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Chapter 80: The Heart Hiding Away Jade
On the second night of their hotel stay, Yue Zhishi and Song Yu soaked for a very long time in their bathtub with the beautiful ceiling to floor window.
It was wildly storming outside, yet the storm contained so many flashing neon lights. Leaning back against Song Yu’s chest, Yue Zhishi gazed out, feeling as though he was observing an exquisite Christmas snow globe — the scene inside was so very fake.
Later, Song Yu moved Yue Zhishi’s chin from the back, gently and silently raising Yue Zhishi’s head, before lowering his own and kissing Yue Zhishi’s forehead. After that, Yue Zhishi felt — it was them who were fake.
They were the ones who were locked away in the snow globe.
Before they went to sleep, Song Yu sat on the bed and said he wanted to listen to Yue Zhishi reciting his diary entries. It was nothing more than just random chatter, but Yue Zhishi actually went and brought out his diary — and not just one.
“Why’d you still bring these even though you were travelling so far away?” Song Yu randomly grabbed one of the diaries from the pile and flipped through it.
Yue Zhishi said, looking completely natural as though what he’d done was to be expected, “I thought you were still working outside. What if you couldn’t fall asleep? If you called me, then I could’ve read something out for you.”
Seemingly casually, Song Yu asked, “And if I didn’t call you?”
“Then…” Yue Zhishi pressed his lips together and then pretended to breezily flip open a page. “Then I’d just carry them all back home. It’s not like they’re heavy.”
Before even two seconds had passed, Yue Zhishi spoke again, insisting, “But I think you would’ve called me.” He emphasised, not sure if he was persuading himself or Song Yu, “Song Yu, the quality of your sleep is truly very poor.”
He didn’t think Song Yu could argue about something so irrefutable.
“I don’t have poor sleep.”
“Then why ask me to read my diary to you everyday.”
With his head lowered, Song Yu squeezed Yue Zhishi’s clean and slender fingertips. “That’s because I really missed you.”
Yue Zhishi didn’t think he’d be so candid all of a sudden, and for some reason, he started to stammer. “But, but you were still taking melatonin a while ago.”
“Same reason,” Song Yu quietly said.
And perhaps the confusion and anxiety towards not knowing how to face the future were included in there as well — after all, to someone like Song Yu who preferred to take and fulfil every step according to the time and order written in his plans, ‘not knowing’ was undoubtedly the hardest.
An impossible single-sided love wouldn’t create so much pain since it was already established as ‘impossible’. But what he faced was a love that was ‘possible’ and full of possibilities, yet would pull each other into the abyss.
Yue Zhishi lightly, softly kissed the side of Song Yu’s face. “I really missed you too.”
He said, voice very low, “I’m already used to missing you.”
Choosing a diary entry that looked silly, Yue Zhishi started to read it out for Song Yu.
“I bumped into Xiao Yu gege’s classmate today at the convenience store. I actually didn’t have any money, I’m really poor, but he wanted me to go with him to buy some spicy strips. And then Xiao Yu gege’s classmate said I was cute and even gave me a packet of Wangzai milk candy. My own classmate also gave me half a bag of spicy strips.”
As he listened, Song Yu went through the other diary in his hand. It was quite different from the one Yue Zhishi was reading from; this diary seemed to have been written when he was in his first year of junior high. His handwriting was much nicer, no longer crooked and messy, with hints of how it’d look like after growing up.
[School started today. The people in my class are all really nice, they even invited me out to drink milk tea with them after school. But I wasn’t very happy.]
Yue Zhishi continued reciting, “Even though I don’t have any money, luckily I have gege. I managed to get a free bag of candy.”
Song Yu continued reading on.
[Why wouldn’t he let me call him gege? I don’t understand. And not letting other people know about our relationship — does he not want to be my gege that badly?
After school ended, Jiang Yufan and I were in front of the milk tea shop and saw gege buying some books in the bookstore. He clearly saw me, but he still walked away. I felt a hole tear into my heart. I clearly drank so much sweet milk tea, but I couldn’t taste it. Maybe it all dribbled out from that hole.
It wasn’t sweet at all. It felt both painful and bitter.
Want to go back to elementary school.]
“That’s so funny, how could I’ve liked taking things for free since I was a kid.” Yue Zhishi flipped to another page, his mind still on the previous one. “I remember people kept wanting to give me snacks at the park, but I couldn’t eat most of them. I’m so pitiful, the heavens gave me a face that could easily trick people into giving me things to eat and drink, but it took away my ability to casually eat just anything.”
