Chapter 40 When will my younger brother...?
Sunlight streamed down from the sky, casting a soft, bright glow on the North Carolina landscape. Pale gold and orange-pink hues mingled in the distant clouds.
Zhou Yue arrived at Raleigh-Daram Airport to pick up his younger brother at Chapel Hill. As soon as he got off the plane, he dragged his suitcase across the long jet bridge, through the sweltering crowds and the airport's unique air conditioning, and headed towards the arrivals exit.
The automatic door slowly opened, and the last days of summer still carried a hint of heat, with the air filled with a mixture of heat waves and the dry scent of early autumn.
Not far from the exit, that figure stood quietly, casually, with his hands in his pockets.
Jiang Qiran leaned against the car, wearing a simple white T-shirt and shorts, looking clean and neat in the evening light.
A breeze swept through the parking lot, ruffling his hair slightly, and the setting sun cast a soft halo of light behind him. He looked up and saw Zhou Yue, his lips curling into a wide grin that made his eyes squint.
"elder brother."
Zhou Yue stepped forward, raised his hand and patted his shoulder. Beneath his palm were firm, defined muscles. He couldn't help but chuckle, "You've gotten even stronger. Good job working out."
Jiang Qiran pursed his lips and laughed self-deprecatingly: "This place is not suitable for Chinese people to live in. Chapel Hill is all about studying and exercising. I've eaten at all the few Chinese restaurants there."
As he spoke, he opened the car door, glanced back at him, and said with a hint of envy and longing in his voice, "New York is still the best. The nightlife is so vibrant, at least you can still see people after class."
Zhou Yue raised an eyebrow, leaned against the passenger door, and looked at him with a smile: "What? Planning to start having fun as soon as you get to New York, huh?"
Jiang Qiran started the car, turning the steering wheel with ease and skill. He smiled innocently, "Did Mom tell you again to keep an eye on me?"
At this point, he turned his head to look at me, a smile spreading across his eyes, revealing a youthful fearlessness: "Don't worry, brother, I will definitely study hard and will never let you down."
As evening fell, the daytime heat dissipated from the air on Chapel Hill, and the night was so quiet that even the rustling of leaves could be heard. Jiang Qiran drove Zhou Yue to Red Lotus, a Shanghainese restaurant in the city.
They ordered several home-style dishes and a bottle of ice-cold beer. While waiting for the food, Jiang Qiran propped himself up on his arm and chatted with Zhou Yue about school matters, club activities, and gossiped about some interesting things between classmates.
After the meal, Jiang Qiran took Zhou Yue for a walk around the streets near the school. The streets were lined with low red brick buildings, with faded white gauze curtains hanging on the windowsills. The streetlights were dim, and there were only a few pedestrians.
Most shops closed early, leaving only the chirping of insects in the night, making the whole street even quieter.
"It really is... quite rural, huh?" Zhou Yue looked around, his tone half sighing and half teasing. "The last time I came here was two years ago. I thought it would be better now."
Upon hearing this, Jiang Qiran rolled her eyes at him: "Brother, do you know how annoying that was?"
"What?" Zhou Yue asked, smiling at him.
"You fly from Beijing to New York, jumping from one international metropolis to another. You have no idea how hard it is for us people who have spent four years in the countryside."
As he spoke, he pointed ahead and said, "This street was just like this when I first came here, and it's still the same now. Don't be fooled by how lively it is during the day; there's really nothing to do at night. If you want to see a movie, you have to check the schedule in advance. If it gets late, you can only go back to your dorm to have hot pot or write your thesis."
Zhou Yue coughed lightly: "It's just that Mom doesn't want you to take the college entrance exam."
Jiang Qiran shrugged, his tone quite casual: "I chose this path myself, so now I've come to find you—to enter the city, to change my fate."
"Aren't you going to get sick of holding it in?" Zhou Yue turned his head to look at him.
"No, I just come back to China occasionally to get some fresh air." Jiang Qiran paused, then added with a smile, "But it's good, at least this place is quiet, which allows people to calm down and think about things."
Zhou Yue listened without immediately responding, but simply nodded, his eyes thoughtful.
The night sky over Chapel Hill was crystal clear, with the stars and Milky Way clearly visible—a sight rarely seen in big cities.
The tranquil atmosphere, far removed from the hustle and bustle, made him feel a little dazed for a moment, as if he had returned to the years when he had just come of age and still believed that hard work would bring results.
Zhou Yue slowed his pace, his gaze drifting unintentionally to the other side of the street. There was a coffee shop with its lights off, and promotional posters were still pasted on the glass, their colors bleached white by the sunlight.
He remembered that when he came here two years ago, he sat here for an afternoon, with his computer and files spread all over the table, and it rained one after another outside, until Jiang Qiran called him to come out for dinner, and he came back to his senses.
