To her family, Qiao Qingyu appeared completely normal—except for that night before the New Year when they discussed Qiao Baiyu. Qiao Qingyu was grateful for this. She was quite satisfied with how composed she had remained these past few days.
But not entirely satisfied. Mainly because she hadn’t thought through the printing issue beforehand.
When Qiao Jinrui rejected the elders’ arrangements and wouldn’t let Qiao Qingyu stay by the bride’s side to help, she realized she had exposed another vulnerability: Qiao Jinrui’s distrust.
He had subtly detected her unusual state and worried she might disturb the bride’s mood.
But I must stay by the bride’s side, Qiao Qingyu thought.
“Don’t worry,” she told Qiao Jinrui after lunch. “I harbor no ill will toward Sister Xiaoyun. I absolutely won’t say anything inappropriate.”
Perhaps moved by her sincere gaze, Qiao Jinrui wavered: “Very well, I’ve always felt you were the kindest in the family. You wouldn’t destroy everyone’s hard work of these past days.”
That last sentence had its intended effect, putting pressure on Qiao Qingyu. As she went upstairs, images flashed through her mind of Li Fanghao, Qiao Lusheng, and everyone in the family busily working these past days. Her resolve began to waver. The door to the bridal chamber stood open, with no one inside. Qiao Qingyu paused, hesitated for a moment, then walked in and closed the door.
Opening the computer, she carefully studied the train schedule from Tongyang City Station to Huan Prefecture—the nearest station to Shun Yun. Combined with the bus schedules she had inquired about that morning at Qiaotou Town Bus Station, a specific route quickly formed in her mind.
“Escape.” Qiao Qingyu whispered, smiling self-mockingly as she logged into QQ, which she hadn’t used in a long time.
Ignoring the constant message notifications, she first filled in her long-empty personal signature with a line:
“Using a flower as an accessory to duel with the world.”
It was the first quote in her collection notebook, seen in some magazine during her first year of high school, written by a poet named Adonis. After pressing enter, it felt like completing a last will, leaving her chest empty yet filled with mixed emotions.
The QQ icon bounced incessantly in the corner, and among the notifications, a deep blue ocean avatar suddenly caught Qiao Qingyu’s attention—it was Ming Sheng.
Before opening the chat window, she unconsciously took a deep breath.
“Happy New Year.”
The message was from a private chat opened by the class group, containing just these four words, sent at 00:00 on January 26th, New Year’s Eve.
Qiao Qingyu could hear her own heart thundering.
After a moment, she calmed down and sent back: Thanks, you too.
“Are you in your hometown?”
Ming Sheng’s reply startled her, then she understood—his avatar was in color, which meant he was online, didn’t it?
“Yes.”
“Is it fun spending New Year at home?”
“No, it’s not fun.”
He sent a sun emoji, then asked: “Are you unhappy?”
That question struck Qiao Qingyu’s heart like a drumbeat. She fell silent.
“What does your signature mean?” Ming Sheng asked again. “Why do you want to duel with the world?”
“It’s just a poem,” Qiao Qingyu replied. “I copied it.”
“You didn’t say ‘none of your business,'” came his quick response. “How nice.”
Qiao Qingyu was slightly taken aback.
“Pls tell me more,” the words urgently appeared on the screen, “anything.”
Staring at “anything” for a long while, Qiao Qingyu felt dizzy. She wanted to type, and raised her right hand, but unconsciously covered her nose and mouth instead. Her nose felt inexplicably sour.
Voices of Lingling and Liu Yanfen came from outside the door. Qiao Qingyu sat up straight and quickly typed: “Are you free this afternoon? Can you help me with something?”
“Say it.”
“Print an article, two hundred copies.”
“Okay.”
“I need it tonight,” Qiao Qingyu typed while thinking, with a carefulness invisible to the other side, “before eight tonight.”
“So that means delivering to your hometown within 6 hours?” Ming Sheng was surprised.
“Yes,” Qiao Qingyu bit her lower lip, “my home is in South Qiao Village, Lifang Township, Qiaotou Town, Shun Yun City. It’s about three hours by car from Huan Prefecture. There’s enough time.”
She quickly added: “You can take a taxi here, I’ll pay for it. Is that okay?”
“I’m in New York.”
Qiao Qingyu couldn’t help but stare wide-eyed, then dejectedly lowered her head.
Looking up again, a new message appeared on the screen: “Send me the article.”
