Chapter 63
November in Jinzhou is already steeped in autumn, like a gentleman entering middle age, shedding the impetuousness and fervor of summer, subsiding a reserved and mellow demeanor. The tall plane trees lining the road, their leaves dyed in shades of gold and ochre, rustle in the slightly chilly wind. Occasionally, a few break free from the branches, twirling gracefully before quietly falling to the ground, creating a soft, colorful carpet. The air is crisp, breathing deeply into my lungs, carrying a rare, clean scent of the changing seasons in the city.
After more than a month of heated discussion, praise, and even some controversy, Shen Zhiyao's "Ruins and Aurora" exhibition finally concluded successfully. Most of her paintings have been reserved by discerning collectors, but the few that remain, which she particularly treasures, will be carefully packed and shipped back to the cold and pure Nordic land that nurtured these works. Before leaving, she sent a message to Jiang Yu, inviting him to lunch at a private restaurant hidden deep in the alleys of the old city, known for its seasonal cuisine and tranquil atmosphere.
Jiang Yu turned his phone screen to look at Xia Wan, who was working at her desk in the study, drawing an initial concept sketch for the Old Textile Factory Art Center.
"Shen Zhiyao will return to Norway tomorrow and invite me to have lunch at noon." His tone was flat, as if he was reporting an ordinary business matter.
Xia Wan raised her head from the complex spatial structure, rubbed her swollen temples, and her gaze fell on the familiar name. Her eyes were clear, without a trace of emotion. She barely hesitated, even a hint of understanding twitching at the corners of her lips. "Go ahead." She put down her electronic pen, stretched her stiff neck, and spoke naturally, as if encouraging him to attend a necessary business event. "Say goodbye properly."
Her trust was so complete and open, like a ray of warm light, instantly dispelling any subtle haze that might be brought about by the three words "ex-girlfriend".
Jiang Yu felt relieved. He stood up and walked to her side. He leaned over and gave her a soft but solemn kiss between her brows which were slightly furrowed with concentration: "Wanwan, let me see you being jealous." He put his arm around her waist, brought her into his arms, and kissed her gently.
Xia Wan, nearly suffocating, pushed Jiang Yu's chest hard to end the long kiss. Xia Wan leaned on his chest, breathing heavily. This man had been kissing her anytime, anywhere since that time, and it was a bit too much. "You're not eating dumplings today, why should I be jealous?"
Jiang Yu felt relieved by her stare, and hugged Xia Wan and started kissing her again.
Lunch was scheduled for Wednesday. The private restaurant was indeed difficult to find, tucked away in a winding alleyway. There wasn't even a proper sign at the entrance, just a small wooden plaque inscribed with the characters "Jinglu." Pushing open the heavy wooden door, I discovered a different world. A small courtyard, a few bamboos rustled softly in the bleak autumn breeze. Pots of hardy chrysanthemums, tiny, pale yellow flowers, stood in the corners. The tranquil environment seemed a world away from the hustle and bustle of traffic outside.
When Jiang Yu was led by a waitress in a cotton cheongsam to a small private room called "Listening to Snow," Shen Zhiyao was already there. She was wearing a loose, off-white, thick-knit turtleneck sweater paired with dark gray cashmere wide-leg pants. Her makeup was bare, and her long hair was pulled back in a loose bun, with a few strands cascading casually around her cheeks. Compared to the radiant artist in a bright red dress at the exhibition, she seemed calmer, more relaxed, and... more real. She was looking down at a picture of what appeared to be her own painting on her phone. When she heard the noise, she looked up and saw Jiang Yu, a light, natural smile spreading across her face.
"Are you here? Sit down." She pointed to the elm official hat chair opposite, her tone familiar and natural, without any excitement or awkwardness that should be associated with a long-awaited reunion. Instead, it was as if she was greeting an old friend she saw often.
The dishes were pre-ordered and served one by one according to the season. There was a light chicken and matsutake soup, a bowl of crab meat and lion's head, a plate of stir-fried chicken feathers, and a dessert made with seasonal taro. Each dish was delicate and small, with light yet rich flavors.
