On the eve of the new school term, thanks to the spare key provided by Qiao Jingyu, Qiao Qingyu finally stepped out of the thin plywood door. Ming Sheng’s face suddenly loomed in her mind, and the words she had rehearsed countless times became jumbled the moment she crossed the threshold. The urge to “disappear” resurfaced, prompting her to borrow Qiao Jingyu’s phone and carefully hand over her ID card to him, lest she succumb to the temptation of “escape.”
“Mom’s gone to buy me new shoes. Wait for me at home and lock the door when I return,” Qiao Jingyu anxiously instructed. “Sis, no matter what, make sure you’re back by 4 PM.”
“Definitely,” Qiao Qingyu replied without looking up. She quickly typed, “I’ll wait for you at the camphor tree. Don’t reply,” signed her name, and swiftly dialed the all-too-familiar number.
Qiao Jingyu watched her every move intently. “Sis, is there nothing between you and Ming Sheng?”
“No, and stop asking,” she responded, already deleting traces of the sent message. After returning the phone to Qiao Jingyu, she donned a woolen hat, wrapped a long scarf around her nose and mouth, and hurriedly left.
The evergreen branches of the old camphor tree provided a natural hiding spot. Qiao Qingyu couldn’t imagine a better place nearby. It was a misty, overcast day with few people on the riverside path. She threw her long scarf over the lowest branch and climbed up more easily than before. She ascended higher until she could poke her head out through a small cluster of leaves. The view from above was clearer, and she could now see the open iron gate at the end of the path. If Ming Sheng appeared there, she’d know immediately.
As she waited in the tree, memories of her “chance encounter” with Ming Sheng beneath this very tree six months ago flooded her mind. She and He Kai hadn’t noticed him at all then. Perhaps he had hidden high up in the densest foliage, just as she was doing now? Maybe he had spotted them at the iron gate and decided to tease the awkward pair below.
Her thoughts drifted further back. She recalled sneaking out of the neighborhood, only to run into Ming Sheng’s father searching for him. Even Mrs. Feng didn’t know his whereabouts.
The curtains at his home were always drawn, likely to fend off nosy neighbors like Mrs. Feng who delighted in prying into others’ lives.
This ancient camphor wasn’t an ideal hiding place. It offered no shelter from rain or summer heat. If he couldn’t be free in Chaoyang New Village, why not find somewhere else? She didn’t believe he couldn’t find a better spot.
So, this tree must hold special meaning for him.
Lost in thought, she suddenly spotted Ming Sheng’s tall, lean figure at the end of the path.
With a lead-gray hoodie covering his head, he walked briskly. Qiao Qingyu felt unsteady and quickly crouched to regain her balance. By the time Ming Sheng reached the tree, she had changed her position, mimicking his previous pose: back against the trunk, seated on a sturdy branch.
Ming Sheng swiftly climbed up, stopping on a branch to her lower right. He leaned against the trunk, standing with his head level with Qiao Qingyu’s dangling calves. She looked down, their eyes meeting as she held her breath.
Ming Sheng was the first to look away.
“I can’t believe you managed to come out,” he broke the silence, his tone a mix of disbelief and satisfaction. “And you seem unharmed.”
Qiao Qingyu detected confusion in his latter statement.
“I saw your grandfather hit you,” Ming Sheng looked up at her again.
The family’s hysteria upon her return home was Qiao Qingyu’s lifelong shame. Ming Sheng had witnessed it—her worst fear realized. She felt utterly humiliated.
“Your mom sealed your windows. Why don’t you run away?” he asked.
The mention of Li Fanghao deepened Qiao Qingyu’s shame.
“A few days ago, my mom found you and said some harsh things… She’s just like that, easily agitated. You shouldn’t—I—”
“It’s fine. I just found it a bit amusing, like protesting too much,” Ming Sheng interrupted stammering. “If your mom hadn’t come looking for me, I wouldn’t have known you kept that note I casually wrote.”
