From returning to school until bedtime, Jing Xichi was busy with the same task. His inspiration came from taking shelter from the rain at the supermarket with Huan’er—the checkout counter had two screens displaying everything inside unless someone deliberately hid in the surveillance blind spots. No one felt at ease leaving Auntie Hao alone at home, so would installing cameras help?
After returning to school and researching several models, Jing Xichi first called Song’s father. As soon as he explained his idea, the other end immediately agreed, “Good, good, good. I hadn’t thought about installing home cameras. I’ve been worried about leaving someone alone when both your mothers get called away suddenly.”
“Should we discuss it with Auntie Hao?”
“What’s there to discuss? I’ll make this decision!” Song’s father took charge completely. “Xichi, you understand these things, hurry and look into it, the sooner the better.”
Though that’s what was said, before Jing Xichi could finish researching the cost-effectiveness of several products, Song’s father called again, “Your Auntie Hao agreed and wants me to thank you. She said she couldn’t possibly object to this.”
Jing Xichi chuckled, “Weren’t you going to make the decision? Why ask then?”
“I was just being respectful, mentioned it in passing.”
Jing Xichi also informed his mother. Upon hearing this, Director Lin offered rare praise, “You little rascal have grown considerate, knowing how to help ease others’ worries. Tomorrow Huan’er’s mom has an emergency surgery scheduled, and I have to attend a meeting out of town. We don’t know when we’ll be back. We were both worried about this. Are those things easy to buy? Difficult to install?”
“Easy to buy,” Jing Xichi asked, “You’ll both be home today? We’ll need you and Auntie Lin there to place them up high.”
“Yes, barring any special circumstances.”
He smiled—he’d heard that phrase since childhood.
“Easy to buy” was spoken too soon; none of the local online stores could deliver same-day. It was already 5:30 PM.
Fortunately, Auntie Chen left work on time for once, heading straight to the mall from the hospital. Unfortunately, their chosen model was sold out. After voice calls and video chats, they finally bought another slightly more expensive model.
Auntie Chen made a secret agreement with him, “If your Uncle Song asks, quote him double the price—does he think he can get away without paying for our trouble?”
“Ah,” Jing Xichi feigned regret, “I was thinking triple, including my mom’s share, calculated per person.”
“Count your mom’s share as mine.” Auntie Chen laughed, “When you two aren’t home, she often comes to my place for meals, eating one portion and taking another.”
“I knew she gained weight, though she won’t admit it.”
“You can rest completely assured, your mom is living well.”
Compared to his mother’s colleagues and neighborhood aunties, Huan’er’s mom was more like a close friend. She was casual and open-minded yet attentive and considerate. Jokes came naturally to her, and her comfort was gentle as spring rain. Jing Xichi enjoyed talking with her, sometimes feeling he could tell her anything, including those feelings for Huan’er he couldn’t properly place.
He hadn’t spoken of them, feeling it was too early—what right did a young boy have to speak of eternal love?
Then came guiding their installation. With the video on, Jing’s mom relays instructions, Chen’s mom operates, and Song’s mom offers suggestions. The mothers weren’t very tech-savvy, the three chatting and laughing, finishing one phone setup before moving to another, taking until nighttime.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to think about other things—Jing Xichi simply hadn’t had the chance yet.
During these few hours, Chen Huan’er had gotten a boyfriend.
How long they’d known each other, the circumstances of their meeting, what happened in between, why Huan’er chose him, and what she liked about him—Jing Xichi knew nothing about any of the background to this romance. He and Chen Huan’er, at the same school with dorms just three kilometers apart, had unknowingly let their lives diverge.
How absurd.
Jing Xichi found it utterly absurd.
The next afternoon after class, Huan’er came directly to the Computer Science teaching building. Jing Xichi was reviewing a database optimization case with Qiu Yang at the time, each at their computer, having agreed whoever solved it last would be treated. After taking the call, he flew downstairs, completely forgetting the algorithm formulas that had been swirling in his mind just seconds before.
Huan’er came alone, wearing a floral knee-length dress with a fluffy white cardigan, her long hair pinned up, and light makeup on her face. She smiled at him first, then asked, “Are you busy?”
“It’s fine.” Jing Xichi looked at her, feeling both unfamiliar and unable to look away.
Chen Huan’er was no longer that silly girl who would run out with her face half-washed to catch up with them for school. She stood before him, graceful and elegant, delicately beautiful, becoming a sight that made passing male students take second looks. For the first time, Jing Xichi deeply realized she was changing.
“Want to eat together?” Huan’er tilted her head, “I want to introduce someone to you.”
For the first time, he found himself feeling jealous.
