The moon was hidden behind dark clouds, a chill spreading through the air, seemingly piercing through skin. Miao Danyi couldn’t help but shiver. She hugged herself, coughed once, and walked away past Sun Dawei.
Sun Dawei blocked her path. An extremely bold conjecture had popped into his mind. He hoped that the conjecture wasn’t true.
Thick tree shadows fell on Sun Dawei’s head, and the surrounding light grew increasingly dim.
Sun Dawei raised his face, sized up Wen Qi, and thought to himself: It’s over, this guy is way too handsome.
Sun Dawei suddenly wanted to put himself in Jiang Yubai’s shoes. If he were Jiang Yubai, his looks and height would surpass this mysterious handsome young man standing before him. But unfortunately, he was Sun Dawei. Despite his family wealth and good education, he was suddenly enveloped by a sense of loss, and nervously spoke: “My name is Sun Dawei, I’ve been living with Miaomiao for a year, I’m her boyfriend. Who are you?”
As soon as these words were spoken, Lin Zhixia clutched Jiang Yubai’s shirt hem.
She had never witnessed such a scene before.
A few years ago, when Lin Zhixia was in middle school, as class monitor, she had successfully handled some disputes among classmates—the prerequisite for success was that her middle school classmates were all willing to give her face, willing to let her play the role of “mediator.”
The scene before her now was not just schoolmates’ squabbling.
Lin Zhixia secretly glanced at Wen Qi, only to see his face as pale as paper. She asked him softly, “Are you okay?”
Wen Qi shook his head. He walked closer to Sun Dawei and managed to squeeze out a sentence, cutting to the chase: “Sorry, I didn’t know.”
Sun Dawei’s eyes reddened: “What did you two do?”
But Wen Qi said: “Nothing. I’m going home. Don’t follow me. I need to be alone.”
Sun Dawei was completely confused: “Huh?”
Wen Qi walked away with a straight back, while Miao Danyi became forthright: “I just kissed him and told him I like him.”
Miao Danyi guessed that if she didn’t reveal the truth, Jiang Yubai would remind Sun Dawei.
One day last year, Miao Danyi had gone to Wen Qi’s dormitory and happened to run into Jiang Yubai. She had thought that if Jiang Yubai dared to speak ill of her in front of Sun Dawei, she would cry and make a scene to prove her innocence to Sun Dawei, ruining the friendship between Sun Dawei and Jiang Yubai. Compared to Jiang Yubai, Sun Dawei trusted her more. But she hadn’t expected that Jiang Yubai wouldn’t say anything—his social skills were more sophisticated than she had imagined.
This time, Miao Danyi couldn’t escape. She might as well confess herself, which would make her appear open and honest.
At this point, Miao Danyi had no way out, and her long-suppressed emotions instantly erupted: “Let’s stop dating, let’s break up. I’m tired of pretending day after day. You take me everywhere you go, even to a half-hour discussion with your classmates, you call me over to show me off to people, always wasting time…”
Lin Zhixia quietly asked Jiang Yubai: “What does ‘wasting time’ mean in this context?”
Jiang Yubai explained: “Not focusing on what’s important.”
Lin Zhixia nodded: “I understand now.”
Miao Danyi continued speaking: “I’ll pay back the money I owe you later. Let’s make a clean break.”
After finishing the last sentence, she seemed to have used all her strength.
In her freshman year of university, her father’s company had gone bankrupt. With her brother and sister still in school, her father had asked her to work part-time to earn tuition fees. She had met Sun Dawei at that exact turning point. But she had a hurdle in her heart that she could never overcome, always feeling that such a stable and comfortable life didn’t belong to her, like a clown wearing a diamond crown, extravagant yet ridiculous.
She took off the diamond bracelet and stuffed it into Sun Dawei’s pocket.
She ran away into the night.
Sun Dawei called out her full name: “Miao Danyi!”
Miao Danyi shouted: “Miao Danyi is the name you gave me! The name my parents gave me isn’t pronounced like that!”
