As their lips met, intense passion suddenly erupted from within their hearts, causing both their bodies to tremble slightly. At that moment, Panghu, Fang Lei, Shi Min, and the others came running to the door downstairs, shouting: “Qingye, Qingye come out quickly!”

Their fleeting kiss ended as they abruptly separated, staring at each other in a daze. Looking up, their friends spotted them on the balcony and called out: “Qingye, Brother Wu, come down! What are you doing up there?”

Qingye’s cheeks flushed like ripe apples. Not daring to look at Xing Wu again, she rushed downstairs.

As soon as she emerged, Shi Min and Fang Lei rushed to embrace her. The boys gathered around Qingye, commenting on how she had grown even more beautiful. Qingye proudly flipped her long hair: “When was I ever not beautiful?”

Everyone walked to the restaurant together, laughing and joking with arms around their shoulders. Xing Wu came out last, locking the door.

Qingye glanced back at him just as he finished locking up and looked her way. Many things remained unspoken, conveyed only through that shared look.

Qingye quickly turned away. Xing Wu held a light jacket – it was windy here, and Qingye’s dress would occasionally flutter up, revealing her fair, smooth legs, and drawing unwanted attention.

He caught up in a few steps, wrapping his arms around her waist to tie the light jacket. Everyone stopped walking and responded with playful whistles.

Qingye said somewhat embarrassed: “It’s too warm to wear this.”

Xing Wu tied the sleeves decisively while looking down: “Wear it. The restaurant’s air conditioning will be cold.”

Qingye didn’t argue further and rejoined Shi Min and the others. That evening, Lang Dai, Zhang Kai, and others also came. At the large table of food and drink, Qingye learned that Da Cao’s case was about to be sentenced. She wondered if the elders of the Dark Hall had deliberately pushed Da Cao out as a scapegoat – he had been found guilty of more than one or two crimes, and this time he likely wouldn’t get out easily.

The conversation turned to college entrance exams. Fang Lei, Panghu, and Shi Min had all done fairly well, expecting scores above 450. Shi Min asked Qingye if she had finalized arrangements with the overseas university.

Everyone looked at her, except Xing Wu who kept his eyes down, turning the wine glass in his hand. Qingye smiled and said: “Let’s wait for the results first.”

Then she asked Fang Lei: “What about you? What are your plans?”

Fang Lei replied: “My scores probably aren’t enough for Xiamen University. I’ve been researching other universities in Xiamen lately. Qingye, help me analyze my options later?”

Qingye nodded: “We’ll talk after dinner.”

As for Panghu, he said he was still confused. His family wanted him to study majors he had no interest in, while they opposed the majors he wanted to pursue, leading to recent tensions at home.

Later, as dinner was ending, Qingye saw Panghu heading to the restroom and followed, calling out: “Class Monitor.”

Panghu turned around, scratching his head with an awkward smile: “Don’t… don’t call me that.”

Qingye walked up to him and said: “After returning to Beijing, I consulted a doctor friend of my father’s about your speech condition. Excluding genetic factors, it seems related to physiological development and psychological stress. I described your situation, mentioning how the symptoms improve when your emotions run high. She said there are correction methods available. Would you like to try?”

The smile gradually faded from Panghu’s face, replaced by indescribable excitement: “Wh-what methods? Do I need to see a doctor?”

“If you’re willing, I can communicate with her again when I return and share her contact information with you. She can provide some treatment options. However, the key lies with you. I heard your condition will primarily require psychological therapy, involving lots of recitation practice, breathing exercises, and pronunciation work – it’s a long-term process. It might be quite challenging to completely overcome the language barrier. You…”

“I… I want to try.” Panghu looked at Qingye with determination, as if suddenly finding direction amid his post-exam uncertainty.

Qingye smiled: “Alright, I’ll talk to her when I return and contact you later.”

Panghu nodded. As Qingye turned to head back to the private room, Panghu called out: “Qing… Qingye, thank… thank you thank you.”

Qingye turned her head, smiling: “No need for thanks.”

She pushed open the door and returned to the room. Amid his excitement, the seed buried in Panghu’s heart suddenly stirred, and his confused path forward began to grow clearer in his mind.

After Qingye entered, she sat beside Shi Min. Xing Wu, sitting across from her, glanced up. With so many people present, they barely exchanged words all evening.

