figured it out himself.
Saying "Thank you for helping me out this morning" sounds so pale and powerless in the current strange atmosphere, and might even hurt Jiang Ci again.
He couldn't even bring himself to ask the question he'd prepared all night about the relationship between the momentum and energy formulas. His notebook lay open, the question marks underlined in red pen resembling open mouths that couldn't utter a sound.
He was afraid.
He was afraid of Jiang Ci's cold silence, afraid of that empty gaze, and even more afraid of the unfamiliar urge within him to do something to break the deadlock. This urge made him panic, as if taking action would lead him into some unpredictable and dangerous territory that would change everything.
When the school bell rang, Jiang Ci was the first to pack his bag and leave without looking back.
Xie Qingyan looked at the empty tables and chairs beside him and felt a void in his heart. He slowly tidied his books, realizing for the first time that the way home from school would be so long and so quiet.
---
After school, Jiang Ci practically fled the school. The subtle glances, the whispers, and Xie Qingyan's hesitant gaze all felt like fine needles, pricking him uncomfortably. He needed to be alone, he needed quiet, he needed to completely erase the morning's outburst and the "no" he heard in the office from his mind.
Pushing open the heavy door of the villa, the motion-sensor lights turned on, the stark white light first illuminating the entryway floor—a pair of gleaming men's leather shoes, their toes pointing towards the door, like symbols awaiting judgment.
Jiang Ci's breath hitched for a moment. Not out of surprise, but as a familiar, cold weight pressed down on his shoulders again.
The main light in the living room wasn't on; only the eerie blue glow of the television screen illuminated the figure seated on the sofa. Jiang Cheng, his father, held a glass of wine, watching the evening financial news with a blank expression. The air was thick with the scent of whiskey and an invisible, oppressive tension.
"You're back?" Jiang Cheng didn't turn around. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried his usual cold and unyielding tone.
Jiang Ci hummed in agreement, changed his shoes, and prepared to go straight back to his room.
"stop."
Jiang Ci stood rooted to the spot.
Jiang Cheng put down his wine glass and slowly turned around. The light from the television cast interplay of light and shadow on his face, making his face, which bore some resemblance to Jiang Ci but was more stern, appear even more aloof.
"I heard you made a big scene at school again today." Jiang Cheng's voice was calm, but every word was icy. "You argued with a girl in public for Xie Qingyan, and even said that he has someone in his heart?"
Jiang Ci's back tensed instantly, his fingers digging into his palms. The news spread incredibly fast. He had acted impulsively, neglecting those who had been monitoring him.
“My affairs are none of your business,” he retorted in a dry voice, but without much conviction.
"I don't need to worry about that?" Jiang Cheng scoffed, stood up, and walked to Jiang Ci. He was slightly taller than Jiang Ci, and the aura he had cultivated over the years carried an oppressive presence. "Jiang Ci, have you forgotten what I said before? Have you forgotten what you promised me?"
Jiang Ci's face paled.
“One senior isn’t enough,” Jiang Cheng stepped closer, his gaze sharp as a knife. “What other trouble do you want to cause me? Getting entangled with boys and becoming a laughingstock in the whole school, is that what you want?”
"I didn't!" Jiang Ci suddenly looked up, her eyes reddening. "It's not what you think between him and me!"
"What do I mean?" Jiang Cheng interrupted him sharply, his voice suddenly rising, "I warned you, stay away from that Xie Qingyan! What future do you have with him? Or is it that you and he really have something to hide..."
"Enough!" Jiang Ci roared, his whole body trembling. A surge of rage coursed through his veins, threatening to breach the dam of reason. But he gritted his teeth and held back. He couldn't lose control, he couldn't give his father any more leverage, and he couldn't... drag Xie Qingyan into deeper trouble.
Looking into his father's furious and disdainful eyes, he suddenly felt utterly weary. All the arguments had lost their meaning.
He stared into the cold, unyielding sea in his father's eyes, and all his strength to argue vanished. His clenched fists, the knuckles pale from excessive force, slowly loosened. It wasn't a compromise, but the sound of something breaking within him. The slump in his shoulders was as if his spine had been ripped away.
"I understand." The voice was as soft as ashes.
