Tang Yang glanced at Jiang Shiyan, who looked disheveled, his chest heaving.
Song Jing had asked her out for a meal. Though she didn’t know his reasons, she wanted to return the red string he had once given her.
They had exchanged other gifts, which could be lost to time, but this red string held Song Jing’s longevity lock, which he had worn since birth.
Tang Yang found the box while packing during her senior year.
She had wanted to return it then, but Song Jing had gone to military school for his postgraduate studies, cutting off all communication. Ten years passed in the blink of an eye.
Tang Yang considered herself unsentimental. Once a relationship ended, it was over. She didn’t want any lingering attachments to Song Jing, so she agreed to meet him, insisting on returning the gift.
Song Jing chose a conventional restaurant for their meeting.
As they sat across from each other, both smiled, their expressions tinged with a hint of nostalgia.
They had truly been together once, and their breakup had been equally abrupt—
When Tang Yang and Song Jing were dating, Jiang Shiyan, despite being their “matchmaker,” had distanced himself from both of them.
Tang Yang and Song Jing understood the meaning behind this distance. Initially, their relationship was genuinely sweet. They would chat for half an hour every night, discussing mathematical problems or current events. Tang Yang would visit Song Jing, and although he preferred simplicity, he would take her to nice restaurants. On crowded buses, he would use his height to create space for her, carry her bag, and buy snacks along the way. On a perfect sunny afternoon, he asked her, “Shall we hold hands?” Tang Yang nodded gently, and only then did Song Jing take her hand.
During their long-distance relationship, Song Jing busied himself with tasks assigned by his advisor, while Tang Yang solved problems on her own. When Tang Yang was occupied with her models, Song Jing worked on his projects.
Tang Yang was obedient and understanding, while Song Jing was considerate and gentle. Their relationship lacked drama, tantrums, or selfishness. It was as mild as Song Jing himself, like the gentle breeze that swept across the mountains when they were eighteen.
Until the new year came, and the winter break ended.
Tang Yang still sent Song Jing random messages every night. At first, he would reply with a sentence or two, then it became just “Oh” or “Mm,” and eventually, Tang Yang’s nightly “Good night” messages lined up in a compulsively neat row.
At that time, Tang Yang’s father gave her a generous allowance, allowing her to buy tickets to Song Jing’s city whenever she wanted. But she didn’t realize then that this was a form of cold violence. She assumed Song Jing was just busy and, as usual, waited until the first of the next month to visit him, feeling slightly disappointed.
The northern city hadn’t yet warmed up in March, and a late spring chill brought biting winds.
The airport was under renovation, and Tang Yang got lost. She took a long detour out of the hall and was suddenly hit by the cold, letting out a sneeze.
Tang Yang called Song Jing, but he didn’t answer. She took a bus to his school.
The bus had a stuffy smell of gasoline. Tang Yang had trusted the weather forecast and dressed lightly. She tried to open the window for some fresh air, but sleet hit her cheeks.
After throwing up five times in an hour, she arrived at Song Jing’s school gate. Before she could get off the bus, she saw Song Jing walking out with a girl. His hands were in his pockets, his expression neutral, while the girl walked with her head slightly bowed.
Tang Yang sat in the front row of the bus, staring in shock as Song Jing and the girl stopped in front of the vehicle. The girl linked her arm with Song Jing’s, and he didn’t push her away. Tang Yang’s stomach churned, and the snowflakes in her eyes seemed to grow larger.
Before the light turned green, snow fell on the girl’s hat brim. Tang Yang watched numbly as Song Jing, his face expressionless, gently turned and brushed the snow off the girl’s hat.
Song Jing noticed the bus and looked inside, his movements halting.
Tang Yang quickly buried her head in her lap, tears dampening a small spot on her knees.
Ten minutes later, the gruff bus driver asked Tang Yang, “I’m heading back to the airport soon. Little miss, aren’t you getting off?”
Tang Yang lifted her tear-stained face, shook her head, then nodded.
“Airport, go, go to the airport,” she said, overcome with sadness.
Tang Yang returned to school that day, and Song Jing still hadn’t messaged her.
For a long time after that, Tang Yang fell into self-doubt. Was she not pretty enough? Or were her grades not good enough?
Her roommate jokingly consoled her, “Men, no matter how noble they seem on the surface, actually like two types of women.” The roommate spoke as if lecturing, “Either seductive or good at acting coy.”
Tang Yang cupped her face with both hands, blinking her eyes and saying in a coquettish voice, “Honey~”
Her roommate shuddered, “Alright, alright, you’d better stick to being a goddess, or maybe a queen in the future.” The roommate couldn’t help but sigh that Tang Yang’s face was wasted on someone who couldn’t act coy.