Perhaps because everyone understood the difficult path Qingye and Xing Wu faced ahead, aside from Shi Min’s question about Qingye’s university plans, no one else teased them.

The lively dinner ended with everyone having drunk moderately, but not excessively.

Afterward, Fang Lei said to Qingye: “Let’s walk together for a bit.”

So Qingye bid farewell to everyone. Fang Lei, slightly tipsy, turned to Xing Wu with a smile: “Mind if I borrow your Qingye for a few minutes?”

Xing Wu’s lips curved slightly as he sat on a stone bench and took out his phone.

Qingye crossed the street with Fang Lei, chatting at the corner for a while.

A moment later, Xing Wu looked up to see Fang Lei’s expression had turned somewhat strange. Finally, she hugged Qingye tightly, nodding heavily against her shoulder, seemingly… crying.

After putting Fang Lei in a taxi and saying goodbye, Qingye walked back across the street.

Xing Wu stood up, putting away his phone, and glanced in the direction Fang Lei had left, asking: “Why was she crying?”

Qingye was silent for a moment before saying: “After the David Cup ended, I accidentally saw Wei Dong’s draft paper.”

Xing Wu’s brows furrowed slightly, surprised: “He was the one?”

Qingye nodded.

“Why didn’t you tell Fang Lei then?”

Qingye gave a small laugh, turning to walk beside him in the dim alley: “Fang Lei was so enthusiastic about getting my help then. If I’d told her, she might have lost her motivation. I couldn’t bring myself to say it.”

Xing Wu watched their shadows merge on the ground, saying absently: “So you told her just now?”

“Yes, I felt she should know. As for how she chooses her path forward, that’s for her to balance.”

Xing Wu remained silent. The difference between Qingye and Fang Lei was that no matter how deeply Qingye loved someone, she would never lose her direction. She wouldn’t forget her original aspirations for another person. It was precisely this unique radiance about her that made it impossible for Xing Wu to look away.

Soon Qingye noticed they weren’t heading home. She looked at Xing Wu askance: “Aren’t we going back?”

“Won’t sleep well there.”

Qingye looked around: “Hmm, this isn’t the way to the hotel either.”

Xing Wu stopped to hail a cab: “We’re not going to that hotel.”

Qingye was about to ask where they were going, but Xing Wu had already opened the car door and turned to look at her, so she decided not to ask.

The car drove straight to the county town, stopping in front of an upscale hotel. Coincidentally, Qingye had been here once before, when her father and Uncle Sun had stayed here during their visit.

At five or six hundred yuan per night, it ranked among the top five-star hotels in the county. After getting out of the car, she looked at the hotel entrance and stopped, saying to Xing Wu: “The regular hotel would have been fine for one night.”

Xing Wu glanced back at her before striding inside. Qingye could only follow. The receptionist asked how many rooms they wanted.

He looked at Qingye, who looked at the ceiling, and the floor, her eyes wandering everywhere, pretending not to hear. Xing Wu turned back to the receptionist: “One room, one night.”

Then he turned to Qingye: “ID card.”

Qingye handed him her ID card. The receptionist asked: “Which room type? We have Superior King and Deluxe King rooms.”

Xing Wu coughed slightly: “The Deluxe.”

Taking the key card, he turned to Qingye: “Let’s go.”

Qingye adjusted her small backpack and followed him into the elevator. After the doors closed, they each stared at advertisements on opposite walls, the air suddenly extraordinarily quiet. When the “ding” sounded, they both started.

Xing Wu said: “We’re here.”

Then walked out of the elevator. Qingye responded with an “Oh” and followed.

It felt strange – although they had stayed in hotels before, this was technically the first time Xing Wu had properly taken her to get a room and a Deluxe King at that. Though Qingye tried not to let her mind wander, she couldn’t help it. Her heart was racing, and she felt nervous.

Xing Wu looked back at her. She quickly lowered her flushed face, thinking the dim hallway light would hide her redness.

Then Xing Wu stopped, swiping open the room door. Qingye followed him in and looked around – it was indeed luxurious, with a bathtub and a large, soft-looking bed. The facilities were new, as this hotel had been built in Anzi County just in the past couple of years.

After Qingye set down her small bag, Xing Wu asked: “Want to shower?”

