Zhou Tuoxing opened his mouth, and a myriad of complex expressions flashed across his face. In that moment,
he had a lot he wanted to say.
But every time he tried to pull He Chuan Zhou out of her shell, she was always sharper and more lucid than
he expected, her words more cutting.
Perhaps it was her cold, resolute gaze or the fear of hearing her cruel mockery again that made him swallow
his words, ultimately saying nothing.
He pressed his lips together, blinked, and hid his long and tangled thoughts, replacing them with a bland
expression. Trying to appear casual, he asked, “I don’t think I’ve asked you since we met—how are you doing
now?”
He Chuan Zhou saw his hesitation and uncertainty, and for some reason, she felt a pang of hurt. Softening
her demeanor a bit, she replied quietly, “I’m fine.”
This was their last conversation.
Both were stubborn in ways they couldn’t quite explain, separated by a barrier erected over more than a
decade of living in different worlds.
Each interaction, whether the first, second, or now, was marred by some special reason leading to
unpleasantness.
Reunions of long-lost friends weren’t like the stories, where a smile would immediately bridge the gap.
Instead, they were strangers, tentative and wary, suppressing their emotions, carefully probing the old
wounds they didn’t dare mention, measuring the distance between them.
Zhou Tuoxing wasn’t sure if he understood her anymore, nor did he know what truly interested He Chuan Zhou
now. He sensed her resistance and distance, feeling a confused sense of grievance and helplessness.
·
He Chuan Zhou didn’t want to have lunch, so Zhou Tuoxing offered her his car to drive home. She initially
wanted to refuse, but Zhou Tuoxing took the keys and walked out the door, standing in the elevator waiting
for her.
With no other choice, He Chuan Zhou followed.
She still lived in her old neighborhood, a place Zhou Tuoxing had visited countless times, so familiar he
could find it with his eyes closed. While the buildings on the streets had been renewed with the city's
development, the neighborhood’s interior remained as dilapidated as ever.
The flower beds outside, untended for a long time, had grown wild with weeds. Someone had planted two loquat
trees and an osmanthus tree, which were now tall and lush.
He Chuan Zhou gripped the steering wheel, slowing down as she carefully navigated the narrow alleys of the
neighborhood, finally stopping by the flower bed.
She was about to ask Zhou Tuoxing how he would get back and if he could drive himself, but when she turned
towards the passenger seat, she saw him staring blankly at a patch of shade in the distance.
Instinctively, her gaze followed his, landing on a chipped and cracked wooden bench, and she felt a moment
of daze.
The bench, with its grain and the leaves strewn upon it, had often appeared in He Chuan Zhou’s dreams. It
was a place she knew intimately.
At dusk, He Xu would sit beneath it, watching her with gentle eyes, waiting for her to approach and speak to
her.
Though he only ever repeated the same phrase, monotonously like a non-playable character in a game, saying,
“You must move forward,” every detail was so vividly real that it was addictive.
He Chuan Zhou didn’t understand what it meant to move forward.
By the police force’s standards, she was supposed to be more successful than He Xu.
She worked tirelessly, with sharp insight. Never letting personal matters trouble others, she devoted all
her energy to learning and working. Over the years, she had solved many major cases, gaining some
recognition within the police system.
But her enthusiasm for work didn’t stem from some grand ambition or lofty ideals—it was purely a desire to
be a police officer and a good person.
Her maturity was filled with monotony, making her seem older than her years, as if she had already lived
through one lifetime and was now dutifully embarking on a second journey.
Brother Huang had once asked her, “Are you always this unenthusiastic?”
She replied, “It’s not necessary.”
She poured all her passion into maintaining the appearance of having a good life; everything else was deemed
unnecessary.
Brother Huang sighed, saying, “This isn’t what living well means. People need to move forward.”
The same old phrase. He Chuan Zhou was tired of hearing it.
She shifted her gaze back to Zhou Tuoxing’s sharp profile.
The car engine was off, but Zhou Tuoxing remained seated. He Chuan Zhou continued to watch him.
His back was straight, neck long, with the poise of someone not used to desk work. His hair, soft and
slightly overgrown, fell loosely. His half-closed eyes were focused, and his lightly pressed lips hinted at
a hidden melancholy.
He Chuan Zhou knew exactly what he was thinking, and her grip on the steering wheel tightened.
A thick cloud floated in from somewhere, darkening the twilight sky abruptly.
He Chuan Zhou looked up at the distant, hazy outlines of the mountains, feeling a sudden gust of wind
blowing the mist away.
It seemed like it might rain. If the sky got any darker, it would look exactly like that day.
In truth, the phrase wasn’t something He Xu had said to her directly; Zhou Tuoxing had passed it on to her
later.
During the week before and after He Xu’s cremation, He Chuan Zhou stayed home, not attending school.
That afternoon, Zhou Tuoxing came by, standing by the flower bed with an umbrella, but He Chuan Zhou ignored
him.
That night, a strong wind blew. His light blue umbrella was buffeted until it almost flew away, so he folded
it and took shelter under the useless tree shade.
The puddles were full of rain, their ripples fragmenting the streetlight’s glow. The sound of the raindrops
was peaceful, and as it got dark, He Chuan Zhou finally came down.
Zhou Tuoxing held the umbrella for her, talking about all sorts of trivial things at school and telling
unfunny jokes.
It was the best he could do, but unfortunately, he had no talent for comedy, and his unappreciative audience
made his performance fall flat.
Zhou Tuoxing stopped halfway, just as the rain let up. He adjusted his stance, tilting the umbrella entirely
over He Chuan Zhou’s head, then bent down to roll up her pant legs with one hand, avoiding the mud
splatters.