Sun Dawei sat down heavily on the ground.
It had rained the night before, and the soil was soaked with a layer of moisture that didn’t easily evaporate. The mist dampened his pants. Holding a diamond bracelet, the jumble of thoughts in his mind seemed to have been emptied by someone. He temporarily lost the ability to think and didn’t know where he was.
After a while, his eyes became moist.
Tears gushed like rivers, rolling down from the corners of his eyes.
So the internet term “wide noodle tears” really existed—Sun Dawei was now shedding “wide noodle tears” all over his face. Because his good friend Jiang Yubai was still present, he held back and refused to make even the slightest sound, until Jiang Yubai crouched in front of him and handed him a napkin.
He let out a wailing “Oooh” and cried aloud: “Xiao Jiang, my heart is so bitter, so bitter! Wuwuwuwu…”
Jiang Yubai comforted him: “It’s okay, calm down first, don’t cry.”
Sun Dawei sobbed incoherently: “How could she do this to me? I gave her my heart and soul…”
Sun Dawei’s grief came from deep within. He suddenly understood that “grief” was physical labor. His back couldn’t straighten up, and his whole body tilted backward. He leaned against the rough, solid tree trunk, and the dense, lush leaves above his head wove into a protective umbrella, blocking the vast, dark, boundless night sky.
He sat under the tree in a daze.
As if seeing through worldly matters, he recited a passage from the Diamond Sutra: “All conditioned phenomena are like dreams, illusions, bubbles, shadows, like dew and lightning, thus should they be contemplated.”
Then, he voiced a life insight: “Love has hurt me too deeply.”
Jiang Yubai advised: “There’s nothing wrong with not dating. Family, studies, and career are more important.”
Following Jiang Yubai’s train of thought, Sun Dawei thought about his family’s French vineyard, the fishing grounds in the South China Sea, the horse farm in the Northwest, and the pharmaceutical factory in the Northeast. He felt a sense of composure, wiped away tears, and asked: “If Lin Zhixia dumped you and didn’t care about you at all, what would you do?”
Before he finished speaking, Lin Zhixia crouched beside Jiang Yubai.
Lin Zhixia stared at Sun Dawei without blinking. She asked: “Don’t be sad, don’t cry anymore. Do you like reading Buddhist scriptures?”
Sun Dawei mumbled: “Ah, my grandparents always donate money to temples, and monks come to visit our home every year.”
Lin Zhixia told him about the Avatamsaka Sutra: “Know truly that all conditioned things are false and deceptive, temporary dwellings, deceiving ordinary people.” She paused, then said: “My understanding is very simple… I think you should have seen through the illusion now rather than discovering it later.”
For Sun Dawei, this matter was very complicated, not as easy to understand as Lin Zhixia suggested. He couldn’t possibly tell friends and family about the cause and effect—it was too embarrassing. Therefore, in this world, only Jiang Yubai and Lin Zhixia were most likely to understand him.
After a moment of silence, he asked Lin Zhixia: “If Xiao Jiang changed his heart, what would you do?”
Lin Zhixia thought seriously for a while before saying, “All relationships have an expiration date, whether friendship or love. Environment changes a person, and sometimes you miss someone, but what you miss might not be the person, but certain experiences related to that person in a specific environment.”
Sun Dawei took a deep breath.
Lin Zhixia continued: “If Xiao Jiang changed his heart…”
Jiang Yubai grabbed her wrist.
Even if it was to comfort Sun Dawei, Jiang Yubai strongly rejected this hypothesis.
But Lin Zhixia said: “I would probably be very upset, would cry very sadly, wouldn’t be able to sleep at night. But, given some time, I would be able to adjust. The past and present are facts, the future can be changed. You need to pull yourself together and look forward… You can maintain your current state, or you can decide the probability distribution of your next state, this is the Markov chain…”
Sun Dawei remained silent.
