Chapter 8 Sophomore Year
The next time she saw Song Ting was in the square in front of the station. He hadn't changed much. He was wearing a black short-sleeved cardigan and beige casual pants, and his aura was very cool, just like when he saw her off that year.
Nanjiu seemed a different person every time he came back. A white tank top clung to his body, a red plaid shirt tucked into his waist, and denim shorts revealing his slender legs. As he left the train station, his long platinum hair blew in the wind, catching the blazing sun, even the strands of it gleaming with golden light.
Song Ting spotted her in the crowd, took the suitcase from her, and greeted her: "Does your waist hurt from sitting for so long?"
"Did my grandfather tell you?"
"Well, get in the car first."
Nan Jiu's gaze shifted to the SUV behind Song Ting. He walked around the back of the car and took a look, then teased, "Uncle Song, have you made a fortune?"
Song Ting put the luggage into the trunk and glanced at her face. This was the first time she had called him seriously.
After getting in the car, Song Ting took a cushion and leaned it against Nan Jiu's waist.
Nanjiu had taken over the school's hip-hop dance club from a senior. Although she had returned to Maoer Lane early, she still had to coordinate all the club's affairs. Song Ting wanted to ask about her back injury, but Nanjiu kept her head down, texting all the way.
The car drove smoothly. Occasionally, Nan Jiu would raise her eyelashes and quietly glance at Song Ting through the reflection of the windshield. His hair was shorter than before, losing some of its sharpness, making him look even more profound and unpredictable.
As the car turned, the lines of his arms were faintly tense, his movements smooth and steady. The red light came on and he stopped the car. Nan Jiu withdrew his gaze and continued to text.
The car stopped at the teahouse. Nan Jiu ran out and rushed into the teahouse, calling out "Grandpa." In Grandpa Nan's eyes, her flowing light hair made her look like the Golden Lion King. He frowned, yanking up a tuft of hair and scolding her, "You're so young, but you have a head full of white hair. What a sight!"
"This is called bleaching and dyeing, you don't understand."
Nan Jiu saw a sliced watermelon on the tea table, so she pulled out a chair, took the watermelon, and started to eat it. Song Ting took her luggage out of the car and took it into the house.
"I didn't even mention you on the phone. You thought of me when you asked for money. You only called me a few times during normal times, and you didn't even come back to see me during the holidays."
"I want to come back too, but there's no way I can come back."
Grandpa Nan handed her an empty bowl and she spit the watermelon seeds into the bowl.
After hearing what she said, Mr. Nan guessed something and asked her, "Didn't your father give you tuition?"
"He came down from work." Nan Jiu's voice was muffled in his chest, and he spat out watermelon seeds quickly.
"This bastard, he's in his sixties and still doesn't understand how to live." Old Man Nan felt sorry for his misfortune and was angry at his lack of fighting spirit.
"Didn't you tell me to come to you when I'm in trouble? Otherwise, I wouldn't ask you to borrow money!"
Old Man Nan squinted at her and asked, "When did I ever say that?"
"Just what you asked Song Ting to bring last time."
Old Man Nan became more and more confused as she continued talking: "Which time?"
"It's the time when you bought me a computer!" Nan Jiu threw away the watermelon peel and stared at Grandpa Nan, waiting for him to remember.
Old Man Nan looked suspicious: "Computer?"
Song Ting put down his suitcase and walked out of the house. Old Man Nan's eyes moved to him, lingered for a moment, then retracted his gaze without saying anything, picked up the cup and took a sip of tea.
Nan Jiu's eyes turned half a circle, framing Song Ting's figure in his peripheral vision.
When Nanjiu returned to his room, he noticed the bedding had been changed. Instead of the bamboo mat that always left marks on his face, he'd found a soft, light blue ice silk mat. The walls had been repainted, the floor had been repainted with wooden flooring, and a separate air conditioner had been installed. There was also a double-door wardrobe with drawers against the wall. Nanjiu opened the drawer and felt around; the wardrobe, inside and out, was spotless.
Nanjiu took out the clothes from the suitcase and hung them one by one in the closet.
Taking a shower is a pleasurable experience for Nanjiu. He empties his mind, stands under the shower, and lets the warm water wet his skin and penetrate his pores, relaxing his whole body and mind, especially after a long journey.
Song Ting thought about Nan Jiu taking a shower and dawdled, so he didn't go downstairs all night. It wasn't until midnight that he walked from the attic to the second floor to take a shower. He opened the bathroom door, picked up the fallen hair by the sink, and mopped the wet floor.