Sensing Song Yu’s lack of response, Yue Zhishi turned his face over and raised his head to look at him. “Are you listening?”
Song Yu let out a ‘mn’, closing the diary in his hand.
“Should I keep reading? Or are we going to sleep.”
Song Yu stroked his face. “Let’s sleep. Your voice’s still a bit hoarse, don’t read anymore.”
Yue Zhishi said sure, and then lay down, prompting Song Yu to turn off the lights. The wind blew loudly outside, so loudly it was a bit exaggerated. It was as though this magnificent high-rise could collapse or be swept away by the wind at any moment, everything in imminent danger.
The lights in the room darkened one by one. Song Yu didn’t turn all of them off; he left the warmly yellow bedside lamp and lay down to face Yue Zhishi, silently studying his face. He was always subconsciously deliberating about how they could avoid any risks, avoid any danger — but in the end, he still wilfully allowed everything to turn into a situation different from what he’d imagined.
He really wanted to know what he should do in order to shape Yue Zhishi into a victim in front of his parents. He didn’t want them to punish Yue Zhishi and him, and yet he wanted them to realise they were truly in love with each other and not the result of a one-sided coaxing — so that they could be forgiven.
No matter the result, Song Yu could accept it — but he didn’t want Yue Zhishi to bear it.
He didn’t want to see Yue Zhishi once again write down in his diary, [Want to go back to before we were together].
And for this reason, Song Yu started to think, what if.
“Le Le.”
Hearing Song Yu call him, Yue Zhishi blinked open his eyes and shifted towards Song Yu’s direction. The sound of his voice came gently, drifting through his nose. “Hm?”
“If we weren’t together.”
He didn’t even finish his question.
Yue Zhishi didn’t know what he was going to say, whether it was a hypothesis he’d already thought up or whether he was going to directly ask ‘what would you do’ — but to Yue Zhishi, it was all the same.
Yue Zhishi didn’t speak.
It was very rare for him to not answer a question from Song Yu.
When he saw Yue Zhishi’s eyes turn red, gaze avoiding him and looking towards a different direction, and saw his chest rise and fall from his deep breaths, Song Yu couldn’t continue. Very quickly, he leaned over and wrapped Yue Zhishi into his arms. He circled his ams around him with some strength and said he was just casually asking, there was no further meaning behind his question.
But Yue Zhishi still didn’t speak. Because of his silence, Song Yu instantly gave up many of the thoughts floating around in his mind.
“I won’t ask such useless questions anymore.” Song Yu kissed Yue Zhishi’s earlobe, his voice very soft, very quiet as he promised, “It’s impossible for us to not be together.”
Yue Zhishi held onto Song Yu’s waist, burying his face into Song Yu’s collarbones.
He no longer had any ability to say lies like [I’d leave all of you behind and live by myself].
Song Yu had very repetitive dreams that night. He dreamed of an endless black sea, and he and Yue Zhishi were huddled against each other in an old and worn-out little boat. He liked being able to see what was coming at a glance, and yet he was trapped on the sea, adrift and directionless.
After a period of time, Yue Zhishi suddenly stood up from his arms and walked to the edge of the boat, gazing outwards to the world beyond with great expectation. The Song Yu in the dream was a bit flustered, but he realised he couldn’t move at all — he could only stare and watch as Yue Zhishi stood on the edge.
Yue Zhishi fortunately didn’t end up jumping down. He returned back to Song Yu’s side, caressing his arm, and then embraced him.
The boat didn’t head towards any particular island, and once it became morning, Song Yu woke up. Yue Zhishi was correct — he truly did have poor sleep quality.
Yue Zhishi was still sleeping next to him, his fingers lightly resting on Song Yu’s arm. His breaths came evenly and deeply, and his curled up sleeping position was very similar to how he’d looked in Song Yu’s dream.
Having just woken up, Song Yu’s mind was still slightly cloudy. He wanted to get out of bed and drink some water, but he’d just sat up when he felt something tugging at his hand. He looked over, lifting the caught hand, and saw a long and thin black ribbon tied around his wrist. He didn’t know when it’d been wrapped around him.
Following along the line, he found the other side.
It was tied around Yue Zhishi’s right hand.
–
The typhoon left Guangzhou together with them before they each went their own separate paths.
