It wasn’t until a month later that Chen Huan Er learned Tian Chi had faced violent threats.

She was giving pre-competition guidance at the club as someone with experience, and during a break, while chatting with freshmen about why they joined the martial arts club, two male students from the medical school laughingly said it was for self-defense, to avoid ending up like Senior Tian Chi who could only accept his fate after being inexplicably beaten up.

She asked about what happened: a month ago, on the small path beside the second cafeteria, two masked male students had attacked him, and later a female senior who knew him took him to the campus hospital. Security couldn’t find anyone because somehow the surveillance cameras had coincidentally blacked out during that period.

There were no such coincidences.

Huan Er went to find Huang Lu, containing her anger. On the day she had dinner with Song Cong and Jing Qichi, Huang Lu had returned to the dormitory very late, receiving a call from their counselor in between, with keywords being Tian Chi, second cafeteria, and campus hospital.

Huang Lu’s judgment at the time was that evil deeds would meet their karma.

Too naive. If all grievances in the world were settled through revenge, why would the crime rate of revenge attacks remain so high?

Huang Lu didn’t try to hide anything, freely admitting, “I set up the meeting with Tian Chi, your buddy did the deed, it wasn’t even that bad. Just made him delete the social media posts about you, and if he spreads more lies, let everyone online see. Jing Qichi hacked the surveillance, but they can’t trace it. I even played the angel sending him to the hospital, such a masterful arrangement.”

Huan Er stomped her foot in anger, “No matter what, you can’t resort to violence, do you all not want to graduate!”

If they were caught and given demerits, Song Cong being from another school would be a different matter, but the two troublemakers from their school would be finished.

“That bastard only dared go to security in the heat of the moment. Do you think he’ll dare pursue it further? Does he want the whole school to know about his dirty deeds?”

“You resorted to violence, you all…”

“You’re quite familiar with violence yourself.” Huang Lu was completely unconcerned, laughing heartily.

Huan Er glared at her fiercely. In their sophomore year, during an inter-school social event, Huang Lu had called saying a guy was acting inappropriately with wandering hands and suspicious looks. When Huan Er rushed to the KTV to pick her up, that guy was following Huang Lu out, and without warning, grabbed her attempting a forceful kiss. Chen Huan Er was furious – he’d watched too many idol dramas and treated criminal behavior like some domineering CEO act. She immediately took off her jacket, covered his eyes, dragged him into the men’s bathroom, and gave him a thorough beating. When he later came to his senses and found himself in the men’s room, he spread word that Huang Lu had a powerful protector, and never came looking for trouble again.

Yes, Chen Huan Er was indeed familiar with beating people up, but special circumstances were different – fighting violence with violence wasn’t sophisticated at all.

“Alright,” Huang Lu became serious, “you can’t stand others giving me trouble, and I can’t tolerate a scumbag bullying you like that. This whole thing, from planning to execution, was my idea. Don’t go looking for Little Jing.”

“Thanks for reminding me.” Chen Huan Er clenched her fists and headed straight for the Computer Science building.

Finding Jing Qichi’s location wasn’t difficult. Passersby were unsurprised by a girl looking for him – to Huan Er, their looks carried sympathetic sighs of “ah, another one delivering herself to his door.” In the last row by the window of the lab, six male students were intensely discussing something in front of four screens. Jing Qichi stood in the middle, still in that hoodie, with that messy head of hair, and round-framed glasses perched on his nose bridge, speaking words she couldn’t understand at all. When did he become nearsighted? Standing at the door, this was all Huan Er could think about – she couldn’t remember ever seeing him wear glasses before.

Come to think of it, despite being at the same school for years, she had barely set foot in the Computer Science building. She knew nothing about what happened to him here.

Like a TV signal at night – you think the drama series will keep playing, but in the next second all the characters and stories vanish, replaced by a period of static frozen frames.

Between her and Jing Qichi, there had been a static period.

“Someone’s looking for you.” A male student spotted Huan Er and tapped Jing Qichi’s shoulder, completely unsurprised.