On the tenth day of no contact with Song Jing, at noon.
Song Jing messaged Tang Yang: “Have you eaten?”
Tang Yang replied: “Yes.”
Song Jing: “I’ve been busy lately.”
Tang Yang: “Mm.”
Song Jing then asked: “Do you… want to break up?”
Tang Yang didn’t know if she had been waiting for an explanation or for her own decision all this time, but either way, it shouldn’t have been Song Jing’s place to suggest breaking up.
At that moment, she felt ridiculous, pathetic, and even angry.
But since he brought it up, they might as well break up.
Tang Yang was also a proud person. After replying with an “Mm,” she immediately blocked Song Jing.
Their relationship had lasted a year, and the breakup was inevitably painful.
When Jiang Shiyan returned from Taiwan, he asked Tang Yang about the reason. Tang Yang herself found it inexplicable but still shed tears.
What could she say? That Song Jing had cheated on her and then dumped her, so Jiang Shiyan should gather his gang of tough guys to seek revenge for her? Or that she wasn’t crying because of Song Jing, but because of the breakup itself? Even if she had been dating a dog, she would cry if it dumped her.
Or should she say that during the time leading up to the breakup, she had been struggling with whether to pursue postgraduate studies or go abroad? That she had been overwhelmed by the achievements of her seniors, feeling anxious and lost every day? Tang Yang was originally a proud person, and Song Jing had casually shattered what little pride she had left at that time…
When they broke up, Tang Yang thought Song Jing would be a lifelong barrier for her. But now, seeing him again after discussing their project, she found her emotions weren’t as turbulent as expected.
Song Jing ladled some soup for her. Tang Yang took out a cloth bag containing a wooden box from her purse and pushed it back to him.
“I guess I owe you an explanation,” Song Jing said as he accepted the item. Remembering something, he continued in a gentle voice, “That girl was my sister, same mother but different father. At that time, my mother was in the ICU and passed away. Then there was the funeral. I wasn’t in the right state of mind and forgot you were coming to see me. I only realized after we broke up,” Song Jing paused, “The figure I saw briefly that day must have been you.”
Tang Yang thought that if he had explained this ten years ago, their outcome might have been different.
Thinking back to that scene, Tang Yang vaguely remembered that the girl also had a stunningly beautiful face.
“My condolences,” Tang Yang said, ten years too late.
“No need,” Song Jing smiled, “I didn’t have much of a relationship with her.”
Tang Yang didn’t know Song Jing had a half-sister, but she had heard about his family before.
Song Jing’s mother was a beautiful nurse, while his father was a humble and honest middle school teacher. His mother had affairs and drank heavily, often abusing his father. As far back as Song Jing could remember, his mother would bring different men home every few days, not bothering to close the door even when he was around. His father, though submissive by nature, would feel heartbroken seeing his son’s confused eyes. He had tried to muster up the courage several times to ask his wife, “Can you not bring them home? Don’t let the child see,” “The child is still young”…
His mother would drink, and in her drunken state, she once smashed a beer bottle against his father’s head.
Blood trickled down his father’s forehead.
His mother cursed beside him, “What business is it of yours?!”
“If it weren’t for you tricking me into getting pregnant with this brat and then kneeling before my parents begging me to marry you, would I be like this now?!”
“Don’t you know all those men who pursued me drove cars and had phones? Look at yourself, a poor teacher…”
Then, if his mother was in a good mood, she would slap Song Jing once; if not, twice. She would look at him with utter disgust, her face covered in the most expensive makeup his father could afford with a month’s salary. In Song Jing’s eyes, this was the epitome of a viper.
When his father wanted to marry his mother, everyone in his father’s family opposed it. His father cut ties with his family for her.
It wasn’t until Song Jing was in high school that his mother stabbed his father, causing severe bleeding. Only then did his grandfather learn about these events. Enraged, he took Song Jing in.
His grandfather was a military man with rank on his shoulders and wanted to take his mother to court. But his father, waving the flag of doing what was best for the child and not wanting the child to be motherless, knelt at his grandfather’s door for three days and nights, using his near-death state to make his grandfather relent.
Just before the college entrance exam, his mother’s lover died, and Song Jing learned he had a half-sister. His father, feeling pity, took the girl in. She was three years younger than Song Jing, her body covered in bruises from belt whippings.
At that time, Song Jing had only told Tang Yang about his father kneeling at his grandfather’s door to protect his mother.
