Chapter 30
It wasn’t Fu Bei.
Thinking it might be someone else, it turned out to be Tang Yi. Hearing Qin Si was back, she called to ask, assuming Qiao Xi was home at this late hour.
Seeing the caller ID on the screen, Qin Si pretended she hadn’t looked just now and turned to chat with Wan San and the others. She knew Tang Yi, having met her many times before, but they weren’t close, just nodding acquaintances.
While Qiao Xi was on the phone, Qin Si said something to the others. Afterward, Wan San and the group went to get their cars, informed her, and left.
After the call ended, only the two of them remained. Qiao Xi asked, “Aren’t you going back?”
She hadn’t expected Qin Si to wait for her. After all, this person never did; every time they finished something, she would leave alone, disappearing without a trace.
Qin Si said, “Standing for a while, enjoying the breeze.”
Qiao Xi thought that since she was back, everyone might arrange to go singing or drinking together. Instead, the group dispersed in the time it took to answer a phone call. But it was normal; having just returned, she should rest.
The wind picked up at night. The university town area was relatively open and flat. Even with shops open everywhere, it felt a bit quiet. Qin Si seemed to have something to say but wasn’t in a rush. She was fierce during the day but surprisingly gentle at night—well, not exactly gentle, just quiet towards Qiao Xi, unlike how she was with others.
When they first met, Qiao Xi didn’t have a good impression of her, arguably disliking her. But after spending time together, she found this person was actually quite nice. She rarely said anything pleasant, but never did anything malicious. Complaining about this and that all day, saying this was wrong and that was wrong, yet she still taught patiently and never lost her temper.
After driving her to her place, Qiao Xi drove back.
Before parting, Qin Si suddenly called out to her, saying, “I have nothing to do these next two days. Let’s have a meal when you’re free.”
Really didn’t know how to talk properly. Inviting someone to dinner without asking if they had time, just saying she had nothing to do herself.
Closing the car door, Qiao Xi replied, “We’ll see. I have appointments at the shop tomorrow.”
Qin Si’s expression froze for a moment, a flash of disappointment passing by. But hidden by the night and the shadow where she stood, Qiao Xi didn’t notice these subtle changes.
The red Jeep drove slowly on the busy road, getting further and further away until it disappeared. Qin Si stood there for a long time, not looking in that direction, only gazing at the school gate where people came and went. The night was heavy and thick. Inside, there were faint lights, but the specific shapes couldn’t be seen clearly, the end nowhere in sight.
**
The phone rang once, then again.
The first time it rang, Qiao Xi glanced at the caller ID. It was a familiar string of numbers. Knowing who it was, she didn’t answer. The second time was an unfamiliar number, likely the person calling from a different number; she didn’t answer either.
The phone didn’t ring a third time. Fu Bei was too self-aware and knew her too well. Not answering twice meant either she didn’t see it or truly didn’t want to answer. In either case, calling again wasn’t appropriate.
Qiao Xi wasn’t the type to be coy. Not wanting to answer meant really not wanting to answer, not playing hard to get. If truly annoyed, she would turn off her phone directly. If there was a third time, she might have blacklisted the person.
Approaching the residential complex, her heart tightened. She straightened her back for no reason, staring fixedly at the road ahead, gradually slowing the car down. Unfortunately, when she reached the parking spot, it was empty, nothing there. In an instant, she couldn’t describe the feeling—perhaps a trace of disappointment that shouldn’t exist, perhaps a sigh of relief.
The moon was bright and stars sparse in the sky. Apart from the streetlights still on, most households had turned off their lights, the buildings pitch black.
Qiao Xi went up alone, taking the elevator to the twelfth floor. Turning to her door, just past the corner, she suddenly saw a bouquet of white-petaled, yellow-centered daffodils placed in front of the closed door.
Someone had come, knowing she would be back late, so they left the flowers at the door instead of sending them to the shop or the security booth; otherwise, she definitely wouldn’t have gotten them today.
Qiao Xi pursed her lips, roughly guessing who had sent the previous flowers. She really didn’t want to bring the daffodils inside, but after hesitating for a long time, she carried them in.
Throwing them away as trash would be a waste; such a fresh and beautiful bouquet must have cost several hundred.
Before going to sleep, she unlocked her screen and inadvertently scrolled to the call log. The log was short, just a few numbers. Clicking into the string of numbers without a contact name—Fu Bei’s calls—aside from the first one, she hadn’t answered any of the others.
Lost in thought for a moment, she opened the bedside table drawer. Seeing the bracelet casually thrown inside, she frowned, suddenly recalling some things.
Too long ago. The years after twelve passed in a flash, and in the blink of an eye, she was in the first year of high school.
Qiao Xi’s memory of studying was neither good nor bad. School days for her seemed just like that—endless books to memorize, endless papers to write, teachers chattering incessantly on the podium, wishing they could teach by pulling the students’ ears. Middle school life felt like just yesterday.
Muddled along, just passed like that.
Thinking back carefully, the three years were like the first light snow in winter, drifting down from the sky, melting upon hitting the ground, merging into the mud without leaving a trace.