Lin Zhixia reached into Jiang Yubai’s coat pocket and indeed found a pack of tissues. She left the tissues with Sun Dawei and swayed away from the spot. Jiang Yubai suddenly remembered that Lin Zhixia had drunk too much tonight; she was still in a half-drunk, half-awake state. Although her speech was clear and her expression calm, she wasn’t sober.
Jiang Yubai said to Sun Dawei, “Take care.”
Sun Dawei added: “Miaomiao just wanted my money…”
Jiang Yubai didn’t respond.
Jiang Yubai, Sun Dawei’s good friend, called asking him to take Sun Dawei home tonight. That friend, hearing that Sun Dawei was in a bad state, rushed over anxiously. Sun Dawei caught his good friend and only said that something had happened at home, and he felt terrible. The two of them went to a nearby bar to drink their hearts out.
*
Jiang Yubai’s birthday party also ended.
The guests dispersed, and Jiang Yubai received various gifts, among which there was nothing from Lin Zhixia.
Lin Zhixia tugged at Jiang Yubai’s sleeve and explained in detail: “Your birthday gift is at my home. I want to show it to you tonight… show it to you under the covers.”
Under the covers?
These four words triggered many associations in Jiang Yubai’s mind.
He also recalled what Lin Zhixia had said to Sun Dawei tonight.
In a sense, Lin Zhixia was quite rational. Given a hypothetical condition, she could deduce the corresponding result. Jiang Yubai compared himself—he actually couldn’t do this, couldn’t hypothesize that Lin Zhixia would lose interest in him. In his life journey, the vast majority of profound memories were related to Lin Zhixia; she was in his dreams and his waking world.
At ten at night, Jiang Yubai brought Lin Zhixia home.
A gentle rain started at the edge of the sky, and the cold wind made the curtains flutter. Jiang Yubai returned to his bedroom, took a shower, and changed into pajamas. He buttoned his pajamas securely, with even his collarbone hidden beneath the collar. He was more ascetic and chaste than ever, safeguarding his virtue.
Then, as he passed by Lin Zhixia’s bedroom door, Lin Zhixia indeed called out to him: “Jiang-Jiang-Jiang-Jiang Yubai!”
Lin Zhixia ran out barefoot: “I have a gift for you.”
Jiang Yubai asked her: “What gift?”
Lin Zhixia said, “You’ll know when you see it.”
She extended a hand to Jiang Yubai.
Jiang Yubai held her wrist. Her wrist bones were slender, her skin smooth. He didn’t even dare to use force. He always felt that if he pinched her slightly, he would hurt her and leave red marks.
But Lin Zhixia used great strength to pull him. She yanked Jiang Yubai onto the bed.
A corner of Lin Zhixia’s nightgown flipped open, revealing her long, snow-white legs, like an artwork carved from fine jade. Jiang Yubai covered her with the quilt, wrapped her up tightly, and asked softly: “Have you sobered up? Is your head still dizzy?”
Lin Zhixia declared: “I’m not drunk at all, I’m not dizzy.”
Jiang Yubai turned off the bedroom light: “It’s eleven, go to sleep early.”
Lin Zhixia frowned slightly. Then, she raised the entire quilt and covered Jiang Yubai. The fluffy quilt formed a dark, stuffy world. Lin Zhixia leaned close to Jiang Yubai’s face and asked him: “You seem to have something on your mind?”
But Jiang Yubai said: “No.”
Lin Zhixia guessed: “Is it Sun Dawei, Miao Danyi, and Wen Qi’s matter that has given you complex thoughts? Don’t worry, I just texted Wen Qi, and he said he’s fine, he’ll still go to the lab as usual tomorrow… He has grown up, has figured things out, can face life’s storms.”
“Good, they are all adults who can take care of themselves,” Jiang Yubai commented briefly.
Lin Zhixia leaned against his shoulder, and he suddenly said, “I will never change my heart.”
“Hm?” Lin Zhixia’s voice rose at the end.