Jiang Cheng seemed somewhat surprised by his sudden resignation, but his anger hadn't subsided: "Good that you know. I'm reminding you one last time, stay away from Xie Qingyan. If I find out you two are seeing each other again—" He paused, then uttered a cold threat, "I won't hesitate to get the paperwork done for you right away and send you abroad."
Jiang Ci's eyes widened suddenly as he looked at his father in disbelief: "You dare!"
“You can try and see if I dare.” Jiang Cheng sat back on the sofa, picked up his wine glass, and his tone regained its former calm and control. “For the sake of the Jiang family’s reputation, and to get you back on track, there’s nothing I wouldn’t dare to do. Go back to your room and think it over.”
Jiang Ci stood rooted to the spot, like a stone statue whose strength had been instantly drained. Anger, fear, helplessness... all sorts of emotions churned in his chest, finally turning into a bone-chilling cold.
In the end, he couldn't protect anything. Even distancing himself became a forced choice.
He turned around, mechanically walked back to his room, closed the door, and slowly slid down to sit on the floor with his back against the door.
In the darkness, the phone screen lit up briefly.
It was a text message from Xie Qingyan: "Remember to eat."
The four simple words seemed particularly jarring in the cold room. Jiang Ci stared at the words, his fingertips hovering above the screen, but he didn't move them for a long time.
Why?
A sharp voice inside him was asking a question.
She made it so clear in the office—"I don't like anyone." She's been avoiding me all day, and now she's sending me this kind of message…what is this?
Was it sympathy? Because he guessed that the boy might be scolded by his father? Or was it just habitual, ordinary concern for his deskmate?
Either way, it sent a sharp, stinging pain through him. He craved this warmth more than anything else. But precisely because of this, he was even more afraid—afraid that it was just Xie Qingyan's benevolent charity, afraid that after becoming immersed in it, he would discover that this warmth had never truly belonged to him, and then lose everything again.
He would rather Xie Qingyan remained completely silent and distant, just like today. At least then, he could still deceive himself with that cold "no," instead of being tormented by this ambiguous concern and developing unwarranted hopes.
He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, all that remained were exhaustion and a hardened shell of self-defense. His fingertips touched the paper, typing out three words:
I have no appetite.
He sent it. Then he threw his phone onto the bed and buried his face in his knees…
---
Inside the Ink Rhyme Studio, Xie Qingyan received a reply, and her heart sank.
His fingertips brushed against the yellowed pages; the scent of ink and old paper should have brought him peace, but today he couldn't concentrate. Jiang Ci's reply, "I have no appetite," and that upright yet solitary figure as he left, kept flashing through his mind.
"Your mind is not at peace."
A gentle voice sounded from the side. Boss Shen was slowly sipping from a purple clay teapot, looking at him through his glasses, "You're holding the book upside down, not like you."
Xie Qingyan put down the book "Miscellaneous Morsels from Youyang" in his hand, somewhat embarrassed: "I'm sorry, Mr. Shen. I'm sorry you had to see this."
“It’s normal for a young man to have something on his mind.” Mr. Shen smiled and said no more, turning to tend to the orchids on his windowsill.
Just then, the wind chimes tinkled softly.
A young man dressed in a light gray thin sweater and casual pants pushed open the door and entered. He was slender, with a clean-cut demeanor, and wore thin-rimmed glasses on his nose. His eyes behind the lenses lit up when he saw Xie Qingyan.
"Good evening, Mr. Shen." Wen Heng greeted Mr. Shen first, then walked to the counter and said to Xie Qingyan, "I'm not here to borrow books today."
Xie Qingyan nodded in acknowledgment. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
Wen Heng carefully took out a tablet from his backpack and opened a processed photo of the starry sky. In the center of the image, against a familiar backdrop of stars, there was an extremely faint new point of light.
“Look,” Wen Heng pointed to the point of light, his tone filled with the excitement of discovering a new continent, “I took this picture at the observatory last week. After comparing the data and calculating the orbit over the past few days, it can be basically confirmed that this is a faint comet with an extremely long period that has not yet been officially recorded. It is passing near Beta Cygnus.
