066 | (Sixty-five) Dislike
"Can't you answer?"
"To ask another question, who else have you ever disliked?"
In the deathly silence, it was as if someone was waiting to be executed, and even a minute felt infinitely long.
Xie Qingyan lowered her hand, clenched her palm, bit her lip, and smacked her lips with her teeth as she answered in a heavy voice, "No one is as annoying as you."
The words finally came out, but the heavy burden in her heart did not lighten. Xie Qingyan told herself that this was the only correct and obvious answer.
That's all she could say.
Su Xingmao's eyelashes trembled slightly.
"So that's how it is." The calm voice betrayed no change in emotion.
The boy bent down and reached out a hand to stroke Xie Qingyan's head. Before she could flinch, he gently lifted her delicate chin with his hand, as if holding a precious object. He carefully cupped her face, his gaze fixed on her lowered eyelids: "Look at me and say it again, okay?"
Xie Qingyan was speechless again.
Desperate to erase all traces of it all, she took a deep breath, head held high, brows furrowed, and with a death-defying resolve, declared, "I hate—"
The words she was about to say were cut off by a soft warmth, and a sudden, untimely kiss landed. It was by no means a beautiful or gentle kiss; her lips and teeth almost collided with hers, and the sound of teeth hitting flesh could be heard. The pain came faster than her nervousness.
Without the intimate dance of tongues, saliva no longer intertwines and flows freely.
Like a savage's bite, only teeth tapping on tender lips, turning the numb, dull pain in the heart into physical wounds, the kiss becomes a means of venting pent-up emotions, blood appears on the lips, the taste of rust is between the teeth, and hot breaths waft over.
Her cold, clear eyes told her: "It's alright, Xie Qingyan."
The delicate face looming ahead, its thin, bright lips lifted as if in a smile—a smile that was enigmatic and ambiguous: "I hate you too."
I hate uncontrollable distances, I hate ambiguous relationships, and I hate getting too close that makes me feel like a moth drawn to a flame, unable to control myself.
What did he say?
Xie Qingyan's pupils dilated, her rusty brain delaying the thought of whether she had misheard.
Does he hate her?
How could he... dare to hate her!
"Get out!" Xie Qingyan's face turned red with anger, turning a tomato color. The anger that had been suppressed and accumulated in his heart since earlier exploded in an instant. He slapped Xie Qingyan's jaw and lower right side with lightning speed. The sound of his palm hitting his skin echoed in the empty room.
It was very loud.
Xie Qingyan was unable to calm her emotions. It was as if she had run eight hundred meters in the wind. She was panting, her chest heaving with anger, and her breathing was even more rapid than when she reached the door.
The person who took the blow remained calm, seemingly unaware of the pain in her cheek. Her brows were sharp, like solid ice reflecting her image, clear and cold.
It reflected her flushed, angry face.
Why are you angry?
The constellation Mao asked softly.
"Isn't that unfair? If you hate me, I'll hate you too."
...
Anger and his kiss both came suddenly, and Xie Qingyan suddenly realized that she couldn't answer any of the questions he asked.
Enraged, he could only force a fragile suit of bronze armor to masquerade as a facade, fueled by his furious anger. Without even engaging in his maneuvering, his armor trembled and his shoulders shook within a few words; he was on the verge of surrendering without a fight.
Have you ever thought about why you hate me?
for…
Why does she only dislike Su Xingmao? Why does she get angry when she hears that he dislikes her? This is too hypocritical. She knows that there is no reason in this world to allow herself to hate someone but not allow the other person to hate her back.
She had no right to stop him.
A thousand questions lingered in her mind. Perhaps she wanted to know the answer even more than he did—the answer that was almost there, yet she would rather be indignant than say it.
On a turbulent and gloomy autumn day, the temperature dropped, and an invisible dark cloud hung over her head. As late autumn approached, Xie Qingyan became like an autumn cicada, silent and unable to utter a single syllable.