“Um… yes…”

Then Qingye remembered something awkward: “I didn’t bring a change of clothes.”

Xing Wu glanced at her: “Just get in bed after your shower. I’ll wash your clothes – they’ll dry by tomorrow.”

As he spoke, he went to the window and drew the curtains. In the enclosed space with just the two of them, Qingye’s heart beat faster.

She showered and came out wrapped in a towel. Xing Wu was lounging in a chair, idly flipping through TV channels.

After she slipped under the covers, she tossed out the towel. Xing Wu turned his head, their eyes meeting briefly in the air. This time, Qingye dove under the covers with burning cheeks. Xing Wu shook his head with a smile, got up to hang her wet bathrobe, and then returned to hover over the blanket.

Qingye felt his hands press down on either side of her as his deep, pleasant voice came from outside the covers: “Aren’t you hot?”

As Qingye pulled back the covers, he had already turned to enter the bathroom to wash her clothes. When Xing Wu came out again, he had showered as well, a towel around his waist as he stood by the television, apparently trying to find a good movie.

Qingye gazed at his back, admiring how the sensual lines flowed smoothly down his skin. The scars on his back were still faintly visible, lending an air of youthful wildness and defiance. Her voice came out soft and gentle: “I miss you.”

Xing Wu’s figure stiffened for a moment. In the end, he didn’t put on any movie, instead turning off the television and returning to the bedside.

Qingye had half her face buried in the blanket, revealing only a pair of liquid eyes gazing at him, their clear depths holding the tenderness he had longed for day and night.

When Xing Wu lifted the corner of the blanket, she trembled slightly. He knew she was nervous and had intended to help her relax with gentle kisses, but once his fingertips touched her soft, delicate skin, everything spiraled out of control as if bewitched.

Two months of yearning, two months of restraint, two months of separation – it all transformed into an unstoppable tide of passion. Until their intertwined pleasures led them both to sink deeper, burning together, as if the entire world contained only the two of them, possessing each other completely, finally releasing their uncontrollable longing.

Setting aside their family backgrounds, Xing Wu and Qingye were perhaps the most compatible lovers in every way. The advantage of having a scholarly girlfriend was her exceptional learning ability – though starting as a complete novice, in just a few short months she could captivate him entirely.

Their passionate intensity didn’t subside until late into the night. As they lay tightly embraced, after a long while, Qingye finally asked: “Why didn’t you tell me about Grandmother? I should have come back.”

Xing Wu stroked her soft hair, his voice hoarse: “I knew you would come back, that’s why I didn’t tell you.”

Qingye’s arms tightened around him. She hadn’t been by his side during his most vulnerable moment, and now knowing this filled her heart with indescribable sadness.

He asked: “Is your father alright now?”

“He’s fine, but he’s completely severed ties with the old company. He started his own business and has been quite busy lately.”

Though it was a brief response, Xing Wu understood that even a lean camel is larger than a horse – Qingye wouldn’t have to struggle anymore now that she was back with her father.

They talked about many things in the late hours, but never broached the most pressing reality between them – Qingye’s plans to study abroad. She didn’t mention it, and he didn’t ask.

The next morning, they both woke early as if by mutual understanding. Despite having slept only a few hours, neither wanted to waste time sleeping. They went to the hotel restaurant for the breakfast buffet.

They chose a window seat, constantly smiling at each other without excess words as if trying to memorize every detail of each other’s faces, not wanting to miss a single glance.

It was only eight after breakfast when Xing Wu asked: “What time are you leaving?”

Qingye teased: “Eager to get rid of me?”

But Xing Wu didn’t smile. He just gazed at her intensely, his grip on her hand gradually tightening. Qingye dropped the joke and told him: “The latest bus to the station is at three, but it’s fine – the station is close by.”

Xing Wu checked the time again: “Checkout is at noon. Do you want to go back up and rest?”

Qingye had no objection. They took the elevator back up, but once in the room, they couldn’t bear to part. Everything became intense, and heated, their emotions somewhat uncontrolled. Who knew when they would meet again? Their reluctance to separate could only be expressed through this primal, passionate connection.

Afterward, Xing Wu went to shower. When he came out, he saw Qingye crying quietly, face buried in the blankets. His eyes reddened too, but he didn’t let her see. Wiping his eyes, he went over and gathered her into his arms, helping her dress with gentle movements as if afraid to startle her. Qingye leaned against his chest, biting her lip to keep from sobbing aloud.