Only then did he look up, or more accurately, given the angle of his glasses, he tilted his head back almost nose-up, and asked dazedly after recognizing her, “Why are you here?”

His state – completely not yet disconnected from the screen.

“Food,” Huan Er answered.

Qiu Yang, sitting at the screen, typed while shooing people away, “Go ahead, bring us back something. Anything will do.”

“This part isn’t right.” Jing Qichi showed no intention of leaving, pointing at the screen to share his opinion.

“Get out of here. I’m starving.” Qiu Yang typed rapidly, then suddenly stopped and looked toward the door, meeting Huan Er’s eyes with a “Hi.”

She had met Qiu Yang two or three times before. Chen Huan Er prided herself on being fair and unbiased without any academic prejudices, but Qiu Yang’s style screamed Art School or at least Media Communications – from far or near, he didn’t look like one of the rough guys from Computer Science.

“Oh, hi.” Qiu Yang’s eyes and voice were rather vacant, his greeting more of a physiological reflex as he remained floating in the dense ocean of data.

That face showed no trace of its usual careful maintenance. Thanks to the still energy-radiating evening sun, Huan Er clearly caught sight of several large pimples.

Jing Qichi watched a bit longer before finally pushing up his glasses and ambling over. “Did you bring money?”

Huan Er answered, “Yes.”

“Since when did Little Jing start living off women?” A standing male student sat down at another computer, joking with a grin.

“Please, if anything I’m the one supporting her.” Jing Qichi said as he walked to the door, taking large strides, “Let’s go.”

The atmosphere was supposed to be relaxed, but Huan Er felt extremely oppressed. Whether it was the unusually unkempt Qiu Yang, the other guy who hadn’t spoken and seemed ready to bury his head in the monitor, or even Jing Qichi whose clothes weren’t inside-out but backward – the front design now on his back while the neck pressed tightly against his Adam’s apple – everyone in this room, from their eyes to their movements, was intensely focused. She could feel that taut state, like an arrow drawn and ready to release.

Outside in the hallway, Huan Er stopped and tugged at his clothes, “How old are you to not even know how to wear clothes properly?”

“Hm?” Jing Qichi frowned, looked down, and only then realized with an “Ah.”

He took off his glasses, handed them to Huan Er, and started taking off his clothes right there. As the hoodie lifted, it revealed half his waist, the muscles of his abdomen clearly defined from regular exercise. Huan Er glanced once and quickly turned away, then thought better of it and turned back to grab his inner T-shirt to cover his flesh, muttering, “How busy have you been lately?”

Familiar classmates passed by in the hallway, greeting them, “Little Jing, is your project finished?”

“Almost,” Jing Qichi put his arms through the sleeves and pulled the clothes over his head. “Has to be, submissions at the end of the month.”

“I heard the other side has some overlap with your topic.”

The other side naturally referred to their rival school a few blocks away.

You call me idle, I call you wild – the love-hate history, no, the competitive history between the two schools could fill volumes.

“Let them overlap,” Jing Qichi snorted. “We’re not afraid.”

“Not bad, keep it up.” The greeting male student finally noticed Huan Er and grinned, raising his eyebrows, “No wonder you’re off on another date.”

Jing Qichi smiled, “I’m the one being taken out.”

Huan Er, who had been smoothing out his carelessly rolled-up hoodie hem, hearing such nonsense, reached inside and gave his waist a hard pinch.

“Ouch.” Jing Qichi couldn’t help but twist away, and as he turned his head, he met Huan Er’s extremely unfriendly face. Without a word, she started walking away.

Unfortunately, his classmate who loved watching the drama unfold continued joking, “Which department is this girl from? Haven’t seen her before…”

“Not good.” Jing Qichi hurriedly left those words and quickly caught up.

The greeting student was a bit confused – when had Computer Science’s popular baby Little Jing ever cared so much about a girl? Passing by the lab door, he poked his head in, “Qiu Yang, do you know that girl from just now?”

Qiu Yang was pulling his hair trying to figure out a solution, raising his head at tenth speed, “Which one?”

“Jing Qichi’s.”