"Calm down and think things through..." he repeated softly.
Jiang Qiran didn't notice his mood and continued to lead the way with great interest, "There's a bar around the corner, which is the only place around here where you can stay up all night. But don't have too high expectations, even the bartenders are alumni working part-time, so you might occasionally run into a bad one."
“Okay.” Zhou Yue smiled, but the smile wasn’t deep, and then he followed that way.
A night breeze swept in from the street corner, carrying the dampness unique to summer, along with the faint drumbeats coming from a bar not far away, as if slowly pushing him in some uncertain direction.
The bar is located in a renovated old warehouse. A hand-painted wooden sign stands at the entrance, displaying the names of today's special cocktails. The chalk writing is somewhat blurred by the night wind.
The bar wasn't big, but it was filled with bottles of various kinds of liquor. On the stage in the corner, a bearded Black man was playing guitar, his voice languid and husky, singing old songs. A few people were scattered around the high tables, all of them regulars, greeting each other.
As if returning to his own territory, Jiang Qiran snapped his fingers at the bartender: "Hey, Emily, the usual, two."
He turned to look at Zhou Yue, who simply hummed in response and found a seat against the wall. The laughter and guitar music around him seemed to be separated by a layer. He held his glass, his gaze unconsciously falling on the amber-colored liquid, as if he were looking through it at something further away.
Jiang Qiran, however, was already chatting enthusiastically with the people at the next table, laughing out loud from time to time. He even ordered a snack for Zhou Yue to go with his drinks, saying, "Brother, you need to get out more often, or your brain will rust."
Jiang Qiran, holding a wine glass, leaned back in his high stool and swayed slightly, casually asking, "Brother, since you came all this way, did you also take a look at my 'small-town life'?"
Zhou Yue raised an eyebrow at him, his tone amused: "I've certainly seen what small-town life is like. Now tell me, how come you haven't found a girlfriend in all these years?"
Jiang Qiran smiled when asked the question and raised his hand to clink glasses: "When I first came here, I was busy maintaining my GPA. I finally got into the business school, and the competition was even fiercer. I met some female classmates who were somewhat interesting when the semester started, but you know, as I got busy with coursework and internships, the interest gradually faded away."
As he said this, he suddenly narrowed his eyes and changed to a teasing tone, "By the way, don't just talk about me. You're an investment banking elite, and you're not bad-looking either. Don't tell me that no beautiful women have thrown themselves at you."
Zhou Yue was sipping his wine when he heard this and choked a little. He coughed twice, put down his glass, and glared at him: "You make it sound like I party every night."
Jiang Qiran smiled innocently: "Brother, don't you know how attractive you are among girls? If someone like you came to our school, I don't know how many girls would be chasing after you..."
Zhou Yue didn't respond to Jiang Qiran's words. He simply picked up his glass and took a sip. The cold wine went down his throat, leaving a slightly bitter taste.
The sound of glass clinking softly came from the bar, mixed with a deep drumbeat, as if reminding him of a certain night with equally dim lighting, and a certain face whose sharpness was hidden by a smile.
He took a deep breath, then held the cup to his lips without drinking. The feeling of being protected like a "younger brother" had once warmed his heart, but it also made him want to prove to himself that he wasn't.
Jiang Qiran didn't notice his absent-mindedness and was still enthusiastically gossiping about school until she saw him staring blankly at the cup. She nudged him with her elbow and said, "Hey, bro, who are you thinking about?"
Zhou Yue snapped out of his daze, a half-smile playing on his lips as he gave him a look that was neither a smile nor a frown: "You talk too much, kid."
On the day of their return journey, they got up very early and drove north, passing through Virginia and Maryland, speeding along the early morning highway.
The younger brother in the passenger seat was dozing off by the window. Sunlight streamed through the glass onto his profile, revealing a calm and clean-cut face, like an unfinished painting transitioning from adolescence to youth.
Zhou Yue gripped the steering wheel, but his gaze unconsciously drifted towards him. He suddenly recalled a scene from many years ago.
At that time, he was in junior high school, while Jiang Qiran was still in kindergarten. He was small and carried his schoolbag, shouting "Brother, wait for me!" as he chased after him, panting.
One winter, the yard was icy. My younger brother was running too fast and tripped and fell hard, scraping his knee. He sat in the snow, crying uncontrollably. He knelt down to brush the snow off him, frowning as he said, "How could you be so clumsy?"
The child, wiping away tears, replied with a pitiful expression, "I'm not stupid, I just want to catch up with you."
He didn't pay much attention to it at the time, just thinking it was a child's coquettishness. But those words seemed to be quietly tied to him by some thin thread, and have been entangled with him ever since.
