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Chapter 70: To Accept Things as They Come
They stayed at home for a day and a half, and on Sunday night, Song Yu drove Yue Zhishi back to campus. The weather remained heavy and gloomy the entire time, but it refused to rain.
As he sat in the car, Yue Zhishi closed his eyes to rest. He kept remembering how Lin Rong had looked as she hugged him, reluctant for him to leave. The trunk was stuffed full of the pastries and snacks she’d made; she’d given them so much he didn’t know just how long she’d spent in the kitchen to make them all.
He was wearing the knit sweater Lin Rong had made, and placed on his legs was the book Song Jin had bought for him. He’d grown up surrounded with love and freedom — an extremely safe and stable life was laid out for him to take, and yet he wilfully, stubbornly persisted in heading towards a dead end.
On a certain level, he truly was similar to his father.
After returning to campus, they didn’t go back to their dorms. Song Yu needed to leave early the next day, so for the first time, he asked for Yue Zhishi to stay — even though the way he asked remained a vague question.
“Do you want to stay overnight at the apartment?”
Yue Zhishi naturally agreed, and when Song Yu added an extra ‘we won’t do anything’, he even said to him, “You can do anything you want.”
But Song Yu really didn’t do anything, and he sat by himself on the floor in their room, mounting a projector, as Yue Zhishi showered. He was very different from a few years ago, when he’d ruthlessly driven Yue Zhishi out of his room. Now, he could have Yue Zhishi leaning against his shoulder and very peacefully stay with him, accompanying him as they watched an anime movie Yue Zhishi liked.
Yue Zhishi’s eyes were bright, and he earnestly focused on the projection screen. He was like an adorable little animal; whenever there was an exciting moment, he would exuberantly kick his legs within the blanket and then lift his head, wrapping himself around Song Yu’s neck to give his cheek a kiss.
They often didn’t need to speak — just with one simple movement, they would be able to understand what the other person was thinking. Yue Zhishi squirmed against Song Yu’s neck, and Song Yu knew he was sleepy. He took away some of the pillows piled behind Yue Zhishi and told him to lie down.
Yue Zhishi fell asleep after desperately fighting to stay awake for the final after-credit scene. Song Yu embraced him from the back, and he gently kissed Yue Zhishi’s fair nape. His hands held onto Yue Zhishi’s arms, and he wrapped him entirely, tightly, into his arms. He was like a safe and warm protective shield, and he was also like a machine falling dormant after connecting to a power supply.
They were each other’s solace, and each other’s protection.
Most likely because he subconsciously remembered Song Yu needed to leave very early, Yue Zhishi woke before the sky had even started to brighten. Usually fond of sleeping in when next to Song Yu’s side, Yue Zhishi fuzzily moved a hand around, and after realising Song Yu was still next to him, still asleep behind his back, his heart steadied. He got up as quietly and gently as he could, and he copied what Song Yu had done before, stuffing a pillow into his arms to pretend it was him. He then ran downstairs to clean up and to make a simple breakfast.
There were only eggs, bacon and rice toast in the kitchen, but he found a bottle of mustard. The ingredients didn’t taste too bad after being put together, and he felt like Song Yu would like it.
Song Yu’s footsteps were a bit hurried as he came down, pausing halfway down the stairs when he saw Yue Zhishi coming out of the kitchen with two plates. His steps only then recovered back to their usual slow and leisurely pace.
“The things I make won’t be really delicious.” Yue Zhishi took the chance to lower Song Yu’s expectations. “Don’t be picky, and don’t tell me if it’s not nice.”
Song Yu took a bite and then looked at Yue Zhishi who seemed to not care about how it tasted. “It’s tasty.”
“Really?” Yue Zhishi tried the sandwich he’d personally made. “It seems okay.”
He felt like Song Yu’s requirements for him always seemed very low. His ability to tolerate him seemed very high, and his attitude towards him seemed extremely mild. He’d only just realised these things now, but after carefully combing through his memories, he realised Song Yu had been like this towards him since a very long time ago.
Song Yu left with his previously prepared luggage before 8am. He left in a great hurry, and Yue Zhishi took the elevator down with him, still in his pyjamas and slippers. Without any hesitation, Song Yu kissed his forehead in the elevator and told him to continue sleeping after heading back up since he didn’t have class that morning anyway.
The elevator doors slid open, and the cold wind directly slithered itself around Yue Zhishi’s neck and ankles. His eyes followed Song Yu as he entered the car park, gazing at his receding figure. Yue Zhishi was so cold his entire body was numb, and he shuddered.
“Song Yu,” he called out, very loudly. He watched as Song Yu turned around, and he initially wanted to run over — but Song Yu headed back towards with him with large strides until he arrived in front of Yue Zhishi.
Yue Zhishi dived into Song Yu’s coat very docilely and wrapped his arms around his waist. “You have to be careful. Remember to bring me a present, and don’t get sick.”
Song Yu nodded. Since there was no one around them, Yue Zhishi rose onto his tiptoes and kissed his chin. “Don’t worry about me. I’m not that sad anymore.”
