Chapter 65

In the airport waiting lounge, Wen Zhixu flipped through the chat records over and over, her eyes blurred with tears. At this moment, she tried hard to stay calm. From the time she added Jian Shichu on WeChat, all the records were there.

The hints were all so obvious, but she just couldn’t pick up on them.

The night had turned chilly, and a crystal-clear drop stained the phone screen. Wen Zhixu slowly scrolled with her finger, unaware of Jian Shichu’s situation.

The flight was at eight o’clock, but she had sat there all night, from dusk till dawn.

The process was utter torment, a battle with time and tangled words.

—

Jian Shichu woke up at nine in the morning, with the whole family gathered around her hospital bed. Grandma looked unwell, utterly shaken.

Seeing her awake, Wang Yun quickly asked, “Doudou, feeling better?”

She still had an IV drip in her hand, her head foggy as she glanced at Grandma, then said, “I’m fine.”

“Doudou, anywhere else uncomfortable?” Grandma stepped closer, touching the back of her hand to Jian Shichu’s forehead. “You scared me to death.”

As she propped herself up, Wang Yun helped steady her.

Jian Shichu reassured her, “I’m fine, Grandma.”

At that moment, her uncle shoved Wang Yao into the room. The moment he entered, he yanked off his belt and lashed it across Wang Yao’s back.

“You little bastard, how did she fall? The surveillance footage shows it all clear as day—kneel!” The uncle’s belt cracked heavily against the back of Wang Yao’s head.

Wang Yun gasped. Wang Yao’s knees hit the floor right after, silent.

Wang Yun said, “Wang Yao’s so grown up now and still doesn’t get it. Good thing they rescued her in time. What good does beating do if something really happened?”

“It wasn’t me who pushed her, Big Aunt. You saw the footage,” Wang Yao said fearfully. When Jian Shichu was rushed to the hospital, he had lost his soul.

The uncle said, “Doudou, I’m sorry. It’s my fault as your uncle for not teaching him right. I let you down.”

Jian Shichu shot Wang Yao a glance. “It wasn’t him who pushed, but he’s not unrelated. Mom, call the police.”

Her words were flat, but once they were out, Wang Yao burst into tears, kowtowing nonstop with apologies. Even the uncle started pleading humbly.

“Get out, don’t disturb me.” Jian Shichu slowly closed her eyes and turned her head away.

Ten minutes later, the room cleared out. Wang Yun made the police report, and Jian Shichu didn’t see when they took him away.

Grandma made some porridge, but she couldn’t eat. She didn’t drink water either. After the IV finished, she just leaned back, staring out the window.

Wang Yun sat by the bed. “We couldn’t salvage your phone. Once you’re better, we’ll get a new SIM. I’ll go buy you a new one later.”

The phone in Jian Shichu’s hand was her backup—the one that marked her reunion with Wen Zhixu. After logging into WeChat, Jian Shichu scrolled through Wen Zhixu’s Moments.

“Okay, Mom. You guys go back and rest.” Jian Shichu glanced at Grandma, who was still peeling an apple.

“As for Wang Yao, whatever you decide,” Wang Yun said, taking the apple from Grandma and cutting a piece to hold to her mouth.

Jian Shichu said, “I’m still mad right now. Lock him up a few days, then we’ll do the forgiveness letter.”

Jian Shichu wouldn’t really take it all the way to court anyway. Grandma was the type to side with reason over family.

Her gaze stayed glued to the phone screen, scrolling through Weibo to read the content of Wen Zhixu’s radio interview.

Grandma wiped her hands with a wet wipe, then pulled out another to dab at the water stains on Jian Shichu’s mouth.

Jian Shichu turned her head away. “Grandma, I’m not a kid anymore.”

“How old are you? I’m old and forgetful. To me, you’re still a child.” Grandma finished wiping and tossed the tissue in the trash.

—

The wind outside the ward rattled the windows. This New Year wasn’t a happy one. Wen Zhixu arrived at the hospital without stopping, checking messages on her phone while searching for the ward.

Her eyes were still red, tears seeping out now and then. This was the same hospital her grandfather had stayed in before, so she easily found the inpatient building.

When she matched the ward number on the door, she gripped her phone tighter and hurried inside.

Jian Shichu had just swallowed the last piece of apple, medical tape still on her hand. As she turned to the door, a gust of wind seemed to blow in from outside.

The door lock clicked loudly. She spotted Wen Zhixu standing there at once, nose red, with Wang Yun and Grandma looking over too.

“Xiao Xu’s here,” Wang Yun broke the awkwardness.

Grandma called out, “What’s wrong with you, child? Cold? Come in quick.”

Jian Shichu panicked. She hadn’t contacted Wen Zhixu during this time and wasn’t in a good mood herself. But seeing her now, she couldn’t bear to bring up what happened before.

With Wang Yun there, Wen Zhixu held back her emotions and greeted her.

“You all chat. I’ll head back and check on the soup. Lao Jian’s unreliable at this stuff; I need to take a look.” Wang Yun smoothed things over.

Grandma arranged the water cups on the table. Before leaving, she patted Jian Shichu’s shoulder. “Water’s here. Want anything to eat or drink, just call—I’ll bring it over.”

Wen Zhixu stood by the bed. The door locked behind her, and the two tears welling in her eyes rolled down, mist gathering at her brow.

“Why cry? I’m fine, don’t cry.” Jian Shichu pulled her hand, making her sit on the bed’s edge.

