CH 74

Chapter 74: A Wish at the Airport

After finalising their concepts, the progress speed of the law school’s team seemed to accelerate. The five of them distributed the responsibility for the three separate concepts among themselves, and new ideas always came bouncing out whenever they held a meeting. They’d originally thought they’d been given an extremely difficult main theme with little to no novelty — no one expected to be able to have such plentiful, abundant ideas.

“I looked around both our school and our university’s basketball teams and managed to find these  few people.” Using her iPad, Nan Jia displayed the photos of the models she’d selected and showed them to the team.

The photos slid across one by one, and Chen Pi and Zhou Yi were the most excited. “Hey, this one’s hot!” 

“This one’s not bad either, he’s super muscular.”

Nan Jia couldn’t help but laugh. “Why do you guys sound like you’re gay?” 

Chen Pi tapped his nose. “Who wouldn’t be willing to be born handsome and wear the clothes they’d designed themselves? How awesome would that be. Beautiful ladies are good too, we really need pretty girls.” 

“We’ll definitely have pretty girls. When I went over to the university team, I specifically went to take a look at the cheerleading team and etiquette department.” Nan Jia scrolled down quite a few photos. “Look, aren’t they all really pretty?” 

Yue Zhishi looked at their dazzling collection of model options and couldn’t hold back his emotional sigh, saying, “Good thing senior’s so well-connected with so many resources. You have people willing to help you no matter where you go.” 

Nan Jia deliberately and dramatically brushed back the hair on her shoulders. “Who told me to be so loveable.” 

Qu Zhi had been sitting by the side, focused on her drawings, and now she suddenly looked up and turned her face towards Nan Jia.

“Did you change your shampoo?” 

Nan Jia froze for a second, a bit surprised at how observant she was. “Ah… yes. Can’t believe you noticed it.”

“It smells really nice.” Qu Zhi lowered her head again, continuing with her work.

Yue Zhishi glanced at Qu Zhi’s paper on purpose — the model in the drawing may not have clear facial features, but her hairstyle and overall aura were almost exactly the same as Nan Jia’s.

“With these handsome guys and beautiful girls, and the looks of us designers,” Chen Pi shamelessly boasted, “we’ll immediately blow up the entire room and lay waste to all the other teams. Please award us with the prize for ‘the team most easy on the eyes’.”

Xiao Qi also softly agreed. “We’ve already won with just the basketball team…”

But Nan Jia released a long sigh. “Originally I thought we’d have another shock factor, but that shock factor’s too cold and indifferent and rejected me.”

Lifting his head, Yue Zhishi met Nan Jia’s eyes. She nodded at him regretfully and said, “It’s exactly who you’re thinking. Song Yu.”

“Ah.” Chen Pi slapped his leg. “Senior Song Yu.”

Yue Zhishi was slightly surprised. “You know him too?”

“Of course.” Chen Pi pointed at Zhou Yi while spinning his chair. “Aren’t we second year students? We went to watch the finals for the basketball tournament last year. Good lord — I’m directly calling him my good lord — the entire court was screaming out senior Song Yu’s name. I almost went deaf.” 

Zhou Yi nodded and added, “Especially when senior pulled up his jersey to wipe away the sweat on his face after shooting a ball. All the girls around me shrieked at the same time.”

Yue Zhishi silently thought, I didn’t even know there was something like that. But it had been the same when Song Yu played in the basketball team during high school — Yue Zhishi could pretty much imagine the scene. 

“I’m guessing you guys still don’t know yet.” Nan Jia winked at Yue Zhishi. “Our Le Le has a great relationship with senior Song Yu.” 

Everyone around the round table looked at Yue Zhishi at the same time, and it flustered him a bit, the pen in his hand dropping onto the table before rolling down to the floor.

“Wow, what kind of relationship?”

Qu Zhi watched as he picked his pen back up, his face a bright red.

Xiao Qi’s secretly hidden gossipy nature exposed itself, and she very quietly asked, “Are you guys brothers? I heard senior Song Yu got into a fight with one of our school’s seniors just to stop him from forcing you to drink.” 

“No no, they didn’t fight,” Yue Zhishi rushed to explain. “Just a small argument.” 

