CH 48

Chapter 48: Unexpected Visit

Yue Zhishi gazed at Song Yu’s face in a trance, but he wasn’t given much time to think — a torchlight suddenly swayed in front of his eyes. The light was too bright, and Yue Zhishi turned his face away in reflex, squinting.

“Someone’s coming.” Song Yu swiftly reacted, grabbing Yue Zhishi’s wrist and running towards the side door.

As expected, a few people appeared right outside the wire mesh around the sports ground. The person in front ran towards the main entrance with his torchlight waving around like a searchlight. “Which class are you guys from? Why haven’t you gone home! Why are you guys cuddling and hugging on the basketball court?!”  

“Shit, I think it’s Compass.” Yue Zhishi was familiar with his voice and desperately ran ahead. “How are we so unlucky.” 

Song Yu pushed open the side door and left, pulling along Yue Zhishi. The two of them didn’t immediately know where to go after coming out of the basketball court. Yue Zhishi remembered that there was a side gate in the wall behind the new laboratory building, and it was connected to the neighbourhood where family members of the teaching staff lived — so he flipped his hand over and clutched Song Yu’s hand instead, tugging him towards that direction.

Compass chased very closely behind them, loudly yelling at them to stand still as he continued to ran. Yue Zhishi felt he himself was quickly running out of breath just by running; he didn’t understand how Compass could have so many energy.

“This way.” The two of them circled around the right side of the new laboratory building. A row of cars was parked there, and two three metre-high square column sculptures were placed on the left and right side of the cars. 

“Let’s hide here for a bit first.” Yue Zhishi dragged Song Yu behind a sculpture and leaned against it. The width of the sculpture wasn’t quite enough. Yue Zhishi was worried they’d be noticed, so he stood there, face close to Song Yu’s chest, trying to hear the noises around them.

The school director brought people with him, and they ran into the new laboratory building, thinking Yue Zhishi and Song Yu had gone inside. They went into the first floor, and just so happened to go into the classroom that was directly across from the square column.

“Where are you guys going, not going home so late at night! I can’t believe you’re dating at school!”

The director’s voice was particularly clear in the empty classroom, as if it was amplified.

The light from the torch abruptly shone out of the window. Yue Zhishi had originally peeked out half of his head as he continued hiding behind the sculpture, wanting to look; he immediately retreated back once he saw the light.

The moment he retreated and pulled back his head, he accidentally met Song Yu’s pair of dark eyes.

He belatedly realised the distance between them was overly close — his and Song Yu’s chests were pretty much pressed together, their colliding heartbeats intimately echoing each other. He was still panting from their earlier running, and Yue Zhishi’s Adam’s apple quivered, his eyes blinking twice in a fluster. 

“I definitely have to catch those two. These children who all start early dating, they’re all more courageous than the next…”

Early dating.

It felt strange and misplaced to use this term on the two of them.

Yue Zhishi didn’t know where his guilty conscience came from. He only felt really hot — he was too hot from running, and he also felt really hot from pressing so closely together. He attempted to take half a step back, but Song Yu caught his arm. Song Yu slightly shook his head, looking much calmer than Yue Zhishi felt. 

Yue Zhishi didn’t dare move anymore. The light from the torch violently barged around in the dark night, just like his heart at this moment. He felt he was overly nervous, so he silently begged in his heart for the director to quickly leave.

The begging seemed to be somewhat useful.

The director left the classroom he was initially in and went searching in a different place; his torchlight also disappeared. Yue Zhishi only then relaxed, and his tense muscles loosened in relief, subconsciously leaning against Song Yu’s body.

“That scared me to death.”

Yue Zhishi’s head was lowered, the sound of his voice very soft — his forehead was propped on Song Yu’s shoulder as he continued to lightly pant.

This pose looked like a half-finished embrace.

A few minutes later, the director seemed to give up. Many classrooms and labs in the laboratory building were locked, so even if students wanted to hide in them, they wouldn’t be able to get inside. The director and the other people came out and walked around to the back.

Yue Zhishi’s heart had only relaxed for a short amount of time before starting up again. Luckily, Song Yu reacted very quickly and pulled him around to the side of the column to hide.

The director was tired from running around. He roughly scanned around with his torchlight, and when he didn’t see anyone in the vicinity, he cursed and decided to give up.

Yue Zhishi only opened his mouth after a long time passed. He whispered, “Did they leave?”

He only relaxed after seeing Song Yu nod — his shoulders slumped in relief.

“As expected, people shouldn’t say things to jinx themselves.” Yue Zhishi led Song Yu towards that side gate as he continued complaining. “Good thing I’m pretty familiar with this area. I noticed this gate here before.”