It was okay when she didn’t speak, but once she did, Wen Zhixu cried even harder. Jian Shichu wiped her tears with her fingers, knuckles warm and damp.

“No more crying.” Jian Shichu reached sideways for a tissue, carefully dabbing the tear tracks on Wen Zhixu’s face.

Wen Zhixu took the tissue. After a while, she calmed down.

“Don’t be mad at me anymore. I’m sorry.” Wen Zhixu’s voice was soft, lashes still wet.

Jian Shichu looked at her, then took a faint breath and said slowly, “Letting you cry was my fault. That day, I almost thought you were leaving again. I’m actually scared. If you left, I wouldn’t know what to do.”

Jian Shichu’s eyelids drooped. She had no energy, and her eyes gradually reddened. Something like a breakup—she couldn’t even imagine it.

“If you ignore me, I’ll keep looking for you. Unless you’re really fed up, then I’ll back off.” Wen Zhixu replied.

Jian Shichu looked at her and smiled faintly. “So, are you looking for me, or going off to have fun while you’re young, hmm?”

Jian Shichu still remembered that. Wen Zhixu hugged her gently, afraid to use any force. “You heard it—why didn’t you ask? You just shut off your phone.”

“My phone died. I just turned it on. What did you send? Wanna see?” Jian Shichu recalled.

Wen Zhixu looked at her. “You were the one who brought up breaking up first.”

“When did I say break up?” Jian Shichu frowned in retort.

Seeing Wen Zhixu’s eyes still red, she continued, “I said separate for now. What did you hear?”

“Isn’t it all the same?” Wen Zhixu’s voice rumbled low from her mouth.

Jian Shichu got annoyed, her breathing heavy for a moment, chest tight and stifled.

Seeing her like that, Wen Zhixu didn’t push. She coaxed, “Okay, okay, I misheard. Don’t be mad.” Her hand gently stroked Jian Shichu’s back to ease her breathing.

“Alright, I’m not mad.” Jian Shichu’s tone softened as she slowly hugged Wen Zhixu. “Next time, I won’t dodge you. How’d you know I was in the hospital?”

Wen Zhixu looked at her, silent at first, a thin film of tears in her eyes, like it could break with a poke.

“Because I found out something, then called you.”

“Then what? Did you call the restaurant?”

Wen Zhixu nodded, tucking Jian Shichu’s hair behind her ear, speaking slowly. “They said you fell in the pond, so I rushed back.”

“I think I’m pretty stupid. From university to now—in high school, my dream was Beihai University. I got in, but then my goals changed. When we first met, I remember panicking at your first glance at me. Like spring dew dripping on my heart, cool yet gentle, making my heart skip quietly.”

She spoke unhurriedly, like telling a story, but her voice kept trembling.

“Later, you said you knew me, but I didn’t get what you meant back then. I never even asked why you knew about my peanut allergy. Those two years together felt like experiencing a life I’d never known. I realized a seed could still bloom into a flower in new soil.”

The flowers that year bloomed beautifully. That year, she did so many things. And that year’s Jian Shichu was really great.

“I never stopped liking you—I always did. Five years ago, Mom said I had sexual orientation cognitive disorder. I don’t know how to explain it to you now. I felt like I couldn’t live up to your deep feelings. So later, I followed her advice and got treatment. The doctor said it was an obsession with book characters, but I was clearly so sad. I clearly didn’t want to break up, but I did it anyway… to the point that…”

By this point, Wen Zhixu choked up, unable to speak. She drew breaths to steady her tone, trembling faintly all over.

“To the point that, to the point that I feel like I’m really not all that normal. I know, warming someone up and then abandoning them is truly meaningless. I broke my word. Meeting and parting are both swept along by fate—the mountains are high and the roads far, roses are hard to come by, and fateful encounters even harder to seek.”

“You came to see me, and in our first adventure, I made you lose. I’m sorry.” Wen Zhixu sniffed, looking at her, her voice trembling nonstop. “From here on out, I’ll walk the rest of the road. One person holds the umbrella, and two people walk.”

A genuine wave of emotion coursed through Jian Shichu’s heart, tears dripping onto the back of her hand with every breath. It didn’t matter if Wen Zhixu never found out in this lifetime.

The first time she saw Wen Zhixu’s article, it brought her a sense of relief she’d never felt before. That piece was about verbal bullying on campus.

She hadn’t always been like this—people change, and hers probably started that summer vacation after junior high year three.

Being a good student wasn’t hard, but getting everyone to think you were one was truly difficult. A single rumor could spark all sorts of strange gossip.

That scorching summer, the cicadas in the camphor trees shrieked endlessly. She stopped by the newsstand, flipping through that article over and over, committing the author’s name to memory time and again.

The newsstand owner’s feather duster swept the dust from the counter, blanketing her shoulders entirely—and it etched that entire youth into her memory.

Wen Zhixu’s fingers brushed away her tears, her knuckles still chilled from the cold wind’s bite.

Jian Shichu grasped her hand and looked up. “When I first arrived in Beihai, I was terrified I wouldn’t run into you. But when I did, I was even more afraid you wouldn’t remember me. I’m not that brave, but I still wanted to walk toward you.”

She let out a heavy breath, then slowly smiled. “Strangers though we were, your love at first sight was a gift. I didn’t lose.”

Wen Zhixu suddenly laughed, tears spilling from her eyes onto her cheeks. There was a response, a place to land, an accounting given—the story was supposed to end like this.

Her phone vibrated several times during all this, but Wen Zhixu still didn’t take it out to check.