Chapter 39 – Fortunately

The real cessation of all activities came deep into the night.

Xucheng’s night had an eerie stillness to it, and from the twenty-seventh floor, the sky was a tile-blue color drenched by rain.

At that moment, Li Tang struggled to keep his eyelids open, asking Jiang Lou with a mix of satisfaction and envy, “Where did you learn all this?”

“Learn what?”

“These… moves.”

“You guess.”

“It must have been online, there’s no way you could’ve known this without a teacher.”

Jiang Lou’s hand circled around Li Tang’s lower back, caressing the area near his tailbone gently. “What about you? Where did you learn?”

Li Tang knew he was referring to the tattoo and answered honestly, “Back when I was studying in the capital, I saw someone getting their lover’s name tattooed on their wrist.”

“What would you do if you broke up?”

“You’d just have to get it removed. But I heard it can’t be completely erased; some trace will remain.”

As he spoke, Li Tang turned his head to look at Jiang Lou. “Since I got it, I never thought about removing it.”

It was simply a ploy to exchange a promise from Jiang Lou, even if just for the moment, to gain a little security.

However, Jiang Lou remained silent.

His hand continued to move, caressing the area around the tattoo.

Li Tang bit his lip, breathing heavily. “Don’t…”

In their isolated world for two, shadows merged on the walls.

They kissed again, both forgetting the previous conversation.

When dawn approached, Li Tang inexplicably lost all sleepiness.

Subconsciously, he didn’t want to fall asleep, fearing that when he opened his eyes, the precious night would have passed in haste.

He also had no desire to go home. As much as Li Tang had loved home and relied on his mother in the past, now he loved sticking to Jiang Lou even more.

Perhaps this was a form of transference.

He was born needing to rely on someone else to survive.

Not planning to sleep, yet wanting Jiang Lou to tell him a bedtime story.

After a brief hesitation, Jiang Lou actually began speaking.

He told the story of “The Farmer and the Snake”—in the cold winter, the farmer found a frozen snake on the roadside. Feeling sorry for the snake, he put it in his arms and warmed it with his body heat. The snake quickly revived and then revealed its cruel nature, biting the farmer. Before dying, the farmer said, “I saved a pitiful venomous snake, this is the retribution I deserve!”

A familiar story, something Li Tang might have seen in a fairy tale book when he was young.

“Is this a fable?” Li Tang asked.

Jiang Lou knew he meant “fable” rather than “prophecy,” but nodded nonetheless.

Li Tang laughed. “Why are you trying to educate me with a story?”

When asked for his thoughts after listening, Li Tang took an unconventional approach: “Firstly, snakes won’t freeze to death in natural conditions; they would dig burrows to hibernate when temperatures drop, waking up when the temperature rises again. And besides, it’s spring now.”

Spring doesn’t freeze people, nor does it freeze snakes.

Jiang Lou laughed. “No wonder your Chinese isn’t good.”

With such an eccentric perspective, it would be hard to score points on reading comprehension tests.

Poking at Li Tang’s sore spot, he retorted, “Then tell me, what moral does this story convey?”

Looking at him, Jiang Lou calmly replied, “Human nature is inherently evil.”

Just then, a red light flashed from his pocket—a warning of depleted battery power.

But since Li Tang was staring at Jiang Lou, he didn’t notice.

Jiang Lou’s expression was like the severe cold of a forest in winter, evoking fear.

Yet it made others want to get closer, to press against his chest and listen—was there a beating heart inside, or solid ice?

Thinking so, Li Tang embraced Jiang Lou, his ear pressed against his chest.

Listening for a while, he concluded, “I don’t believe it.”

Clearly, your body was so warm, your heartbeat so real and powerful.

Fortunately, this night was too wonderful, causing this brief moment of distraction to be like a segment of music with static, cut out and deleted, not recorded onto the vinyl.

Their intimacy grew, and outside of school, they were almost inseparable.

During the final days of spring, Li Tang visited the cottage at the foot of the mountain more frequently, spending nights entangled with Jiang Lou. After a day of heavy coursework, they would embrace and kiss. If they were too tired to move, they would randomly pick a movie or TV show to watch.

Li Tang preferred British English and recommended “Downton Abbey” to Jiang Lou, who wanted to improve his English listening and speaking skills. They leaned their heads together, with Li Tang cursing Duke Crawley for playing with others’ feelings, calling it excessively cruel, while Jiang Lou felt Thomas was too naive and unguarded; Li Tang fretted over the eldest lady not accepting her cousin yet, whereas Jiang Lou believed that by stringing him along a bit longer, men would value her more.

