through thick and thin
The road to growth is not always sunny; sometimes, unexpected storms may arise. In the middle of his sophomore year, Su An encountered his first real setback in his college career.
His meticulously prepared paper on the evolution of narrative in contemporary novels, which he had poured months of effort into, unexpectedly failed in a prestigious academic competition within the department, not even making it to the final round. The reviewers' feedback was vague, only mentioning that "the entry point was acceptable, but the theoretical depth and innovation were insufficient."
The news was like a bucket of cold water, chilling Su An's anticipation and enthusiasm of the past few days. He sat alone in a corner of the library for the entire afternoon, looking at the gray sky outside the window. A familiar self-doubt crept up on him like vines—was he not actually as talented as he thought? Had he chosen the wrong path? All the small recognitions he had received in the past now seemed like mere luck.
He forced himself to attend classes and participate in club activities, but during the video call that evening, Jiang Qi keenly sensed the forced smile behind his smile and the lingering sense of loss deep in his eyes.
"Are you unhappy today?" Jiang Qi put down her pen and focused her gaze on Su An's face on the other side of the screen.
Su An instinctively wanted to deny it, but under Jiang Qi's all-seeing dark eyes, he finally gave in and gave a soft "hmm," briefly explaining the situation in a relaxed tone: "It's nothing, it's just that it didn't quite meet expectations."
Jiang Qi listened in silence, offering no words of comfort. He simply watched Su An's forced smile, his brows furrowing almost imperceptibly.
The next day was Friday. In the afternoon, Su An was listlessly organizing his notes in his dormitory when his phone rang. It was Jiang Qi.
"Where?" Jiang Qi's voice carried a hint of weariness from his journey.
"The dorm. What's wrong?"
"Go downstairs."
Su An was startled; a premonition prompted him to quickly walk to the window. Downstairs, that familiar, tall figure was indeed standing there, a simple backpack at his feet, looking up at his window.
Su An practically ran downstairs. The early winter wind rushed towards him, but he felt something in his heart instantly warm up.
"You...how did you get here?" He ran up to Jiang Qi, his breath a little unsteady. "Wasn't there a group meeting today?"
"I took the day off." Jiang Qi said succinctly, her gaze sweeping over his face to check on him, then naturally taking the pen he had forgotten to put down. "Have you eaten?"
Su An shook his head.
Jiang Qi didn't ask any more questions, but instead took him to a quiet porridge shop near the school and ordered some light and comforting dishes. During the meal, he didn't mention the thesis at all, but only asked about the books Su An had been reading recently and interesting things that happened in the club.
After finishing their meal, the two strolled through the campus as dusk settled. When they reached the small bamboo grove that Su An loved most, which now seemed somewhat desolate, Jiang Qi finally stopped.
“That paper,” he began, his voice unusually clear in the cold air, “could I take a look at it?”
Su An looked at him in surprise. Jiang Qi was a king in the physical world, but a complete novice when it came to literary theory.
"You won't understand..." Su An said softly.
"I want to see it," Jiang Qi insisted.
Back in Su An's dorm (where none of his roommates were home), Su An hesitated before handing the printed copy of his thesis to Jiang Qi. Jiang Qi sat at his desk, turned on the lamp, and began to read it very carefully, word by word. He read quickly, but with focused concentration, occasionally making markings next to certain paragraphs that only he understood.
Su An sat on the bed next to him, watching his cold profile outlined clearly by the lamplight. She felt a mix of emotions, yet also a strange sense of peace.
After an unknown amount of time, Jiang Qi put down his manuscript and turned around. He didn't comment on the paper's quality, but instead pointed to a few keywords and a brief logical chain he had written in the margins of the manuscript, and said to Su An:
“Here, your core argument is actually quite clear.”
"Here, the evidence is sufficient, but the steps to derive the conclusion could be more direct."
“And here,” he said, pointing to a quote, “another viewpoint from this theorist might offer a different perspective.”
He analyzed the text entirely from the perspective of logical structure and rigorous argumentation, like a calm engineer examining a complex system. This perspective, which completely transcends the framework of literary theory and is almost a "reduction in dimensionality," was like a ray of light, instantly piercing through Su An's somewhat confused thoughts caused by his immersion in the text.
