FIG CHAPTER 46

After several consecutive days of rising temperatures, Ronggang had officially entered summer.

“Thank you for your hard work.” At the studio, a staff member handed Tan Qing a freshly bought iced coffee. Noticing that he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, they apologized and explained, “Sorry, the central air conditioning is down. We’ve already called someone to fix it.”

“It’s fine. It wasn’t that hot this morning,” Tan Qing replied with a smile, thanking them.

Monday mornings were reserved for the live broadcast of Tan Qing’s personal radio show “Truly Beautiful Weather,” so he was at the company as usual.

His assistant approached and said, “Pei-jie wants to see you.”

Tan Qing nodded and headed upstairs.

Pei Qiao was on the phone. When she saw him enter, she pointed to several stacks of paper on the desk. Tan Qing sat down and began flipping through them. They were all scripts the company had recently selected for him.

“Any of these catch your interest?” Pei Qiao finished her call and took a seat across from him.

“They’re all from good crews,” Tan Qing said. “Which one has the latest production schedule?”

“Why? Got something going on this year?”

“I want to have a bit more time to rest.”

“Well, that’s rare. Didn’t you say at the start of the year you wanted to take on three projects? Already tired?” Pei Qiao laughed.

Tan Qing found the script with the latest projected start date and opened it, carefully reading through the synopsis. “How’s the new album coming along?”

“We’re still discussing the style.”

Tan Qing closed the script and looked up. “I want to prioritize the group for now. Acting can wait. If the schedules conflict, I won’t take the role.”

Pei Qiao frowned, clearly not understanding where this sudden change had come from. She tried to persuade him, “You’ve only just started gaining ground with this transition. Now’s the time to solidify your position and widen the gap between you and your peers. You know several newcomers are already gaining momentum. But the industry still gives you top priority.”

Tan Qing remained calm. “Roughly how much is the company planning to invest in the new album?”

“What, are you interested in being an idol again?”

“Well, it is my main job.”

Now Pei Qiao understood. Her frown deepened as she shook her head. “Right now, the group’s only viable path is to play it safe. High investment means high risk. And the company’s already planning to debut a new group, so some resources have to be shifted toward the rookies.”

Tan Qing lowered his gaze, silent for a moment. Then he handed the script back to Pei Qiao.

“You choose—whatever brings in the most profit.”

“You’re making me choose again.” Pei Qiao picked up on an unusual note of indifference in his tone. “Did something happen?”

“No.” Tan Qing stood up and said simply, “I’m going to visit a grave later.”

Pei Qiao understood and didn’t press further, letting him go.

Every year on his mother’s death anniversary, only Tan Qing came.

In fact, he didn’t have to come at all. Remembering her in front of the memorial portrait at home would have been enough. Grief meant little to a cold gravestone. But Tan Qing still insisted on observing the formality. After all, she hadn’t had anyone truly close to her while she was alive. If even her own son chose to forget her death anniversary, it would be too pitiful.

Tan Qing brought many flowers, arranging them carefully in front of the grave. Each one was a type and color Ling Ni had liked during her lifetime. He knelt there silently, his heart just as quiet.

Still, he had nothing to say to her, just like long ago.

＊＊＊

Long ago.

At the dinner table sat a mother and son who appeared to get along well.

The woman was strikingly beautiful, every expression laced with a mature charm. She looked much younger than her actual age, and even the way she held her chopsticks was elegant.

“Isn’t it your birthday today? No noodles?” She cast a surprised glance at the dishes on the table.

“I forgot to buy them. Make do with this,” said the boy sitting across from her with a smile. “If you want some, I can make them tomorrow.”

“No need, I was just asking. Do you have enough money?”

The boy nodded, but the woman still turned to grab her coat. She took a few hundred yuan from the pocket and returned to press the money into his hand. She smiled. “I forgot again because I’ve been busy. And you never ask for money either, do you?”

“My expenses aren’t that high,” the boy replied.

The woman lowered her head to send a text. “When does school start again?”

“Next Monday,” the boy answered. “There’s an exam on the first day. After that, there’s a parent-teacher meeting. Will you come?”

She was focused on her phone and didn’t hear him. After a while, she picked up her chopsticks again with a smile. All she caught from his earlier words was “exam,” so she asked casually, “An exam, huh? How were your grades?”

The boy patiently replied, “It’s the start-of-term exam.”

Their dinners never lasted long. The woman made a phone call in the kitchen while doing the dishes, her laughter drifting intermittently into the bedroom. After washing her hands, she went to the living room to put on her coat, picked up her keys, and walked toward the front door.