The few days in Guangzhou had been like a dream: beautiful yet unrealistic. As he travelled back to his familiar campus, Yue Zhishi thought — it wasn’t just Guangzhou.
Ever since he’d gotten together with Song Yu, every day was like a dream.
Yue Zhishi fell asleep again on the bullet train, and when he woke up, he noticed he was holding something in his hand. Song Yu pretended to not know anything, allowing Yue Zhishi to clutch his arm and ask many, many questions, like ‘is this your present to me?’ or ‘when’d you put it into my hand?’. He only admitted to it after he felt  Yue Zhishi’s chatter was possibly bothering other people, turning his head over and stopping Yue Zhishi’s lips from moving with a kiss.
“I didn’t actually find this. It’s a mineral I bought from a local.” Song Yu was extremely honest.
“That’s fine, I feel like you can’t keep finding expensive stones anyway.” Yue Zhishi played with the stone in his hand, a lustrous dark green seen from the cut side. “What kind of stone is this?”
“Tibetan jade.” (zàng yù)
“Zàng?” Yue Zhishi raised his eyes to look at him. “The zàng from Tibet?” (xī zàng)
“Mn.”
Yue Zhishi thought of the other way that first character could be pronounced and then suddenly cheered up.
“I like its name.” Yue Zhishi held the stone carefully in his hands, treasuring it, and then held it to his chest.
“I’m going to hide him away.”
He’d purchased many local snacks when he was in Guangzhou, wanting to bring them back for Lin Rong, but as soon as he got back, he realised he had no time to go home and visit her. Yue Zhishi became busy with his coursework and the mock trial that followed right after, and any leftover time was given to the arts festival.
Having obtained their fabrics and, through Xiao Qi, found a clothing production factory willing to work with students, the team held meetings again and again, editing their designs, making their patterns before editing them again. Nan Jia placed all her time onto their models; Yue Zhishi would sometimes run to watch them train, relaxing after being exhausted from constantly modifying their work.
“I think you’d really suit heading onstage yourself, probably a lot more suitable than these tall and dumb basketball players.” Nan Jia teased him, “What a waste of your small pretty face.”
Yue Zhishi stretched, sitting crosslegged in front of a row of large mirrors. He was thoroughly pleased with the long legs walking in front of him. “No way, I want to rely on my skills to earn money for food. Besides, I need to earn lots and lots of money.”
“Why do you suddenly want to earn so much money?” Nan Jia found him adorable.
“Ah…” Thinking he couldn’t really say his reason out loud, Yue Zhishi grabbed at his hair. “I just suddenly understood the importance of money.”
Nan Jia released a long, long ‘oh’, before rushing up to fix someone’s questionable stage walk.
Yue Zhishi looked over, his gaze revolving around the other people also training their walk. He saw someone that looked very familiar — to the point he even took that person for someone else.
But it wasn’t him.
“Senior Nan Jia, that guy,” he pointed at him for Nan Jia to see, “can you give me his contact details?”
“I want him to try on my closing show outfit.”
After leaving the dance studio used for training, Yue Zhishi fell headfirst once again into his studies and stayed in a self-study classroom until very late. The corridor was very cold when he came out, and he abruptly very much missed Song Yu. Within the last week after returning back to campus, both of them had been so busy they’d only had time to eat together or occasionally see other on the basketball courts. This sudden stretching of social distance between them left Yue Zhishi constantly in a daze, and he frequently thought about those close and intimate days they’d spent in Guangzhou.
His feet stopped in front of an automatic coffee vending machine. Yue Zhishi clicked on the screen with some hesitation, wondering if he should get a latte or a macchiato, and when he finally decided and chose one, someone appeared next to him as he was preparing to pull out his phone to pay.
Raising his head, Yue Zhishi saw Song Yu stretch out a hand, cancelling the choice on the screen.
He placed a glass bottle of warm milk onto Yue Zhishi’s hand. “Drinking coffee at this time. Are you planning on not sleeping?”
A very real sense of heat transmitted onto his skin, and Yue Zhishi only belatedly asked after a good few seconds had passed, “How are you here?”
Song Yu didn’t directly answer his question, merely taking off the scarf around his neck and wrapping it around Yue Zhishi’s empty neck. “I heard from Nan Jia that you were still studying in a self-study classroom. I came by on my way from the research lab.”
Almost twenty minutes of walking lay between his research lab and this particular self-study classroom — there was no ‘on his way’.