“Are the genes in your family all squeezed from Nüwa?” Chen Pi was collapsed on his chair. “How could there be such a large difference between people?” 

Not wanting to explain further, Yue Zhishi hurriedly changed the topic and asked Nan Jia, “How did he reject you?”

Nan Jia supported her chin with a hand and pulled up her chat record with Song Yu. “Let me show you how cold and heartless he was. Look.” Nan Jia held up her phone for Yue Zhishi to see. “I sent him such a long message, telling him this competition was really important and really needed a model who could shock the entire room. I even dragged you in as well, and talked about how hard you’ve been working the last few days just for this. I said we really, really hoped he could help us out — it would be the icing on the cake.”

“But look at what he said.” Nan Jia’s finger slid downwards.

[Song Yu: I don’t want people looking at me. Look for someone else.]

“Doesn’t he sound particularly hard-hearted!”

Yue Zhishi looked at the time of Song Yu’s reply. It was after he’d sent him a photo of his hand.

He almost couldn’t imagine it: in front of other people, Song Yu was a cold and ruthless machine that rejected everything, but at the same time, he could cutely complain to Yue Zhishi you’re being very unfair simply because he didn’t receive a photo from Yue Zhishi in return.

It was such a wondrous feeling — it was like a little cat reaching out its paw and giving Yue Zhishi a very lively scratch despite forever giving other people only its haughty back.    

“Since he’s your older brother,” Qu Zhi suggested as she looked at him, “he might say yes if you ask.” 

“Me?” Yue Zhishi thought the idea wouldn’t quite work. “If senior Song Yu said he didn’t want to be in the spotlight, then even I might not be able to succeed.” 

Nan Jia waved a hand. “No need, no need. We already have enough models, they just need to practice their runway walking. Song Yu should be fairly busy too, so we may as well not bother him.” 

Xiao Qi’s cellphone suddenly rang as they were speaking. She went outside for a bit, and she looked grim when she came back. Her father operated a store for handmade, custom-designed qipao, which was why she was so familiar with fabrics and had a certain level of resources. She’d been given the jobs of contacting fabric manufacturers and clothing production factories for their designs. 

“The, the fabric manufacturer just called me…” Xiao Qi sat down and looked at Yue Zhishi with very anxious looking eyes. “They said they don’t have that special fabric we need. I asked them to help me double check with other manufacturers, and they said this transparent silk’s about to go out of production and is also really expensive. Very few manufacturers still sell it — actually, there’s only one left. But, but that manufacturer most likely won’t give it to us.” 

Yue Zhishi frowned. “You mean, there’s one place left that makes it but they won’t sell it to us?” He felt like that was a problem they could solve. “That’s fine. At least there’s still a place, we can contact them and ask. Maybe we’ll be lucky and be able to buy it from them.”

Xiao Qi shook her head. “It’s not that simple. I already asked my fabric manufacturer to ask that place for me, but they don’t sell fabrics in small quantities. So, so for people like us who are only going to buy enough to make a few sets of clothes, they’re not going to bother with us…” 

Zhou Yi followed along with his own sigh. “Running into these kinds of things is the worst. We took a long time to find a clothing production factory willing to help us too.” 

Chen Pi was slumped on his desk. “If it was that journalism guy, he’d definitely be able to get fabrics with his family connections.” He then bumped Yue Zhishi’s arm. “Hey, I feel like he quite likes you. Le Le, why don’t you go and ask him?”

To Yue Zhishi, that was a terrible idea.

“This is a competition. Plus we’re competitors — we can’t ask our competitors for help as soon as we run into a problem. A competition like that wouldn’t be fair and would have no meaning to it.” 

Even though he usually looked like a good-natured little boy, in certain situations, he would always display extremely strict standards and personal values. “Besides, this isn’t something that definitely won’t succeed. Xiao Qi, give me the contact details for that fabric manufacturer — I’ll give them a try. If we really can’t get the fabric from them, then we can try to find another similar fabric and process it a bit as a replacement.”

Nan Jia nodded. “I think that’s a good idea.”

After their meeting ended, Yue Zhishi specifically walked with Xiao Qi to inquire and understand the current situation. She informed him, very dejectedly, that the current most troublesome thing was that she didn’t have that manufacturer’s contact number.