Jing Xichi admitted he once had feelings for Qi Qi, wanting her attention, wanting to talk more with her, wanting to make her happy, but those were just feelings. He wouldn’t feel angry seeing her with other boys; he hadn’t even thought about what their future might be like.
Huan’er said, “Qiu Li’s been asking me to treat, and coincidentally Luer is also in this area today. If you’re free, we can all go together—save the new friend from having to meet you all one by one.”
She described that person as, a new friend.
“I heard from Huang Lu,” Jing Xichi tried his best to act like an “old friend,” “Last night, right?”
“Oh my.” Huan’er nodded shyly but sweetly.
His heart felt sour and bitter, but what could he do?
Say he’s not suitable for you? Say Chen Huan’er, look at me instead. Say, shall we give it a try?
He had no right to judge that new friend, no position to push her into chaos and shatter her newly blooming romantic fantasies.
At this moment, all Jing Xichi could do was push away that jealousy, and then… he wasn’t sure what then.
“Are you coming?” Huan’er rose on her tiptoes and then settled back down, smiling at him.
Qiu Yang’s call saved him—even without speakerphone, the excited voice could be heard—Jing Xichi, you’re treating! Let me tell you, it’s the Cartesian product trap, that ON condition…
“I’m treating,” Jing Xichi said into the receiver, “Coming up now.”
“Then you go ahead with your work,” Huan’er blinked at the sound, her tone slightly regretful, “Another time then.”
Jing Xichi put away his phone, feeling he should say something more. So he repeated those questions whose answers he already knew, “A senior?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“From the Medical School?”
“Yeah.” Huan’er laughed vivaciously, “You know, I was just telling him today, don’t do your internship back home, especially at Third Hospital—that would be like walking into a dead end.”
She was already thinking about the future.
“Nonsense.” Jing Xichi forced a bitter smile, “Who actively tries to discourage someone?”
“Go on up.” Huan’er checked the time, “I need to go, if I’m late the new friend will be shy.”
“Go ahead.” Jing Xichi stood motionless.
Huan’er waved “bye-bye,” turned to leave, then stepped back, her expression serious, “Xichi, do you have something troubling you lately?”
Jing Xichi stared blankly, “No.”
“You look… not very happy.” Huan’er stared at him, “If something’s wrong, talk to me.”
“I know.” Jing Xichi raised his hand, initially intending to rub his head but instead pinched her face, “Learn some makeup from Huang Lu, you look awful.”
“None of your business.” Huan’er swatted his hand away, “It’s not for you to look at anyway.”
She turned and left, not looking back at him again.
Huang Lu had many theories, like how love was a labor of happiness that lowered moral and intellectual qualities while improving physical and artistic ones. During her time with Tian Chi, Chen Huan’er proved this theory’s validity through personal experience. Though she hadn’t yet practiced the labor part, she started paying attention to her appearance and wearing makeup. Her physical and artistic qualities improved dramatically—Chen Huan’er became the pretty senior sister in the eyes of her juniors at the small Pharmacy School. She created many heroic tales of prioritizing romance over friendship, and her moral character was temporarily despised by her dormitory sisters. As for intelligence, though she didn’t feel it declining, her scholarship dropped from second to third class in the first semester after falling in love.
Even then, she just smiled foolishly at her transcript—misfortune might be a blessing in disguise.
Skipping class to watch movie premieres, thinking about what to eat after revision while studying, in the vast library all her eyes were on him with none left for textbooks. His hands were beautiful, his teeth were beautiful, his eyelashes were beautiful, and even his fierce glaring was beautiful. Love’s eyes see not just Xi Shi, but also Aaron Kwok, Haruka Kobayashi, and Tom Cruise.
Wanting to laugh for no reason during phone calls, unconsciously wanting to cry when receiving gifts, forgetting herself during kisses, and wanting eternal love—Chen Huan’er loved openly and sincerely, loved until tears filled her eyes.
She didn’t know what a boyfriend should be, but she thought Tian Chi was the best boyfriend in the world. She appeared on all his social media, and was introduced to every one of his friends, he remembered clearly her birthday, shoe size, tastes, and even her menstrual cycle. They hardly ever quarreled because Tian Chi would give in before it started, always mindful of her feelings.
During summer break they gathered at Tianhe, with Huan’er bringing Tian Chi to attend their biannual gathering of companions. Du Man was traveling with her mother and complained greatly over the phone, “You deliberately chose when I’m not home! And I had three thousand questions prepared!”
Huan’er teased her, “What profound questions could you, eternally single since birth, possibly ask?”
