Can't I call you if there's nothing wrong?
After dinner, Song Zicheng sat on the sofa and chatted with Jiang Yang and Bai Ning for a while. Most of the time, they asked questions and Song Zicheng answered. They talked mostly about how his studies were going, how his part-time job was going, and if he had any difficulties, he should come to them. Although Song Zicheng might have to answer these questions every time he came back, he didn't feel impatient. On the contrary, he felt very warm. Having been used to wandering, he also enjoyed this family atmosphere.
Song Zicheng did not linger. After saying goodbye to Jiang Yang, he pushed his suitcase and took Song Zian's hand as they walked towards their home, which they had not returned to for a long time.
Although the house was empty, and his parents who gave him life and raised him were gone, it would always be the softest place in his heart, and it would always be his home.
The elevator opened and closed repeatedly on the sixth floor, but Song Zicheng remained standing still. Song Zi'an, who had just exited the elevator, turned to look at Song Zicheng and asked in confusion, "Brother, why aren't you coming out?"
There was still no movement.
Song Zi'an asked again, "Brother?"
Song Zicheng then came to his senses, his face showing some melancholy, and even his voice became much softer: "Let's go."
After inserting the key into the lock and turning it twice, the door was opened from the outside.
The sunlight at four or five in the afternoon was no longer so strong, and the unlit house was dim, like the light on a rainy day. Song Zicheng felt a sudden unease.
With a "snap," the entire house instantly brightened up, and all the furniture that had been blurry before became clearly visible.
Song Zicheng looked at everything in front of him in a daze. Although it had only been a little over nine months since they last met, it felt like a very long time had passed, as if several years had gone by.
The photo hanging on the wall was actually the first thing Song Zicheng saw when he entered the room. In an instant, a complex emotion welled up in his heart. He put his things down and walked towards the photo step by step, but the closer he got, the less he could see it.
“Brother, you’re crying,” Song Zi’an said from the side.
"Really?" Song Zicheng said, touching his eyes with his hand. Sure enough, they were very wet.
He didn't know how long he stood in front of the photo, only that his legs felt a little sore and numb when he took a step.
The house, which had been uninhabited for a long time, was exceptionally clean and tidy, without a speck of dust. Three years ago, when Song Zicheng took Song Zian to the capital, he gave Jiang Yang a spare key before leaving. It was obvious that Jiang Yang and Bai Ning had cleaned it beforehand.
He has always been grateful to these two elders he has known since birth, especially after his parents' accident, when they took great care of him and his younger brother. In his heart, he had long regarded them as his own family.
Song Zicheng felt both grateful and guilty towards Jiang Yuebai. The two were childhood sweethearts, growing up together since they were little. In many people's eyes, they were a match made in heaven. Moreover, it was hard for Song Zicheng not to know Jiang Yuebai's feelings for him.
Sometimes he would blame himself for not liking girls and for liking men, but even if he forced himself to change, he was powerless and it was all in vain.
He always treated Jiang Yuebai as his younger sister. When Jiang Yuebai was bullied when they were young, he would fight for her even if he couldn't beat her.
Out of gratitude, guilt, and self-reproach, Song Zicheng left a considerable amount of his savings to Jiang Yuebai. Jiang Yuebai had done so much for him, while he could do so little in return.
Although winters in Anhui aren't as cold as in the north, temperatures can still drop to several degrees below zero. In the north, while it's cold outdoors, there's central heating indoors, allowing people to experience both winter and summer in the dead of winter. But in Anhui, there's no central heating, so both indoor and outdoor temperatures are damp and chilly, making people shiver.
Song Zicheng turned on the air conditioner in the living room. It had been a while since it had been turned on, so the air conditioner was slow to respond. It took more than ten minutes before it slowly started to produce heat.
Saved him the time of cleaning, Song Zicheng only needed to pack up the suitcase he brought back. After quickly putting it away, he wiped the refrigerator inside and out and plugged it in.
Today is the 27th day of the twelfth lunar month. Although he won't be staying for more than a few days, he still needs to go to the supermarket to buy some groceries. It's not appropriate to eat at Uncle Jiang's house every day, even though they don't mind and are actually quite happy about it.
Before leaving the house, he took his phone out of the pocket of his down jacket, but the screen remained black after several attempts. He then plugged in the charger and waited a minute or two before the phone finally turned on.
The moment the screen lit up, Lu Zhiyan's message flashed across the page. Song Zicheng didn't see what time it was sent, but he remembered that he seemed to have forgotten to send Lu Zhiyan a message.
"Are you home yet?"
"Are you home yet?"
"answer."
Lu Zhiyan sent three messages in total, the top one showing two hours ago. If Song Zicheng were in Beijing, he might have panicked upon seeing these three messages, but now, in Anhui, about 1,000 kilometers away from Beijing, he remained calm and composed.
When a general is in the field, he may disobey some of the military orders.
Song Zicheng replied to the message: "I'm home."
He turned off his phone and let it continue charging, gazing at the tall tree outside the window, lost in thought.
He had carefully examined and weighed his deal with Lu Zhiyan. Although he was forced into it at first and his fierce resistance was to no avail, he became much smarter in their subsequent interactions. He kept quiet, did a good job of maintaining appearances, and even Lu Zhiyan often praised him for being well-behaved and sensible.