Just as her hand touched the doorknob, she suddenly remembered something. She turned back quickly and knocked on the boy’s bedroom door. “Oh right, Tan Qing, I almost forgot to give you this.”

“Your birthday present.” She stepped inside and placed a slim box on the table, affectionately brushing her son’s cheek. “Finish your reading and go to bed early. I’m heading out for a bit.”

She often said, “I’m heading out for a bit,” but how long that “bit” would last was never certain. Sometimes she returned the same night; other times, it took several days.

Tan Qing thanked her, took the box, and opened it to find a fountain pen inside.

It was expensive and elegant, but not practical for a high school student who had to write quickly and in large volumes every day. Clearly, his mother hadn’t considered that.

Every semester at Ronggang No. 7 High School began with an opening exam. This time, it was accompanied by a parent-teacher meeting, intended to emphasize the importance of choosing between humanities and sciences at the end of the term and to urge parents to monitor their children more closely.

Before the meeting started that Friday, Tan Qing waited for Ling Ni at the entrance of the school building. But instead, a man he didn’t recognize showed up in her place. Tan Qing wasn’t surprised and calmly led him to the classroom.

After the man sat down, the homeroom teacher called Tan Qing out into the hallway with a serious expression. Lowering her voice, she asked, “Your mother’s not coming again?”

“She’s busy, and her health isn’t great,” Tan Qing replied.

“Then the person who came last time was…” the teacher asked, sounding uncertain.

It had been his mother’s boyfriend back then. Tan Qing didn’t offer any further explanation and simply said, “A relative. He’s close with my mom.”

“Oh, alright.” The teacher didn’t press the issue, though her expression remained grave. “I still think it would be best if your mother could attend in person. Choosing between humanities and sciences is a major turning point in high school. It’s something you need to consider together.”

“Don’t worry,” Tan Qing said. “I’ll record the meeting and play it back for her.”

The teacher looked like she wanted to say more, but someone was calling for her from the other end of the hallway. She had to leave a few last words in a hurry, “I know your family situation is a bit special. If it’s hard to communicate with your mom, don’t hesitate to tell me. I can help talk to her.”

The parent-teacher meeting didn’t last long. It ended just as it was getting dark.

While waiting outside, Tan Qing had already finished all his homework for the day. Just as he capped his pen, several classmates immediately borrowed his workbook to copy his answers.

Many classmates often came to Tan Qing for help with questions they didn’t understand. He explained things in a calm, clear manner and never put on airs about being a top student. That was one of the reasons people liked him at school.

But what really made him popular was his looks. People are visual creatures—when they see a pleasant face, they naturally warm up to it.

“There’s a performance in the central park at eight tonight. You guys coming?” a girl asked. “It’s a street dance competition, and there’ll be lots of hot guys!”

“It’s too cold. I just wanna go home and play games,” a boy replied.

“There’ll be a lot of pretty girls too.”

“Then let’s go!”

The academic workload at the start of the semester wasn’t heavy, and the weekend was just around the corner. Going out tonight didn’t seem like a big deal, so everyone quickly agreed.

“Tan Qing, are you coming?” someone asked.

Tan Qing looked up and saw the anticipation in their eyes, so he nodded.

Everyone got even more excited. They all knew Tan Qing was easy to talk to, but he wasn’t the type to accept every invitation. His friendliness always stayed within a well-measured boundary—approachable, yet difficult to truly get close to. It was as if he kept everyone in mind while maintaining a certain distance from each of them.

They agreed on a time and place to meet later, then headed home for dinner.

Tan Qing waited at the school gate for a few minutes until he saw the man come out.

The two didn’t know each other and didn’t talk much along the way, exchanging only a few unimportant remarks from time to time.

Tan Qing brought him home. When they walked in, he saw his mother sitting on the couch, peeling an orange while watching TV.

“Have you eaten yet?” Ling Ni asked Tan Qing. She had cooked dinner that day, but after tasting it, she felt it still wasn’t as good as her son’s cooking.

Tan Qing put his backpack in his bedroom and came out to say, “I’m eating out. I made plans with my classmates tonight.”

“Oh, remember to give me a call before you come home.” Ling Ni turned off the TV and headed to the bedroom with the man.

Tan Qing agreed. As he was walking out the door, he could vaguely hear the two of them chatting casually. The man joked in a teasing tone, “Your son really takes after you. He’s going to be a real menace when he grows up.”

Ling Ni laughed flirtatiously. “Him? He already is.”

