Bian Cheng parked the car in the same spot as yesterday, so neither of them was surprised to see the same gloomy child in the same place.
No one knew if he was waiting for Jiang Yu. When he heard footsteps, his eyes quickly darted in that direction but dropped again when he saw it was two adults.
“You wouldn’t have been waiting here the whole time ba?” Wen Di asked.
The boy seemed to think the question was silly: “I saw Yang Tianhua running out with the photo. I guess you guys were almost done talking, so I came out.”
“You put the photos in the teaching building, right?” Wen Di asked. He and Bian Cheng had gone straight to the meeting room upon arriving at the school, leaving them no time to put the photos. Besides, two unfamiliar adults wandering around a middle school classroom in the morning would have been very conspicuous. Wen Di had a pretty good idea of who the suspect was but refrained from naming them to protect the witness.
Judging by how quickly the information had spread, the boy had likely placed it in more than one classroom.
The boy just shrugged his shoulders in response to Wen Di’s suspicion.
“You’re just a teenager—where did you get these photos?” Wen Di asked again.
The boy was silent for a moment and suddenly smiled—a nice smile, but for some reason, it sent a chill down one’s spine. “A little patience is all it took,” he said.
It was obvious that these photos hadn’t been collected in a single day. The investigation must have started before the cultural festival, perhaps even before the previous semester.
So when exactly were these photos collected? Surely, it couldn’t have been just yesterday.
Wen Di crossed his arms, adopting a defensive posture. “Why did you wait until now to release the photos?”
“I was waiting for you,” the boy said.
Wen Di understood what he meant. This kid didn’t want anyone to know that he was the one who had put up the photos. He wanted a few adults to act as his white gloves and scapegoats to clear himself from this matter.
“You mass-distributed someone’s scandal and then put the blame on us.” Wen Di said indignantly.
“I saw Yang Tianhua’s father come,” the boy said. “To get someone like him to show up personally, you either have leverage or a strong background. Either way, it’s better than a kid like me handling this situation.”
“Are you really just a kid?” Wen Di asked sincerely.
The boy seemed to think there was no point in answering this question: “Please tell Jiang Yu that I’m leaving.”
“Leaving?”
The boy simply said: “Something happened at home, and I need to go somewhere far away.”
Such vague words often had secrets behind them, but Wen Di didn’t press further. Judging by the outcome, the boy’s departure—leaving this place where power and influence were abused—was ultimately a good thing.
The boy had waited by the car, seemingly just to deliver this message. Once he finished speaking, he turned around and walked away without any manners, just like last time.
Wen Di watched his back and said to Bian Cheng, “Your brother really worries too much over nothing. He was worried this kid would get bullied; it’s a miracle he doesn’t harm anyone.”
Bian Cheng silently agreed.
After driving out of the school gates, the traffic on the North Fourth Ring Road moved slowly. The two returned to Heqing Garden, walked down the hallway on the third floor, and just as the key was inserted into the keyhole, Bian Cheng suddenly turned and asked, “Can you do me a favor?”
Wen Di felt that Bian Cheng had matured a lot lately. In the past, he always had to initiate their meetings, but now Bian Cheng had finally learned to use various excuses to keep him around—though it seemed a bit like using the teenager as a shield. “What is it?”
“I need to tell him about this boy transferring school,” Bian Cheng said. “Although after finding out, Jiang Yu probably won’t oppose dropping out anymore, they might never see each other again after this. I’m not sure how he’ll react.”
“How can I help with that?”
“I think you’re pretty good at comforting people, at least better than me,” Bian Cheng said. “Didn’t I say I’d treat you to a meal before? Let’s take this opportunity to eat together.”
Wen Di hesitated for a moment but eventually turned back, mumbling to himself as he followed Bian Cheng inside.
The two adults took Jiang Yu to a newly opened teppanyaki restaurant in Wudaokou. As the grill heated up and the meat sizzled, Bian Cheng hinted to Wen Di to start a conversation. Drawing on years of experience in human interaction, Wen Di came up with a way to maintain a harmonious atmosphere—use good news as a cushion before delivering bad news. So he pulled out the Yang family’s check and, with a flourish, spread it out in front of Jiang Yu.
“This is a compensation from your classmate named Yang,” Wen Di said, flicking the edge of the check and it made a crisp sound. “Five hundred thousand!”
If someone had handed him a five-hundred-thousand-yuan windfall when he was in middle school, he would be so happy that he would jump from the east end of the village to the west end. But Jiang Yu just stared blankly at the check, showing no reaction.
Wen Di thought he might not have a clear concept of what five hundred thousand meant.
“With this money, you can buy anything you want,” Wen Di said. “Toys, gaming consoles, all kinds of snacks…”
Jiang Yu finally snapped out of his daze, his eyes regaining focus, probably because he understood. He nodded, took the check, and, as usual, wore his silly smile.
He seemed happy, but Wen Di felt he wasn’t genuinely excited. Perhaps Jiang Yu didn’t play with toys or video games in his daily life.