During these three years, the relationship between Qiao Jianliang and Mother Qiao grew colder day by day, from mutual disgust to current indifference. Living under the same roof every day, but the other person no longer existed in their eyes. Fortunately, they stopped quarreling.
When a relationship breaks down to a certain extent, even quarreling is a luxury.
Back then, internet chicken soup for the soul was prevalent, with all kinds of buzzwords overwhelming the sky. One of them roughly meant that two people in love would speak the truth when quarreling; love or lack thereof was all reflected in a quarrel.
At first, Qiao Xi thought this sentence was correct. Gradually, she realized otherwise. Most of the time, quarreling was to vent, because of unwillingness, and there was still room for turning back. Even if the words spoken were vicious, there was still a desire to return.
Qiao Jianliang and Mother Qiao didn’t even quarrel anymore; there was no room left to turn back. In front of her, the couple became harmonious and friendly, even laughing and talking. The past hysteria vanished in the river of time. The lump in their throats was finally relieved, and the couple walked towards the paths they each wanted.
Once, Qiao Xi was hiding in the stairwell, listening to them discuss divorce matters in the living room.
“When Little Xi turns eighteen, we’ll go get the certificate. Just two or three years; let’s part on good terms,” Mother Qiao said, a look of relief on her face.
Qiao Jianliang had no objections, only one request: not to let Qiao Xi know for the time being.
“Don’t affect her studies.”
Mother Qiao was peeling an apple. “I know; no need to remind me.”
Then they began discussing how to divide the property. Truly strange; fighting to the death when quarreling, but calm when dividing property. Many remarried couples fought over money, yet they were quite harmonious here.
Qiao Jianliang made the concession first, deciding to give most of the real estate to Mother Qiao, leaving the rest for their lawyers to discuss.
Qiao Xi leaned back against the wall. It was clearly midsummer, yet her fingertips were a bit cold. She lowered her eyes, looking down at her toes, wanting to walk away but remaining motionless.
Until Mother Qiao’s voice came from below again—”Alright, isn’t Qiao Xi following you? Divide it how it should be divided; no need for you to yield.”
The two were truly thoughtful, not forgetting their daughter even when dividing property. His, hers, and Qiao Xi’s—divided clearly and plainly, absolutely no entanglement left.
Just based on this point, the couple was better than other divorced parents. At least they didn’t forget the little one when dividing money, not tearing each other apart over finances to an irremediable point. In the past, they stabbed each other in the heart, wishing the other dead; in the end, they were surprisingly decent, even thinking for each other.
When Qiao Xi went out, they were no longer discussing these things. Mother Qiao cut the peeled apple into pieces, put them on a plate, and handed it to Qiao Xi, saying gently, “Eat more apples; good for your health.”
Qiao Xi stood motionless. There wasn’t a single tear in her eyes, but her lips were pressed tight.
Mother Qiao had returned to her original gentle and amiable motherly appearance. It should have been a happy thing, but there was no joy in her heart.
During the period of fiercest quarreling with Qiao Jianliang, Mother Qiao had almost shouted in front of her: “Don’t know what sin I committed in my past life to owe you people. Now repaying the debt; I deserve it all!”
Compared to now, simply two different appearances.
In the years living in the North District, Mother Qiao’s goodness was genuine, a mother’s selfless devotion to her child, worthy of being called maternal love. But the goodness now came with conditions; it was just a disguise.
Qiao Jianliang carefully asked about Qiao Xi’s study situation, whether she had adjusted to high school, if she could keep up with the teacher’s pace, and so on. Qiao Xi wasn’t good at studying; the couple had already accepted the fact. As long as she didn’t cause trouble, finishing high school and going to university was enough. The family didn’t lack money; at worst, they would fund her to start a business after graduation.
A few years ago, it was free-range parenting; now it was just casual parenting.
Qiao Xi obediently ate the apple and went to the Fu house next door after finishing.
The old lady was watering flowers in the backyard. Fu Bei wasn’t home; she had gone to class. University courses were arranged according to the teacher’s schedule. Some professional teachers taught at two schools simultaneously, or due to other force majeure reasons, causing time conflicts. Some classes were specifically scheduled on weekends.
“She’s not coming home tonight, staying at school. Should be back in two days,” the old lady said.
In her freshman year, Fu Bei didn’t live on campus. The compound was far from Jiang City University, causing many inconveniences, so she moved into the dorms later. Since then, Qiao Xi often missed her. Before, she could see her on weekends; now she couldn’t even see her then.
She begged for Fu Bei’s class schedule on the Jiang University forum and sneaked over.
At that time, Fu Bei was having a class in Teaching Building 1, Room 306. During the five-minute break, someone appeared next to her.
First-year high school student Qiao Xi had lost a lot of weight and grown taller. Her appearance was gradually blooming, hovering between maturity and childishness, but still petite. Mixed in the diverse student crowd, she was still very eye-catching. Fortunately, the professor teaching this class had a mild temper. Noticing an extra person sitting next to Fu Bei, he was only slightly displeased but didn’t say anything, pretending not to see.