Lost in thought, Li Tang said, “If I’m so easily hooked by you, doesn’t that make me cheap?”

Jiang Lou leaned in to kiss him, his lips pressing against his earlobe. “It’s because you reel me in that I’m the cheap one.”

The butler Carson always called My Lady, so Li Tang affectionately called Jiang Lou, My Gentleman.

Jiang Lou smiled, his hand reaching under Li Tang’s clothes, lingering on the smooth skin, using lewd but honest actions to tell him, I’m not exactly a Gentleman.

As the weather grew hotter, the academic conference exams loomed ahead, which were crucial for college admissions, and the entire second-year high school class entered a tense preparation phase.

Although Li Tang’s school records were still in the capital and he wouldn’t take the exams in Xucheng, it was still an important test in his high school career, so he couldn’t afford to neglect it.

Li Tang studied science, so most of his required subjects were humanities. Humanities involved memorization and understanding; memorizing was manageable, but understanding was truly Li Tang’s bane—the same case analysis question that other students would tackle by first identifying key points and then analyzing them step by step, he would start off in entirely the wrong direction, pouring out several hundred words without a single sentence hitting the mark.

Jiang Lou wasn’t bad at Chinese, but teaching was a different matter altogether. Humanities weren’t as logically precise as sciences, and he was helpless.

So he had to “pay three visits to the thatched cottage” and ask Li Zichu to come out of retirement. Li Zichu had already experienced how hopeless Li Tang was in humanities and prepared mentally before taking on the task, but he was still astonished by Li Tang’s unexpected problem-solving methods, declaring, “I think you’re destined to have no future in politics.”

Li Zichu had an elder sister preparing for civil service exams. During the New Year’s visit, Li Zichu had flipped through her practice test papers and was overwhelmed by the variety of essay question types—it was enough to give a headache even to a student like him.

But Li Tang was unperturbed. “I’ve long lost my qualifications for a political career.”

Most civil service positions didn’t allow tattoos, and he wouldn’t pass the physical examination.

Of course, he hadn’t told Li Zichu about the tattoo.

It was a secret between him and Jiang Lou.

After a few days of teaching, even with Li Zichu’s strong dedication, he couldn’t bear Li Tang’s stubbornness.

He even considered throwing in the towel. “You’re pretty close with Su Qinhan, she’s the Chinese class representative.”

Once they really brought her in, after explaining a few problems, Su Qinhan couldn’t hold back her complaints.

“Wang Yan has been getting close to Jiang Lou recently, I wonder what shady tactics she’s using.”

Li Tang and Jiang Lou were not in the same class, so he didn’t know about this. “How close is she getting?”

“Not that close, I guess. I saw them talking twice during P.E. class.”

“Maybe she’s asking for help.”

“What kind of help needs to be asked for during P.E. class?”

“…How to run more efficiently, something like that?” Li Tang didn’t think Jiang Lou would cheat, so he didn’t take it seriously. “By the way, didn’t you already give up on Jiang Lou?”

Su Qinhan slammed the table. “That doesn’t mean Wang Yan gets to have him easily.”

Li Tang: “…”

He secretly thought to himself, can you accept that I’m the one who benefits?

During lunch break, in Classroom 1 of the second-year high school, Jiang Lou lay on his desk for ten minutes but couldn’t fall asleep, so he sat up and pulled out his phone.

Perhaps due to the rising temperatures, he had no appetite and didn’t eat lunch today.

It might also have been the wait that made him restless.

Long-pressing the power button to turn on the phone, the signal bars filled up at the top right corner, and the first messages to come in were a few WeChats.

From Li Tang. Even though Jiang Lou had repeatedly told him that he wouldn’t turn on his phone during the day, Li Tang still sent him messages unfailingly, regardless of whether there was a response.

The latest message was sent half an hour ago, a photo of a simple meal with two meat dishes and one vegetable dish. Li Tang said: Rarely eating out of school, surprisingly didn’t bump into you, So sad~

Immediately following that, he said: Going to browse the newly opened department store by the east gate of the school after eating, hoping to see Knock my socks off products.

After reading these messages, Jiang Lou’s lips involuntarily curved upward.

Ever since he started helping Jiang Lou with English, Li Tang often incorporated English phrases into their WeChat conversations. It wasn’t about showing off, but it added a touch of humor.