The old-fashioned clock on the first-floor wall ticked away. It was late at night, and the lights in Old Man Nan's room had long been turned off. The teahouse, bustling during the day, was now so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Song Ting finished his shower and opened the bathroom door. In the dim hallway, a slender figure leaned against the stair railing, looking down at her phone. The cool glow on the phone screen gently covered her face, like a gentle veil, with a slightly distant and cold feeling.
Nan Jiu heard the door open, turned off his phone and looked up. His long and thin eyes were hidden in his hair, and there seemed to be tiny golden sand flowing in the bottom of his eyes.
The bathroom was stuffy. Just two steps up to the attic, Song Ting emerged shirtless and wearing baggy shorts. A cacophony of light and shadow flickered across his dark skin, and the curving mermaid line beneath his abs faded into the waistband of his pants. Water droplets from his hair rolled down his shoulders, finally lingering on his bulging pectoral muscles.
Nan Jiu stared at him, her eyes boldly wandering over his exposed flesh—there was an almost aggressive masculine aura, strong and mature, completely different from the boys she had met at school. And it was also completely different from the calm and indifferent Song Ting during the day.
Song Ting leaned slightly to the side when she looked at him, reached out to grab a towel from the bathroom and put it on his shoulders, then asked her, "Are you still awake? Do you have something to talk to me about?"
Nan Jiu stood up and walked into the light and shadow. The childishness on her face had long faded, and her lazy eyes blended with the faint sense of alienation on her body.
"Did you pay for that computer for me?" she asked bluntly.
Song Ting lowered his eyelids but did not deny it.
"He even lied to me and said it was my grandfather who bought it for me. I always thought it was because the old man didn't give me a red envelope and he felt guilty!"
Song Ting raised his eyes and said, "If you don't say that, you will feel psychologically burdened if you accept it."
"Thank you for thinking of me as such a kind person." Nanjiu's lips curled up slightly. "You also told me that my grandfather told me to come to him if I had any difficulties. I really believed you and was a little touched when I left."
"I didn't say that, it was your grandfather who said that."
Nan Jiu tilted his neck slightly, his golden hair flowing to one shoulder, and his cold, white, and translucent skin seemed to be coated with a layer of light.
She thought carefully about how Song Ting had handed her the computer at the station, telling her it was from her grandfather, and then quickly added, "Call me if you encounter any difficulties back home." He hadn't actually said it was from her grandfather, but it was so long ago, and because he said it after giving her the computer, Nan Jiu connected it with her grandfather's kindness. Over the years, no matter how difficult the situation, she had never lost her composure, always feeling that her grandfather was her last resort.
Now the retreat has become a polite remark from Song Ting back then. Thinking about it this way, it has become a joke.
Nanjiu's eyes were filled with mockery: "You can't stand me going to the Internet cafe, why did you buy me a computer?"
Song Ting's slow voice fell in the corridor: "I buy it for you. It's better than you trying to do something crooked when you go back."
Nanjiu still had a faint smile on her face, but the light in her eyes gradually froze. She could tell that Song Ting didn't want to see her become a bad person and do something out of the ordinary for a computer.
The golden sand in Nanjiu's eyes was stirred into an imperceptible vortex, then gradually disappeared. She yawned, turned and went downstairs, her voice lingering around the corner: "Thank you."
Song Ting listened to these three words, and when he turned around, the hem of her skirt disappeared around the corner of the stairs.
This was the first time Nanjiu said thank you to him.
......
Every time Nan Jiu returned to Maoer Lane, Old Man Nan hoped that she could calm down and learn how to make tea, and become more calm.
The first few times she tried, she was unsuccessful. Whenever she sat down at the tea table, she felt like there were thorns pricking her under her buttocks. She couldn't sit still for long and would start to move around.
This time when he came back, perhaps because of his back injury and couldn't run around, he was finally able to be patient and stayed at the tea table with Grandpa Nan for the whole morning.
Brewing tea in a teahouse is a complex art. The water temperature, utensils, tea-to-tea ratio, and brewing technique are all carefully considered, depending on the specific tea. Nan Jiu listened to the old man's ramblings for the entire morning, and it was more daunting than sitting through "Introduction to National Economic Accounting" in a classroom.
Seeing her drooping eyelids, Old Man Nan couldn't help but say to her, "You think it's boring? You've only just started. I haven't even told you about the etiquette of hospitality. Watch your Uncle Song work more often, and stop staring at his phone all day."
Nan Jiu jokingly said, "If I learn it, will you let me inherit the teahouse?"
Old Man Nan narrowed his eyes and said, "You're just dreaming, your father is still here!"
Old Man Nan was too lazy to waste words with her. After talking all morning, he felt a little tired and went back to his room to rest for a while. As he stood up, he reminded Nan Jiu: "Even if you don't know how to make tea, you should know how to collect debts, right? After all, you are a college student."