After hearing about her boyfriend’s family situation, which sounded like an unbelievable tale, Tang Yang opened her eyes wide in disbelief: “Why beg for mercy? Why not divorce?! They should divorce! Domestic violence is illegal!”
When Tang Yang visited Song Jing, they would sleep in standard rooms.
That night, for the first time, Song Jing slept in the same bed as Tang Yang, holding her with his clothes on, as if seeking warmth.
After a long while, he spoke as if commenting on something completely unrelated to himself: “It’s just a deformed love.”
Song Jing was smiling then, with the same faint and cold smile he wore now when saying he had no feelings for his mother.
At that time, Tang Yang was only concerned about feeling sorry for Song Jing. Now, she seemed to understand how Song Jing’s personality had been shaped.
They fell into a brief silence.
Tang Yang asked, “How is your father now?”
“He retired early and is in a nursing home. He’s doing well,” Song Jing looked at Tang Yang for a few seconds, then asked, “How long have you been with Jiang Shiyan?”
Tang Yang was surprised: “Did I just tell you I’m with him?”
“You and he were bound to be together, it was just a matter of time,” Song Jing took a sip of soup, looked up, and smiled, “He liked you very early on, much earlier than you imagine. Although he was carefree and slow to realize it, he would eventually wake up, and naturally, you two would be together.”
“Ah?” Tang Yang’s ears turned slightly red. She opened her mouth, settling into a smile she couldn’t quite believe or suppress.
The feeling of hearing an ex-boyfriend say that her current boyfriend had liked her for a long time was truly strange and wonderful.
“The first time I realized what it meant to like someone was probably from Jiang Shiyan,” Song Jing spoke about Jiang Shiyan with the same smile, “He used to often praise Chang Xinyi in the dorm and criticize you. He would praise Chang Xinyi for being gentle, generous, and understanding while criticizing you for having a wild personality. He’d call you ‘Yang Bro,’ and you’d act like a boy, arguing and bickering with him.”
Tang Yang’s face was full of question marks: “You’re telling me my boyfriend praised other girls but not me? Did he like me? This is how he showed he liked me?”
Song Jing, seeing Tang Yang about to rush out and buy durian, quickly explained, “But for every compliment he gave Chang Xinyi, he’d criticize you ten times. He’d just use Chang Xinyi as an opener, then spend the rest of the time talking about you.” Song Jing recalled something and suppressed a laugh, “I found it particularly strange back then. He said he disliked you so much and found you annoying, yet he always wanted to talk to you, buy you snacks, and ask you about everything all day long.”
Tang Yang stretched her neck, her expression improving slightly.
“Moreover, he only allowed himself to criticize you. He could say you weren’t good, but if anyone else dared to agree, he’d retaliate immediately,” Song Jing continued, “You know his personality, how he’s so good at dealing with people, smooth as a fish in water, and how he has his ways of handling situations…”
The ginseng soup, free of oil, was mellow and delicious. Song Jing drank several bowls, and accompanied by the faint blush on Tang Yang’s cheeks, he shared many stories—
Tang Yang and Jiang Shiyan would often meet for meals on weekends.
Back then, there were no food delivery apps. Song Jing said that before taking her out to eat, Jiang Shiyan would call Feng Weiran and others to ask which restaurants were good and which weren’t. He’d say “Yang Bro doesn’t like sour Thai food,” and that they needed to get back to school to finish homework, so it couldn’t be too far. Song Jing would watch Jiang Shiyan list suitable restaurants in the dorm like a dog, considering all factors thoroughly. Then the next day, on Sunday, he’d boast to Tang Yang: “Isn’t it delicious? Isn’t the timing just right? Come on, who am I? I can tell how good a restaurant is just by hearing about it.”
Tang Yang would laugh and push Jiang Shiyan: “Who’s the big brother here?”
Jiang Shiyan would then cover his head and submit: “Yang Bro, Yang Bro.”
Jiang Shiyan would also take Tang Yang to play games on weekends.
At that time, mobile games had different servers. Song Jing, who slept in the bunk above Jiang Shiyan, would often see him logging into different servers on Friday nights to check which ones were “Full,” “Hot,” or “Smooth.” Soon after, he heard Jiang Shiyan’s voice chatting with Tang Yang: “I’m not bragging, but with my top-ten server account, all the newbies within a ten-mile radius…”
Song Jing, who had shared a dorm with Jiang Shiyan for six years and usually had a cool demeanor, imitated Jiang Shiyan’s boastful tone with about 50% accuracy.
Tang Yang was so familiar with these scenes that she laughed out loud as soon as Song Jing started speaking.