Lin Zhixia was very sleepy. The alcohol had permeated her thinking; she was foggy, as if lost in clouds and mist, but she still had a birthday gift that she hadn’t given. So she struggled to sit up straight and said seriously: “Okay, I understand.”
Jiang Yubai suspected she hadn’t heard his previous sentence. So he said it again. Lin Zhixia’s eyes brightened, and she hugged his neck and kissed him repeatedly. She opened the bedside drawer and took out a flashlight and a thick album.
She turned on the flashlight and flipped through the pages of the album.
Jiang Yubai saw the legendary “flip book animation.” There were only two characters in the animation—Jiang Yubai and Lin Zhixia.
Lin Zhixia had started drawing from the year they met. The two little figures gradually grew up, and the distance between them became closer and closer. In the end, they successfully held hands, and the background changed from campus to bedroom.
“For you,” Lin Zhixia solemnly handed over the album, “Happy nineteenth birthday.”
Jiang Yubai accepted this precious gift. His fingers rested on the cover, and he asked: “How long did it take you to draw this?”
Lin Zhixia honestly said, “More than two years. I was too busy, drew very slowly.” She yawned and patted the pillow: “Stay with me tonight.”
Jiang Yubai didn’t respond.
Lin Zhixia pressed him: “Sleep with me.”
Jiang Yubai silently lay on her bed. He reached out and held her, and she nuzzled around in his arms until she found the most comfortable position. She pushed her luck: “From today on, you have to sleep with me every night.”
Jiang Yubai knew she was talking while drunk, but her voice sounded very sincere. He half-heartedly complied: “It’s not impossible.”
“Is that a yes or no?” Lin Zhixia aggressively pursued.
“Yes,” Jiang Yubai was succinct.
Lin Zhixia was finally satisfied.
She turned over, her back to him. She grabbed one of his hands and placed it on her waist. Outside the window, the wind and rain were endless. Jiang Yubai’s voice drifted into her ear: “Tomorrow morning, will you remember what you said?”
“Of course,” Lin Zhixia solemnly promised, “I remember every word I say clearly.”
Jiang Yubai’s voice grew lower: “Very good.”
Lin Zhixia’s back pressed tightly against Jiang Yubai’s chest. She was too tired to open her eyes, and before falling asleep, she murmured: “You’re so hot, like a furnace…” She heard Jiang Yubai’s response as she drifted between dreams and wakefulness. She thought, tonight, she would dream of him again.
*
Early the next morning, after Lin Zhixia got up, she was dazed for a moment.
Jiang Yubai was lying beside her, seemingly not yet awake. His face was still as handsome as ever, with some suspicious red marks on his neck, apparently traces left by Lin Zhixia’s kisses.
Lin Zhixia nervously recollected her memories.
She reviewed last night’s experience in its entirety. Fortunately, nothing major had happened between her and Jiang Yubai. However, Jiang Yubai had already promised to sleep with her every night.
A feeling of embarrassment welled up in Lin Zhixia’s heart.
She immediately dove back under the covers.
Jiang Yubai reached over with a hand and placed it on her waist. She said, “Stop pretending, I know you’ve been awake for a while.”
“Did you just wake up?” Jiang Yubai responded.
Lin Zhixia avoided his question and only said: “Let’s get up.”
Jiang Yubai looked at her reddening earlobes and said without thinking: “Let’s sleep together again tonight.”
Lin Zhixia fled from the bed, running barefoot into the bathroom. She quickly adjusted her mindset, and that morning, she acted as if nothing had happened, carrying her backpack to the lab.
*
Everything was as usual in the lab.
Wen Qi arrived even earlier than Lin Zhixia.
For the next few days, Wen Qi was just like before, appearing at eight in the morning, returning home at five in the afternoon, looking completely normal.
However, just a week later, Lin Zhixia noticed something unusual about Wen Qi.