“The uncle I know doesn’t have a particularly good relationship with that manufacturer, so I only have their specific location…”

It was very cold outside, and Yue Zhishi hunched his shoulders, not having worn a lot of clothing. “That’s fine, we can head over there. Tomorrow just happens to be the weekend.”

Xiao Qi nodded and forwarded the address to Yue Zhishi’s phone. “It’s really far. They’re in Guangzhou.” 

Yue Zhishi hadn’t expected that. He glanced at the message, standing face to face with Xiao Qi underneath the gingko trees. He was just thinking of what he should do when some people started looking in their direction.

“Why don’t I go,” Xiao Qi said, slightly stumbling over her words, “I don’t have to go to my piano lessons on the weekend. I think Qu Zhi’s helping senior sister with some volunteer work, while Chen Pi and Zhou Yi both need to attend party activities on the weekends. They shouldn’t have any time.”

Pushing his hands into his pockets, Yue Zhishi gave her a smile. “That’s okay, I can go by myself. How could I get a girl to head so far away? It could be really dangerous.”

“Then how about I go with you?”

Yue Zhishi shook his head, refusing her suggestion. On one hand, he didn’t want Xiao Qi to painfully travel so far, and he felt like it’d be enough with just himself; on the other hand, it wouldn’t be too convenient if they went out together, no matter if it was living in a hotel or taking the plane. Their school’s social circle was small, and any little thing was easily blown up. It would affect Xiao Qi badly if there were any rumours.

Besides, he also didn’t want gege to misunderstand.

As a true person of action, Yue Zhishi bought a plane ticket that very afternoon after deciding he’d go to Guangzhou for the fabric manufacturer. He bought a ticket for the 8am flight the next morning.

This was actually Yue Zhishi’s first time travelling out by himself in his entire life, even though he wasn’t heading out for a holiday but rather carrying a mission on his shoulders. After he bought the plane ticket, the first thing he did was to call Song Yu, but he only received an automated voice.

“…We’re sorry, your phone call could not be connected, please try again…”

Yue Zhishi guessed Song Yu might be busy with something or perhaps in an area with bad cellphone coverage, so he didn’t take it to heart. Jiang Yuan ran over, pulling him into a game to bump up numbers, and once he started playing, Yue Zhishi forgot to send Song Yu a message. He only remembered just as he was about to sleep; he reported his extremely urgent and hasty itinerary to him on WeChat.

Very early the next day, Yue Zhishi climbed out of bed, taking a taxi to the airport with his small luggage. The traffic was a mess, and the weather wasn’t good either — the sky was gloomy and overcast, and it wasn’t clear whether it was fog or haze in the air that was blanketing everything with grey. The taxi driver turned on the radio, and it broadcasted that a light rain was predicted for today.

When he arrived at the airport, Yue Zhishi pulled out his phone to pay the driver, only then seeing the message Song Yu had sent at 5am that morning. 

[Gege: I dropped my phone yesterday, and I wasn’t able to turn it on until after I charged it the whole night. I still don’t know if it’ll die on me.]   

[Gege: Are you at the airport now? I checked the weather, and it looks like it won’t be good weather over there today. Remember to carefully listen to the voice announcements and don’t talk too much with people you don’t know.]

Yue Zhishi felt Song Yu was sometimes very amusing — if someone else saw the message, they might think Yue Zhishi was a six year old child.

He exited the taxi after paying and gave Song Yu a call. It was still really early, but Song Yu’s voice sounded like he was already awake. Yue Zhishi collected his plane ticket and went through the usual procedures while he chatted to Song Yu, telling him about the troublesome things he’d encountered and asking him when he’d come back.

“Perhaps two days from now.” Song Yu then added, “That was the original plan.”  

“Okay.” Lowering his head, Yue Zhishi looked at the plane ticket in his hand and then gazed out at the dark grey sky outside the glass walls of the airport terminal. He’d always had a high level of tolerance to anything — and yet now, at not being able to see Song Yu earlier, he found it very hard to cover up his regret. He sat down on the cold airport seat, stretched out his legs and said to Song Yu docilely, “Then I’ll come back earlier to see you.”