At this moment, these occasional English phrases seemed like a cool breeze in the heat, soothing his mood somewhat.

However, the text messages that followed, hastily flashing across the notification bar, furrowed Jiang Lou’s brows.

They were messages from Zhang Zhaoyue.

She somehow obtained his phone number and had been contacting him occasionally since their last meeting. First, she called, but Jiang Lou didn’t answer, so she switched to sending text messages. She didn’t waste time with pleasantries; each time she went straight to the point, asking if he was free for dinner on the weekend or telling him that she had bought new clothes for him and left them at his doorstep, reminding him to remember to pick them up.

Jiang Lou hadn’t responded to any of them, but he hadn’t blocked her either.

Perhaps it was because these text messages had a sense of awkwardness in trying to please but failing, giving Jiang Lou a feeling of watching a play, curious about what else she could do.

Curious to see how far a mother would go to protect her beloved child.

In any case, the remaining time was short, akin to waiting for the post-credit scene at the end of a movie, quite entertaining.

This time was slightly different from the past; Zhang Zhaoyue sent a descriptive text—a lawsuit for embezzlement of others’ property had been filed against Jiang Hongmei, Jiang Lou’s aunt.

The property referred to here was naturally the maintenance fee left behind by Zhang Zhaoyue and Jiang Lou’s father during their divorce, which Jiang Hongmei, as Jiang Lou’s guardian after his father’s death, had taken.

Moreover, Zhang Zhaoyue had already contacted welfare agencies to understand the situation at the time, gathered evidence, and consulted a lawyer for an estimate, transferring the money into Jiang Lou’s bank account in one lump sum ahead of time.

Scrolling up in the messaging interface, sure enough, he saw the deposit information.

It was a large sum of money, sufficient to raise several children even in today’s society.

Jiang Lou laughed.

He certainly knew how difficult it was to obtain this lawsuit. In the past, he hadn’t thought about seeking help to reclaim what belonged to him, but despite the clear justice of his cause, the process was riddled with obstacles.

Jiang Hongmei had harbored ill intentions from the start. A significant portion of that money, under her manipulation, was in Jiang Lou’s grandfather’s account. Once Jiang Lou’s father died, she had no qualms about keeping the money. It wasn’t impossible to pursue the matter, but the process was complicated and tedious. Jiang Lou, a lonely child with nothing to offer in exchange, naturally had no one willing to spend time and money to help him. It was difficult for him even to sue Jiang Hongmei.

Years dragged on, until Jiang Lou grew up, passing the stage where he desperately needed the money. Therefore, facing a belated trial and a windfall now, Jiang Lou didn’t feel touched but found it laughable instead.

After laughing, he felt a tremendous emptiness.

Why didn’t it come earlier? Even just two years earlier, or one year.

While he still harbored a shameful expectation in his heart.

Was it human nature to always regret and scramble for solutions only when faced with disaster?

Did they not have a word in their dictionary that meant “too late”?

Before turning off the phone, Jiang Lou checked his chat history with Wang Yan.

The most recent conversation took place two days ago, with Jiang Lou asking her how much longer it would take. Her reply was: Next Wednesday.

Following that, she asked: When will you give me the password?

Jiang Lou: I’ll give it to you on the day.

Wang Yan: What is it, anyway? So mysterious.

Jiang Lou didn’t respond.

Next Wednesday, which was the day after tomorrow.

The day after tomorrow, everything would return to the state before the Big Bang.

Back to square one, and also the final resolution.

Jiang Lou exhaled deeply.

He was about to be liberated, but why did he feel no relief at all?

There was still some time before class started, so Jiang Lou propped his chin up and dozed off for a while.

In a muddled state of consciousness, he saw a butterfly flapping its torn and damaged wings, fluttering and flying past him, struggling away.

An impulse urged him to chase after it, trying to capture this injured butterfly, but although the butterfly flew so slowly, he couldn’t catch up to it, let alone touch the edges of its tattered wings.

He woke up because of the commotion.

Something seemed to have happened outside, and the students resting in the classroom ran out to see the spectacle. Even the nerds in the advanced class went outside, leaning out the windows to look.

Jiang Lou was woken up by the noise and had no intention of sleeping further, so he also left the classroom, standing in the corridor and looking toward the east gate along everyone’s line of sight—outside the school gate, a crowd surrounded a black private car parked in the middle of the road, seemingly indicating a traffic accident.