The conversation between the two, like the dishes themselves, was light and measured, maintaining a perfect distance. They chatted about the future of their works after the exhibition, about how Tromsø, Norway, would likely be covered in snow by now, about recent developments in the Jinzhou art scene, and even about certain trends in the global contemporary art market. Neither of them actively touched upon the weighty and complex past, nor did they mention the love-hate entanglements of the past, nor did they inquire about the details of each other's lives over the past few years. It was as if it were a matter of a past life, no longer relevant to the two people sitting in this quiet courtyard, savoring seasonal dishes. The atmosphere was even more peaceful than Jiang Yu had expected, even... a little too normal.
"My flight tomorrow will take me to Oslo, then back to Tromsø." When the last dish of sweet-scented osmanthus and taro paste cake was served, Shen Zhiyao gently stirred the remaining Pu'er tea in the cup with a small bone china spoon and spoke. Her tone was calm, as if she was stating a predetermined itinerary.
"Well," Jiang Yu nodded, picked up the purple clay teapot on the table, and poured her some hot tea, "Have a safe trip."
Shen Zhiyao raised her head. Her pale eyes, as clear as a Nordic winter sky yet tinged with a hint of coldness, stared at him quietly for a few seconds. There was a calmness in them, a sense of relief, as if finally at peace after a long snowstorm. "Jiang Yu," she said, setting down her spoon. Her voice was low but remarkably clear. "Thank you for coming today. And thank you... Li Mo for helping coordinate the exhibition venue and logistics."
"You're welcome. It's just a small favor." Jiang Yu's answer was still concise, and he knew the right measure very well.
She paused, as if weighing her words, then spoke seriously, her tone carrying the penetrating insight of a bystander: "It's great to see you like this." Her gaze seemed to penetrate him, seeing the stable and warm life behind him. "Very stable, very... down-to-earth. Xia Wan..." When she pronounced the name, her tone remained flat, instead carrying a hint of appreciation. "She's very special and very suitable for you. She's not the type who needs to be pampered or constantly need confirmation of love. She has her own roots and her own direction, and she can stand shoulder to shoulder with you."
Her words came from the heart, without a trace of forced or bitterness. She had witnessed Xia Wan's composure at the dinner party, her calm gaze upon her at the art exhibition, and she had a vague idea of her professional achievements. That powerful vitality, rooted in reality and nurtured by her own abilities, was exactly what she had once desperately lacked, what she had once desperately sought from Jiang Yu like a drowning man grasping at driftwood. Now, after a long period of self-exile and artistic redemption, she finally understood that true stability and a sense of self-worth could only come from cultivating an inner world, not from endless external demands.
"Thank you." Jiang Yu met her gaze with a frank look, without any evasion, "You have also found your own way. Your painting, 'Ruins and Aurora', is very powerful. It's not just a technique, it's... what you see after you dissect yourself with your brush." He could feel the strong, almost self-destructive, yet longing for rebirth contradictory tension in her paintings. It was by no means a complaint without reason, but an artistic expression of real pain condensed.
Upon hearing this, Shen Zhiyao's lips curved into a genuine, almost paranoid, arc of certainty, a characteristic of artists. "Yes, searching for the aurora in the ruins is a bit cold and lonely, but it's quite comfortable." She raised the cup of clear Pu'er tea in front of her, her eyes calm. "Instead of wine, I wish you... all the best, peace and happiness in the future."
Jiang Yu also raised his cup and gently clinked it with hers, the purple clay cup making a crisp sound. "I also wish you to find your own way to continue to shine in Norway."
There was no reluctance, no regrets, no unspoken words, only respect for each other's life choices and the simplest blessings for the future. This lunch, like a gentle yet solemn ceremony, washed away all past grudges and brought a thorough, clear, and peaceful end to a youthful past long forgotten by time.
It was already past two in the afternoon when he emerged from "Jinglu." Sunlight shone slantingly on the mottled walls of the alley, lengthening the figures. Shen Zhiyao stood at the doorway, taking a deep breath of the cool air. Then, he waved gracefully to Jiang Yu. Without another word, he hailed a passing taxi, opened the door, and climbed in neatly. With a final nod through the window, the car quickly took off, merging into the traffic on the main road outside the alley and disappearing.