"Xie Qingyan".
Su Xingmao withdrew his hand, standing still with his body at a distance, his gaze still lingering on her face.
His tone was calm, like someone detached from the situation, observing her desperate attempts to conceal her actions, and rationally analyzing her behavior: "You can't accept that I'll hate you, right?"
"I didn't!" she denied vehemently. "That's your business, what does it have to do with me? I don't care."
Who does he think he is? She wouldn't care about his thoughts at all.
Not at all!
"Do you hate me, or are you afraid of something?"
Fear? No, no, no, how could she possibly be afraid?
Xie Qingyan thought so.
But the more she thought about it, the more terrifying it became. Something was wrong, nothing was right. Her feelings at that moment, her anger, her slap—weren't they all signs of caring too much?
The moment the idea sprouted, she nipped it in the bud.
Xie Qingyan's face turned pale and then red, her hands and feet were cold, and her teeth were chattering. The fact that terrified her seemed to be right in front of her.
She was overly concerned about Su Xingmao.
When did it start?
Xie Qingyan stared blankly at Su Xingmao, whose face was blurry, like a canvas smeared haphazardly, with crisscrossing lines, chaotic colors, and crumpled, torn, and shattered paper marks.
Xie Qingyan took a step back, and suddenly she couldn't see him anymore, like a movie rewinding, with time and colors slowly fading away.
The images are black and white, yet vibrant, past and present, with countless overlapping figures appearing before her eyes. She falls into a kaleidoscope, the world spins before her, and countless memories surge forth.
The people in the painting, the torn-up people, the shadows of those hunched over their desks, the old bus sleeping side by side, and the seashell wind chimes still tinkling.
My senses are dulled, and my sense of smell is impaired. The scent of crape myrtle on a summer night, and the citrus-scented shampoo at sunset.
He was in the classroom at Jinzhong High School, and in the moon of his childhood.
I looked at her through a window.
Fragmented memories, like pieces of a puzzle, come together to form a complete portrait.
Like a dream.
Everything becomes a concrete pointer.
Point.
Green grass, bright moonlit night.
A tiny figure crouched on the mountain peak.
The cicadas' chirping on a midsummer night was so loud it hurt your ears, and as the moon climbed to the highest mountain peak, whispers came from the haystacks.
"You said you'd bring me to see this if I stopped crying? It's not pretty at all."
A little person with pigtails was so angry that he stomped his feet.
The other end said, "Wait a little longer."
"How much longer do I have to wait? I'm so bored... Do you want to know why I'm crying?"
There was no response.
The girl with pigtails got anxious: "You have to say you want to, otherwise I'll be so embarrassed."
"I think so," he replied matter-of-factly.
"I don't cry at all, really! Don't look at me like that, I'm not lying. I'm telling you, I didn't cry when I got shots in kindergarten, and all the teachers praised me."
The girl with the pigtails paused for a moment, then stammered, "..."
"It's because... because my dad came back to see me yesterday. I really, really missed him. Dad sent me back to Jincheng three months ago, and I've only seen him once. But Mom and he had another fight. Mom said she hates Dad, and Dad left the next day."
"Today I saw my mom secretly crying, and she was holding a stack of envelopes in her hand. I recognized it; it was my dad's handwriting. My mom used to tell me that every time my dad went on a business trip, he would send her postcards. I have so many at home, from all over the world... I've never seen my mom cry before."
"Adults are so strange. Mom clearly hates Dad, so why is she crying? Tell me, what does it mean to hate?"
"The antonym of 'like'," the upright-looking person replied.
"Your grades are really good, I'm sure a lot of people like you. My mom really likes you, she praises you every day."
"You're so annoying." The girl with pigtails sniffed. "I'm going to be the person who hates you the most."
The stars began to twinkle in the sky.
In the lush green grass, some little stars twinkled.
It's sparkly, like Christmas lights, and it's even flying! So beautiful.
"Hey! Look, what's that—"
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