“When you grow up, you’ll understand how important money is,” Wen Di sighed. “Rent, transportation, daily necessities—there are so many things that cost money. After working for your landlord, you can’t even afford a piece of clothing.”
Jiang Yu tilted his head and thought for a while, then handed him the check: “For you.”
Wen Di had experienced numerous accidents, big and small, but none of them was as shocking as this one. Someone, without warning, without even blinking, had casually handed him the equivalent of eight years of his salary: “What are you doing?”
“I don’t know how to spend money,” Jiang Yu said. “You need money. I’m giving it to you.”
Wen Di turned to Bian Cheng with a thunderstruck expression. “Your brother wants to give me five hundred thousand, and you’re not stopping him?”
Bian Cheng, flipping through the menu with an indifferent expression, replied, “It’s his money once it’s given to him. He can give it to whoever he wants.”
Wen Di had never encountered such a pie-in-the-sky situation before, and he didn’t know how to deal with it for a moment. Once he calmed down, he realized he still hadn’t conveyed just how significant five hundred thousand was.
“What do you like to eat?” he asked Jiang Yu.
Jiang Yu cheerfully replied, “Jianbing[footnote]a traditional Chinese street food similar to crepes[/footnote] with sausage.”
Wen Di raised the check: “This money could buy a hundred thousand jianbing, a hundred thousand! If you stacked them up…” He glanced out the window and pointed at a distant skyscraper. “They’d be as tall as that building!”
Jiang Yu looked at the building, then at the check, and let out an “Oh.”
Wen Di felt gratified; it seemed he had a talent for education.
Then Jiang Yu said, “But even if there were a whole building of pancakes, I could only eat two in one meal.”
Wen Di pondered for a long time and then said to Bian Cheng, “I feel like I’ve just had an enlightenment.”
Bian Cheng looked up from the menu. “What kind of enlightenment?”
“Just an enlightenment,” Wen Di said.
Wen Di remembered his mother once said that the most content person is the happiest person, and the happiest person is the greatest person. From this perspective, Jiang Yu never needed saving.
Still, he couldn’t accept the check. Five hundred thousand was just too overwhelming.
“Let your brother save it for you and keep it for later,” Wen Di sighed. “My goodness, it’s lucky it was me. What would happen if it was someone else? You must never give money to people outside in the future.”
“I won’t give money to others casually,” Jiang Yu said, “I only gave it to you because it’s you.”
Wen Di showed the same foolish smile because of this sentence. Being someone special to another person was always a happiness. “If you want to thank me,” Wen Di said, “buy me a good pair of noise-canceling headphones to make up for the torment your brother put me through these past six months.”
Jiang Yu shook his head, still holding up the check. Wen Di looked at Bian Cheng, and Bian Cheng took the check, which was equivalent to agreeing on behalf of his brother.
The good news did not play the role it should have, so Wen Di could only reluctantly bring out the bad news. Unexpectedly, after a brief moment of disappointment, Jiang Yu nodded, ate two pieces of meat, and quickly returned to his usual happiness.
Wen Di and Bian Cheng exchanged glances. Just like that?
Although Jiang Yu had a strong ability to heal emotionally, given that he had refused to transfer schools twice for this boy, their relationship should have been very deep.
“If you’re sad, just tell your brother,” Wen Di was worried that Jiang Yu might be hiding another little secret.
“I’m fine,” Jiang Yu said. “If he goes to another school, he’ll be more spirited, ba. He’s not happy here.”
“I thought you wanted to be with him,” Wen Di said.
“Yes,” Jiang Yu replied. After thinking for a moment, he added, “But we’ll eventually part ways.”
“Why?”
Jiang Yu replied in a very detached tone, “I’ll never write his name.”[footnote]remember Jiang Yu said the boy name is difficult to write? so yeah that’s why he’ll never write his name[/footnote]
Wen Di felt like he had gained another enlightenment.
There was still a lot of food left, so Wen Di asked the waiter for takeout boxes, planning to bring it home. Bian Cheng ate slower than he did, so he placed the plastic boxes aside for now and pulled out his phone to reply to messages.
The first message that popped up was from Old Liu, asking how his thesis proposal was coming along. Wen Di wiped the sweat off his forehead and replied that he was working on it. Even as a fifth-year PhD candidate, having weathered countless storms, his advisor’s summons still made his heart race with anxiety.
This news sank the good mood of the day. Wen Di had thought this was already rock bottom, but then he slid further, and in an instant, fell from the valley floor to the earth’s core.
A long-uncontacted senior brother—who had rented the apartment to Wen Di—sent a greeting, mentioning that his mother had recently been diagnosed with some illness and needed to come to Beijing for treatment, so he had to return home early to take care of her.
Hotels in Beijing are so expensive; he surely wouldn’t leave the teacher’s apartment vacant and spend a fortune renting elsewhere.
So he apologized to Wen Di, saying he might need to take the apartment back earlier than planned.