“Ask about his blood sugar, blood lipids, blood pressure, ask about his heart rate, and family medical history,” Du Man protested, “As a medical worker, couldn’t I spot any abnormalities?”
“Manman, you sound exactly like my mom.”
“Chen Huan’er!” Du Man exclaimed, “Tell me honestly, are you afraid I’ll discover his sperm motility is low?”
“It’s not for you to use anyway!” Huan’er’s face turned bright red—these medical students dared to say anything.
“Yes, yes, not for me to use.” Du Man laughed breathlessly, then carefully consoled after calming down, “It’s fine even if it’s low, as long as there’s production. Modern medicine has plenty of solutions, besides, your situation isn’t unique…”
“Get lost.” Huan’er reasserted before hanging up, “He’s perfectly healthy!”
On the day of the gathering, Song Cong and Qi Qi came together, Liao Xinyan brought her professional athlete boyfriend, and only Jing Xichi came alone. Huan’er introduced Tian Chi to everyone. They exchanged basic information like names, schools, and majors before ordering food. No one chattered about childish questions like “Have you held hands?” “Have you kissed?” “How did he confess?”—they had all grown up. Having love was no longer an earth-shattering novelty, and pairing up had become a natural progression.
During the meal, Huan’er mentioned Du Man, telling Tian Chi with slight regret that “everyone would be here if she were present.” At this point, Qi Qi said, “I only realized how close you two were when we ate together last time. I didn’t even know her at Tianzhong.”
“They weren’t particularly close during school either.” Jing Xichi commented while eating, “Du Man lived in the same compound as us.”
“Her family’s moving.” Song Cong added casually, seeing Huan’er’s surprise, he smiled gently, “Wait, she’ll tell you when she returns from traveling.”
Huan’er instinctively looked at Jing Xichi, who happened to look back. They both turned toward Song Cong’s direction and asked in unison, “How do you know?”
Song Cong was unsurprised, “Du Man wants to apply for graduate school at our university, she mentioned it while chatting.”
Huan’er and Jing Xichi looked at each other again. She smiled, and he pressed his lips together, neither asking further.
It was a tacit understanding bred by time—Du Man actually discussing such things with Song Cong, but Qi Qi was present, better not say more.
“Enough with you three.” Liao Xinyan slapped the table in protest, “Forming your little group again, treating us like we’re invisible?”
“Come on, you know their friendship is worth its weight in gold.” Qi Qi smoothed things over, worried about neglecting Tian Chi who was attending for the first time, so she asked, “Senior, I heard you also graduated from Tianzhong?”
“Yes.” Tian Chi nodded, “One year ahead of you all.”
“I thought you looked familiar like I’d seen you somewhere.” Qi Qi looked at Huan’er, “Senior looks like…”
Huan’er quickly changed the subject, “Qi, are you planning to take the graduate entrance exam?”
Honestly, she was afraid Qi Qi would remember that year’s knowledge competition because then she would surely remember Tian Chi had a girlfriend at the time. Although she had asked Tian Chi about it and he had frankly admitted to “briefly dating someone,” it would be so awkward to bring up in the current situation. Let bygones be bygones—keeping secrets wasn’t an obligation, but it was a form of respect.
“I haven’t thought about it.” Qi Qi tilted her head onto Song Cong’s shoulder, “Having one academic star in the family is enough.”
Everyone burst into “ooh-ing” laughter.
Qi Qi grabbed a bottle cap nearby and threw it at Jing Xichi, “What are you laughing at? Couldn’t you show some promise and bring someone back?”
The person in question quickly retorted, “As if yours was brought back.”
He was becoming increasingly casual, living freely and true to himself, not caring much about anything, not minding much of anything.
Huan’er pulled Tian Chi and suggested, “Why don’t we introduce Luer to him?”
She wasn’t clear how many people Jing Xichi had dated, or even if any of them had been in real relationships. They rarely met this past year and more, only messaging when there was something necessary to say, like “Have you bought your ticket home?” or “Are you going to the fellow townsmen gathering?” or “Happy birthday, what’s your wish this year?” They were all growing up, or perhaps they were never at an age for complete openness when they first met—they were just bound together by past experiences, sharing a period.
Jing Xichi made a stopping gesture, “Converting external supply for internal use? Forget it.”
They talked about their respective majors, career prospects, rapidly rising housing prices, and the commercial complex that had finally started construction in front of the staff residential area. Topics they couldn’t participate in when their parents took them to dinner now appeared effortlessly at this table. There was no prelude, yet it didn’t feel abrupt, just like how one couldn’t define exactly when they became an adult, but once realized, calmly accepted this fact.
That was one year before graduation.
If not for that casual remark from Huang Lu, life might have continued just like this.