Exercise really worked wonders, and both of them had fallen asleep until dawn. Wen Di hummed a song as he woke up, said good morning to Jiang Yu with an exclamation mark, sat at the dining table, and picked up a slice of toast.
“Don’t you want to dip it in jam?” Bian Cheng asked.
“No need.”
“Go ahead, dip it ba.”
Wen Di glanced at the bread in his hand, then at Bian Cheng: “It’s good to eat it this way.”
Bian Cheng took yesterday’s strawberry jam from the cupboard.
Wen Di couldn’t understand his persistence: “Alright then, just a little.”
As if Bian Cheng was waiting for a secret signal, he twisted the bottle hard and the cap fell off.
Wen Di stared at the bottle for a while, praised him with ‘awesome’, and then spread the jam onto the toast with a spoon.
Bian Cheng watched his partner eating the bread and sighed deeply in his heart.
Yesterday, he first used a towel, tissue, and gloves to increase friction, but it didn’t work; then he used a hair dryer and poured hot water on the bottle, hoping to open the bottle cap through thermal expansion and contraction, still no result; next, he tapped the edge of the cap with a spoon and the back of a knife, trying to balance the internal and external pressure, but still nothing; after trying three physical principles and making two complaints calls to the manufacturers, he inserted a can opener, pliers, and a small knife beneath the bottle cap.
Finally! The cap! Was pried! open!
He stared at the jam jar, feeling a sense of satisfaction at having avenged his previous humiliation.
Wen Di, who knew nothing about this, was just focused on eating breakfast.
After a brief period of disruption, their cohabitation life entered a long period of stability, and Wen Di began gradually moving his clothes and daily necessities over.
A week later at four o’clock in the afternoon, after finishing his thesis and stretching his muscles, he decided to go back and move the last few books and then bid farewell to life in 302 completely.
He stepped into the familiar living room and saw Yu Jingyi, unusually not working or reading, but sitting at the table in a daze. She was holding a piece of paper, her eyes vaguely focused on it. Wen Di sat next to her and glanced at the three words on the paper—Physical examination form.
He suddenly felt nervous: “What happened?”
Yu Jingyi seemed like someone who had just woken up from a deep sleep, her response still a bit slow. After a moment, she slowly put the form down and said, “I may not be able to enter the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.”
“Why?”
“I failed the physical exam, my liver function is abnormal, and my alanine aminotransferase levels are elevated,” Yu Jingyi said. “I didn’t pass the initial check, nor the follow-up.”
Wen Di looked at his roommate. Recently, her complexion had been a bit yellowish, but he had never thought much of it.
“Did you see a specialist?” Wen Di’s voice was soft, as if afraid of alarming a person who was not yet awake. “What did the doctor say?”
“Hepatitis, staying up too late, irregular diet and routine, plus a viral infection,” Yu Jingyi said. “The doctor told me to rest well.”
Wen Di knew that she had been saving money desperately in the past two years, hoping to buy back the house her parents had sold for her. She had been obsessively attending IELTS classes, studying for exams, and occasionally using Wen Di’s account to browse linguistic literature. She had always been on edge, trying to squeeze out the last bit of her energy. He should have warned her earlier that if she continued like this, her body would not be able to bear it sooner or later.
But he didn’t expect the collapse to be so devastating.
Looking at her expression, Wen Di felt like he had stepped into an empty space in his sleep, his throat seemed to be blocked and he couldn’t utter a word of comfort.
“It’s fine. The doctor said it’s not serious. I’ll be fine after taking medicine for a while,” Yu Jingyi pointed to a plastic bag on another chair. Wen Di saw that it was filled with many boxes of medicine.
“Then you should lie down on the bed for a while,” Wen Di said. “What do you want for dinner? How about I make you some porridge?”
“Don’t worry, I don’t feel too bad,” Yu Jingyi picked up her phone. “I’ll just let You Jun know, we were supposed to meet today.”
“You should take care of your health first. Shouldn’t you take a break from the IELTS classes for a couple of days?”
Yu Jingyi murmured ‘en’, propping herself up with her hand on the table, and slowly walked toward her room. Halfway there, she suddenly remembered she hadn’t taken the medicine, so she turned back and grabbed the plastic bag. Wen Di watched her back, his heart aching as if it were spasming.
When the bedroom door closed, Wen Di walked back to his own room, took out his phone, and chatted with You Jun to see if they could find a couple of days to take Yu Jingyi to a scenic place to relax and recuperate.
