Chapter 5
Ling Peng was absent-minded the whole time he was helping Sun Wei move.
He was incredibly strong, easily lifting a stack of books or a packed suitcase with his movements, mechanical and efficient. But he barely listened to Sun Wei's chatter about gossip about his graduate supervisor and his hopes for a new dorm. His gaze drifted involuntarily out the window, scanning every figure on campus that might be her. His heart felt like it was being pulled by an invisible string, the other end of which was tied to a distant training ground he didn't know where.
After finally stuffing the last box of stuff into the trunk, Sun Wei breathed a sigh of relief and patted Ling Peng on the shoulder: "Done! Thanks, Brother Peng, I must treat you tonight!"
Ling Peng closed the car door and spoke casually, as if it was just a sudden thought: "Since we're here, I heard that your National Day parade training is quite spectacular. Can I take a look from a distance? Open your eyes."
Sun Wei was stunned for a moment, then smiled knowingly. "Hey, you want to see this? Sure! There's a cordon around the training ground, so you can't go in. But there's a place on the periphery with a decent view. I'll take you there."
The two men approached the barbed wire fence surrounding the training ground. Inside lay a vast exercise field, yet it seemed incredibly crowded. Countless figures in uniform training uniforms were performing monotonous, repetitive movements at the command of the instructors. The sun blazed down unimpeded, and the air was thick with the scent of dust and sweat.
Ling Peng's eyes searched eagerly among the crowd of almost identical people. With so many people, all dressed the same, moving the same way, it was no easy task to find just one person.
Just when he was about to give up, the instructor blew the whistle for a break.
The formation relaxed instantly, and the crowd dispersed slightly. His gaze suddenly fixed on a figure walking to the sidelines to drink water.
It's her.
Even from a distance, he could recognize her instantly. She had lost a lot of weight, her once rounded cheeks becoming more defined. Her exposed neck and arms were tanned to an even, wheat-colored hue, the glistening sweat gleaming in the sun with a healthy sheen. She unscrewed the bottle cap, tilted her head back, and drank the water in long gulps, her throat and neck forming a smooth, firm line. After finishing the drink, she casually wiped the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve, then bent down and pounded her calves.
There was none of the radiant glamour of the stage, none of the bewildered, fragile tenderness on the steps, and none of the sly, clever banter over the phone. She was, stripped of all that added color, her true self—weary, resilient, like a plant weathered by the sun and wind, yet still standing tall, brimming with a rugged, vibrant vitality.
Ling Peng's heart felt like it had been struck hard, a bitterness and heartache instantly overwhelmed all the previous anxious desire. He wanted to rush through the barbed wire immediately, to provide her with shade, to give her water, or... just to stand by her side.
At that moment, Sun Wei, who was standing nearby, followed his gaze and saw Zhao Jinglu. As if suddenly remembering something, he spoke in a tone that was purely gossip, "Oh yeah, the young teacher, right? She's really hardworking. Oh, and speaking of which, I saw that guy in the Mercedes-Benz bring her something again yesterday. Wow, two big bags full of what looked like food and drinks. Really thoughtful, this guy."
Sun Wei's words were like a basin of ice water, pouring over Ling Peng's head and extinguishing all the fire that had just ignited in his eyes.
The fatigue and resilience he had just witnessed in her seemed to instantly change its meaning in his eyes—was it because she had someone who cared about her, someone who had her back, that she dared to give it her all? And those two "thoughtful" supplies, like two giant labels, clearly marked that she was being well "taken care of," and all his worries and trembling became ridiculous and unnecessary self-conceit.
A huge sense of frustration and powerlessness washed over him. All his courage and urgency seemed so pale and inappropriate in the face of this ironclad fact. He didn't even have the courage to ask, "Who is that?"
He took one last, deep look at the figure, then turned around abruptly, his voice a little hoarse: "I've seen enough. Let's go."
"Ah? Leaving now?" Sun Wei was a little puzzled, but still followed.
On the way back, Ling Peng said nothing, simply watching the street scenes passing by outside the window in silence. The wildfire that had been burning in his heart all the way seemed to be completely extinguished, leaving only a piece of cold, smoking ash.
…
One evening a few days later, Zhao Jinglu finished a day of intense joint training and collapsed onto her bed, aching all over. Her mind drifted through sheer exhaustion, and images flashed through her mind uncontrollably: the instructor's stern commands, the gritted faces of her classmates, the track scorched by the scorching sun...
And there was the phone call from Ling Peng that day.
His voice wasn't as steady and confident as usual. Instead, it held a certain... hoarseness and hesitation she couldn't quite place. Especially the last part, "Get some rest, don't overwork yourself," sounded less like a polite gesture and more like a suppressed, awkward concern. It was a departure from his usual image of the effortless senior.
During these days of intense training, this thought occasionally popped up: What happened to him that day? Was it just graduation sentiment? It didn't seem like it. Was it work? I heard that new employees always encounter many difficulties. If someone as proud and talented as him encountered setbacks, he probably wouldn't tell anyone, right?
Thinking of this, a subtle worry inexplicably arose in her heart, which she herself had not even carefully distinguished.
She reached for the phone beside her pillow and, without hesitation, typed a text message. Her finger paused on the send button before finally pressing it.
"Don't stress yourself out. They'll know you're good soon."
The message was successfully sent. She breathed a sigh of relief, as if she had completed a small, pending matter. A subtle sense of anticipation, wanting to comfort him, quietly replaced the slight worry she had just felt.
…
Almost the next second, Ling Peng's phone lit up beside his bed. He was staring blankly at the computer screen, and when he clicked on it and saw the sender's name and the content of the message, his heart felt like it was being gently grasped by a warm hand.
At this moment when he felt so embarrassed and wanted to leave, she actually sensed his emotions? And sent such a considerate message...
The immense sense of relief and the deeper bitterness that followed it intertwined, nearly tearing him apart. He stared at the line of words, his fingers hovering over the keyboard, his mind frantically racing with words he wanted to say—
“My problem isn’t because of work.”
"It's because of you."
"Who is that man who gave you something?"
But in the end, not a single word of these words entered her mouth. The figure of the caring man driving the Mercedes-Benz stood between him and her like an insurmountable wall. Who was he to ask? What right did he have to care? Perhaps her concern was simply out of her usual kindness.
In the end, he just put down his phone dejectedly. The screen gradually dimmed, reflecting his bitter and self-deprecating face.
"My goodness, do you know?" He asked silently in his heart, but the answer was only loneliness.
Zhao Jinglu waited for a moment, but the screen remained silent. She frowned slightly, her slight concern turning into a more tangible worry. Did he not even have the energy to reply? What had happened to him?
A urge to confirm his safety emerged. She stared at the ceiling and made up her mind: As soon as the National Day parade was over, she would go find him. She had to see for herself what had happened to him.
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