Song Yu said, good. Whenever Song Yu talked on the phone with him, Yue Zhishi always thought he came across gentler — perhaps it was because they were talking through something, or perhaps it was a matter of one coding and the other decoding the words sent in between, but the Song Yu on the phone made Yue Zhishi miss him more, made Yue Zhishi’s heart stir more.

Yue Zhishi quieted down, pondering again, and thought: perhaps in the end, it was because he couldn’t touch him, couldn’t hug him and could only listen to his voice. He could only imagine the look on Song Yu’s face, and so that made him want to see him even more. 

They hadn’t spoken for too long when the terminal started broadcasting flight information; it just so happened to be Yue Zhishi’s flight. Checking the time, he took a look at the watch Song Yu had given him and got up, preparing to board.  

“I’m going to hang up now. I need to board.”

“Wait a moment.” It was rare for Song Yu to hold Yue Zhishi back from doing something. Yue Zhishi’s footsteps halted for two seconds, and Song Yu’s tender, steady voice transmitted through the phone. “I still haven’t praised you yet.”

“You’ve already become an adult who can take charge of things by yourself. You’re amazing.”

Yue Zhishi easily found the sweetness hidden in his words, and even felt the tiniest, smallest bit of pride. He knew Song Yu clutched onto him very tightly — but he himself truly enjoyed how that felt.

“We’ll see each other very soon. Travel safely.”

The single beep noise at the phone call being disconnected was like a magical toggle key, changing Yue Zhishi from a little child exceedingly dependent on his gege to an adult who could independently leave his city. Everything went much smoother than he imagined. His seat was next to a window, and he leaned back into his seat, looking at the drizzle falling outside. In his heart, he silently prayed for a safe arrival.

A man around forty years old sat next to him. He was already tired from travelling, but he wanted to find someone to talk to; at first, he was curious about Yue Zhishi’s looks and asked if he was a foreigner. After learning he was mixed, the man was then curious about his family background before starting to complain to Yue Zhishi, saying he’d flown in from Los Angeles and needed to transfer at Jiang city. He’d already had a long journey.

Even though Yue Zhishi was a bit sleepy, he still replied to the man very politely. 

“This weather’s seriously terrible.” The man looked outside the window. “But since it hasn’t delayed our flight, it shouldn’t be much of a problem.”

Yue Zhishi nodded. The rain had already started falling faster, and the sky was too dim for morning — it looked more like dusk, easing towards nightfall. Without realising it, he reached out a hand and stroked his watch. “I hope so.”

“I still need to meet a really important client. Hopefully nothing goes wrong.” The man adjusted his seat, looking as though he was preparing to finish their conversation. Letting out a breath in relief, Yue Zhishi curved his head against the window and closed his eyes.

He didn’t get enough sleep last night, so Yue Zhishi fell asleep very quickly. Except he’d never been able to sleep deeply on planes, and this time, he kept drowsing in and out, feeling the plane continuously jolting up and down. He had a really realistic dream — he dreamed he went to look for Song Yu during a thunderstorm. The thunder outside was loud and ferocious, white lightning flashing across the night sky, and he searched for Song Yu for a very long time while soaked wet and holding back his fear. He finally found Song Yu in an old wooden cabinet. 

It was very dark inside once he opened the door, very damp; Song Yu was sitting by himself while hugging his knees and didn’t say a single thing, as though he’d already sat there for a very, very long time and had long gotten used to it.

He initially wanted to take Song Yu away, but in the end, he squeezed inside and wrapped his arms around him, hiding together inside the cabinet.

Yue Zhishi faintly heard the sound of a flight announcement. The cabinet in his dream wouldn’t stop shaking, and he could feel someone pulling and patting him. Yue Zhishi jerked awake and saw an air stewardess busily working in the aisle, and the man next to him was urgently saying to him, “You’re finally awake. Our flight’s been diverted, hurry and get ready.” 

“A diversion?” Yue Zhishi frowned in confusion. “Why are we diverted?”

“I think there’s a typhoon. Guangzhou is storming particularly hard right now, and no planes can get in. We need to land in Changsha.”