Not expecting her to find her way here, Fu Bei was stunned.
Fu Bei was always used to sitting alone at the back, which made it convenient for Qiao Xi to find her quickly and also convenient for Qiao Xi to make small moves.
A fifteen or sixteen-year-old girl, observing no rules at all, understanding even less about distance. While class hadn’t started yet, she scooted over directly next to Fu Bei, almost pasting herself entirely onto her.
“Nothing to do, so I came to find you,” she said dryly, glancing at the other party.
Fu Bei was organizing her notes. Turning her head to look, she replied, “No class in the next classroom; go wait there.”
“No.” Qiao Xi refused directly, completely unreasonable. “Right here. I won’t disturb your class.”
Fu Bei ignored her, repeating, “Wait next door, or go back.”
“You’re not at the compound; don’t want to go back.” Qiao Xi was thick-skinned, looking like she wouldn’t budge even if she died.
Staying by Fu Bei’s side all these years, she used to feel bad when rejected at first. Gradually, she became impervious. Whatever Fu Bei said went in one ear and out the other. She listened to what suited her and treated what didn’t as wind passing the ear—blown away and forgotten.
Fu Bei put on a cold and distant front but never put it into practice. Just like now, she wouldn’t really make her leave. If she didn’t go, she could only let her stay in the classroom. Moreover, hearing Qiao Xi’s words just now, her hand froze, her slender fingers curling slightly.
Silence prevailed in the end.
Only when the class bell rang did she whisper a sentence: “Behave yourself; don’t disturb the class order.”
Qiao Xi succeeded, obediently staying quiet.
A short class lasted forty-five minutes. Sitting idly was inevitably boring. Not understanding what the professor was teaching and not wanting to play on her phone, she lay on the table resting her head on her arms. Her two long, bare white legs stretched straight forward, accidentally kicking the person in front and almost getting stepped on, so she quickly pulled them back.
University desks weren’t individual ones like in high school but rows connected together. Her movement could be clearly felt by the person next to her.
Fu Bei paused, tilting her head slightly to look down. The little girl lay there nonchalantly, lacking any self-awareness.
The weather was too hot, and Qiao Xi was wearing extremely short shorts. Her current physique was on the lean side, and when sitting, the shorts rode up almost to the tops of her thighs. Yet there was no excess fat. Young and lacking vigilance, she didn’t know how many times people around her had stolen glances.
Fifteen or sixteen, her physique and appearance were leaning towards adulthood. If not for the heavy air of childishness, one really couldn’t tell much difference between her and these university students.
Fu Bei cast a lukewarm glance at the few boys around who kept looking over, her expression slightly sullen and unfriendly. Those people tactfully stopped staring. Qiao Xi noticed none of this, taking out her phone to check the time. Only a little over ten minutes had passed; truly long and unbearable.
“After this class, any more classes?” she whispered, leaning sideways.
Fu Bei immediately turned away, just avoiding her touch. Checking the podium first to ensure the professor hadn’t noticed, she replied, “There’s one in the evening.”
Qiao Xi’s face fell instantly. She was in a terrible mood, extremely irritable. She came to find Fu Bei to relieve her mood, but she picked the wrong time. Still, she followed the rules, sitting obediently without causing trouble.
Her life had always been too simple, simple enough that she couldn’t find anyone to share her joys and sorrows with. The hardships and bitterness given by her family—when she couldn’t swallow them, she couldn’t help but find someone to distract herself. Fu Bei became that person.
In the day-after-day dull time, if one couldn’t find a direction forward, one could only pin oneself on others. Her dependence on her grew day by day. No one ever thought about whether this dependence was right or wrong. Day by day, year by year, it was like scratching marks on wet cement. Once solidified, the shape was unchangeable unless smashed and repoured.
Qiao Xi couldn’t control her desire to look at this person, so she peeked secretly out of the corner of her eye.
Fu Bei was too serious, never focusing on her from beginning to end, listening to the class while taking notes.
Her handwriting was beautiful—vigorous and powerful, majestic, every stroke revealing strength.
This reminded Qiao Xi of when she was a few years old learning calligraphy at Li Xunian’s place. Fu Bei stood behind her, teaching her how to write hand in hand.
She didn’t think much of it then, but now the memory was vivid, recalling every movement. Fu Bei’s hands were cool and larger than hers, easily enveloping them. Occasionally when her mind wandered, this person would stop, sternly reminding her to be serious and not half-hearted.
For some reason, the more she thought about that beautiful and warm scene, the more awkward Qiao Xi felt. Tilting her head, she stared straight at Fu Bei’s distinct profile. Perhaps hitting some hidden thought, her ears suddenly burned.
Maybe she was crooked to the core, born this way.
But she didn’t understand then, unable to delve into what exactly that feeling was. Just subconsciously, when Fu Bei put down her hand to feel for the ruler under the table, as if possessed, she reached out and suddenly grabbed two of Fu Bei’s fingers.
The little girl’s face was innocent and pure. Tilting her head, she called out softly: “Fu Bei…”