He knew Song Yu had been really worried about him over the last two days at home. It was why he hadn’t stayed in his room by himself like he used to, and instead, had stayed with him in the living room and had stayed with him to do many things. Song Yu’s care was silent, without sound — it flowed like still water, smoothly and deeply.
“Don’t be afraid.” Song Yu caressed his face.
Yue Zhishi shook his head, a firm look in his eyes. “Whenever I think about how you’ve passed so many years like this, I feel so distressed. My heart hurts so much it doesn’t even have room to be afraid.” Very straightforwardly, very honestly, he said, “You don’t have to be worried about me leaving you because I’m afraid either — I won’t do that. The days where you struggled by yourself won’t come back again.”
“Do you remember my fortune stick?” Yue Zhishi tilted his head.
Song Yu gave him a very faint smile. “Let nature run its course.”
That fortune was actually his.
“Yes. We’ll face the future together.”
Worried he’d be late, Yue Zhishi retreated from Song Yu’s arms and urged him to leave. But at the very last moment, Song Yu said, “Call me again.”
“Huh?” Yue Zhishi didn’t understand. “Song Yu?”
“Call me gege.” Song Yu raised an eyebrow.
For some inexplicable reason, Yue Zhishi’s heart sped up. He was all too familiar with those two words, but being asked to say them at this very moment — there were a very subtle feeling added to those words.
“Gege…” he said softly, head lowered.
Song Yu took ahold of his waist, the buckle on his belt pushing against Yue Zhishi’s lower belly. Their chests pressed together, and Song Yu rewarded him with a kiss full of possessiveness and yearning, as well as rough breathing, damp and hot.
“Be good and wait for me to come back.”
Yue Zhishi blankly stood there for a while, his eyes chasing after Song Yu as he drove out and lingering all the way until he couldn’t see his car anymore. After going back up into the apartment, he couldn’t fall back asleep at all — so, like a qualified partner in love, he cleaned up the entire place for Song Yu before Nan Jia notified him of a meeting. He then changed his clothes and went to campus.
Because of Nan Jia’s help, the law school moved very quickly this year. It announced who passed the preliminary round very early and called up all of the students who would be representing the school in the competition for a meeting. It was very obvious the school hoped for a decent performance this time in order to wipe away its previous history.
Even though he’d known in advance that he’d passed the preliminary round, Yue Zhishi was still a bit nervous and excited when he finally arrived at the meeting. He was the last one to arrive, and as expected, the girl who wore a hanfu last time was also present. The two of them greeted each other, and Yue Zhishi noticed she was a particularly introverted lady — he needed to ask twice before he could clearly hear her name. She was called Xiao Qi.
“I’m Yue Zhishi.” He hadn’t said much else before Xiao Qi nodded and said, “I know, you’re quite famous.”
That was strange for Yue Zhishi, because he wasn’t the type of person to have hordes of friends. The other three contestants were also there: one was a girl with short, dusty blue hair in a leather jacket. She was taller than Nan Jia, and she’d come in carrying a black skateboard. She introduced herself with a simple, “I’m Qu Zhi.”
There were two other guys. One was tall and sturdy with a very weak voice, and he seemed to always speak mournfully. His name was very interesting and was as sad as his person — he was called Zhou Yi. The final contestant was very skinny, and he wore a large orange hoodie that didn’t fit him. “I’m Chen Bi, but everyone calls me Chen Pi.” He chewed on some gum, and as soon as he arrived, he started to praise and flirt with senior Nan Jia.
Nan Jia told them to sit down, introducing the arts festival’s clothing design competition rules with another senior sister. “This year’s event has been slightly changed. Each school’s team has five people. You’ve already met everyone in our team. We’ll been given a relatively long time on the runway, so we’ll need to make actual clothes for our models. We have a pretty long period of time to make those clothes, so there’ll only be one round of competition. Everyone only needs to design one set of clothes for one theme.”
That very cool-looking girl raised her hand. “Senior, will the theme be assigned to us?”
Nan Jia nodded. “But not every school will have the same theme. The organisers have drafted up different themes this year, one for each school, and we’ll be given our theme through random lottery.”
Yue Zhishi frowned. “So this competition also requires a bit of luck?”
“Something like that. There are definitely going to be both easy and difficult themes to design to.” Nan Jia shrugged. “But there’s nothing we can do about that, some themes are naturally going to be a bit more eye-catching.”
The other senior sister added, “Each theme requires three rounds during the actual runway show. We’ll need everyone to design three sets of clothes, and the designs should have as much creative structure and organisation behind it as possible. It’ll be easier to get high scores that way.”
Fellow student Zhou Yi sighed, looking very mournful. He sat on his chair like an immovable mountain and said, “But our school’s not very good at this kind of thing. We only used to get participation awards.”
On the other hand, Chen Pi was quite optimistic as he continued chewing his gum, and he looked more like an experienced competitor than Zhou Yi. “We’ll be fine, we’re mainly here just to stir up the water a bit, right, senior?”
Nan Jia opened her mouth, but before she could speak, cool girl Qu Zhi spoke first. “If you want to stir up water, why didn’t you go participate in the rowing competition?”