She wasn’t laughing at Jiang Shiyan; it must have been Song Jing’s clear and pleasant voice that made her feel warm all over.
Tang Yang reciprocated: “He often talked about you in front of me back then too.”
Song Jing: “He must have been praising me.”
Tang Yang nodded, her dimples showing, giving face to her boyfriend who hadn’t rushed out to throw punches.
Back then, when Tang Yang heard Jiang Shiyan say that Song Jing had excellent habits and no bad temper, except towards Jiang Shiyan himself, she felt that Song Jing was from a different world than them.
At that age, it was hard to distinguish between a momentary fascination with beauty and genuine, long-lasting affection.
Often, when everyone else liked someone, she would like them too. When a fool pushed her towards someone else, she would truly believe that the fool didn’t like her, and she didn’t like the fool, and they would end up together in a muddle.
“You seem to have no flaws,” Tang Yang mused. Words like “fuss,” “throw tantrums,” and “unhappy” never seemed to be associated with Song Jing. He spoke of his family indifferently, and of breaking up just as casually.
Song Jing laughed self-deprecatingly: “I’ve been selfish before.”
Tang Yang questioned him with her eyes.
Song Jing admitted: “Back then, I could see that he liked you, and I could see that you liked him, but you two couldn’t see it. I didn’t remind Jiang Shiyan and came to kiss you instead.”
“How to put it, that feeling,” Song Jing rarely struggled for words, “It was like stealing something from Jiang Shiyan.”
Tang Yang and Jiang Shiyan came from similar family backgrounds and had complementary personalities. Tang Yang was serious in public but playful with Jiang Shiyan. Jiang Shiyan could be carefree in front of others but had a clear mind. Perhaps Tang Yang’s position in Jiang Shiyan’s heart was too important, and teenage love was too light.
Tang Yang corrected him seriously: “I’m not a thing.”
Song Jing laughed, genuinely and heartily.
Later, when they talked about the project again, Tang Yang mentioned Chen Qiang, and Song Jing spoke of his friendship with Chen Qiang: “On a mission, we encountered A-level criminals hijacking Chen Qiang’s truck,” Song Jing said lightly, “We went through life and death together.”
Tang Yang was surprised but didn’t ask Song Jing about the specifics of his work or why it was so dangerous.
She needed to hurry back to check on Jiang Shiyan, who still had a bad cold and could barely speak.
As the meal was ending.
“By the way,” Song Jing wiped his mouth and threw away the napkin, “Do you know what his old jumbled username meant?”
“Wasn’t it just random characters?” Tang Yang was confused. Jiang Shiyan’s high school username, which later became his WeChat nickname, seemed perfectly normal compared to those “Amethyst Angel’s Tears” or Martian language “Man Who’s Been Hurt by Love” from their school days.
Song Jing raised his eyebrows suggestively, “Open your phone’s full keyboard.” He took a napkin from the small wooden compartment beside the table and a toothpick, holding it between his long, fair index and middle fingers. He used the toothpick to trace on the paper.
Tang Yang politely changed her position to look.
“t$efvbhu&,” Song Jing wrote while explaining, “On a full keyboard, it starts with ‘t’ and ends with ‘y’, drawing a heart shape.”
“He said back then that this was his way of swearing brotherhood with you, to be united forever,” Song Jing’s laughter was deep, “But who uses a heart shape for a platonic oath between a man and a woman?”
Those initial stirrings of emotion seemed to have been hidden in the jumbled characters all along.
After getting together with Jiang Shiyan, Tang Yang realized that the random “J,” “S,” and “Y” in her passwords were all about him. Her earliest password could be traced back to her first year of high school, and in other places, like the “YYSJ” and “YSJ” in her photo albums, everything, whether considering him as a best friend or liking him, was all about him.
Tang Yang thought she was already lucky enough to end up with someone she might have liked for a long time.
But even luckier was the unintentional discovery that the person she had liked for so long might have liked her back, for just as long.
Thinking more carefully, Jiang Shiyan would also rave about how goddess-like Chang Xinyi was in front of her, and how he liked feminine women, but he always put her first. At any time, at any age, he recklessly and almost savagely placed her in the most important position.
For a moment, Tang Yang felt both surprised and delighted.
This feeling was like toppling a set of dominoes. You thought your dominoes would fall towards him, but his dominoes were also falling towards you at the same time. The two sets of dominoes perfectly interlocked to form a beautiful spine-like pattern. A warm current flowed from her spine through her limbs to her entire body.
