After dinner, the four set off together for the watermelon fields.

The nearly three-kilometer journey would normally have prompted Du Man to suggest driving, but the fish stew had been so delicious that everyone was stuffed to the point where standing felt like a burden—walking would help digest the meal.

Stars and moon accompanied them, with dogs barking in the distance; countryside evenings always brought peace to the soul. Huan Er and Du Man walked in the middle, with Jing Qichi and Song Cong guarding each side. The four joked that outsiders might mistake them for gang members meeting for a fight. After walking for a while, the view suddenly opened up to reveal vast watermelon fields stretching as far as the eye could see. Jing Qichi exclaimed, “So this is where all the watermelons we used to eat came from!”

“The ones you eat now might be from here too,” Du Man responded. “The trucks that came to collect today were from Beijing. Isn’t it funny? I might have been buying watermelons from my own family’s fields at high prices at school.”

Huan Er patted her stomach, “It’s just that your food was too good—I don’t even have room to squeeze through gaps anymore.”

“Walk it off, and if you get thirsty later, just pick any melon from the field to eat.”

Song Cong pointed at someone, “Perfect time for Huan Er to demonstrate breaking a melon with her bare hands.”

Du Man’s eyes grew round, “Bare hands… breaking a melon?”

“She’s good at it,” Song Cong smiled. “Watermelons, apples, and what else was it?”

“Pears,” Jing Qichi casually added.

“Pears?” Song Cong looked puzzled. “I don’t remember seeing her break any pears.”

That was the aftermath of the four-kilogram Ya pear incident. Later that day, they’d met Qiu Yang on the road, and seeing Jing Qichi carrying one in each hand, he’d insisted on helping “lighten the load.” Naturally, Jing Qichi was reluctant to give away the pears Huan Er had worked so hard to bring, so he offered the one he’d already taken two bites from. Qiu Yang, ever the perfectionist, complained about his stinginess and refused to eat after him. That’s when Huan Er stepped in, breaking the pear cleanly in half with her bare hands while both men watched, then handed the untouched half to the dumbfounded Qiu Yang. As for the conclusion—Qiu Yang later earnestly advised Jing Qichi, “You should probably practice more when you have time.”

“How could you know everything?” Jing Qichi recalled this memory and gave Song Cong a tsundere expression.

“Here we go again.” Song Cong shook his head helplessly, grabbing Du Man’s wrist, “Let’s go, this is painful to watch.”

Watching their friends’ retreating figures, Huan Er stopped walking. “Qichi, I need to tell you something.”

“Mm?”

“Next semester…” Huan Er lowered her head involuntarily, “I want to apply for joint training. The senior students who returned to our group say with my current situation it shouldn’t be a problem. Maybe England or America, if things go smoothly, I’d leave the year after next.”

Chen Huan Er’s path had already been broadened by herself, and it was growing ever wider and longer.

This was fact, and also the foreseeable future.

Jing Qichi took her hand, “Look at me.”

Huan Er raised her head.

“Am I the first to know about this?”

Huan Er hadn’t expected this response from him and nodded.

After the unpleasantness over the PhD decision, Huan Er understood that even for things still being decided, she should share with him first—in some ways, she felt they were bound together.

Or rather, she had learned to include him in her future.

“I’m really happy,” Jing Qichi’s mouth curved, creating a lovely arc on his right cheek.

“What else?”

“Well…” He couldn’t think of anything else at the moment. Seeing some wildflowers growing by the roadside behind her, he stepped forward to pick two, removed the leaves, and tucked the pure white little flowers into her bun, saying as he did so, “I’ll come to visit you during breaks.”

It wasn’t a romantic line, more like a plan.

But this was exactly what being with him felt like—steady, reassuring, even if they weren’t thinking or doing anything special, he would take care of everything.

Steadiness—that was the infinite tenderness in life’s gentle flow.

Huan Er wrapped her arms around his waist, “Do you think I’m heartless?”

“How could I?” Jing Qichi let her hold him. “Regarding your wishes, I’ll do everything I can to help you achieve them, and for those things beyond my ability, you’ll have to work hard yourself. But no matter what, when you feel like you can’t hold on anymore, I’ll always be there to catch you. Just remember that.”

“No matter when?”

“No matter when.”

“Qichi,” Huan Er hooked her arms around his neck, her eyes bright as stars, “You’re not just repaying a debt, are you?”