Their footsteps landed in the thickly grown grass, the rustling noises mixing with the chirping of the cicadas — this was the sound of summer. 

“Why’d you notice this for?”

Yue Zhishi didn’t look back as he carelessly said, “Because I was always looking for a place to memorise my texts by myself. There are very little people around here. Many retired teachers live here in the area, and I once saw them bring their grandsons and granddaughters to play at school by coming through this side gate.” He started to sound pretty pleased with himself as he continued speaking. “I even told Jiang Yufan about this, and then he later always used this gate to sneak out of school.”

“You’ve never snuck out before?” 

“No.” Yue Zhishi wasn’t sure if Song Yu was questioning whether he’d actually snuck out before, or if he was questioning his familiarity with this side gate. He thought Song Yu was probably asking him more about the latter, so he stressed, “In any case, I pretty much memorised my texts every day, at least six days a week. I always see people going through this gate every time I came, so it’s definitely a reliable way to get out.” 

But this later also became a jinx.

Song Yu stood there, arms crossed against his chest, and remained calm and composed as Yue Zhishi stood in front of that little iron gate, wildly shaking the door lock almost the size of his fist. He repeated the key words from Yue Zhishi’s speech earlier. “I’m pretty familiar with this area, I’m here six days a week, definitely reliable.”

Yue Zhishi awkwardly raised his face. “Maybe today’s the one day they lock the gate…”

They ended up climbing over the wall to escape.

The back wall next to the teachers’ apartments was a bit high, but at least it didn’t have any sharp objects on top to prevent people from climbing over. Compared to Peiya’s other school walls, this wall was already very friendly. Song Yu backed up and approached the wall at a slight run, borrowing the metal trashcan attached in the corner — he jumped off the trashcan with one foot and flipped over, his movements as smooth as running water. Seeing how proficient Song Yu was, Yue Zhishi suspected this wasn’t the first time Song Yu had done something like this.

“Have you climbed over walls before?”

Song Yu had already gone down the other side and didn’t respond to his question. Yue Zhishi adopted a safer way to going up — he stepped on top of the trashcan and finally climbed to the top using his long legs. He ended up sitting on the wall in weariness.

His view of the world changed: the wall seemed to be even higher than he expected after sitting on it. He suddenly was a bit afraid of jumping directly down.

“Will my legs break from this height?” he asked, very earnestly.

Song Yu gazed at him, his face upturned towards him. A helpless look covered his face, and he seriously said they won’t.

“Then will I sprain my foot? Will you still play basketball with me if I sprain my foot?” 

“You ask too many questions.” Song Yu walked until he was under Yue Zhishi, face clear of expression. He caught ahold of Yue Zhishi’s dangling ankle, and then he lifted his head, opening his arms towards Yue Zhishi. “Jump down, you won’t fall.” 

Even though he didn’t look enthusiastic at all and didn’t look like he was going to properly catch him, complete trust and a bit of happiness filled Yue Zhishi’s heart. Yue Zhishi thought of the summer holiday during his first year of elementary school — he’d gone to learn swimming together with Song Yu, and he’d clutched the metal handrail by the pool, utterly refusing to go into the water. It was useless no matter which instructor came by to coax him.

At the end, it was still Song Yu. He swam over, his little face cold, and caught Yue Zhishi’s small, trembling, plump legs, telling him to jump down.

Yue Zhishi at that time had very seriously asked him, “Will I drown?”

Song Yu had said he won’t — had said, “I’ll catch you.” 

So he jumped down very obediently, just like this time. No matter if it was the young Yue Zhishi or the Yue Zhishi who’d now grown up — he accurately, precisely landed into Song Yu’s arms without a single injury. 

“We’re finally out.” 

He’d only just jumped down when an auntie came out of a nearby apartment building to throw away her trash. She stretched out her neck and looked at them as they stood there, arms wrapped around each other. Their eyes just happened to meet, and Yue Zhishi rapidly left Song Yu’s arms.

Two fake junior high school students wearing junior high uniforms who climbed over the school wall to the teachers’ living community — it was very hard for them to not be noticed.

“Let’s go, let’s go home.” 

“Mn.” Yue Zhishi also took off his coat, tying it around his waist. He followed Song Yu.

After leaving the neighbourhood’s main area, a small, bustling street filled with food was right in front of the entrance. They’d wasted two hours in school, and it was already almost midnight. Yue Zhishi was a bit hungry after playing basketball and running around. He tugged at Song Yu’s arm and walked towards the food stalls. 

Song Yu understood what he wanted more than anyone else and didn’t stop him.

Yue Zhishi stood in front of a stall selling soda buns. He watched as the owner lifted the lid of his wok and flipped over each panfried bun with a pair of tongs.