Qiao Qingyu’s face burned. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
Ming Sheng smiled slyly, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Yet you snuck out to meet me.”
“That doesn’t mean anything either,” Qiao Qingyu suddenly felt flustered and annoyed. “Don’t get any ideas.”
“I’m not getting any ideas.”
His light, almost playful tone dissolved Qiao Qingyu’s anger. The air inexplicably turned intimate. Qiao Qingyu stiffened, pressing against the tree trunk as if clinging to her rationality.
“I have no other reason for seeing you,” she stated firmly. “Phone calls leave records, letters can be kept—those are traces I can’t bear. A face-to-face conversation is not only formal but also preserved by memory. If we choose, we can deny or forget it… That’s what I want.”
To her right and below, a shadow fell across Ming Sheng’s strong profile.
Taking a quiet breath, Qiao Qingyu continued, “I’m grateful for all your help… but nothing has happened between us. Nothing before, nothing now, and nothing ever will.”
After a few seconds, Ming Sheng turned his head away. “I don’t understand.”
“What’s not to understand?” Qiao Qingyu grew agitated. “I’m not someone who can pursue freedom. I can’t live as freely as you do. If you want a girlfriend, find someone else. I can’t and won’t date early. Besides, I won’t let a relationship with no future ruin my life.”
“A relationship with no future?”
“After high school, you’ll go to America, and I’ll stay in China. Our lives are on separate paths that should never intersect.”
“What does that matter?” Ming Sheng turned back to study Qiao Qingyu’s face. “During Spring Festival, I was in New York, yet I still did what you asked. You were wandering in the cemetery with a high fever, and I brought you back.”
“But…” Qiao Qingyu hesitated. “Anyway, the further you stay from me, the better. Just like last semester, pretend you don’t see me, treat me like a stranger…”
“I never ignored you last semester…”
“Your affection is a heavy burden to me! Without it, my life would be much easier!”
Ming Sheng fell silent.
“I’ve disliked you from the start,” Qiao Qingyu finally voiced the words she had rehearsed many times. “I found you terrifying, so recklessly bullying someone you didn’t even know. Now I think you’re arrogant, domineering, and stubborn. You’ve been spoiled since childhood, proud and conceited, thinking too highly of yourself. No matter how dire my situation, I would never like you.”
She had planned to leave immediately after saying this, but Ming Sheng blocked the branch below, her only way down. So she remained motionless. The effect of her words was evident; Ming Sheng froze like a statue.
The air grew heavy, making it hard for Qiao Qingyu to breathe. After a long while, she realized she had held back tears. With a self-destructive fervor, she spoke again, “I’d rather you hate me. Let’s hate each other and stay out of each other’s way.”
“You,” Ming Sheng moved his head slightly, his voice unusually hesitant, “you’ve always resented me for what I did to He Kai, haven’t you?”
“I didn’t mean to break his hand,” Ming Sheng continued, full of dejection. “I just wanted someone to scare him a bit. But I understand there’s no point in explaining. Some things, once set in motion, can’t be easily stopped. Like,” he exhaled quickly, “like the rumors about you.”
“Qiao Qingyu,” he looked up, his expression solemn, “I’m truly sorry.”
His seriousness made Qiao Qingyu uneasy. The sincere dark eyes gazing at her were filled with infinite remorse. Deeply moved, her heart pounded, leaving her speechless.
“It’s okay if you don’t accept me, but please, Qiao Qingyu,” he averted his gaze towards the river, “don’t hate me.”
“I hate you because what you did to He Kai wasn’t simple teasing,” Qiao Qingyu slowly began, feeling her heart shatter. “It was unprovoked, malicious bullying. You treated me the same way, casually taking my letter and throwing someone else’s letter to me into the river right in front of me… and then claiming to like me. This isn’t affection; it’s possession. So to me, your confession is worthless.”