She had wanted to ask this question for a long time but felt it would sound too dramatic as if she didn’t trust his feelings for her.

She just wanted to know how much of the past still lingered there.

Jing Qichi looked at her and sighed softly.

“Never mind, I just…” Huan Er tried to let go.

But immediately, Jing Qichi pulled her into his embrace.

“My feelings for you,” he emphasized each word, “have never been about repaying a debt.”

Huan Er heard his heartbeat, just like when he first hugged her at eighteen.

“This is something that took me a long time to understand,” Jing Qichi said softly. “I used to always say I owed you one and would repay it next time, but I don’t even remember how much I owed or if I ever repaid it. So Huan Er, owing and repaying doesn’t matter to me at all. Maybe subconsciously, I just wanted to have more connections with you, to keep you by my side for a long, long time.”

Jing Qichi held her face in both hands, “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Mm.” Huan Er suddenly felt her worries were trivial and tried to explain, “I didn’t…”

The words she wanted to say were sealed by Jing Qichi’s kiss.

No explanation was needed—he understood everything.

She closed her eyes, stood on tiptoe, and completely lost herself in this soft summer night in the countryside.

The four returned to Du Man’s house at two in the morning.

Huan Er and Du Man shared a room. They turned on the air conditioning, pulled up the quilts, and lay down comfortably face to face.

“Those two must be suffering,” Du Man said with a laugh. The guest room only had a standing fan, and even with that, one could imagine how stuffy and hot it must be.

Huan Er shared some girl talk with her, “How far have you and Song Cong gotten?”

“What do you mean how far?” Du Man blushed. “We just talked about school and research topics, he gave me some advice.”

“This fool.” Huan Er felt exasperated, rolling over to lie on her stomach and ask her friend, “Man Man, tell me honestly, what do you think of Song Cong?”

“Well, he’s a good person.”

“Oh my god, what high praise!” Huan Er teased, “In your eyes, he’s a person!”

Du Man giggled, “Be careful, I might tell him tomorrow.”

“He isn’t treated like a normal person,” Huan Er counted on her fingers. “Academic genius, scholarly god, academic saint—ever since I’ve known Song Cong, he’s only been these things. Since Aunt Hao, oh that’s Song Cong’s mom, had her accident, everyone seems even more demanding of him. He can’t be weak, can’t cry, because Song Cong must be stronger than others, Song Cong must have solutions.” Huan Er pressed her lips together, “But he’s not a god, how could he have all the answers?”

Du Man was quiet for a long while before asking, “How is his mom now?”

“Super good,” Huan Er blinked. “Great attitude and rehabilitation is going well, Aunt Hao is amazing.”

Du Man said softly, “That’s Heaven answering prayers.”

Huan Er nodded in the darkness, “So you see, Song Cong is just someone’s child too, at most just a normal person with a high IQ.”

Du Man feigned surprise, “High?”

“High… quite high.” Huan Er stuck out her tongue playfully. “Anyway, in your eyes he’s just a normal person, Song Cong lucked out.”

“That’s what he is,” Du Man murmured, “Has flaws and temper, just like everyone else.”

Huan Er moved closer to ask, “Man Man, did you like him in high school?”

Du Man shook her head, “I never thought about it.”

Her high school days were filled with endless workbooks, endless exams, and repeated class rankings. Back then, Song Cong was just the boy who sat behind her, the study monitor who could effortlessly become top of the grade. She was far from feeling envious or jealous because she knew where the gap lay, and because her desire for change was so urgent, Du Man had no extra energy to consider anything else.

“At that time,” Du Man pinched her friend’s face, “if there was anything to regret, it would be never riding bikes back to the staff quarters with you all.”

Life always has things you only realize you regret when you think about them later.

“Don’t worry,” Huan Er looked at her, “We’re together again now, aren’t we?”

Fortunately, those regrets had bloomed into flowers in the long years that followed.

“What’s that in your hair?” Du Man noticed the small wild plant in her hair strands. “Isn’t it uncomfortable sleeping with your hair tied up?”

“A gift,” Huan Er smiled slightly.

“Tch,” Du Man naturally guessed who it was from and made a face of disdain, “You didn’t even wash your hair just to keep the gift, do you like little Jing that much?”

“Little sister,” Huan Er rolled onto her back and closed her eyes toward the ceiling, “you’ll have your day too.”

“Which day?”

“When just thinking of him,” Huan Er touched her heart, “makes this sink deeper.”