Chapter 13 One Month and Seven Days
In the coffee shop, the two fell into a brief silence, and the only sound in the air was the humming of the coffee machine.
"I really had no choice," Si Yan said, breaking the silence first. His voice was filled with obvious apology. He raised his hand to loosen his tie, his Adam's apple rolling. "My aunt is pushing me hard. She's already arranged seven blind dates for me in the past six months."
"I just happened to see you in the coffee shop," Si Yan said with a faint smile, "I just decided on this on a whim."
"I'm sorry." Si Yan's voice dropped. "I owe you a favor."
Su Nian shook her head, her fingertips unconsciously scratching the milk stains on the rim of the cup: "It's okay, it's just a piece of cake."
It turns out that no matter how successful a person is, there will be times when life pushes him into a corner.
Si Yan waved to the waiter, "I want an Americano, no sugar." He turned to Su Nian, "What else would you like to drink?"
Su Nian shook his head, "No need."
The sycamore tree outside the glass window rustled, and a leaf fell on the windowsill.
Su Nian stared at the withered yellow leaf and suddenly asked, "Why did you lie and say we've been dating for three months?"
Si Yan was silent for a moment: "One month and seven days."
He looked up at her. "From that night until now."
This precise number made Su Nian's heart tremble.
She remembered that night, the smell of cedar in the alcohol, the hot skin in the dark... The memories came flooding back like a tide, making it difficult for her to breathe.
"I..." She opened her mouth, but didn't know what to say.
"You..." Si Yan paused, as if weighing the dosage of a medicine, "How have you considered it?"
Su Nian's heart skipped a beat; she knew what he was asking.
The problems that had been bothering her these days were suddenly exposed to the sun, leaving her with nowhere to hide.
"I..." She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
Si Yan didn't urge him, but just waited quietly.
"I... am very scared. No matter what choice I make, I don't know how to tell my mother." Finally, Su Nian heard her own voice as thin as a mosquito's.
Si Yan's eyes softened. He reached out his hand, hesitated, and finally just lightly touched her fingertips: "I know."
These three simple words made Su Nian's eyes warm.
The pressure, fear and grievances that I had been bearing alone these days suddenly came flooding back like a broken dam.
She hurriedly lowered her head, but a tear fell uncontrollably, forming a transparent flower on the wooden table.
"I'm sorry..." She tried to wipe it off in a panic, but Si Yan grabbed her wrist.
"I'm the one who should be sorry." His voice was low and firm. "I was drunk that night, but that's no excuse."
The waiter brought coffee, temporarily interrupting their conversation. Si Yan thanked her but didn't let go of Su Nian's hand.
"If you need me to intervene, just tell me," he said. "Remember: whatever decision you make, I'll be responsible."
These words were like an umbrella, opening up a sunny day in the rainy season that caught her off guard.
Si Yan's fingertips were still on her wrist, and the warmth seeped through the thin fabric, like a cup of lukewarm tea, not hot but with a lingering warmth.
After a long moment, Su Nian gently withdrew her hand. The breeze blew the tissue on the corner of the table. She stood up and adjusted her skirt. "I should go now. I have an appointment with Fei'er."
Si Yan also stood up and asked, "Do you need me to take you there?"
He opened the glass door for her.
"No, it's very close."
"Be careful! Remember what I said." Si Yan's voice followed her back.
Su Nian didn't look back, but walked quickly. His canvas shoes made a tapping sound as they stepped on the cracks in the bricks of the sidewalk.
Si Yan turned around and walked back to his seat, his eyes following Su Nian's gradually receding figure until the slender figure disappeared under the sycamore tree at the corner of the street.
He raised his hand to adjust the collar of his shirt, his fingertips still retaining the warmth from when he held her wrist just now, like a spark in the embers, faintly hot in the cool air.
The American coffee he ordered just now had black liquid with fine foam in the bone china cup.
The shallow tear marks left by Su Nian on the table have dried up, leaving only a circle of white edges, just like her red eyes just now.
The phone vibrated twice in his pocket. It was a voice message from his aunt. Her tone still carried the excitement she had just felt when she saw Su Nian in the coffee shop: "Ah Yan, this girl looks quiet and gentle. You'd better seize the opportunity."
Si Yan's fingertips hovered above the screen without replying.
He opened the address book and found the name marked "Su Nian". This was the name he had asked for when he took her home after taking her pulse that day. The dialog box was the message from the last time she asked why she had transferred money.
Si Yan's thumb slid slowly across the screen, and Su Nian's circle of friends stopped at a month ago - a side profile photo of her drawing a design manuscript, smart and focused, making people unable to take their eyes off.
The pencil lines on the paper are neat and gentle, with a half-eaten sandwich lying next to it. Life and art are casually placed in the same picture by her.
Flipping further, a grid of nine photos showed the winning designs from the "Urban Nomad" series. Another showed her in a white dress, standing next to a boy. Together, they held a gold medal certificate, their smiles gleaming like freshly polished pearls under the spotlight. The caption was simple: "The best of us—finally, all those sleepless nights were worth it." Every word sparkled with the light of a dream come true.
Si Yan picked up the American coffee and took a sip. The bitter liquid slid down his throat, as if he had swallowed the entire night.
He clicked on a close-up of the certificate and could see the tiny wrinkles on the edge of the paper, created by his fingertips. How much unknown effort and dreams were hidden in those wrinkles?
Further ahead, in the snowy scene of last winter, she was wrapped in a camel-colored scarf, with snowflakes on her eyelashes, but she was holding a big snowball tightly in her hand, and her laughter was particularly vivid. That smile was so pure that it reminded people of all the beautiful and unpolluted things.
Every update revealed a fresh tenacity, with no trace of the trembling in his arms that night.
Si Yan suddenly felt that people are like a book, the circle of friends is just the table of contents, and the real content is hidden in those unknown chapters.
Si Yan turned off the screen of his phone, and the black glass reflected his furrowed brows.
Thinking of the tears in her eyes that night, mixed with the smell of alcohol, hitting his collarbone, the burn was so severe that he could still remember it clearly.
Such an outstanding girl, for whom was her heart broken that night? This question was like a thorn, piercing the softest part of his heart.
The couple sitting next to me were sharing the same pair of headphones. The girl smiled and fed the boy the strawberry on the cake, and the silver fork made a crisp sound when it hit the porcelain plate.
This ordinary happiness, at this moment, was like a mirror, reflecting the desolation in his heart. Si Yan took another sip of his American coffee, this time tasting a slight aftertaste.
He pulled a pen from his suit pocket, wrote a line on a piece of coffee shop notepaper, folded it into a neat square and stuffed it into his wallet. It was a sentence he had just seen on her WeChat Moments, from her design philosophy: "Every wrinkle holds the potential for gentle ironing."
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