“Oh, he’s reformed.” Qiu Yang slowly moved his gaze back to the screen, staring at the code that seemed wrong no matter how he wrote it, rubbing his fingers to self-console, “No rush, everything has hope.”

Outside the department building, Jing Qichi caught up to Huan Er, “They were just joking, no, I was just joking.”

“Don’t count me on your dating list.” Huan Er gave him a side glance. “It’s crowded there anyway.”

This reaction put Jing Qichi at ease. He even felt a secret delight.

Emotions are the most subtle existence in the world. They seemed to be returning to their old path – becoming each other’s most reliable and trusted presence again, but there had to be something else mixed in to make this feeling not so “pure.” The sense of disparity, jealousy, and envy were all impurities. Perhaps Chen Huan Er hadn’t realized it yet, but someone who dealt with chemical molecules daily was most sensitive to impurities. One day she would understand.

“It is a bit crowded,” Jing Qichi looked at her with a smile. “But the competition isn’t much.”

If he weren’t at his wit’s end, he wouldn’t have resorted to such a risky move – the dosage of impurities needed strict control, a bit more or less could lead to vastly different results.

Jing Qichi had no experience in pursuing girls, but pursuing Chen Huan Er came naturally to him.

His phone vibrated, and seeing the number, Jing Qichi said “My advisor” with a nod to Huan Er before turning away to answer. Huan Er waited nearby, hearing him say “Right now it’s mainly model training, Qiu Yang is leading them in optimization” “The project proposal template is from our competition entry last year, the main changes are in environmental analysis and market positioning” “Okay, I’ll send you the initial presentation materials later.” He kept his head down, his right foot rhythmically scuffing the ground – a peculiar habit when nervous, stressed, or troubled. Probably a habit formed after his right knee surgery, seeming both like a reflex left from rehabilitation therapy and as if only this could help him calm down.

Jing Qichi swallowed his food, his Adam’s apple bobbing, “Why not?”

Huan Er froze, not immediately understanding the question.

He looked at her steadily, repeating softly, “Why not?”

Their eyes met, and Chen Huan Er yielded. She lowered her head, “I… can’t consider this question right now.”

She had just gone through a breakup; this wasn’t the right time.

Jing Qichi fell silent.

Huan Er raised her head again, “At this time, whatever decision I make would be unfair to you, and to me as well.”

It wasn’t that hesitant phone call, nor the mutual random guesses after the freshman football match – this third probe between them was a straightforward conversation. One person proposed, the other answered honestly, without any evasion, both understanding. Time had taught them to face their hearts, and through one mediation after another that began and ended, it strengthened the trust between them – surely you can understand this honest me right now, right?

“Then let’s wait until that time passes.” Jing Qichi leaned close to her ear, his voice slightly hoarse, “Until you have an answer.”

On the second day of the October holiday, Song Cong and Qi Qi arrived, each with a backpack, looking very much like budget travelers. Jing Qichi was busy preparing for an entrepreneurship competition as a key member and couldn’t get away, so Huan Er hosted the travelers from afar on the day they arrived.

Dinner was cheerful enough. They talked about their travel plans and agreed to pick a day to tour the campus, and Huan Er recommended several restaurants and cafes she thought were good. Both showed signs of fatigue from traveling all day. The dinner ended before eight, and since Huan Er knew the guesthouse Song Cong booked was nearby, she offered to walk them there before returning to school.

The three arrived at the accommodation early, chatting and laughing while waiting, but the landlord hadn’t arrived. Song Cong called, and the other end first apologized, then mentioned traffic delays. After twenty minutes, he called again, and the landlord said they were at the intersection, almost there. Another quarter hour passed, and on the third call, the landlord claimed to be parking and would arrive shortly.

By now, Qi Qi’s displeasure was written all over her face. She complained in a low voice, “I said we should have booked a hotel.”

With a guesthouse, they needed to wait for key handover and couldn’t enter without the landlord.

“Let’s wait a bit longer.” Song Cong didn’t say more.