After four in the afternoon, every half hour, Qiao Qingyu would run out to the courtyard gate to look toward the village entrance. When dinner was served, a fine pattering sound came from outside, and Lingling happily ran to the front hall, saying it was starting to snow.
“A good omen,” Qiao Lilong smiled. “Auspicious snow forecasts a prosperous year!”
“Snow usually stops after one night,” Qiao Haisheng also smiled, as if reassuring everyone. “Everyone should sleep early today and get up early tomorrow to sweep the courtyard clean first. Don’t worry about the weather—the sun will be out tomorrow!”
Qiao Jinrui frowned: “The roads will be difficult with snow. The wedding convoy will need to leave an hour earlier tomorrow.”
“Go take your bath after eating, or others will go first and you’ll end up last in line,” Li Fanghao whispered to Qiao Qingyu. “After bathing, go straight to bed. Tomorrow you’ll be following the bride in the convoy—it’ll be exhausting.”
After dinner, while Li Fanghao was cleaning up in the kitchen, Qiao Qingyu slipped out to the gate again to look toward the village entrance. After her shower, with her hair still wet, she went to the gate once more.
But no car with flashing hazard lights appeared at the village entrance.
Just after eight o’clock, Qiao Qingyu was already in bed under Li Fanghao’s supervision. She had barely slept the previous night, and now, although worried about the delivery at the village entrance, she was extremely tired. To prevent herself from falling asleep, she tried reading, but finding that ineffective, she repeatedly rehearsed her next actions in her mind, striving not to overlook any detail. Half an hour later, Lingling quietly entered and turned off the light with a click.
When she awoke, Li Fanghao was breathing steadily beside her. It’s over, Qiao Qingyu cried out desperately in her heart.
She put on her down jacket and, wearing slippers, went downstairs. The clock in the front hall struck a long “dong”—it was one o’clock.
Outside, two bright red lanterns that burned through the night cast an enchanting yet lonely glow over the empty courtyard. Everything was covered in a layer of white frost, with lightweight snowflakes dancing like soap bubbles across the sky.
Her slippers left distinct footprints on the ground as Qiao Qingyu slowly pushed open the courtyard gate.
She saw it—about a hundred meters away at the village entrance, two yellow headlights were flashing continuously.
Because the road was too slippery, Qiao Qingyu stumbled several times while running toward the car. As she got closer, she saw it was a black Audi with Huan Prefecture plates. Under the streetlight, a young man sat in the driver’s seat with his eyes closed.
“Hey.” Qiao Qingyu knocked on the window.
The young man opened his eyes, startled upon seeing Qiao Qingyu, then quickly became alert and rolled down the window.
Qiao Qingyu looked apologetic: “I’m sorry, you’ve been waiting for a long time…”
“Take it,” the young man said irritably, directly handing her a black document bag. “You’re Qiao Qingyu, right?”
Qiao Qingyu took the bag: “Yes. Ming Sheng sent you, right?”
The young man didn’t speak but instead gave her a penetrating look from head to toe. Qiao Qingyu noticed his high straight nose was almost identical to Ming Sheng’s.
Qiao Qingyu pressed her lips together: “Thank you for making this special trip. I accidentally fell asleep, I’m sorry… As for the costs, I’ll bring them to Ming Sheng in a few days…”
“Is what you wrote true?” the young man interrupted her while opening the door and getting out of the car. “About Qiao Jinrui?”
“Ah?”
“I printed it, so I couldn’t help but read the content,” the young man pointed to the document bag in Qiao Qingyu’s arms. “Have you thought about what impact it will have on Qiao Jinrui if this gets out?”
“You know Qiao Jinrui?”
“I don’t, but I’ve heard of him,” the young man’s tone carried a maturity that didn’t match his age. “At his current pace, he’ll be promoted to deputy director before thirty—quite outstanding, with a promising future.”
Qiao Qingyu nodded with partial understanding: “You mean he’s swimming like a fish in official circles?”
The young man chuckled: “However you want to put it. But the system can’t tolerate anyone who brings negative influence. If you broadcast his affairs, it will be a devastating blow to him.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Ming Dai,” the young man smiled. “Ah Sheng’s cousin.”
Qiao Qingyu suddenly realized: “Oh, the senior from Tsinghua University who came to give a speech at school before?”
“Yes,” Ming Dai said. “My father, Ah Sheng’s uncle, is Ming Zhaoqun. The reason I know about Qiao Jinrui’s situation is that my father mentioned him at the dinner table, saying his workability is outstanding and he’s a rising star.”