Though rain kept pouring into his mouth, he felt parched. Standing up straight, he smiled at He Chuan Zhou,
pulled out a card from his pocket, and handed it to her, persistently trying to engage, “What do you want to
do in the future?”
He Chuan Zhou sat there, expressionless, indifferent to her soaked clothes, waiting for Zhou Tuoxing to
finish talking and leave.
“Which school are you going to?” Zhou Tuoxing didn’t realize how strained his smile was, his muscles tense.
“After graduation, you should be able to find a summer job. I know many convenience store owners who can
offer easy work. I’ll go with you. You can save up four to five thousand yuan a month.”
He Xu’s colleagues had offered donations, but He Chuan Zhou refused. Despite various unexpected expenses
over the years, He Xu’s savings were enough to ensure she wouldn’t miss school.
He Chuan Zhou asked, “Aren’t you going back with your mom?”
“I don’t want to go there. I just came from her place,” Zhou Tuoxing’s panic flashed briefly before he
resumed his fake smile. “I’m almost an adult. I can live independently.”
Due to his father’s abuse, Zhou Tuoxing had lived with his mother for a while. She had remarried and had a
happier family, with a wealthy husband and a daughter.
He felt out of place at home, the environment stifling him. Everyone’s attitude made him feel like a threat
to his mother’s new life, so he preferred returning to his father’s destitute life.
After Zhou Tuoxing's father committed another act of domestic violence, Zhou Tuoxing’s mother was notified
and came to take him back. Zhou Tuoxing refused. The situation reached a stalemate until He Xu intervened,
promising to take care of Zhou Tuoxing. Only then did his mother reluctantly leave.
Now, with He Xu gone, he had no more reason to insist.
He Chuan Zhou couldn't understand him.
Jiang Zhaolin's family was dirt poor, struggling even to eat. Wang Yifei was young and had no guardian. With
He Xu gone, they were just burdens. Zhou Tuoxing could have had a better life, so why stay?
Zhou Tuoxing spoke at length, detailing the future he had planned in the past few days, but He Chuan Zhou
listened absentmindedly.
They were in their third year of high school, just six months away from the college entrance exams. There
were no universities in A City that Zhou Tuoxing favored, and He Chuan Zhou wasn’t sure if she wanted to
stay here either.
She couldn’t wait for him to finish and interrupted him.
“Zhou Tuoxing.” The three words were chilling.
Zhou Tuoxing stopped his enthusiastic monologue. The deep, empty night amplified in his mind, and he
realized the world at this moment was terrifyingly empty, waiting for He Chuan Zhou’s decision to fill it or
shatter it.
He Chuan Zhou’s voice was flat: “To be honest, being with you only shows me how hard life can be.”
Zhou Tuoxing’s heart sank. He wanted to stop He Chuan Zhou from speaking further, but his body wouldn’t
move.
“So please, do me a favor, and don’t appear in my life anymore. I want a fresh start.”
Zhou Tuoxing stared hard at her face, trying to discern any sign of deceit.
But no matter how he traced He Chuan Zhou’s features, each stroke, every line, even her steady breathing,
carried a cold, unyielding edge.
His gaze fixed, his voice hoarse, painfully mingled with a humble plea: “Aren’t we friends?”
“With you around, I can’t forget. I don’t want to live as exhausted as He Xu did.” He Chuan Zhou’s voice was
calm and unemotional. “You all make me feel very tired, constantly reminding me that life is more about
misfortune. I shouldn’t have to live like this.”
Zhou Tuoxing lowered his head. Whether it was the sudden gust of wind or his shaky grip, the umbrella was
blown away.
Rainwater stood between them, blurring his expression.
He Chuan Zhou, devoid of emotion, advised, “Go back to your mom. From now on, you walk your path, and I walk
mine. I don’t want to rely on anyone else.”
She said this, rolled down her pant legs, and stood up to leave. She didn’t know when Zhou Tuoxing left
either.
As He Chuan Zhou was recalling the coldness of the rain that day, Zhou Tuoxing grabbed her hand and pointed
outside, accusingly saying, “You drove me away right there.”
He Chuan Zhou chuckled, pulling her hand back, “Not dwelling on past sorrows is something adults should
learn to survive.”
Zhou Tuoxing retorted, “I thought being heartless was what adults should learn to survive.”
After a while, he looked at He Chuan Zhou again, “I never learned that.”
He Chuan Zhou didn’t know how to respond. She opened the car door and got out, with Zhou Tuoxing following
suit.
They walked one after the other, maintaining a distance of about a meter like strangers, climbing the stairs
until they stopped in front of her door.
He Chuan Zhou glanced back at him, didn’t ask what he wanted, and took out her key to unlock the door.
The lock on the security door was rusty and wouldn’t turn easily.
The creaking sound echoed in the empty corridor, mingling with the odor of garbage from somewhere.
The sensor light had long been broken, and the small window on the landing barely let in any light. The area
in front of her door was shrouded in dimness.
At this point, Zhou Tuoxing moved closer. He Chuan Zhou noticed his shadow and thought he was trying to
help, so she stepped aside.
Zhou Tuoxing reached out, not for the doorknob, but to tightly embrace her, pulling her into his arms.
For the first time, He Chuan Zhou realized how much Zhou Tuoxing had grown. His shoulders were broader, his
arms stronger. But he still rested his chin on her shoulder, speaking in a muffled voice close to her ear.
“You never asked how I’m doing.”
“I’m not doing well at all, He Chuan Zhou.”