They listed several plans. Wen Di glanced at the time—it was already past dinner time. He walked into the living room and asked Yu Jingyi what she wanted to eat, but there was no response. He knocked on the door again, but there was no sound from inside. He gently opened the door and saw the bed made neatly, without any sign that someone had been lying there. The window was open, and the curtains swayed with the night breeze, occasionally brushing against the edge of the bed. On the desk was the familiar hospital plastic bag, rustling in the wind.
No one was there.
He looked again at the pitch-black living room, a feeling of unease rising in him. He took out his phone and sent Yu Jingyi a WeChat message, saying he planned to eat at Richang and asked if she wanted him to bring back some paper-wrapped chicken wings. A long time passed without a reply. He asked You Jun if Yu Jingyi had gone to her place, and You Jun said no. He then called Yu Jingyi, but her phone was turned off.
His stomach felt as if it were blocked by something cold and hard. Wen Di put down his phone, sat in the living room, and thought about where Yu Jingyi might have gone.
Since coming to Beijing, she had always gone back and forth between work and home, rarely visiting other places. Although she had a few classmates in Beijing, apart from You Jun, she wasn’t close to any of them. Given her personality, she wouldn’t casually visit someone unannounced.
This was trouble. Beijing was so big, finding someone was like finding a needle in a haystack.
Wen Di broke out in a cold sweat. He thought for a moment and sent a message to You Jun, asking if she had any idea where Yu Jingyi might have gone.
You Jun said she would come over immediately to help search.
Wen Di grabbed his keys and went downstairs. At the gate of the residential complex, he paced back and forth for half an hour. A taxi stopped by the roadside, and You Jun got out, running toward him.
The two discussed for a while and decided to head to the school first. It was the closest and the place Yu Jingyi was most familiar with.
“How about this,” You Jun said. “You go to the west side of Xuetang Road, and I’ll go to the east side. Let’s send a message if we find anything.”
Wen Di nodded in agreement. You Jun scanned a shared bicycle on the side of the road and swiped her alumni card to enter the school.
The west side had the best scenery. The second school gate, the auditorium, the lawn, and the lotus pond were all popular spots for tourists and were crowded year-round. But now, it was already past nine in the evening, and only a few scattered students were around.
You Jun walked past the plaque of Shuimu Tsinghua[footnote]Shuimu Tsinghua (水木清华) refers to a well-known landmark at Tsinghua University in Beijing [/footnote] and saw a thin figure by the rockery. She let out a long breath.
She sent Wen Di a WeChat message to report her safety, then walked over to Yu Jingyi and sat on another rock by the rockery.
“I thought you might be here,” You Jun said. “Do you remember? You found me here in our junior year.”
That year, You Jun’s work and rest had collapsed under the dual pressure of academics and social work. She suffered from chronic insomnia, and the melatonin she took had completely lost its effect. Her internship supervisor was a useless person who could only gain a sense of accomplishment by belittling interns, nitpicking at her reports and being sarcastic. Just when she was on the brink of a breakdown, she discovered that her boyfriend had cheated on her with a freshman girl. The three of them were in the same major, and the news quickly spread throughout the Department of Foreign Languages.
That night, after she suddenly went missing, Yu Jingyi found her here.
Yu Jingyi stared at the pond full of lotus leaves, fell silent for a moment, and asked, “What were you thinking at that time?”
“Just like you,” You Jun said. “I thought I was the most unfortunate person in the world, felt like the heavens had no eyes. I thought about waking up and seeing that boss again, thought about the whole department knowing I had been cheated on, and I just felt so tired, so scared, and so unwilling to face tomorrow.”
But she didn’t jump. They sat by the lotus pond the whole night, watching the sunrise together.
“Do you remember what you said at that time?” The night breeze of late spring blew, the shadows in the lotus pond shifted, and You Jun tightened her coat. “Whether life is lucky or not, you can’t conclude it before you die. If you had jumped, your life would have been trapped in misfortune.”
Yu Jingyi stared at the pond, lost in thought. You Jun sat quietly beside her, watching the moon slowly sink down, until it touched the treetops.
After a long time, Yu Jingyi asked, “Am I so unlucky because I always go after things that don’t belong to me?”
You Jun felt something heavy fall inside her chest. “Why would you think that?”
“I insisted on going to Cambridge, insisted on going to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs,” Yu Jingyi said. “things I shouldn’t have wished for.”
