Chapter 8
On the way back to Beijing Sport University, night had already deepened, the streetlights stretching and shortening our shadows. The atmosphere was completely different from when we arrived; a subtle, relaxing warmth quietly permeated the space between us.
The biggest weight on his heart had been lifted, and Ling Peng felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted. The gloom and weariness between his brows vanished, replaced by a near-elevated spirit. He spoke more often, no longer answering her questions. Instead, he would proactively recount interesting stories at the new company and complain about a certain stern leader. His eyes were bright, and a faint smile always played on his lips.
Zhao Jinglu sensed his obvious change and was genuinely happy for him. He was no longer gloomy, which was good. But at the same time, another, more elusive emotion was quietly growing in her heart. When he occasionally turned his head to look at her, his eyes were so focused and bright, filled with undisguised joy, that her heart inexplicably skipped a beat, and she was afraid to hold his gaze for too long. She could only pretend to be attracted by a roadside window, or lower her head to kick a non-existent stone, to cover up the sudden and overwhelming panic that made her feel overwhelmed.
As they neared the school gate, Ling Peng suddenly stopped. Under the soft light of the street lamp, he did something Zhao Jinglu didn't expect. He raised his hand and deftly removed the white silicone wristband he'd worn for years. Then, he pulled the brand-new Casio Edifice watch from the gift bag, carefully put it on, and adjusted the strap.
The metal clasp made a slight "click" sound, which was particularly clear in the quiet night.
This action is full of solemn ritual, as if it is the end of an old era and the beginning of a new era.
Zhao Jinglu's eyes involuntarily fell on the wristband he had just taken off. The object she had first noticed on the basketball court, the one that had accompanied him throughout his youth, now lay quietly in his palm.
Years of curiosity finally overcame her subtle shyness, and she asked softly, "Does this wristband... have any special meaning? It seems like you've been wearing it ever since I met you."
Ling Peng looked down at the wristband in his hand, then looked up at her and smiled. His expression was very calm, even a little playful. He held out his wrist to her and showed her the inside. "Here, it's for covering this."
On the inside of his wrist, there was a light white, thin old scar. It wasn't long, but the location was quite conspicuous.
"When I was little, I was so naughty that I treated my dad's saber as a toy. I ended up losing my hand to it and nearly died a heroic death," he said with a lighthearted, self-deprecating tone. "I had to get several stitches. Later, I was afraid my classmates would see me and make a fuss, thinking I was upset, so I didn't bother to explain, so I just wore a wristband to cover it up. Wearing it for a long time, it became a habit."
This answer was so simple, ordinary, and even a little childishly funny that it completely caught Zhao Jinglu off guard. There wasn't any of the heavy or sad stories she had imagined, just the slightly clumsy yet incredibly real actions of a naughty little boy trying to protect his own little self-esteem.
She looked at the scar on his wrist that symbolized his reckless past, and then at his mature, upright, and confident appearance today. An indescribable feeling, a mixture of pity, understanding, and a deeper affection, emerged in her heart, making it soft and messy.
She couldn't help but laugh, looking at him with sparkling eyes: "So that's how it is...it's quite cute." She was using a protective way to protect the little self who used to be a little silly.
Arriving at the school gate, it was time to say goodbye. Zhao Jinglu recalled his dejected words in the cafeteria, "The person I like might already have someone else who likes them," and the sadness she felt for him surfaced again. She hoped he could really cheer up.
She turned around, looked at him seriously, and said encouragingly, "Ling Peng, don't forget. Missing you is her loss."
Ling Peng looked at her, the halo of the streetlight flowing in his deep eyes, reflecting an unprecedented clarity and determination. He smiled, a bright and confident smile, with a sense of determination that she had never seen before.
"Don't worry," he said in a steady and powerful voice, "she won't lose anything."
Zhao Jinglu was happy about the renewed fighting spirit in his eyes. She nodded vigorously, turned around and walked into the school gate.
But after walking a few steps, his words and that extremely confident smile kept replaying in my mind.
“She has nothing to lose”?
Does this really sound like something someone who's just experienced a failed unrequited love and is ready to let go would say? This tone, this demeanor, clearly sounds more like a... confident declaration.
At the same time, a clear emotion spread—he had someone he liked. This realization actually made her feel a subtle but clear sadness that she had not even anticipated.
She shook her head vigorously, trying to get rid of this ridiculous thought.
…
After that day, things changed subtly.
Ling Peng seemed to have completely bid farewell to the gloom and withdrawal of the past few days. He began to become unusually "active".
He would send her text messages from time to time, with all sorts of messages:
"The watch keeps amazing time. It truly is a fusion of technology and functionality."
"How far have you progressed in your major courses? Do you need some remote guidance?"
"My boss called me to another meeting today. It was so boring. (Attached is a doodle from my meeting notes)"
"My building has been demolished and is in ruins. When can I go take a look?"
His messages no longer required her to painstakingly craft conversation starters; instead, they naturally seeped into her life. He shared his daily life, inquired about her recent situation, and even offered a touch of mild sarcasm and dependence. His purpose was clear—he wanted her to get used to his presence.
At first, Zhao Jinglu would answer his questions about watches and studies seriously, offering sympathetic comfort when he complained about work. But gradually, a huge question mark began to rise in her heart.
Why...is he suddenly so free?
Shouldn't a new employee in a large company be extremely busy?
How did he have so much time to share these trivial daily details with her?
And, most importantly—the "emotional issues" that had driven him so low that he needed to confide in her, an "emotional novice"…were resolved just like that? Was it over? Or was he finally wooed?
Zhao Jinglu held the phone in her hand, looking at another MMS message on the screen that shared the view of the company building under the sunset. Her brows furrowed slightly, and the doubt in her heart about "she couldn't lose" became heavier.
Who does he like?
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