“It was the same coming here,” Qi Qi whispered to Huan Er. “Flying would have been quick and convenient, but he insisted on taking the high-speed rail. The whole way there were crying children and arguing people, who couldn’t sleep at all for hours.”

Huan Er quickly tried to smooth things over, “Well, it’s Golden Week. You’re lucky to even get train tickets. Qi Chi and I once took hard seats home, our bottoms nearly fell apart.”

“We could have gotten plane tickets too…”

Just as Qi Qi was speaking, a young man in sportswear came running up, already apologizing before he reached them, “Brother, I’m really sorry, traffic was jammed, I took a detour and then hit a road closure due to an accident, truly sorry.”

Before Song Cong could speak, Qi Qi hurried them along, “Let’s go quickly, we’re exhausted.”

“Right, right.” Seeing the guests were a couple, the landlord led the way while saying, “I’ll send you two movie tickets later as compensation.”

Though the complex was old, the environment was still elegant. After a five-minute walk from the entrance, they reached their building, with the guesthouse on the seventh floor. It was a one-bedroom apartment, small but renovated, with new furniture and decorations. The landlord briefly explained how to use the appliances and check-out procedures before leaving, bowing repeatedly in apology.

Qi Qi wore contact lenses, and after a full day, her eyes were extremely dry. She excused herself to the bathroom. Everyone could see her poor mood from the wait. Song Cong put down his backpack and gave Huan Er a bitter smile, “Alright, let me walk you down.”

“No need, this is my territory,” Huan Er waved at him. “I’m off, call you later.”

Just then, a voice came from the bathroom, “Song Cong, come here quick, look at this.”

“What’s wrong?” Song Cong walked toward the bathroom, with Huan Er hesitantly following.

“Look at this shampoo and body wash, what is all this mess?” Qi Qi stood at the sink, pointing casually. “The labels are handwritten, who would dare use these?”

Those bottles filled with milky liquid were decanted containers, with type labels taped on.

Song Cong rubbed his brow, “Let’s make do for one night, if you’re not comfortable with them, we’ll buy some tomorrow.”

“I said we should fly but you had to book train tickets, suggested a hotel but you disagreed, wanted to bring a suitcase but you insisted on traveling light,” Qi Qi unleashed all the frustration she’d been holding in all evening. “Waited so long and can’t even take a comfortable shower, what’s the point of coming out to travel like this?”

“Stop,” Song Cong made a halting gesture, “I’ll go buy some now, okay?”

To Qi Qi, these words sounded like he was saying she was being unreasonable. Her voice immediately rose, “I’m saying you never consider my opinions!”

“Can we please solve the current problem first?” Song Cong suppressed his anger. “Shampoo and body wash, what else do you need? Conditioner? Anything else?”

“I need?” Qi Qi angrily knocked over the bottles. “May I ask if my requests are too demanding?”

The glass bottles rolled on the floor, breaking into a mess mixed with lotions.

Huan Er stood awkwardly at the door, and seeing their argument escalating, quickly tried to mediate, “I’ll go buy some, there’s a mall right downstairs anyway. You’re both tired from traveling all day, get some rest. Why argue when you’re out to have fun?”

Huan Er looked at him. The anger she felt earlier and the questions she had prepared all became irrelevant at this moment.

After hanging up the phone, Jing Qichi came closer, “Tell me, what did you come to see me about?”

“Food.”

The guy squinted at her, “Fine, let me think about it.”

At an off-campus Sichuan restaurant, they ordered three dishes for two people, plus takeout. His phone kept receiving messages. He’d look at it after a few bites of food, sometimes quickly typing back a response, staring at the screen for a long while before hesitantly replying. Eating became mechanical, his gaze blank, silent. Huan Er even felt he didn’t know what he was eating. This state was even more intense than when he was chasing grades in senior year – he was constantly pushing his limits.

How fortunate that he hadn’t taken the path of self-destruction, but had grown up on schedule to become such a young man.

During a quiet moment without phone notifications, Huan Er couldn’t help asking, “What exactly is this project of yours?”

Though Song Cong had mentioned it, it was far beyond her understanding.