“Your value doesn’t lie in the result of a single competition.” Jiang Qi put down her pen, looked calmly at Su An, and said with certainty, “I believe in your judgment and in the passion you had when you chose this research direction. This feedback may just mean that you need to change your perspective or work on it more patiently.”
He didn't say "You're great" or "Don't worry about it," but instead used this almost clumsy yet incredibly sincere method to help him re-examine his thoughts, regain his analytical and judgmental abilities, and dispel the self-doubt that shrouded him.
Looking at Jiang Qi's neat and crisp handwriting on the manuscript, and then at Jiang Qi's incredibly earnest eyes, Su An felt the weight that had been pressing on his chest for days suddenly crumble. His eyes welled up with tears, and he blinked hard, nodding emphatically, "Yes, I understand."
Just then, Su An's phone rang. It was a video request from Jiang Zhao, with a noisy background that sounded like an argument. Su An instinctively answered the call.
On the other end of the screen, Jiang Zhao's face looked grim, with the corridor of D University's gymnasium in the background.
"Su An! I'm so angry!" Jiang Zhao's voice was filled with suppressed anger. "That idiot on our team made a mistake that caused us to lose, and he actually tried to blame me for it! He even got into an argument with me in the locker room! And that deadbeat Lin Jun, the time difference is wrong, I can't get through to him on the phone!"
He was clearly angry and desperately needed to vent. Just as Su An was about to offer some comfort, another phone rang off-screen; it was Jiang Qi.
Jiang Qi glanced at the caller ID; it was Lin Jun. He answered and put it on speakerphone.
Lin Jun's calm voice came from both phones at the same time, slightly hoarse from just waking up, but unusually clear-headed: "Jiang Zhao, I just woke up and saw the message. Tell me what happened calmly and objectively again."
Jiang Zhao was stunned for a moment, seemingly not expecting Lin Jun to contact Jiang Qi directly. However, under Lin Jun's unquestionable tone, he suppressed his anger and explained the whole story again. Although he was still angry, his explanation was much clearer.
Lin Jun listened quietly, without judging who was right or wrong, but calmly began to analyze: "First of all, losing is a team responsibility, and focusing on individual blame is meaningless. Secondly, from a tactical perspective, was there room for improvement in your choice to retreat on the court? Finally, arguing is the most ineffective way to resolve conflicts. What you need to do now is calm down, find the captain or coach, and objectively state the facts, instead of throwing a tantrum in the corridor."
His words were like a precise combination of punches, instantly suppressing Jiang Zhao's impetuousness. Jiang Zhao opened his mouth, wanting to refute, but found that every point Lin Jun made was irrefutable, so he could only give a sullen "Oh".
“Go wash your face,” Lin Jun’s voice softened a bit, “and then call me back.”
After the video call ended, the dormitory fell silent. Su An and Jiang Qi exchanged a glance, both seeing similar emotions in each other's eyes.
"He needs to learn to control his emotions," Jiang Qi commented.
“But Lin Jun always manages to keep him in check.” Su An smiled, the gloom in her heart dissipating considerably because of this little episode.
That weekend, Jiang Qi didn't rush back, but instead spent two days with Su An at Peking University. They didn't discuss the failed paper anymore, but instead went to see a movie together, spent an afternoon in a bookstore, and enjoyed their rare time together like any ordinary couple.
On Sunday afternoon, Jiang Qi was returning to University A. Su An escorted him to the subway station, and this time, his steps were much lighter.
"Don't ask for leave from the next group meeting," Su An said.
"It depends." Jiang Qi's answer was ambiguous. Before entering the station, he turned back to look at Su An, his eyes deep. "Remember what I said."
Su An looked at him and nodded vigorously: "I'll remember."
The train pulled away, and Su An stood there, the cold wind still blowing, but his heart was filled with warmth. He understood that there might still be storms ahead, but he was no longer alone. True companionship isn't about sharing drinks and laughter in good times, but about being willing to brave the storms and become a silent yet steadfast lighthouse when the other is lost.
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