You Jun looked at her for a long time. After five years of separation, she felt a deep resentment toward so-called fate. “This world is really crazy, to make someone like you think such things,” she said. “You deserve everything—the best opportunities, the best platforms. They should have always been yours.”
Yu Jingyi didn’t say anything. Resources should have been allocated based on ability, but in the end, she didn’t get anything.
She remembered what Wen Di had said during the New Year: I hope the protagonists in novels all fail.
It made sense because, after all, they weren’t the protagonists and didn’t have the luck of a protagonist. For someone like her to succeed, everything needed to go smoothly. The college entrance exam had to go well, choosing a major had to be the right one, finding a job had to be smooth, the chosen industry had to be on the rise, the boss had to have an eye for talent, and her health had to be good…her family had to be safe and sound. If even one link went wrong, everything would fall apart.
She had made two mistakes.
You Jun looked at her, and a thought that had been lingering in her mind for a long time became clearer and clearer. She took Yu Jingyi’s hand. “Go back and pursue your PhD ba.”
The moonlight grew still.
After a long time, Yu Jingyi spoke, “Are you joking?”
“No,” You Jun said. “I know you’ve always wanted to do academia. You are the most suitable person for academia I’ve ever seen. You have the ability, the talent, you’re serious, diligent, and you love linguistics so much. Why not go back and pursue your PhD?”
“I’ve already given up.”
“Can’t you pick it up again after giving up?” You Jun said. “Your advisor admires you so much, she also thinks it’s a pity that you dropped out. Go talk to her, maybe this year Cambridge will offer you a scholarship. Even if they don’t, you can still apply for other programs with funding. Why not try?”
“This…” Yu Jingyi said, “It’s not possible. I’m studying linguistics, not CS. Even if I make a name for myself, become a professor at Cambridge, how much can I earn? Is it worth it for me to lose a few more years?”
“You’re doing what you love, you’re achieving your dream, and that’s the most important thing.”
Yu Jingyi smiled lightly. “If I had money, I could think that way, but for ordinary people, what dreams can we pursue?”
“Who says that?” You Jun said. “Dreams are such ethereal things, they are meant to be pursued by ordinary people. Rich people don’t chase dreams; for them, it’s called achieving goals.”
Yu Jingyi looked at her.
“Go for it,” You Jun said. “At least one of us should be doing what we love.”
Yu Jingyi remained silent for a long time and shook her head. “What if I can’t get a scholarship this year?” she said. “I’ve saved a little money, but it’s for buying a house for my mom.”
“I’ll lend it to you.”
Yu Jingyi was completely stunned. You Jun’s expression was serious, just like a pre-IPO briefing meeting. She was serious.
“And what about you?” Yu Jingyi asked. “Aren’t you saving money to make movies after you turn forty?”
You Jun laughed. “I’m already making a movie,” she said. “I’m waiting for a girl from a poor county to become a professor at Cambridge.”
Yu Jingyi looked at her and suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to hug her and cry uncontrollably. Although the night around them still stretched endlessly, she felt her body was warm. This warmth tore through the darkness and ignited a beam of light in the night.
At that moment, a figure walked along the stone path by the lotus pond. The girls looked up and saw Wen Di holding a phone.
He handed the phone to Yu Jingyi. “Auntie called.”
Yu Jingyi took the phone, hesitated, and then placed it to her ear. “Mom.”
There was a brief silence on the other end, before her mother said one sentence: “Go ba.”
Yu Jingyi paused, and tears suddenly welled up, flowing freely like a flood breaking through a dam.
“I know you’re saving money to buy the house back. Really, that house was meant for your education. Why do you keep thinking about it? Are you going to neglect your own health?” her mother said. “I’ve been doing fine at grandma’s place these past two years. If you don’t buy me a house, will I need to live on the streets?”
“But…”
“That house, whether you buy it back or not, I will spend my whole life living in this county,” she said. “You should go to a farther place.”
Yu Jingyi called out to her mother as tears streamed down her face. Perhaps this word had a magical power—just the sound of it was enough to heal all wounds.
Wen Di looked at his roommate crying on his friend’s shoulder, and suddenly had a premonition.
Perhaps, this time, the scholarship would appear
Perhaps, the script was not set in stone.
Perhaps, there was a kind of correcting force in the universe, that those disordered people and things, after the sediment of time and countless detours, would eventually return to where they were meant to be.
T/N: Title is from Macbeth, Act 4, Scene 3. The literal translation for the title ‘黑夜无论怎样悠长，白昼总会到来’ would be ‘No matter how long the night is, the day will come.’