“He’s indifferent to many things, but seems particularly careful with you,” Song Jing was saying when a waiter pushed a cart past Tang Yang’s back. Song Jing quickly pulled Tang Yang’s wrist through her clothes, allowing the cart to pass smoothly. Song Jing glanced at something from the corner of his eye and whispered in Tang Yang’s ear, “One o’clock direction.”
Tang Yang’s eyes caught sight of the partially hidden Jiang Shiyan, and gentle ripples appeared in them.
If Tang Yang had been with anyone else, Song Jing might have harbored inappropriate thoughts or tried his best to maintain an ambiguous relationship with Tang Yang, at least to occupy a place in her heart. After all, he wasn’t a good person.
But that person was Jiang Shiyan, and Song Jing didn’t dare.
Tang Yang and Jiang Shiyan were two small but bright enough lights in his barren and bitter life. If calculated by time, Jiang Shiyan might even be a bit brighter.
“Be good to him.”
He loves you.
Song Jing finally said these words.
Tang Yang composed herself: “Of course.”
Not “mm,” not “okay,” not responding to someone else’s entrustment. Tang Yang said, “Of course.”
Jiang Shiyan was her lover and would be her husband in the future. She would give him the greatest love and not hide her possessiveness.
It’s really good, truly.
Yang Bro and Fat Bro are good together, truly.
After my life-and-death experiences in the army, breaking up with Yang Bro was really for the best, truly.
Song Jing’s hand moved slightly, but in the end, he didn’t hug Tang Yang one last time.
Tang Yang brushed off Song Jing’s hand. Song Jing looked at her with his chin slightly tucked, his eyes clear and bright.
They settled the bill and deliberately passed by Jiang Shiyan’s table, but he had already left.
It was nearly seven o’clock, and the lights were just coming on. The neon lights bloomed like spring flowers, igniting from points to surfaces, as brilliant as brocade.
Song Jing admitted honestly: “From his angle, he probably saw us hugging.”
Tang Yang looked around for Jiang Shiyan’s car: “He’ll be a bit hard to coax.”
“Does he often get jealous?” Song Jing asked curiously, “Do you get jealous?”
Tang Yang completely forgot how she used to think he would kiss his ex-girlfriend and feel unhappy, or how she had been aggressive and proud in front of Sheng Nina, saying “I’m his girlfriend.” She put on a serious face: “How could I be jealous!”
Tang Yang’s face and neck were both red.
Song Jing didn’t expose her and asked with a smile: “When do you plan to get married?”
“I don’t know,” Tang Yang tilted her head slightly, “He always hints at proposing, but never does it properly. I don’t know how to propose either. If he acts clingy and spoiled later, I might casually mention it. We’re not in a hurry for children, but we could get married earlier.”
Probably feeling that words like “acting clingy and spoiled” would diminish her boyfriend’s heroic image in front of others, Tang Yang solemnly defended him: “He’s not the type to act clingy and spoiled. He’s only like that occasionally. He’s different from how he was in school. Now he’s mature and reliable most of the time, patient and gentle with me, and never harsh. He’s the kind of person who does things with measure, has plans, and is orderly, which I find irresistible,” Tang Yang praised without pressure, closing her eyes, “I guess he went to buy some kind of gift for you, as it wouldn’t be right to meet you empty-handed. He considers things very thoroughly…”
As Tang Yang spoke, she took out her phone to ask Jiang Shiyan where he was, wanting to tell him to buy a gift for Song Jing.
However, just as she was praising Jiang Shiyan for being magnanimous and perfect, the next second, Jiang Shiyan sent her a bunch of nonsensical messages, ending with “Let’s break up.”
Tang Yang’s hand froze, and she stood stunned on the spot.
Song Jing caught a glimpse and let out an undignified “pfft.”
Both Tang Yang and Song Jing understood Jiang Shiyan and could guess what he was thinking.
Song Jing, with his strong observational skills, looked around and reported a coordinate under a tree to Tang Yang.
Tang Yang rushed over in her high heels at lightning speed.
Song Jing followed slowly behind Tang Yang, hands in his pockets.
Tang Yang knocked on Jiang Shiyan’s car window, but he wouldn’t open it. She knocked again.
Then, Jiang Shiyan who was “mature and reliable” and “patient and gentle, never harsh” towards her just a moment ago in Tang Yang’s words, now yelled at her, “Knock knock knock your mother,” crying with tears and snot.
Tang Yang’s face darkened.
Song Jing knew he shouldn’t laugh at a time like this, he really shouldn’t, but his shoulders shook, and he couldn’t help but let out a “puff” of laughter.