Yue Zhishi thought his luck really wasn’t all that good, having met something like this the first time he went out for ‘work’. He didn’t understand what a flight diversion was, and also didn’t know what their current situation was like. The child in front of them kept crying and fussing, and his mother seemed to be quite impatient as she scolded him loudly. Yue Zhishi organised his tray table and his things, a bit panicked.

He remembered an extremely thrilling movie he’d once watched with Song Yu. Before the plane crashed, the flight crew prepared a will for every single person so that they could be given to their family members.

Yue Zhishi looked utterly calm, and he rapidly put all his things away, following along with staff orders — but he kept thinking of that movie.

But Yue Zhishi still didn’t need to write a will even by the time the plane landed at the alternate airport.

All the people around them were very irritable, annoyed because they couldn’t arrive in Guangzhou as expected. Everyone swarmed out to the airline’s service desk, preparing to create trouble, and the staff at the service desk placated them, telling them they wouldn’t need to wait very long for a new flight.

Pushing his luggage, Yue Zhishi looked for a long time before he found and sat down in an empty seat in a corner. The airport was a bit cold, and the light tan cashmere coat Yue Zhishi was wearing wasn’t enough. Rushing travellers filled the terminal lobby; there were people holding others in happiness, and there were also people holding others while dropping tears.

As though only he was alone.

Yue Zhishi pulled out his phone, turned it on. He seldom called Song Yu straight away, worried he’d disturb his work — he usually just sent messages through WeChat.

[Le Le: I haven’t reached Guangzhou yet. They seem to be in a typhoon at the moment, and our entire flight’s been diverted to Changsha. I hear we’ll need to wait for a few hours before the rain over there gets better. My luck truly is bad. I think getting into something so troublesome the first day I’m out isn’t a good sign.]

Once he sent it out, Yue Zhishi thought for a bit and then hurriedly sent another message, afraid his unlucky words would come true.

[Le Le: But having the worst thing happen at the beginning means everything else should go much smoother, right?]

He didn’t receive a reply from Song Yu immediately and guessed he was currently busy; Yue Zhishi didn’t really mind. He took out his laptop, watching a few episodes of a newly released drama by himself, and then he reached into his bag again to pull out the glutinous rice dumplings Jiang Yuan had given him earlier to fill his stomach.

He hadn’t slept in a good position on the plane, and now that he had to sit and wait multiple hours in a hard chair, every passing second felt like a year. He now was slightly regretful that he didn’t let Xiao Qi come with him; at least then he would’ve had someone to talk to.

After waiting for so long, he was now somewhat hungry. He strolled around the airport with his luggage before finally pausing in front of a small store selling pastries. The fragrance drifting out was too strong — Yue Zhishi pretty much couldn’t move away.

It wasn’t a large store, but it was the only store in the airport selling cakes. There was a very large Christmas tree inside that was most likely purchased early; there were no decorations on it at all, and it looked a bit sad and miserable.

He thought there might be something he could eat in here, so he walked in, searching for a target in the long row of display counters. 

Even if it was only an ice cream or a mousse. 

The cellphone in his hand abruptly vibrated, and Yue Zhishi picked up the call immediately, seeing it was from Song Yu. His eyes were still focused on the sparkling display of cakes. 

Song Yu spoke much faster than usual, as though he’d just finished rushing through something. “Where are you right now?”

“Me?” Yue Zhishi thought he didn’t see his message. “At the airport. I’m a bit hungry right now, and there’s a small pastry shop here. It smelled so delicious I went inside.” 

Afraid Song Yu would worry, Yue Zhishi made sure to say, “Don’t worry, I won’t eat random things.” 

“I know.” It sounded like there was someone talking on Song Yu’s side of the phone. Song Yu said a few things to Yue Zhishi, but the store was too noisy — Yue Zhishi couldn’t hear him clearly and wanted to head outside. He turned and bumped directly into a someone carrying two massive bags of flour, and the bags of flour on the man’s shoulder frantically wobbled from the impact. 

“Hey hey hey, watch out!” 

Two staff members rushed over to hold up the bags. “That scared me to death. Good thing the bags didn’t fall.”  