Finally, the noon bell rang – even the most beautiful dreams must end. They checked out.

Xing Wu took Qingye to lunch, but she had little appetite, barely touching the dishes. Worried she’d be hungry on her journey, he ordered some spicy crayfish. They didn’t have crayfish locally – it had to be transported from elsewhere, making it expensive. But Xing Wu didn’t seem to mind the cost, and while Qingye wouldn’t eat the other dishes, she would eat the crayfish.

Afraid she’d stain her clothes, he peeled all the crayfish for her, only feeling relieved when she finally ate some rice with them.

It was nearly two when they left the restaurant. They walked hand in hand toward the bus station, barely speaking. Though the distance was considerable, somehow they arrived before they knew it.

They stopped in front of the station hall. Last time, Qingye had seen Xing Wu off, but now he was seeing her off. How she wished they didn’t have to keep saying goodbye to each other.

Xing Wu said he’d buy the tickets and asked her to wait. Qingye watched his figure longingly among the crowd. While queuing, he kept turning back to look at her. In the sea of people, they could always find each other at first glance. But what about later? When they were surrounded by more and more people, would they still be able to see each other so easily?

Xing Wu returned saying: “Got them. Let’s go.”

Qingye wondered why he hadn’t given her the ticket until he led her onto the bus and she realized he’d bought two tickets – he was accompanying her to the airport in the neighboring city.

On the bus, Qingye suddenly realized: “After seeing me off, will there still be buses back for you?”

Xing Wu’s eyes held a carefree smile: “Don’t know. We’ll see when we get there. If not, I’ll stay the night.”

Qingye hugged his arm and rested her head on his shoulder, feeling like crying again. He didn’t need to make this extra trip, but this way they got three more hours together.

Perhaps from exhaustion, though Qingye tried to stay awake, the swaying bus lulled her to sleep in Xing Wu’s arms.

Only when they arrived did he wake her. She said reproachfully: “How could you let me fall asleep?”

Xing Wu said indulgently: “You looked too tired. I didn’t want to wake you.”

Qingye followed Xing Wu off the bus, beating her chest in frustration. After getting her boarding pass, they had to part at security.

Qingye used to think couples getting clingy and dramatic at airports was like shooting some awful drama scene. She would always look away from such eye-searing displays.

Who would have thought she’d one day be doing something so eye-searing herself? She gazed at Xing Wu reluctantly as he gripped both her hands, looking down and gently caressing the back of her hand while saying evenly: “After you go back, don’t come here anymore.”

Qingye’s eyelashes trembled violently as tears suddenly poured down. She choked out: “You jerk! Sleep with me and then dump me?”

She tried to yank her hands away but he held tighter, pulling her into his arms with a smile: “You know what I mean.”

Qingye pressed her forehead against his chest, crying uncontrollably. Long ago, she had made him promise never to say the words “break up” no matter what happened.

So he didn’t say those two words, even at their parting he didn’t say them.

He told her not to come back because he understood too well, and could see too clearly what would happen if they continued like this.

Perhaps at first Qingye would make the tiring journey back, for love or passion, but eventually, busy and distant lives would replace all that. She would become more excellent, and more mature. He didn’t want to tie her down to this dark county. Once she left, she had broader skies ahead, she would become even more brilliant.

So… he was afraid. Afraid she’d keep coming back for him, perhaps for just a night before leaving again. He couldn’t bear to do that to her. He feared she’d feel cheapened, feared she’d eventually find it all worthless, feared she’d come to hate the distance, slowly leave him, gradually disappearing from his life bit by bit.

Yes, he understood too well. Because he understood so well, he knew that continuing like this, the gap between them would eventually wear away this intense love. He couldn’t bear that.

Qingye left his embrace and stepped back to look at him, tears streaming from her eyes, yet she smiled saying: “Before coming here, I already accepted Q University’s offer.”

Xing Wu stared at her shocked: “What did you say?”

“I decided to stay in Beijing and go to Q University. There’s nothing wrong with attending a top domestic university. You said changing your decisions for money is bullshit. I’m not doing this for money but for my dreams. Everyone needs dreams, right?”

She stepped backward, raising her arm to wave: “I’ve shortened the distance between us by half. The other half is up to you. If you lose me, I’ll become someone else’s sweetheart.”