Xie Qingyan leaned closer to look. He knew very little about modern astronomy, but the deep, dark starry sky and that faint yet persistent point of light inexplicably moved him. He recalled the nights his friend from his past life spent observing the heavens and recording the movements of the stars. The vastness and eternity of the universe could make one instantly forget the troubles of the world.
"A remarkable discovery," he exclaimed sincerely.
“Tonight is one of the best windows for observing it; the cloud cover is thin, and there’s little light pollution.” Wen Heng looked up at him earnestly. “I have a private observation point on Heming Mountain in the eastern suburbs. I’d like to invite you to come and take a look. I think you’ll enjoy the feeling of seeing distant stars.”
This is an incredibly tempting invitation. Escape the current boredom, immerse yourself in the vastness of the starry sky, and share the joy of discovery with someone who shares the same reverence for ancient knowledge…
He was almost ready to nod.
But the moment Wen Heng finished speaking, Jiang Ci's empty eyes, his cold "I have no appetite," and the image of him standing tall yet fragile when facing his father alone in his imagination, were like three nails that suddenly appeared, firmly nailing Xie Qingyan's longing to the spot.
A sharp, piercing pain shot through my chest. It wasn't hesitation, but an almost instinctive, overwhelming pull.
He heard his own voice precede his reason:
"Feel sorry."
He can't go.
Not at least not tonight.
"Thank you for the invitation." Xie Qingyan suppressed her longing and shook her head apologetically. "That sounds wonderful. But I have another place I need to go after get off work."
A clear hint of disappointment flashed in Wen Heng's eyes, but he was very well-mannered and didn't press the matter. He simply smiled gently and said, "It's alright, there will be other opportunities. This comet will stay there for a while longer. Let me know when it's convenient for you."
He chatted for a few more minutes about the recent observation plans, then politely took his leave.
---
At 8:30 p.m., Xie Qingyan finished his part-time job. Instead of going straight home, he went to a porridge shop.
"One serving of preserved egg and lean pork congee, to go. No scallions, less salt, and a little sesame oil." He remembered Jiang Ci's taste.
Carrying the warm porridge container, he boarded the last bus heading to Jiangci Community.
The carriage was empty, with only the low rumble of the engine and the fleeting neon lights outside the window. Xie Qingyan carefully placed the porridge box on her lap, feeling the comforting warmth on her fingertips, but her mind was filled with a confused and chaotic feeling.
He didn't know why he did it.
This completely exceeded his principles of conduct over the past eighteen years, or rather, two lifetimes. Delivering late-night snacks and visiting a classmate who was clearly avoiding him was too presumptuous and unlike Xie Qingyan at all.
Is it guilt? Because of that firm "no" in the office during the day, and because of my awkward silence all day, failing to offer even a decent explanation or greeting.
Was he worried? Of course. Jiang Ci's words, "I have no appetite," and the potential reprimands from his family weighed heavily on his heart. He remembered that Jiang Ci had a sensitive stomach and that he would stop eating when he was in a bad mood.
But it seems there's more to it than that.
Deeper still, there was an unease and longing he couldn't name. He couldn't bear the sudden wall that had been erected between them, nor could he bear the empty look in Jiang Ci's eyes. This whole affair—this storm that had been stirred up because of him—shouldn't have made them so estranged.
He wanted to hear Jiang Ci's voice, even if it was an angry outburst, a questioning, or even a cold silence in response. Any genuine reaction would be better than this unsettling, unresolved stalemate.
This inexplicable emotion had been coiling around him like vines since morning, keeping him restless all day. He didn't want to go home with this entanglement, face his parents' concerned gaze, and then toss and turn all night.
He had to do something.
It is not based on etiquette, nor out of gratitude, and is no longer simply out of concern.
Rather, it is a more primal, more unfamiliar impulse, like the absurd instinct to reach out and catch a falling star; like the foolishness of rushing headlong at a rare ancient book about to be soaked by rain.
Even if it's just a bowl of porridge.
Even if this bowl of porridge breaks all the familiar and safe boundaries he has.
Even if from now on, he can never return to that simple and clear world that only contained Confucian classics and college entrance exam questions.
The bus arrived at the station, the doors opened, and a cool night breeze blew in.
Xie Qingyan gripped the porridge box tightly in her hand, as if holding onto a tiny bit of her own determination, and got out of the car.
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