ostrich strategy
The air seemed to freeze after Xing Jiayan's earth-shattering question. The sunlight was blinding, falling on Fang Chi's suddenly bloodless face, illuminating every trace of his helplessness and panic.
He could feel Xing Jiayan's gaze, heavy on him, carrying an unavoidable scrutiny and an almost desperate expectation that he couldn't understand.
The real answer?
His mind went blank, like a formatted hard drive; all logic and reason vanished, leaving only a deafening heartbeat and a strong urge to escape the scene immediately.
He suddenly threw off the blanket, his movement so fast that he even pulled on the IV needle on the back of his hand. A sharp pain shot through him, but he was completely unaware of it.
"I...I'm going to the bathroom." His voice was dry and hoarse. He almost staggered off the bed, not daring to look at Xing Jiayan again. He rushed out of the ward as if there was a flood or a beast behind him, even forgetting that he was still wearing a hospital gown and only a pair of thin slippers on his feet.
Xing Jiayan watched his hasty retreating figure, his outstretched hand frozen in mid-air before slowly falling. He didn't chase after him, but stood there, his deep eyes churning with complex emotions—disappointment, helplessness—which ultimately culminated in a barely audible sigh.
Fang Chi huddled in the cold bathroom stall, leaning against the door, panting heavily. His pale, bewildered face was reflected in the mirror, along with a small bead of blood on the back of his hand from the rough action.
They've gone mad.
This world must be crazy.
Xing Jiayan is Yan.
Xing Jiayan was asking him for an answer about "liking".
This was millions of times more complex than any physics problem he had ever solved; the variables were unknown, the boundaries were blurred, and all the formulas and theorems were invalid at this moment.
What should he do?
Admit it? No, he couldn't do it. That was absurd; that was Xing Jiayan! They'd been at odds for so long, how could he possibly…
Denial? But even he couldn't convince himself with the excuse of "wrong number." If it weren't for that deep-seated, unspoken stirring in his heart, how could he have typed those three words?
Chaos. Nothing but chaos.
The only solution seems to be one—
hide.
As long as they don't meet or have contact, they don't have to confront that perplexing problem or analyze their chaotic inner world.
From that day on, Fang Chi began his meticulously calculated "ostrich life".
He meticulously calculated his arrival and departure times to ensure he wouldn't "bump into" Xing Jiayan outside the classroom. The seminar room never lit up for him at night again; he preferred to carry his books to the crowded public study area or simply stay in his small apartment.
In the classroom, he turned himself into a silent island. When Xing Jiayan tried to discuss the problems with him, he either pretended not to hear or brushed her off with the briefest "um" or "oh." He no longer accepted the notes or materials that Xing Jiayan offered, simply pushing them back indifferently.
He even registered a new forum account, completely severing ties with "Yan." The ID "Chaos," along with all the discussion records and that night of social annihilation, was sealed away deep in his memory.
He did it flawlessly, calmly, and decisively, as if the tacit understanding and unspoken closeness that had gradually grown between them over the past few months were just an illusion.
"Hey, Fang Chi, what's going on between you and Jia Yan?" Even the oblivious He Chen noticed something was off and couldn't help but come over and ask during a free time in PE class, "Did you two have a fight? You two seem really strange lately, you haven't said a word to each other."
Fang Chi was staring at a sycamore tree at the edge of the playground. Upon hearing this, his body stiffened almost imperceptibly, and then he replied expressionlessly, "Nothing. Preparing for the competition, I don't have time."
"Come on," He Chen said, unconvinced. "Didn't you two always stick together when preparing for competitions? I think he was just..."
“He Chen,” Fang Chi interrupted him, his voice carrying a hint of barely perceptible coldness, “My affairs are none of your concern.”
He Chen was taken aback by his unusual sharpness, touched his nose, and walked away awkwardly.
Fang Chi lowered his eyelashes, staring at the tips of his shoes. He knew he was being childish and cowardly. But he had no choice. He wasn't ready to face the answer that, if he admitted it, could upend his entire world.
He thought that as long as he hid well enough, time would heal all wounds, make Xing Jiayan back down, and allow him to return to the safe world of physics and the stars.
However, he underestimated Xing Jiayan's patience, and he also underestimated the turbulent sea within his own heart called "Chaos," which had already been stirred up by someone's presence.
He could evade Xing Jiayan's men, but he couldn't escape those insidious details—
When I get stuck on a physics problem, I subconsciously look at the empty seat next to me, hoping for a precise correction.
In the dead of night, I would unconsciously log into that abandoned forum account and stare blankly at the grayed-out "Yan" avatar.
Even seeing jasmine tea reminds me of that light blue thermos I once rejected but eventually silently accepted.
His heart had already unknowingly strayed from its intended path.
His carefully constructed defenses were easily shattered on an ordinary afternoon by a text message from an unknown number.
At that moment, he was sitting in a corner of the library, trying to numb himself with the heavy workload. His phone screen lit up with a short message, unsigned, but the number seemed vaguely familiar.
Unknown number: Haven't you hidden enough?
Unknown number: Doesn't use forums, doesn't reply to messages, and runs away when you meet them.
Unknown number: Fang Chi, are you planning to bury your head in the sand for the rest of your life?
Fang Chi stared at those lines of text, his fingers instantly turning icy cold, but his blood rushed to his head.
He knew.
He knows everything.
He knew he was hiding; he knew his panic and helplessness.
But he did not give up asking.
This text message was like a precise scalpel, dissecting all his self-deception and revealing the bloody problem he dared not face once again.
Outside the window, the sun shines brightly, and the late summer breeze carries a hint of early autumn coolness.
Fang Chi gripped his phone so tightly his knuckles turned white. He knew he had nowhere to run.
Ostriches bury their heads in the sand, thinking that if they can't see the danger, then the danger doesn't exist.
But some people and some things are destined to drag him out of his self-righteous safe haven.
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