Tan Qing shut the door as usual and put on his headphones as he made his way to the park.

He wasn’t particularly looking forward to the performance, but compared to staying home, stepping out into the cold wind made it a little easier to breathe.

The park was bustling. From a distance, he could already see colorful lights flashing in the night sky. A large stage had been set up in the most spacious area, blasting fast-paced electronic music. Seven or eight adults in black were onstage, hyping up the crowd.

The audience responded with enthusiasm. Tan Qing kept his headphones on, sitting quietly among them while listening to music on his phone.

Amid the lively scene, he found himself drifting into thought. Compared to the dancers onstage, it was a flickering streetlight in the distance that caught his eye more.

Several street dance crews had already performed. It was getting late, and only the final team remained.

As soon as a member of the last team stepped onto the stage, the crowd erupted in even louder cheers and applause, far more enthusiastic than before. Tan Qing couldn’t help but look toward the stage.

The performer who appeared was a slender yet well-built boy. Even in the night light, his fair skin stood out. He stood in the cold wind in his performance outfit, a sports headband tied across his forehead, and it was clear from his expression that he thoroughly enjoyed being in the spotlight.

Tan Qing wasn’t wearing his glasses. He squinted slightly, carefully studying the boy.

That kind of striking appearance was the kind anyone would remember after just one glance. But what made him even more recognizable was his naturally bold and carefree energy. Whether walking or standing still, he made a few small, unintentional movements that drew attention.

Tan Qing was sure he wasn’t mistaken.

Yes, it was the same kid who had once fallen off a skateboard while going down a flight of steps.

They used to run into each other frequently at the same spot. Tan Qing thought he looked a little taller now.

Many people in the crowd were cheering for the boy and his dance crew, shouting his name. Tan Qing took off his headphones and listened carefully, though he couldn’t quite make out the exact name.

The performance began. The boy was the youngest in the group, and his underage frame looked slightly out of place. But his movements were crisp and fluid, his control over strength effortless, and he stood out even more than the adults around him.

It wasn’t until the event wrapped up for the night that Tan Qing realized he hadn’t turned off the music player on his phone, and it had drained a good portion of the battery.

He texted his mother to say he’d be home soon. A few minutes later, she replied with a simple: “Okay.”

“Is he famous?” Tan Qing asked one of the classmates who had been cheering the loudest earlier.

The girl was gulping down water to soothe her throat and replied, “You mean Zhu Lianzhen? He’s a trainee at Zuige Entertainment! Super popular online. Do you know Zuige? They’re the agency behind the boy group C.A.N!”

Tan Qing didn’t follow that kind of news at all, but he definitely knew of C.A.N. Their songs played everywhere, and they were a household name.

“I swear, once he debuts, he’s gonna be huge!” the girl said, still full of excitement. “Hey, Tan Qing, why don’t you apply to Zuige too? With your face, who knows? They might sign you on the spot.”

Tan Qing smiled and shook his head. “I don’t know anything about that stuff.”

And he wasn’t interested, either.

Since childhood, he had rarely maintained lasting interest in anything he tried. He had never been truly obsessed with anything, nor had he ever resisted anything. Whatever he set his mind to, he could pick up quickly. With a little effort, he could perform well enough to meet expectations. Because of that, he lacked the drive to go further.

Ling Ni sometimes called him a genius. Other times, she said he was like a block of wood that couldn’t be carved. It was a fair assessment—this block of wood was perfectly square and smooth on all sides.

When he got home, the first thing Tan Qing did was glance at the shoe rack by the door. Then he went to wash his hands.

The whole apartment was filled with a faint rose fragrance. Tan Qing instinctively held his breath. He didn’t like this kind of chemically refined floral scent, but Ling Ni did, so he tolerated it for her.

He came out of the bathroom and heard his mother’s hoarse voice. “You’re back. Did you have fun with your classmates?”

“Mm.” Tan Qing nodded and told her what he’d had for dinner.

Ling Ni raised a hand to rub her throat. “I heard you’ll be choosing between humanities and sciences at the end of the semester. Do you have a plan? I don’t have much advice to give, but as long as you’re confident in your choice, that’s what matters.”

“Don’t worry.” Tan Qing gave her a smile and asked with concern, “Is your throat acting up again? How about I go with you to the hospital tomorrow?”

Ling Ni waved it off. “Just a little inflammation, it’s nothing. You should go to bed early.”

“You too.”

As always, the atmosphere between mother and son was very harmonious.

Even though, whenever they spoke, they never looked each other in the eye.