Xing Wu watched her smile, tears welling in his eyes.

Qingye turned and rushed through security without looking back. She feared if she looked back, she’d never want to leave. But she had to steel herself to leave, for their future.

…

Xing Wu sat for a long time at the airport, perched on the railing watching planes pass overhead.

He suddenly realized – Qingye was gone, truly gone. How could he catch up to her?

There seemed to be two viable paths before him. The most direct would be buying a ticket to Beijing right now to find her.

Grandmother was gone, the house was built, and he had fewer ties now. He could become a full-fledged Beijing drifter. Maybe then he could be with Qingye immediately, see her every day.

But after she started school, she’d be surrounded by the nation’s elite, while he’d be among the lowest workers. He might not even be able to appear presentably beside her – how could he carve out a place for her in the talent-filled capital?

So although this was what Xing Wu desired most, it was also the first path he rejected.

The second path was agreeing to join the club, focusing on preparing for competitions. If he could make a name for himself in domestic competitions by year’s end, next year he could compete in Japan and Korea, then Europe and America.

But he had rejected Manager Jiang’s goodwill precisely because he didn’t want to be bound by such implicit rules. Yet during that month-plus in Shanghai, he realized joining a club’s contract would just be jumping into another form of constraint.

He might spend years in bitter training, seeing Qingye barely twice a year, endless days of practice and competition, over and over.

The industry’s top players seemed glamorous, but they were as rare as phoenix feathers and unicorn horns. More people wasted their youth, and wore down their bodies, only to face difficult circumstances after retirement. Most had to retire forcibly after 25 when they couldn’t keep up with the energy demands. A professional player’s golden age was only between 16 and 23. If you couldn’t make it, with no education, no money, and no health, you might end up doing logistics work for the club.

If he was lucky, after four years he might gain some fame and money. If fortunate enough to build connections after retirement, the best development would be starting his club and company. It might take another four years for the club to make a name for itself.

But eight years – that meant separating from Qingye for eight years before possibly carving out his place. After eight years, perhaps as Qingye said, she would have become someone else’s sweetheart.

Xing Wu’s heart clenched painfully at the thought. He jumped down from the railing.

He couldn’t bear eight years of separation. This path was too risky. Even if after eight years everything went as he imagined, Qingye would have long graduated. She’d be surrounded by industry elites and top domestic talents. Even if he made some money by then, so what? The distance between them would still be like the vast galaxy, uncrossable.

So there was only one path left before him. Though it seemed absurd for a lifelong troublemaker like him, something that would shock those around him… it seemed only this way could he reach her side in the shortest time.

Rolling heat waves burned on the asphalt, the rising heat like dancing flames. Xing Wu’s steps grew faster and faster, passion exploding in his heart. He strode to the street behind the airport and hailed a cab, returning straight to Anzi County without even haggling the price.

The sun sank below the horizon as darkness crept in. When he returned to Zhazha Pavilion, night had fallen. Panghu was just preparing for bed when a sudden urgent knocking made him grope his way up in the dark. He shuffled over in slippers and opened the door to find Xing Wu with bright eyes.

Panghu stared at him for a while, feeling something was off about Xing Wu today but unable to say what. He asked in surprise: “Bro-Brother Wu? Where’d you go? Wha-what’s wrong?”

Xing Wu’s gaze fixed on him as he asked directly: “Do you still have your books?”

“Wh-what books?”

“High school books. Did you tear them up?”

Panghu grinned slyly: “No-no, I to-took them home early. They still have Qingye’s notes. Couldn’t bear to tear them, ke-keeping them as memento.”

“Give them to me.”

Panghu glanced back at the clock on the wall, completely confused: “Bro-Brother Wu, why are you as-asking for books in the mi-middle of the night?”

“I’m going to repeat senior year.”

After a moment’s shock, Panghu suddenly broke into a foolish grin at Xing Wu, who finally showed a relieved smile. In the dead of night, two young men – one inside the door, one outside – laughed uncontrollably.

“Life is like a rushing flood – without islands and reefs, it cannot create beautiful waves.” – Ostrovsky.

…

[End of main story. Side stories to follow exclusively on Wenxue City locked to the “Shi Jiu Yuan” column, Weibo: Shi Jiu Yuan]