“Come have some soda buns. I have glutinous rice, turnip and vermicelli — which one would you like?”

Song Yu watched as Yue Zhishi continued to stand there. “It’s not like you can eat it, why stare at them?” 

Yue Zhishi was like an emotionless machine, repeating, “That’s right, it’s not like I can eat it.”

Song Yu felt he looked a bit pitiful, so he said he wanted some mung bean soup. Yue Zhishi was very quickly distracted. “I saw some over there just then.” He wasn’t able to eat the soda buns, but he bought two cups of iced mung bean soup — Yue Zhishi took a sip of the sweet paste, and his entire body relaxed. Small booths nearby sold all different kinds of late night snacks: crispy three delicacy potstickers, cold noodles tossed with sesame sauce and shredded seaweed, and even thin and crunchy flour pancakes filled with salted preserved vegetables, fresh from a clay furnace. They all looked especially delicious. 

But Yue Zhishi couldn’t eat any of them.

The auntie selling the cold noodles greeted Song Yu very cheerfully. “Would you like some cold noodles, handsome boy?”

Song Yu stood there and asked if the noodles could be changed to rice noodles. The cold noodles food stall happened to also sell stir-fried rice noodles, so the auntie quickly exchanged the noodles over. As she mixed the noodles with the sauce and seaweed, she couldn’t help but ask, “The point of cold noodles is to eat the egg noodles, why do you want rice noodles instead?”

Watching Yue Zhishi swallow his saliva next to him, Song Yu lightly said, “I don’t like egg noodles.”

The two of them sat in front of a tiny folding table and shared the unusual bowl of mixed noodles and a portion of fragrant and spicy roast tofu. The plastic stools were too short, so they could only stretch out their legs in front of them. 

Song Yu didn’t really care about his previous tests, and he had never wanted to give Yue Zhishi too much pressure — but as they ate their late night snacks, he casually asked, “Have you looked up any universities and majors?” 

He then added, “Actually, there’s no rush.”

He looked a bit guilty at his inconsistent words, but Yue Zhishi didn’t notice as he rushed to stuff a piece of tofu into his mouth. He ended up wanting to spit it out from the heat.

“Why do you always eat without sparing a single thought about what you’re putting in your mouth,” Song Yu ruthlessly said in ridicule.

“So hot.” Yue Zhishi swallowed with effort and answered Song Yu’s first question. “Wuhan U, I’m aiming for Wuhan U.” He pretty much blurted it out, his words sounding very hasty, but after taking a sip of the mung bean soup, Yue Zhishi then said, “As for majors, I have a few options. I’m going to really look into them for the next while.” 

He placed his cup back onto the table, movements full of self-confidence. “I’ll definitely choose a good major.”

Song Yu observed the expression on his face and lowered his eyes, his gaze softening. “Then you must have already chosen a major.”

“How’d you know?” Yue Zhishi felt he was completely transparent in front of Song Yu.

Song Yu watched him, a faint smile on his face. “With your indecisiveness, you wouldn’t have made plans already if you still haven’t decided. You would’ve been really anxious instead.” 

“Okay, you guessed right.” Yue Zhishi finished off the remaining noodles. “You might laugh at me once I say it.”

Song Yu looked serious. “The possibility of me laughing should be smaller than everyone else.”

Yue Zhishi laughed by himself once he heard Song Yu’s words. “That’s true.” He softly drummed his chopsticks against the table, and then he leaned in a bit, quietly saying to Song Yu, “I want to study law.”

His answer truly was out of Song Yu’s expectations, but after thinking about it, he was able to guess why. 

“Maybe this might sound very immature, but I really feel like being a lawyer is about defending justice.” Yue Zhishi rushed to explain, as if he was very afraid Song Yu would think he was only saying this in the heat of the moment. “Even though this ‘justice’ might not be justice in reality — and may be more procedural justice — but no matter what, I think being able to help others find justice is something very extraordinary.” 

Yue Zhishi’s eyes glowed as he spoke, a kind of innocence shining through them — they made it very easy for others to think everything he said was simple and naive. But Song Yu knew — even though Yue Zhishi didn’t really understand this profession, he was inherently born with this desire for justice. All of the heroic characters he used to like were like his spiritual totems, and they had long been etched into his character. 

Song Yu involuntarily thought about the one time he’d asked Yue Yi why he wanted to be a reporter. At that time, he didn’t understand the answer he was given; he only remembered Yue Yi saying: journalism was a profession that could expose injustice, he could speak for those who had no voice, he could pull into the light all the things that couldn’t be seen in the darkness.

Yue Yi at that time — he seemed to be like this too, eyes bright and glowing. 

They truly were father and son.

“Do you still think I’m being really childish?” Without waiting for Song Yu to reply, Yue Zhishi couldn’t help but open his mouth in question.