Lin Zhixia and Wen Qi were collaborating on a paper. Wen Qi had always been quick at conducting experiments, and his work in collecting and processing data was very professional and skilled. However, in the past week, Wen Qi had produced no results and had not sent the experimental results to Lin Zhixia on time.
At Monday morning’s meeting, as was customary, each student had to introduce their research progress for the week. When it was Wen Qi’s turn, he only mentioned a few papers—these were papers he had read before. Other students might not have known this, but Lin Zhixia was well aware of the details.
Wen Qi had not only temporarily set aside his studies but also no longer participated in their “ptsic” quantum programming language development.
So far, “ptsic” had only achieved the simplest prototype, with much content yet to be filled in. Everyone was like partners sewing a garment, having just created the pattern, when Wen Qi, one of the important designers, withdrew from the team.
Lin Zhixia wrote a long email to Wen Qi, appealing to his emotions and reasoning with him. She patiently comforted him, but he didn’t reply even after seeing it. She knocked on his office door, but he sat inside without responding.
Lin Zhixia thought Wen Qi needed personal space.
So, she waited for him for two whole weeks.
The paper they were collaborating on had made zero progress.
Lin Zhixia could be an independent author, but she didn’t want to delete Wen Qi’s work content.
As time passed day by day, the messages Lin Zhixia sent to Wen Qi were like stones sinking into the sea, with no response.
She stopped using electronic means to contact him.
One day in September, Wen Qi opened his office door. Just as he stepped in, Lin Zhixia barged in right behind him.
It was a beautiful sunny morning. In Wen Qi’s hand was a “Story Club” magazine—a leisure reading he had specially bought from a secondhand market. He hid the “Story Club” behind his back, and Lin Zhixia promptly placed a stack of papers on his desk.
“Wen Qi,” Lin Zhixia addressed him very formally, “don’t be like this.”
Wen Qi asked: “Like what?”
Lin Zhixia began to praise him: “You are very smart, have a good memory, strong comprehension, and super solid fundamentals.”
Wen Qi sat down on the chair: “I’m planning to… take a month off.”
“You promised me,” Lin Zhixia tried to encourage him, “this paper on quantum recursive patterns would be completed before October. And the PTSIC Quantum Programming Language project, you’ve researched the quantum program semantic model, using quantum Markov chains. My undergraduate classmate Feng Yuan specializes in Markov chains. I’ve discussed with her, we can spare time to talk about new graph theory problems in Hilbert space. If we succeed, what a meaningful thing this would be! Cheer up, your time is very precious.”
Wen Qi didn’t quite understand why Lin Zhixia always appeared so full of energy.
Wen Qi said: “I want to…”
Want to do what?
Lin Zhixia waited for a long time, but Wen Qi had nothing more to say.
Wen Qi sat on a rotating ergonomic chair. He pushed against the floor with his toes, facing another direction.
Lin Zhixia ran in front of him and asked again: “Are you feeling very unwell? I can help you contact a psychologist. Our school has professional psychologists.”
Wen Qi told the truth: “I’ve seen a doctor.”
“How was it?” Lin Zhixia was very concerned about him.
Wen Qi said, “I need to rest.”
Lin Zhixia sat on another bench.
She sighed and said softly, “I understand. Take a good rest then. You can ask for leave from the advisor and stay at home for a few more days to adjust your mindset.”
Lin Zhixia had little research on psychology. She couldn’t give professional guidance. She sincerely hoped that Wen Qi would return to normal soon, as for the paper they were collaborating on, Wen Qi asked Lin Zhixia to remove his name. He also said that in the future, he would only work as an independent author.
This situation was unexpected for Lin Zhixia.
*
In the WeChat group “New System Team” created by Lin Zhixia, Feng Yuan was still urging Lin Zhixia to find a helper soon, so they could plan the graph theory problems in Hilbert space together.
Feng Yuan was Lin Zhixia’s undergraduate roommate. Feng Yuan had participated in various competitions since childhood. Her father was a mathematics professor at a 985 key university. She had strong intuition and was widely read, sharing a common language with Lin Zhixia.