He always thought his younger brother was still like he was when he was a child, always looking up for him if anything happened. But at this moment, the person sitting in the passenger seat was quiet and composed, self-reliant, no longer needing anyone to turn around and wait for him.
And what about him?
He suddenly realized that his younger brother had grown into an adult who could walk on his own, while he seemed to be stuck in some unknown place, like stepping on a frozen lake, not daring to be too heavy, and not knowing where to go.
He slowly withdrew his gaze, his fingers gently turning the steering wheel, a slight smile unconsciously appearing on his lips. That smile was tender, but it didn't last long, quietly disrupted by a pang of sadness in his heart.
After driving for more than three hours, they stopped at a rest area. Jiang Qiran got out of the car to buy two bottles of water, then turned around and called out, "Brother, let me drive for a bit."
"Okay." Zhou Yue replied lazily, stretched, and lit a cigarette.
He stood under the shade of a tree, his head bowed as he slowly smoked, the embers flickering between his fingers. His eyes and brows were half-hidden by the smoke, and he exuded an air of quiet weariness and nonchalance.
Jiang Qiran unscrewed the bottle cap, took a sip of water, and watched him exhale a puff of smoke. Suddenly, he said, "Brother, you're smoking a bit too often."
Zhou Yue glanced at him sideways, but didn't answer. He simply flicked the cigarette butt between his fingers.
"What?" Jiang Qiran asked with a smile, "Is the pressure in investment banking that great?"
Zhou Yue snorted, his tone lazy and indifferent: "What do you think?"
Jiang Qiran didn't pry any further. She just walked over and leaned against the car door, tilting her head to look him over: "I remember you didn't smoke much before." After a pause, she added, "You were always telling us that staying up late would lead to sudden death, that you had to limit your coffee, and that you complained about the high sugar content in your cola."
Zhou Yue smiled and said, "I was silly back then."
"You haven't gotten much smarter, have you?" Jiang Qiran narrowed his eyes, his tone half teasing and half serious. "You think you can hide your emotions in your cigarettes and no one will be able to tell?"
Zhou Yue paused for a moment, turned to look at him, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes, the kind of astonishment that comes from having one's soft spot unexpectedly touched.
Jiang Qiran had already turned around to open the car door, laughing as he got in: "Alright, bro, get in. Don't sleep in the car, or you'll have insomnia again tonight."
Zhou Yue stood there, watching him get into the driver's seat, adjust the seat, fasten the seatbelt, and start the engine. His movements were fluid and confident, showing a certain ease.
He suddenly felt a little dazed. When did his younger brother, who was 8 years younger than him, really grow up and become able to see through him?
He glanced down at the cigarette that was almost gone from his fingers, and took one last deep drag. The burning sensation of the smoke rolling down his throat carried a hint of weariness.
He then stubbed out the cigarette and tossed the butt into the trash can.
When he looked up, Jiang Qiran was smiling at him through the half-open car window, a knowing smile in her eyes: "New York is still a long way off."
As the car entered New York, it was already getting dark, the rain had just stopped, and there was still a thin layer of water on the streets.
Car headlights swept across the ground, casting blurry spots of light and the reflections of pedestrians. The air was humid and stuffy, and the city's hustle and bustle seemed to rush in from all directions in an instant.
Zhou Yue gripped the steering wheel with one hand and smoothly pulled the car to a stop on the side of the street. He turned to the passenger seat and said, "We're here."
Jiang Qiran nodded, unbuckled his seatbelt, and looked out the window at the not-so-tall, not-so-new apartment building.
This was a house that Zhou Yue had rented for him in advance. It was a one-bedroom apartment near the school. Although the building was old, it was quiet, and it was only a ten-minute walk to Columbia University.
The keys had already been handed over. The landlord was an old immigrant he had met a few years ago when he was studying abroad. He was straightforward and efficient, and the handover process was so simple that there wasn't a single wasted word.
Jiang Qiran got out of the car and walked to the trunk. He deftly opened the lid, pulled out the suitcase, and turned around with undisguised excitement in his eyes, as well as the eagerness of a newborn calf.
Zhou Yue stood on the street after the rain, watching his younger brother carry his luggage into the building piece by piece, and suddenly felt a little dazed.
He recalled his own arrival when he first came here, carrying a suitcase alone, on a similar evening after the rain, when the sun was still setting, on a similar slippery street.
At that time, he felt like he had a simmering fire burning inside him, and he didn't know where to go or who he could rely on.
And now, his younger brother has arrived. Compared to himself back then, he seems more composed and confident.
Zhou Yue looked up at the window that was already lit, exhaled, and seemed to let out the pent-up feelings in his chest over the years, along with the damp, cool air.
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