Ming Sheng suddenly clutched his chest and crouched down. Half a minute later, he sighed deeply, straightened up, and turned to Qiao Qingyu with lifeless eyes. “If that’s how it is, there’s nothing more to say.”
“The last thing I want to say is thank you for all your help.”
Ming Sheng gave a bitter smile. “That’s all meaningless now.”
It was over. Ming Sheng seemed to have given up. Qiao Qingyu wanted to free herself and leave the tree, but Ming Sheng remained motionless, blocking her path.
“If you had two choices,” Ming Sheng suddenly looked up, his gaze penetrating, “freedom but a quick death, or imprisonment with a long life, which would you choose?”
Qiao Qingyu naturally related this to her situation. Just as she was about to reply that she had already made her choice, Ming Sheng continued, “I always thought we were alike, but now I realize we’re very different.”
“You’d choose the first option?”
“Yes,” Ming Sheng exhaled deeply. “Like my grandfather, who’d rather die than live without freedom. Although, I wish he had chosen the second option back then.”
Qiao Qingyu looked at Ming Sheng, puzzled.
Ming Sheng then shared a deeply personal story about his grandfather’s illness and death. He revealed how his father had decided to end his grandfather’s life while Ming Sheng was busy with his high school entrance exams. This act of concealment and the loss of a chance to say goodbye profoundly affected Ming Sheng, creating a rift between him and his father.
The word “concealment” struck a chord with Qiao Qingyu, making her feel a kinship with Ming Sheng’s pain. Unlike him, however, she lacked the courage to directly confront her father or express her anger through prolonged disobedience.
“Your grandfather must have had a significant influence on you,” she ventured, feeling the need to say something.
Ming Sheng explained how his grandfather had been his primary caregiver and emotional support, saving him from a sterile home environment that might have driven him to suicide.
The mention of suicide startled Qiao Qingyu.
“My grandfather’s death was a kind of suicide, just letting my father decide the timing,” Ming Sheng said, his gaze distant. Then, he suddenly looked directly at Qiao Qingyu, his eyes piercing. “Would you?”
“What?” Qiao Qingyu was momentarily confused.
“I mean… using the most extreme method to escape the prison of this world completely.”
He was referring to suicide. Qiao Qingyu wondered why he suddenly asked this. Did he think her choice of non-resistance meant she had given up entirely? Or did he see her barren life as merely a waste of existence?
“I’m not that weak,” Qiao Qingyu replied, her voice clear and firm. “Life is a long process. I won’t allow myself to dwell solely on current suffering.”
Ming Sheng smiled briefly. “Apart from my parents and me, everyone thinks my grandfather died naturally. I never thought I’d tell anyone about this, but,” he paused, “except you. Do you know why I suddenly shared this secret with you?”
“Why?”
“School starts tomorrow.”
“And?”
“This is the thing I care about most, the thing I fear others knowing.”
Qiao Qingyu still didn’t understand.
“I once used your sister’s situation to threaten you,” Ming Sheng said, crouching to climb down the tree. “Now, you have a weapon to threaten me too.”
Qiao Qingyu was stunned. By the time she came to her senses, Ming Sheng had disappeared beneath the tree. As she carefully climbed down, struggling with the lowest branch, Ming Sheng suddenly reappeared, catching her legs and helping her down.
Qiao Qingyu gasped, instinctively wrapping her arms around Ming Sheng’s head for balance. After a few awkward moments, he set her down outside the railing. Ignoring her confusion, he stepped back inside, pulled his hood over his head, and pointed imperiously at the protected tree sign. “This is my tree,” he declared arrogantly. “From now on, don’t set foot here again.”
His sudden change in demeanor puzzled Qiao Qingyu, though she realized this unreasonable attitude was more in line with his true nature. Embarrassed and angry, she glared back at him before turning away without a backward glance.
And so, they each returned to their separate paths.