Feng Yuan had originally thought that Wen Qi would gladly join their research group, but unfortunately, Lin Zhixia brought her bad news.
Lin Zhixia said that Wen Qi needed rest, and they had to find another partner.
Who would they replace him with?
Feng Yuan brought in two of her doctoral classmates.
Meanwhile, Lin Zhixia opened “Google Scholar,” entered several key phrases, and quickly browsed through the authors of relevant papers line by line. Soon, she discovered a familiar name: sergeialexandrov.
Lin Zhixia had participated in the 2007 Romanian Mathematics Master Competition.
In this competition, Lin Zhixia had met the Russian prodigy, Alexandrov. She remembered that Alexandrov was most adept at solving graph theory problems and had published several Russian-language graph theory mathematics books at a young age.
Lin Zhixia hadn’t paid attention to him for a long time.
She opened a webpage to search for his career details.
His academic career had been smooth sailing. He had completed his undergraduate and doctoral studies in Germany, with several mentors who were industry leaders, and he was also a prominent emerging scholar. Shortly after obtaining his doctorate, he returned to Moscow State University to teach.
After careful consideration, Lin Zhixia sent him an email in Russian.
In the letter, Lin Zhixia wrote: “Hello, respected Mr. Sergeialexandrov, before writing to you, I guess you might have some impression of me. I was the individual gold medal winner of the 2007 Romanian Mathematics Master Competition, tied with you for first place that year. Currently, I am a second-year doctoral student. To perfect a quantum programming language platform, my friends and I are studying quantum program semantic models based on Markov chains and the new graph theory of Hilbert space derived from it. Your forty-five-minute report at the International Congress of Mathematicians impressed us deeply. Attached is my exploration of the extended part of your thesis, as well as our recent research results…”
After writing these things, Lin Zhixia pressed the “Send” button.
Sergeialexandrov was very busy with work.
Lin Zhixia guessed that the probability of his replying was not high.
She had never expected that she would receive a reply in the afternoon, just hours after sending the email in the morning.
Alexandrov’s wording in the letter was equally polite.
He said that he remembered Lin Zhixia and had followed her academic progress, having thought she was now focused on physics and computer science research. Finally, he asked if Lin Zhixia’s Russian was translated by someone else or written by her. She had made two grammatical errors.
Lin Zhixia’s face reddened.
Her Russian, she had only studied for seven months.
During those seven months, she had been busy researching programming, learning Russian in her spare time.
Having a weak foundation was very normal.
Lin Zhixia couldn’t possibly be perfect in everything.
Lin Zhixia humbly accepted his guidance. Just like that, back and forth, the two became email pen pals. She extended an olive branch to him, inviting him to join the team, and he didn’t decline, quickly agreeing.
*
Alexandrov’s arrival delighted Feng Yuan immensely.
When privately chatting with Lin Zhixia, Feng Yuan couldn’t help saying: “A blessing in disguise, this Russian is far more formidable than Wen Qi. He’s not even twenty-five yet. In the field we want to research, he stands at the top of the pyramid.”
Lin Zhixia mediated: “Everyone has their strengths.”
Feng Yuan opened her phone’s web browser, searched for photos of sergeialexandrov, and exclaimed with increasing surprise: “Wow? He has blonde hair and blue eyes, such a handsome guy, Deng Shasha would like him.”
Deng Shasha was also Lin Zhixia’s undergraduate roommate. One of Deng Shasha’s lifelong wishes was to personally hook up with a very handsome guy.
Lin Zhixia explained on Deng Shasha’s behalf: “Deng Shasha appreciates all good-looking people.”
At this moment, they were having a WeChat video chat.
Feng Yuan stopped talking about Deng Shasha. She brought the topic back to academics. She and Lin Zhixia jointly set phased goals, shared their respective thinking results, and Lin Zhixia sighed: “It’s so good to have a friend like you.”
Feng Yuan felt sweet inside and immediately replied: “I think so too.”