Qiao Qingyu nodded. Ming Zhaoqun was a household name that appeared almost daily on television and in newspapers.
“As they say, when one person attains the Way, even chickens and dogs ascend to heaven,” Ming Dai observed Qiao Qingyu’s expression. “Originally this had nothing to do with me, but since I came at Ah Sheng’s request, let me remind you: Qiao Jinrui can change the fate of your entire family. Is it worth dragging him into the mud for a moment of anger? Your sister Qiao Baiyu is already dead—doing this won’t benefit anyone.”
After pondering for a moment, Qiao Qingyu looked up: “What I want is for the waves to surge.”
This was also a quote from her collection notebook. Ming Dai raised his eyebrows, appearing somewhat shocked, then smiled and shook his head: “Alright, now I understand.”
Seeing Qiao Qingyu’s confusion, he explained: “I understand why Ah Sheng wanted to help you.”
Turning to get back in the car, he muttered: “You’re right, better to follow your heart. If Ah Sheng knew I went through all this trouble to deliver the materials only to make you change your plans, he’d probably finish me off.”
“I won’t change my plans.”
“I can see that,” Ming Dai’s expression softened considerably. “You’re the same kind of person.”
“You… people?”
“You,” Ming Dai’s gaze was meaningful, “and Ah Sheng.”
He closed the car door, waved goodbye, turned the car around, and quickly disappeared into the night.
When the hall clock struck for the third time, Qiao Qingyu slowly tightened the gold and silver ribbons and solemnly stuffed the candy box back into the empty slot at the top of the paper box.
On the ground by her feet, only a few sheets of paper remained.
There was no time left—the wedding candies in the other two boxes would have to go without the notes.
Her feet were already numb from the cold. Qiao Qingyu leaned against the wall, gritted her teeth, and quietly stamped the ground, then struggled to move down the two large boxes on top, each with notes inserted in every candy box, and switched their positions with the other two candy boxes below.
“Can’t let them discover these notes too early,” she thought. “The spark that starts a prairie fire mustn’t be extinguished.”
Dragging her numb feet, she moved to the window by the stove and saw that the snow had stopped at some point. The character for “ceremony” bore touches of white, appearing both dignified and desolate under the red lantern light, inexplicably making Qiao Qingyu uneasy.
At this point, it was either escape or perish.
She carefully folded the remaining few pages to palm size and, after returning to her room, cautiously hid them under her pillow.
Lying down her exhausted body, thinking about sleeping on Ming Sheng’s handwriting, an electric-like tremor passed through her body.
Three hours ago, when she opened the black document bag under the streetlight and pulled out the printed article, Qiao Qingyu gasped in amazement. The white paper bore Ming Sheng’s handwriting, straight and orderly, each character strong. In a striking black box, the title “The Tragedy That Should Not Be Forgotten” firmly caught her gaze. Previously, Qiao Qingyu had worried that the text she sent was too brief and might be easily overlooked when printed, but now it seemed that unless someone couldn’t read, there was no way this paper would be ignored when the candy was opened.
It had been so long since she’d had this feeling—the feeling of being unconditionally, beyond expectations, satisfied. The characters on the paper were much more reserved and dignified than Ming Sheng’s usual casual writing as if he had deliberately reined in his arrogance to suit her, to satisfy her. She hadn’t answered Ming Sheng about why she wanted to “duel with the world,” but he had handed her a sword—a sword custom-made for her.
Qiao Qingyu felt that rationally, Ming Sheng probably didn’t approve of her being so resolute. “Two hundred copies means everyone will know,” he typed in the chat. “Aren’t you afraid your family will back you into a corner?”
“I will leave them.”
Only when she saw the note did Qiao Qingyu realize she had misunderstood Ming Sheng’s attitude—although his “fine” reply seemed somewhat perfunctory, in action, he had helped her to the utmost.
It felt as if a powerful spring of clear water had been injected into her heart, instantly dissolving all the bitterness in her chest, and producing an endless sweetness.
Recognizing her feelings, Qiao Qingyu’s heart skipped a beat. I know so little about him, she warned herself. I should be thinking about where to go from here, must not indulge in hopeless romance.
Closing her eyes, sinking into confusion, her thoughts still drifted to those strong, vigorous characters on the paper.
They were dancing lightly, jumping, suddenly turning into flames, about to ignite her in the next second.