A wave of rich, strong sweetness gradually rose in Yue Zhishi’s heart. A pair of girls walked past them, and one of them looked over; Yue Zhishi waited for them to disappear before easing slightly closer, saying to Song Yu with a small smile, “What a coincidence you’re here. I was just thinking of you.”
Faced with Yue Zhishi’s straightforward expressions of love, Song Yu felt like he might take an entire lifetime and still not be able to get used to them. No matter how many times Yue Zhishi said words of love, Song Yu’s heart would still faintly speed up, and then, like a cat with his tail stroked, lose a bit of his steadiness. Even though he hated losing his superficial calmness, if it was for something like this, he didn’t really mind.
He hoped Yue Zhishi would express his love to him for their entire lives.
It was the deep of the night, and as they walked along the empty dark roads in the campus, Yue Zhishi would boldly grab Song Yu’s fingers occasionally. His hand was very warm from holding the milk and was very comfortable to hold. Whenever there was any noise, he’d let go in a panic — before realising it was just a stray cat.
Before taking him back to his dorm, Song Yu brought Yue Zhishi through a small grove. It wasn’t considered far from Yue Zhishi’s dormitory building, and whenever he wasn’t in a rush to head to class, he’d sometimes give it a few more looks. Trees he couldn’t name were planted here, and they turned spectacular in autumn, a whole field of gold with old leaves slowly, gently alighting like butterflies.
At night, the grove was completely pitch black. There wasn’t anything beautiful to see, and even the fallen leaves were like dark clouds headed onto the wrong paths.
The ground, covered with leaves, rustled as they walked. Yue Zhishi held onto Song Yu’s hand until they reached a large tree, and then he trampled on the leaves as he went around it, almost in revenge — this way, if someone passing by heard the noise, they would be able to guess there was a couple here.
But they wouldn’t be able to see them, wouldn’t be able to realise it was Song Yu and him. The dark was their protective umbrella.
“Having fun?” Song Yu asked in low voice.
Before he could reply and before he could take lift up his leg to take another step, Yue Zhishi suddenly heard the noise of rustling leaves coming from a different direction.
“Someone’s coming.” Yue Zhishi dragged Song Yu behind the tree. He wanted to hide in Song Yu’s coat, but his coat was all buttoned up; Yue Zhishi very anxiously rushed to undo them, throwing it open, and then slid his way in, the entire string of actions feeling a bit strange no matter how Song Yu looked at it.
The grove wasn’t small, and the sounds of footsteps were the scattered, irregular rhythm of two people. Unlike what Yue Zhishi had expected, they seemed to stop at a place not too far away.
He stuck closely to Song Yu’s chest, Song Yu leaning against the large tree, and the two of them maintained their silence.
But the other couple knew nothing of what was happening, and they hadn’t come to the grove with Yue Zhishi’s pure goal of ‘stepping on leaves’. They spoke a few times — the girl’s voice was witty and lively, and she threw out a very loveable joke. The guy pretended to be angry, saying if she continued to talk, he was going to kiss her.
“But I want to… mmph!”
And then, Yue Zhishi could only hear the wet and breathy sounds of kissing.
It was a bit awkward. Hiding in Song Yu’s arms, he could feel his face burning and heating up a ridiculous amount as though he was drunk — even though he hadn’t gotten drunk even once. The sounds became all the more distinct, and Yue Zhishi subconsciously wanted to move away from Song Yu’s embrace. His body had just shifted when Song Yu’s arms caged around his waist.
He lifted his head; he gazed towards Song Yu’s handsome face, unrealistic in the dark, and met his eyes.
Using a voice only the two of them could hear, Song Yu warned, “You’ll be seen if you move backwards.”
Crushed, broken leaves couldn’t hide secrets.
Yue Zhishi’s heart was running very quickly. He couldn’t move, yet he needed to try to not listen to other people’s covert intimacy — he lowered his head in embarrassment, secretly regretting his decision to pull Song Yu here behind the tree.
But Song Yu held onto him, the metal buckle on his belt wearing away at Yue Zhishi just like their current situation. Chests tightly pressed against each other, so closely united there was no space in between — even the cold, pleasant scent on Song Yu’s body turned suggestive and scorching hot.
When Song Yu dipped his head, his lips touching the tip of Yue Zhishi’s ear, the fragrance cocooned around his difficult to speak out thoughts like fog.
Opening his mouth, he used a tender voice to abduct away Yue Zhishi’s reservations.
“You really don’t want to kiss me?”