Xiao Qi had kept silent the entire time, and she was nervously twisting her fingers together. Yue Zhishi saw that she’d wanted to raise her hand a few times before weakly lowering it back down, so he asked her, “Xiao Qi, do you have something you want to ask?”
Everyone’s gaze gathered onto Xiao Qi’s thin and frail body, and they only saw her nervously swallow, eyes flickering around. Finally, she looked at Nan Jia. “I… I want to go to the bathroom.”
“Ay.” Chen Pi flopped back onto his desk.
As the meeting went on, things didn’t go quite as smoothly as Nan Jia had hoped. She was slightly anxious, so when the meeting finished, she stayed at the podium and gathered up all the papers and information she’d placed there. “Le Le, do you have something to do later? Come with me to the university hospital?”
Yue Zhishi immediately felt worried, and he stood up from his seat. Before he could speak, he saw that girl called Qu Zhi walk up to the front with her skateboard. “Senior, are you not feeling well?”
“Ah.” Nan Jia smiled, putting her papers into her bag. “Just a light flu.”
“I’ll go with you.” Pulling on his bag, Yue Zhishi prepared to head to the hospital with her. The tip of his tongue had been slightly torn a few days ago, but he hadn’t really felt it; he’d thought only his lip had been split. He’d only realised Song Yu had used a bit too much force last time when he felt an ulcer stinging.
“I want to grab some medicine too.” He stood behind them and stuck out the tip of his tongue. He took a photo of it with his phone and magnified it, looking at that tiny white ulcer on his tongue. Then, in the spirit of criticism and reproach, he pulled up WeChat and sent the photo to Song Yu.
[Le Le: Look.]
Qu Zhi was standing at the podium, and she took out her phone. “Senior, can I add your WeChat?”
Naturally, Nan Jia didn’t refuse and also pulled out her phone. “Sure.” She opened her WeChat, giving the QR code for Qu Zhi to scan.
“Your skateboard’s so cool.” Nan Jia lowered her head to look at the skateboard on the floor. There was a line of words printed at the top, and it looked like Spanish. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to skate, but I’m a bit scared.”
“I can teach you.” Qu Zhi shook her phone. “I’ve added you, so you can look for me any time you want to learn.”
The three of them prepared to leave, and Qu Zhi stepped on one end of the skateboard, the board flipping up. She nimbly caught it with a hand and followed them downstairs. Once they exited the building, she got onto the skateboard, looking entirely like she was about to leave.
“See you tomorrow.” Yue Zhishi waved a hand at her in goodbye, and she gave him a grin before looking at Nan Jia.
She said, “You can also look for me if you want someone to go with you to the doctor.”
Nan Jia laughed very cheerfully. “Will you take me there with a skateboard?”
Qu Zhi also laughed. “What about something with an engine? Certificate included.”
She skated away once she finished speaking, her silhouette very fearless. Yue Zhishi watched Qu Zhi’s figure for a little while, head tilted to the side, and then glanced at Nan Jia. He blinked twice. “There’s something I don’t know if I should say.”
Ridiculously amused, Nan Jia rushed to speak first. “I also have something to say. You should cut your hair.”
“It doesn’t look nice like this?” Yue Zhishi grabbed some of his hair. “They all say I look more like I’m mixed when my hair’s longer.”
“What do you mean like you’re mixed — you’re mixed to begin with.” Nan Jia covered her face with a mask from her bag and sighed at Yue Zhishi. Maybe it was because she was sick, but for the first time, she exposed some weariness in front of Yue Zhishi. She usually looked like a superwoman. “What should we do? I feel like the competition’s not going to be any good this year. Other than you with your good personality and ability, the rest of our team seem to be indifferent, not quite right or hard to work with.”
“Not at all.” Yue Zhishi had an extremely positive mindset. “Senior, I think this team of ours might actually end up doing fairly well.”
Nan Jia smiled. “Why?”
“Because we’re very similar.” Placing his two hands into his hoodie’s pocket, Yue Zhishi gazed at the golden fallen leaves.
“One mournful, one mischievous. One small loli girl who looks so frail she wouldn’t be able to withstand the wind, and one very modern, very unconventional cool girl. Once you add me in, our team is pretty much like one of those dark horse teams in manga — the ones that have other people looking down at them in the beginning before slapping their faces later. We’re very much that classic example.”
With an extremely carefree and confident look on his face, he patted Nan Jia’s shoulder and said, “We’ll be fine. Trust me.”
Nan Jia looked at his eyes, focusing on them for a good while, and then she finally shook her head. “I understand now.”
“Understand what?”
“Why everyone likes you.” Nan Jia’s eyes were like curved moons. “Then I’ll trust you. No problems, right?”
Yue Zhishi smiled as brightly as the shining sun. “Don’t worry, Akagi Haruko-chan.”
His cellphone vibrated — Song Yu’s reply.
[Gege: Is this one of your seduction tactics?]
The author has something to say:
Song–king of fantasising things with his brain–LSP–Yu