A student from another class had their phone on speaker, and the student on the other end was in the thick of things, reporting live from the scene.

“You’re saying those hooligans who usually hang around our school?”

“Yeah, I saw them enter that newly opened department store, forcing the boy who was hit to escape and dash across the road, running straight toward the school.”

“Could they have a grudge? Who’s the boy? Is he from our school?”

“He’s from our school. I saw him during our morning run. He’s from Class 5, I think…”

“How is he? He wasn’t really hit by a car, was he?”

“He was hit. From the outside, I couldn’t see clearly, but there was a lot of blood…like a river of blood…”

Without waiting to hear the rest, and without giving his brain time to make a rational judgment, Jiang Lou turned and ran down the stairs.

Taking three steps at a time, his strides were huge. When he encountered classmates who greeted him, he had no time to acknowledge them, creating a gust of wind that whistled past in the sweltering tranquility of the afternoon as he ran.

He didn’t know how he managed to sprint from the classroom building to the accident site hundreds of meters away in one breath, and he didn’t bother with politeness, pushing rudely through the crowd, using his hands and feet to squeeze through the middle.

Fortunately, he was tall, and from three or four people away, he could see the situation inside—a boy hit by the car lay on his side on the ground, a pool of blood near his head, not as exaggerated as the “river of blood” described on the phone.

The ambulance had arrived, and medical personnel were setting up shock protection around the victim’s head, lifting him off the ground.

It allowed Jiang Lou to see that the victim wore a checkered shirt underneath his blue and white school uniform.

Not a white hoodie.

Today, Li Tang had worn a white hoodie to school.

As the buzzing in his ears gradually faded, Jiang Lou heard someone calling his name.

“Jiang Lou?”

It was Li Tang, standing outside the crowd, looking at him in surprise, not understanding why he was here or why he looked so disheveled.

And Jiang Lou, as if his senses had failed, couldn’t see the faces of the others, ignoring all irrelevant noises. The run had drained all his strength, leaving only a little to walk over.

Then he reached out his arms, closed them, and pulled Li Tang into his embrace.

His lips parted, nearly a sigh: “…Not a white hoodie.”

Fortunately, not a white hoodie.

Fortunately, it wasn’t you.

After a tumultuous day, Jiang Lou didn’t let Li Tang accompany him home, and they parted ways on the roadside.

The taxi arrived, but Li Tang was still worried, holding the open door and repeatedly looking back, afraid that if he blinked, Jiang Lou would collapse on the ground.

Jiang Lou had no choice but to smile at him. “Call me when you get home.”

Finally managing to send him off, before he even reached home, Li Tang called. “Go to sleep when you get home, I won’t disturb you.”

Jiang Lou said “okay.”

“So…see you tomorrow?” Li Tang’s tone had a cautiousness as if testing the waters.

“Mm.” Jiang Lou agreed. “See you tomorrow.”

Back home, Jiang Lou turned around and tightly shut the doors and windows.

Then he sat in the dimly lit small room, staring at the rabbit lantern hanging in front of the window, doing nothing but sitting there idly.

Until the sun crept above the horizon, the faint light in his pupils was obscured by the soft morning glow, Jiang Lou picked up his phone and sent a WeChat message.

—No need to broadcast it, I’ll pick up the items today.

In a quiet corner unseen by others, Jiang Lou made a decision.

A decision that couldn’t be described merely as “difficult” or “important.”

Though no matter how one looked at it, it seemed like he wasn’t firm enough, overturning all preparations and cutting all fuses overnight.

Another human flaw—without experiencing it firsthand, one couldn’t truly empathize.

Just like before today, he blindly assumed that he could accept this level of loss.

Time rewinds to a certain night last autumn, during the period of waiting for the prey to walk into the trap, Jiang Lou played with candles out of boredom, letting the wax drip and seal the ants crawling on the decaying wooden table.

Now he realized that at that time, watching the ants surrender without even having a chance to struggle was like looking into a mirror, seeing himself.

Fables were merely stories humans concocted out of wishful thinking. In reality, when the snake woke up in the warmth of the farmer’s hands, it wouldn’t bite him but would rub against him, treating his appearance as the arrival of spring.

Recalling the events that occurred hours ago, Jiang Lou tugged at the corners of his mouth, laughing at himself.

A half-deaf man with hearing loss in his left ear sometimes couldn’t hear voices even when they were right next to him, yet when he thought he was about to lose someone, he heard the sound of the entire world collapsing.