“Simply put, it’s an artificial intelligence platform,” Jing Qichi put down his phone. “You’ve been to radiology, right? Radiotherapy is taking CT scans, three or four hundred images, and then doctors look at each one to mark tumor locations. If the radiation therapy targeting position or penetration path is off, it can harm normal organs, so marking targets is both time and energy-consuming.”

“Mm.” Huan Er nodded. She’d forgotten the name of Third Hospital’s radiology director but remembered he was a serious little old man with a bald spot who ate extremely fast.

“Are you thinking of Director Liu?” Jing Qichi swept his forehead hair up to imitate Director Liu’s appearance. “Old Liu.”

“Ha, yes.” Huan Er laughed.

“So the platform’s purpose is to replace humans in drawing target areas, to free up Director Liu and others.” Jing Qichi gestured with both hands. “Integrate large amounts of previously taken images and data into a library, and of course when expanding, we should also incorporate doctors’ experience into this database, then based on algorithms output…” Seeing Huan Er’s confusion, Jing Qichi changed his explanation, “Let me put it this way – in the future, when you input CT scans, it will automatically mark target areas, saving time and effort. We’re building such a platform.”

Huan Er understood now. Although Jing Qichi had skipped the most difficult and technical parts, sitting here at this moment, she not only understood his project but also the burning ideals behind it.

What else could it be? Growing up watching those people do ward rounds, surgeries, and consultations – some with hair turned white, some with bodies worn down by illness, some missing many important moments in their parents and children’s lives. If you asked if they were tired? Everyone gets tired, but even when exhausted and collapsed, they still worry about the patient needing a surgery plan. What Jing Qichi wanted to do, what he hoped for, was simply to make these people around him a little less tired.

Children from the residential compound had grown up, and this was their ideal.

“It’s quite difficult, isn’t it?” Huan Er knew it must be very difficult.

She suddenly realized he was becoming more and more like Song Cong – speaking with clear logic, acting steady and prudent, and giving his all once he set his mind on a goal.

“Difficult.” Jing Qichi didn’t deny it. “Unknown things, future things, which one isn’t difficult?”

No, that wasn’t it. Song Cong only did things he was sure about, he had a boundary he set for himself, crossing lines never appeared in his life; but Jing Qichi was finding his direction in the wilderness, feeling for stones in the river – all phenomena and brilliance were scenery along the way, he was determined to forge a path of his own.

On the way back to school, Jing Qichi casually spoke up, “If it’s about the Tian Chi thing, I did it.”

This was the only reason he could think of that would make Chen Huan Er seek him out.

Huan Er no longer had any intention to question, responding lightly, “How childish of you all. If I wanted to beat someone up, couldn’t I do it myself?”

Jing Qichi pulled at the corner of his mouth, “What else could we do? Should I have hacked the campus network to expose him and wait for you to get doxxed?”

Huan Er sighed helplessly, just as she took a step forward, she was pulled back by her hoodie. Jing Qichi pointed at the traffic light, “Do you know the difference between red and green lights?”

Huan Er rolled her eyes, “Testing me on traffic rules at twenty-something?”

“You can choose not to go on green, but you must stop on red.” He turned his head to look at her, “Let it end here.”

Stop caring about that damn ex-boyfriend, stop regretting the sincere feelings given, stop dwelling in failed love, stop being afraid to welcome new life.

Let it end here.

The traffic light changed, and traffic on both sides came to a sudden stop.

“Jing Qichi, with glasses you look…”

“Look what?”

“Quite sexy actually.”

“Get lost.”

“Really, like one of those perverted pretty boys.”

“…”

“Take off the glasses, flash a wicked smile, pounce into a rich woman’s embrace, and bravely fire away.”

“…Stop it.”

The lost static period can’t be made up for, just like a lover who’s changed their heart can never be won back. Fortunately, we hold paintbrushes in our hands, giving this moment and that endless future richer and more vivid possibilities. No one knows when the next leaf will fall when the next rain will come when the next lover will arrive, when the next love will knock on the door. Giving yourself some expectations, a bit of hope, a vision – this might be the choice that ordinary people should make.