Since fate has already dealt him this way, and he cannot escape or break free from it, he should do his best to minimize the losses.
He could save a large sum of money from the money Lu Zhiyan gave him every month. He needed to use Lu Zhiyan's resources to treat Song Zian. Bone marrow transplantation was a difficult thing, comparable to climbing to the sky. Even if he tried his best, he might not be able to reach it. But now Lu Zhiyan was that stepping stone, allowing him to obtain resources that he would otherwise have no chance of.
Song Zicheng understood this very well. Everyone was just taking what they needed. You used me, I used you. There was give and take, discussion and compromise. Everyone wanted to get what they needed from the other.
There were just a few moments when he showed emotions he shouldn't have during this cold-blooded transaction. But he nipped any hint of it in the bud, and sometimes when he couldn't sleep at night, he would relive those heart-stopping moments.
Just like that night, he sat on the sofa playing the ukulele and singing. Moonlight streamed through the window, twinkling and falling into Lu Zhiyan's eyes as he looked at him, so sincere and burning.
Song Zicheng still remembers how fast his heart was beating, how his ears turned red, and how his fingers trembled slightly as he strummed the strings. At that moment, in the darkness and amidst the music, he clearly heard the throbbing in his heart.
Although he doesn't usually follow Lu Zhiyan around asking if there's a bone marrow match for Song Zi'an, Lu Zhiyan has been using his connections ever since he said he would help him. On many occasions, Song Zi'an has seen files in different languages on Lu Zhiyan's computer and heard many unsatisfactory phone calls.
Sometimes, Lu Zhiyan's disappointment and dejection were even more pronounced than his own. For this reason alone, putting aside all the unpleasant things, Song Zicheng still felt a little grateful to Lu Zhiyan, even though he never showed it.
When Lu Zhiyan made a video call, Song Zicheng, who had been asleep in bed, was suddenly awakened.
He immediately got up, turned on the light, and the dark bedroom was instantly brightened. He unplugged his phone charger and pressed the call button.
"What's wrong?" He had just woken up, and his tone was still a little lazy and casual. The three words revealed a hint of allure.
Lu Zhiyan's expression, which had been gloomy and angry, improved considerably, but he still kept a straight face and shouted angrily, "What are you doing? Why didn't you reply to the message I sent you?"
Song Zicheng rubbed his eyes, his mind still seemingly not fully awake from his dream: "I was asleep, I didn't see it. What's up with your call?"
"Can't I call you if there's nothing wrong? I can call whenever I want, is it any of your business?" Lu Zhiyan's tone became even fiercer.
After getting to know him better, Song Zicheng felt that Lu Zhiyan sometimes spoke and acted like a child with a childish air, willful and arrogant, completely lacking the maturity that one should have at his age.
Song Zicheng didn't respond to his question, but instead changed the subject: "How's your arm today? Have you found a caregiver?"
Lu Zhiyan's temper flared up quickly but subsided just as fast. His previously fierce tone softened slightly: "My arm is still the same, and I haven't found a caregiver."
“I told you many times before I left that your arm injury was serious. If you want to recover quickly, it would be best to find a caregiver to take care of you. That way, it will save you a lot of trouble,” Song Zicheng said.
Lu Zhiyan's face showed impatience, and he muttered, "It's better to go slowly, so you won't have to move out after the New Year."
He spoke those two sentences unclearly and softly, so Song Zicheng didn't hear them at all: "What?"
As if realizing what he had just said, Lu Zhiyan looked slightly embarrassed and quickly hung up the phone: "It's nothing, I'm hanging up."
Then, with a "beep," the call ended.
The conversation, which contained absolutely no content, ended within two minutes. At first, Song Zicheng thought there would be a reprimand, but there wasn't. He was already used to Lu Zhiyan's moods, which were as unpredictable as the weather in July.
During his stay at his hometown, Song Zicheng woke up very early. Perhaps due to the long journey and exhaustion of the past few days, he fell asleep as soon as he finished dinner, washed up, and went to bed. He slept soundly through the night and woke up feeling refreshed. He couldn't remember the last time he had such a good night's sleep.
Today is the 30th day of the twelfth lunar month. According to local custom, Song Zicheng got up early, laid the paper money he bought yesterday flat on the ground, and then took out a hundred-yuan bill and stamped it on the paper money.
He had just finished when Jiang Yuebai called: "Zicheng, we're already downstairs."
"Okay, I'll be right down."
For the past three years, on this day every year, Jiang Yuebai, Jiang Yang, and Bai Ning would go with Song Zicheng to the tombstone of Song Zicheng's parents to pay their respects with paper money and flowers.
There was some distance between the residential area and the cemetery, and the five of them walked along the road, one in front of the other. The weather was beautiful today, with blue skies and white clouds, and the warm sunshine felt comforting.
But these five people stood in stark contrast to the fine weather; their faces were somber, they were silent, and even their steps were weak and slow.
Song Zicheng still remembers the day he returned to pay respects to his parents during the Qingming Festival. He bought a high-speed rail ticket for midnight and arrived home around 7 p.m. Then, he brought paper money and came to the cemetery alone. When he approached his parents' tombstones, he lost his courage and stood there for a long time. Even with an umbrella, the torrential rain soaked his shoulders.
The same was true now; he was filled with guilt, and his steps were somewhat sluggish and unsteady, but he didn't want anyone to notice anything amiss.
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