Jiang Yu stood alone at the entrance of the alley, the afternoon sun falling on him, bringing a gentle warmth that dispelled the slight chill in the room. He watched the taxi disappear in the direction it disappeared, his mind clear and bright, like a piece of wiped clean glass, the dust of the past settled, leaving only a clear reflection of the present and the future. The past, finally, completely passed away, no longer possessing any power to influence the present.
When she returned to the apartment, Xia Wan was still in the study, frowning and pondering the model on the computer screen. When she heard him open the door, she looked up with a questioning look.
Jiang Yu walked over and gently hugged her from behind, resting his chin on her thin shoulder and inhaling the familiar, reassuring fragrance of her hair. "Are you back?" She relaxed her body, leaned into his arms, and asked softly.
"Yeah." He replied softly, his arms tightening, "It's all over."
Xia Wan didn't ask for details, but simply patted his arm with her backhand, saying in a relaxed tone, "That's good. What do you want to eat tonight? Let's celebrate...um, to celebrate President Jiang's successful handling of the historical issues?"
Jiang Yu chuckled softly, and the last bit of dust in his heart seemed to be wiped away by her teasing tenderness. "It's up to you to decide."
Time flew by in the bustle of the busy world, and in a blink of an eye, it was already the end of November. The 80th anniversary celebrations of Jincheng No. 1 Middle School were approaching. Xia Wan, an alumna who had achieved outstanding professional success in recent years and brought immense acclaim to her alma mater, received a heartfelt invitation from the school, urging her to speak at the celebration as a representative of outstanding alumni. Jiang Yu also received a gilded invitation. Both of them shone in their respective fields, making them a source of pride for their alma mater.
They arrived back in Jincheng a day early. The early winter air in this small northern city was dry, cold, and crisp, with a chilling, penetrating quality not found in Jinzhou. The sky was a washed, clean blue, and the sun was bright but cold. The familiar streets, low-rise buildings, and the occasional familiar accent all gave Xia Wan a sense of homecoming, a sense of security.
Zhou Wenjuan had been eagerly anticipating this, having cleaned the house spotlessly. The heating ducts were blazing, and the room was warm, filled with the rich aroma of stewed meat and the warmth of home. Seeing her daughter and Jiang Yu enter the house, carrying their luggage, her face immediately lit up with a smile, and the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes softened. She first took Xia Wan's hand, looking her up and down, as if she couldn't get enough of him, her eyes filled with unconcealable pride, almost overflowing.
"Great! Great! My daughter really makes me proud!" Her voice was a little excited, and her hand shaking slightly as she held Xia Wan's. "I saw the award ceremony on TV clearly at home! There was also such a big report in the newspaper. The neighbors praised me every time they saw it! They said that our Xia family's ancestors were so proud to have such a promising girl! That trophy was so shiny and looked so noble!"
She continued to chatter, then looked at Jiang Yu, who had put down his luggage and was standing quietly beside her. Her eyes were softer and kinder than ever before, even holding a subtle hint of gratitude. "Xiao Jiang, you're here too. Come on, sit down and rest. You must be tired from the journey. Auntie made your favorite lotus root and pork rib soup, which has been warming on the stove. I'll serve you a bowl right now to warm you up."
The atmosphere at the dinner table was warm and cozy. Zhou Wenjuan kept serving food to the two of them, and her bowls were piled high like a small mountain. She babbled about the neighbors' reactions after learning that Xia Wan had won a national award, and her words were filled with the supreme pride of a mother. She looked at Jiang Yu, who was sitting next to her daughter, with a calm demeanor, and from time to time, serving Xia Wan food that she couldn't reach. After hesitating for a moment, she put down her chopsticks, wiped her hands on her apron, looked at Jiang Yu, and said solemnly: "Xiao Jiang, Wanwan is out there alone, working so hard, she must have suffered a lot... Thanks to you for taking care of her and helping her. Auntie... I understand everything, thank you."