"Didn't we just scan the QR code? What's the charge?"
"Just take it back when I told you to. Why are you talking so much?" Old Master Nan was walking unsteadily, leaning on a crutch.
Nan Jiu turned his head to look at his grandfather's back. The cane that once added to his dignity now bore part of his body weight.
In the afternoon, Nan Jiu leaned over the counter, her eyes following Song Ting's comings and goings. This was the assignment that Old Man Nan had given her—to observe Song Ting's hospitality and then test her in the evening on what she had noticed.
So, for the entire afternoon, Nanjiu's eyes were glued to Song Ting. She didn't notice the twists and turns in his hospitality, but she did notice how he prepared the tea. She had never noticed before, but Song Ting had nimble hands. His palms were large, allowing him to hold several teacups with his bare hands and easily carry three kettles of boiling water.
In the afternoon, tea drinkers came here to chat, and Song Ting was at ease in the noisy environment. Several tables of guests came to the teahouse at the same time, and they were all calling him. Song Ting was neither hurried nor in a hurry, he had his own rhythm. He knew which table to serve first and which table to serve later, and he turned around and added hot water to the table that came first. Nan Jiu's eyes fell on his well-proportioned fingers, the index finger and middle finger pinched the tea lid, and the spout of the pot was suspended in the air and pointed at the cup. Nan Jiu saw that this was called "high pouring", pouring water down from a higher position, the tea foam rose, the color of the tea soup was even, and after closing the pot, the edge of the cup was leak-proof. This is the brewing method of rock tea, which Grandpa Nan had just told her about this morning.
Song Ting noticed Nan Jiu's gaze and occasionally glanced back in his busyness. Their eyes met briefly, but he didn't pause and continued to work.
Nanjiu wasn't completely idle either; some elderly people who came for tea would leave cash. While times progressed, these elderly people still clung to old habits, wasting their lives in Maoer Lane.
Later, as the number of customers decreased, Song Ting had some free time. He walked to a tea table and called Nan Jiu, "Come here."
Nanjiu moved from behind the counter to stand in front of him, and he asked her to sit. She pulled out a chair and sat across from Song Ting. During the day, when he was in the teahouse, Song Ting would mostly wear light-colored, textured clothes. The drape and crisp fabric gave him a sense of stability and reliability.
He took a clean covered bowl, warmed the cup, added the tea, stirred it, woke it up, and brewed it. He said nothing during the entire process, quietly brewing the tea. Nanjiu sat there and watched as he remained silent. After the tea was brewed, Song Ting divided the tea into portions and handed them to Nanjiu. Nanjiu leaned back in his chair and extended his right hand to receive the tea. Song Ting slowly raised his eyelids, his eyes bathed in ink, dark yet blazing, the fair cup in his hand unwavering.
Nan Jiu asked in confusion: "Isn't this for me?"
"It's for you. See if you can catch it."
The two old men sitting next to them were regular customers of the teahouse. Seeing this, they couldn't help laughing.
Nan Jiu glanced over and saw one of the old men waved at her. Nan Jiu immediately understood and reached out to take it. Song Ting still held on, his wrist dangling over the tea table.
Nan Jiu straightened her back again and simply stood up to take the tea. She had been busy for a long time without even having a sip of it. Although she didn't like tea very much, after sitting there for a long time, watching Song Ting brew the tea step by step, she wanted to taste it. But Song Ting watched her busying around with a cold look, refusing to give her the tea. Finally, he simply turned his wrist and poured it out.
Nan Jiu suddenly became furious: "Are you kidding me? Why did you fall down?"
"Tea must be drunk at the right temperature. If it gets cold, the taste will be gone."
Song Ting finished brewing the tea and stood up. Nan Jiu wanted to take a sip of the tea in the gaiwan while he wasn't paying attention, but Song Ting didn't give her a chance and took the gaiwan away.
Song Ting went inside to clear the teacups. Nan Jiu sulked behind the counter. She pulled out her phone and searched for instructions on how to receive tea. She'd never known until she'd done so, but she discovered there were a lot of etiquette involved. How should an elder perform when offering tea to a younger one? What should a younger person pay attention to when offering tea to an elder? How should peers show respect to each other? She reflected on her actions based on what she'd found, and then she saw the sun setting.
At dinner that night, Old Man Nan asked her what she had learned that afternoon. Nan Jiu, holding her bowl, squinted at Song Ting, who was sitting across from her, and said sarcastically, "I've learned not to accept tea brewed by others easily, otherwise it will be a waste of time."
Song Ting smiled, but remained silent. Old Man Nan rebuked her, "You only know how to talk nonsense."
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