When they first made the rental agreement, it was clearly stipulated that the lease would last until his return to the country. Wen Di replied with an “OK,” and immediately felt his head start to ache.
Now that the affordable apartment was no longer an option, Wen Di had two choices: one was to continue living with his homophobic roommate, enduring his disdainful and wary gaze; the other was to rent a place in Tongzhou or even further away, like some cash-strapped colleagues.
Tongzhou, commuting back and forth on the subway would take three hours ba.
He first reported this bad news to Yu Jingyi. His roommate appeared to be calm—at least through the electronic screen.
Wen Di thought about it and agreed; there wasn’t much reason to get worked up: [You’ll have dorm housing once you join the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, right? You just need to consider what to do before starting.]
The other party was obviously afraid to open the champagne at halftime: [The interview results aren’t out yet, who knows if I’ll get in?]
Wen Di grew anxious: [Didn’t perform well?]
The other party replied: [Not bad.]
Wen Di let out a long sigh of relief and shook his head with a bitter smile. He understood Yu Jingyi too well—she was the type who would constantly lament ‘I didn’t do well, I didn’t do well’ before the results came out, only to end up ranked first with a huge margin. It wasn’t intentional deception; people like her were simply used to lowering the expectations of themselves and others in advance. When she participated in a speech competition, Wen Di had asked how she thought she did, and her answer was a modest “It was okay.” Then she went on to win the championship.
The evaluations that came out of her mouth were always two levels below reality. So when she said ‘not bad’ this time, it was actually quite good.
Wen Di had a clearer idea now; he stopped talking about the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Instead, he asked: [Where will you stay after that?]
After a while, the other person replied: [I’ll go to You Jun’s place and stay there for a few days.]
Wen Di almost forgot that they had a successful classmate in Beijing. Ever since their last gathering at the Japanese restaurant, You Jun seemed to have been so busy that there hadn’t been any offline meetups. Speaking of old classmates, Wen Di casually asked: [How is she doing these days?]
[Busy as ever, only home long enough to close her eyes each day.]
Wen Di felt deeply concerned for the King of Involution’s health: [That intense?]
Yu Jingyi replied: [She said she wants to make as much money as possible before 40 and be financially free. That way, after 40, she can be both an investor and a director, making all the films she dreams of.]
Wen Di smiled; it seemed their old classmate was trying to conquer fate and rewrite the wrong script she had been given
Then Yu Jingyi asked again: [What about you after this?]
Wen Di laid out all the pros and cons of his various options in detail, only to receive six dots in response.
Wen Di: [?]
Yu Jingyi: [Why don’t you just live with your husband? It’s right next door, you don’t even need to move the luggage much.]
Wen Di stared at the screen in disbelief. He and Bian Cheng were neighbors and they could argue to the point of chaos, and now living together? There would probably be a murder case in a few days!
He glanced at Bian Cheng, then at his phone, and shook his head vigorously.
“What’s wrong?” Bian Cheng asked.
“It’s nothing,” Wen Di asked Jiang Yu, “Have you finished eating?”
Bian Cheng packed the takeaway boxes one by one into a plastic bag, and then went back to Heqing Garden with his younger brother, a large sum of money, and his estranged partner. Wen Di stood at the door of 302, sighing deeply at the Spring Festival couplets from the previous year. Such a good and cheap house, although he had lived there for less than a year, he had already developed deep feelings for it.
He stood in front of the door for a long time, then realized Bian Cheng had also been staring at him for a long time.
“What’s wrong?” Wen Di asked, feeling sentimental.
“Nothing,” Bian Cheng said, “Just felt like everything finally ended.”
“Isn’t that good?”
“Good,” Bian Cheng said, “It’s just that there won’t be any excuse to see you every day after this.”
Wen Di looked at him, his face showing an expression that was hard to define. The guy in front of him was really unpredictable; you never knew when he would say something that could make you ecstatic or furious.
“I’m a bit unaccustomed,” Wen Di said, “Why do you suddenly want to see me?”
“I’ve been missing you a lot recently,” Bian Cheng said, “when you went home, when you threw the dumplings and slammed the door, and when you didn’t argue with me on WeChat.”
Wen Di felt that the world might really be about to end.
“So it turns out liking someone is so complicated, when we’re not together, I need to think of excuses to ask you out, and when we meet, I need to worry about you holding a grudge over the argument,” Bian Cheng said with a research tone, “Making you calm down seems harder than solving the millennium problem.”
The way Wen Di looked at him was indeed more difficult to solve than the millennium question.
“I’ve calmed down,” Wen Di said.
Bian Cheng stared at him in astonishment: “When?”
“Just now.”
Since they had the fight, Bian Cheng had given him US dollars and cell phone, and had said sorry, apologize and thank you ten thousand times.
But none of them hit the right answer.
“I like you,” Wen Di said, “I just wanted to hear that sentence.”
T/N: Not sure from which line this is from but apparently this is from A Midsummer’s Night Dream?