Song Yu returned back to attention, and he looked at Yue Zhishi’s eyes. “I think you’re amazing. What you said is right.”

Yue Zhishi was immediately happy and grabbed Song Yu’s wrist. “Then that means you support me, right?”

Song Yu shifted his eyes away. “Study well, these are all things to consider later.”

Even though Song Yu didn’t exactly encourage him, Yue Zhishi was already satisfied by getting Song Yu to support his very immature thoughts. “If I successfully get in, I’ll definitely study hard.”

Since they’ve pretty much finished all their food, Song Yu paid and took him away.

The temperature dropped a fair amount, and it was no longer so stickily hot. They walked on the empty road, shoulder against shoulder, and enjoyed the tranquility of the summer night. As he thought about how they’d just escaped from school, Song Yu found it very amusing.

“I was there for six years of school, and I’ve never been so flustered.” 

Yue Zhishi laughed out loud. “That’s right, if you were caught dating a girl while you were in high school, the entire school would’ve gossiped about you. The school would’ve circulated a criticism notice.” 

How could anything of that sort happen. Song Yu lowered his eyes.

As they walked, Yue Zhishi abruptly remembered something and frantically pulled up Song Yu’s wrist, glancing at his watch.

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s almost no more time.” Yue Zhishi rapidly searched his body. A car darted past behind him, blowing high the hair on his forehead.

Song Yu was curious about what he was looking for, but before he could ask, Yue Zhishi said, as if talking to himself, “High school year 3, class 10’s Yue Zhishi: record of being chased by the director, plus one. Record of successfully escaping, plus one. Record of climbing over walls, plus one. A qualitative leap from nothing at all.” He raised his face and smiled like a child. “There’s one last thing before I can perfectly end my high school years.” 

When he finished speaking, he stretched out a hand to Song Yu. 

A metal name badge rested quietly in his palm, and it glittered under the street lamps.

“Song Yu gege, this is my name badge.” Yue Zhishi picked up his hand and pushed the name badge into it — just like how Song Yu had stealthily stuffed it into his own hand that day school started. “I’m giving it to you.”

Song Yu looked at the name badge in his hand, an indescribable feeling suffusing his heart.

“You don’t want to leave it for someone else?” 

Yue Zhishi shook his head, and he said, clearly and directly, “I’ve never had any other option.”

Song Yu’s mood became even more complicated at these words. Yue Zhishi was unbearably, unspeakably handsome under the dim yellow glow of the street lamps; even his eyelashes were a transparent golden colour. The memories and desire he thought he’d buried very well — after seeing him smile, they all surged outwards like the rain flushing over the entire city’s fireworks.

His watch’s second hand jumped at the same rate as his heart, passing by the number twelve. Everything returned to zero. 

The tender youth that would never return once gone — it was all condensed into a piece of metal engraved with a name, and was delivered to another person’s hand.

–

After having eaten so much late at night, Yue Zhishi knew early on that he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He guessed Song Yu would be the same, so he sneaked into his room without asking permission, coaxing and pestering Song Yu until he agreed to play games with him for a while. Yue Zhishi was honestly not all that good with this game, and he didn’t even really like it all that much — when he used to play with other people, he would have little interest in searching through rooms, thinking it was boring. But with Song Yu, Yue Zhishi became particularly enthusiastic: he was extremely excited whenever he found anything useful and would ask if Song Yu wanted it, and even if he didn’t want it, Yue Zhishi would still forcefully give it to him.

Even when he foolishly danced in the game for Song Yu to watch, Yue Zhishi still found it very interesting.

They played until very late, and Yue Zhishi only returned back to his room to sleep at 3am. Lin Rong rushed to Yanghe Qizhe in the morning and didn’t wake them up to eat breakfast. Song Yu woke up rather early, and after cleaning up, he went downstairs to warm up a glass of milk for Yue Zhishi. He didn’t expect to hear the door bell just as he reached downstairs, the sound ringing for a very long time.

When he reached the entrance, Song Yu glanced at the security monitor screen. There was no one on the screen — maybe they’d already left.

Two seconds later, he still opened the door, walked outside and saw someone crouching just outside the door.

The person seemed to think he was someone else, as he initially stood up very happily. But his expression changed once he saw Song Yu’s face — he was very tall, his hair very short, and he wore an entire outfit of sportswear, a basketball in his hands.

Song Yu recognised him very quickly. The person in front of him was Shen Mi, who’d appeared in that interview video. 

“Good morning.” Shen Mi opened his mouth first, his voice friendly. “This should be Yue Zhishi’s house, right? I’m looking for him to play ball.”

He looked at Song Yu and probed, “You are?”

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Fight! Fight!