These words were spoken plainly, even a little clumsily, but they were like a warm current that instantly flowed into Jiang Yu's heart. He knew that this heavy thank you was not only a recognition of his care for Xia Wan, but also meant that Zhou Wenjuan truly accepted him from the bottom of her heart, recognized his irreplaceable position in Xia Wan's life, and regarded him as "one of their own" who could be entrusted with their daughter's future.
"Auntie, please don't say that." Jiang Yu put down his chopsticks, sat up straight, and said respectfully and sincerely, "This is what I should do. It's my blessing to meet Wanwan."
Xia Wan listened from the side, and saw the hard-earned harmony and understanding between her mother and Jiang Yu. Her nose felt a little sore, but her heart was filled with a huge sense of happiness and security.
That evening, when arranging accommodations, a problem arose. Zhou Wenjuan, as usual and with undeniable enthusiasm, wanted to put Jiang Yu in Xia Yang's neat but obviously teenage room, with a single bed and a slightly cramped bed.
"Xiao Jiang, you should sleep in Yangyang's room. The quilt and sheets are new and clean!" Zhou Wenjuan said as she was about to make the bed.
Jiang Yu stood at the door to the guest bedroom, looking at the single bed inside, which was obviously a bit cramped for his height and long legs, but he didn't obey and go in like he had last time. He turned around, looking past Zhou Wenjuan and accurately at Xia Wan, who was about to return to her room. His eyes were filled with obvious grievance, which was completely inconsistent with his usual cold image, and... a clear hint of coquettishness, almost a bit of spoiled childishness.
"Wanwan..." He called her softly, his voice was particularly clear in the quiet and narrow corridor, with a deliberately drawn-out, soft ending, like a feather gently scratching one's heart.
Xia Wan paused and looked back at him. The dim light from the corridor lamp cast a small spot of light in his deep eyes, which were filled with the plea of "not wanting to sleep alone." Her cheeks instantly felt a little hot, and her heart skipped a beat. Of course she knew what he was thinking. Ever since that celebration of his recovery and the near-miss of sex, the two of them had long been accustomed to sleeping in each other's arms every night. The warmth of their skin against each other and the company of each other's heartbeats became the most soothing background sound of sleep. To suddenly separate and return to that clear-cut state was indeed... difficult to adapt to.
"Don't make a fuss," she said, forcing herself to remain calm. She lowered her voice, a hint of resentment in her voice, and glanced at her mother, who was still busy beside her. "You're here with my mom. What's wrong with that?"
"But..." Jiang Yu not only did not retreat, but took a step forward, almost touching her. He leaned over slightly, and his warm breath brushed against her sensitive earlobe intentionally or unintentionally. His voice was lowered, with a magnetic temptation, "I can't sleep without you. The bed is too small and cold."
He looked nothing like the shrewd, decisive CEO Jiang. He looked like a child playing dirty to get candy and sympathy. Xia Wan's heart melted at his sudden, completely different, soft gesture, like melted chocolate, sweet and sticky. Reason told her to stick to her principles and not let him do what he wanted, especially under her mother's watch.
"No!" Her face flushed, and she used her hands to push him away from her a little bit, her tone firm and uncompromising, "Go to sleep in Yangyang's room! You have to get up early tomorrow to attend the school celebration! How can you not be in good spirits!"
Seeing her incredibly embarrassed yet resolute expression, Jiang Yu knew there was no hope tonight. He sighed deeply, a sigh of frustration, a sigh filled with resentment. He reached out and pinched her burning cheek with a swift, punitive pinch. His fingertips felt the startling heat, and a hint of triumph flashed across his eyes. Then, reluctantly, looking back every few steps, he slowly inched into Xia Yang's room and closed the door.
Xia Wan stared at his closed door, still feeling the warmth and breath of his presence when he'd just leaned in. She breathed a long sigh of relief, rubbing her still-burning cheeks, her heart still pounding. Uncontrollably, the corners of her mouth curled up in a sweet curve. This man was really... getting more and more annoying! And strangely, this feeling of being needed, of being relied upon, didn't burden her at all. Instead, it brought a secret joy.
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