But the bags were dusted with a large amount of flour, and Yue Zhishi breathed in the flour that had spread instantly into the air. He supported himself with the display counter and started to violently cough, bent over at the waist.

“Yue Zhishi, what’s wrong?” Over the phone, Song Yu’s voice changed. “What happened?”

He really wanted to reply, but his ability to do anything was constricted by his lack of air. He didn’t know how, but he accidentally hung up — he could no longer hear Song Yu’s voice.

At first, a staff member thought he was choking and dashed to pour him some water, but Yue Zhishi turned weaker the longer he coughed. He started to wheeze, his breathing coming faster and faster, and his back started to slide down against the counter. 

“Are you okay?”

“Do you have asthma?”

It was difficult for him to breathe — he had no way to give them any sort of response. He painfully tugged at the backpack sitting on top of his luggage, and he scrambled through it, looking for a little bag, before he poured everything inside onto the floor. He flipped through everything in desperation and then found his lifesaving asthma inhaler. He dragged in the medication with large, deep breaths. 

Hurry — he didn’t want Song Yu to worry. He needed to quickly call back.   

A bunch of people surrounded him, and they were all looking at him. Yue Zhishi’s vision was a bit fuzzy, and he could feel himself continuing to sweat. Luckily he had his medication with him; his symptoms slowly faded, and he now at least had the energy to lift his hand and pull down the scarf around his neck.

The scarf rested on his legs. Yue Zhishi lay weakly in front of the display counter, and a staff member brought over a cup of water for him, asking if he needed an ambulance.

Shaking his head, Yue Zhishi took the water in gratitude — except he didn’t have the energy to drink it and could only temporarily leave it on the ground.

The sudden asthma attack left him breathless, his mind dazed and foggy. He kept pulling in large breaths of air, and he kept thinking again and again of that dream he had on the plane. His negative emotions were like stagnant ponds of water left after the rain, spreading out bit by bit. 

He sat on the ice-cold floor and took out his phone to call Song Yu. Lifting his head, he made a rather impossible wish towards that unofficial Christmas tree — but it flashed through his mind very swiftly and disappeared. 

“The person you’re calling is currently busy, please try again…” 

Guessing Song Yu was trying to call him, Yue Zhishi hung up and waited for a little while, but the understanding between them caused trouble right at this moment.

“The person you’re calling…”

He hung up again, and Yue Zhishi lowered his head, dejected. He chose to silently wait; his nose was slightly burning, and he was still steadily trying to adjust his breathing so that he would sound better on the phone. 

Around two, three seconds later, his darkened phone screen suddenly lit up.

A small little light in Yue Zhishi’s heart also ignited. He was just about to pick up the call when abruptly — he heard that familiar voice he’d yearned to hear.

“Yue Zhishi.”

When Song Yu finally arrived at this pastry shop, the first thing he saw was Yue Zhishi sitting against the floor. Yue Zhishi turned his face in Song Yu’s direction; the cool toned lights made his face appear wan and pale, and the small amount of sweat on his forehead was glistening in tiny pieces. His lips were also pale, and he looked like a dried out and faded rose.

Yue Zhishi’s eyes looked very confused — he thought he was hearing things and was even having a hallucination after his attack. He didn’t believe what was happening until Song Yu ran over, his eyes so alarmed he didn’t seem real, and hugged him in front of everyone’s eyes. He didn’t believe it until he smelled that pleasant scent that always surrounded Song Yu, until he could bury his face into the dip of Song Yu’s shoulder. 

“Are you okay?” There was sweat on Song Yu’s forehead, and he looked like he’d run for a very long time. His palm was very hot — he stroked Yue Zhishi’s face and double checked his heart rate. “Did you just have an asthma attack? You just used your inhaler, right?”

Yue Zhishi nodded his head a bit blankly. He didn’t know how Song Yu appeared all of a sudden right at this very moment; he’d clearly said he would be back after two days. Yue Zhishi gazed at his face, lost in a small trance.

It looked like the dream was flipped — it was actually him who was found.  

“Song Yu.” Yue Zhishi called out his name so, so softly. “How are you here?” He eased over gently to kiss Song Yu’s lips, as though he was dreaming.

Even though the Christmas tree was so shabby it didn’t have a single star, it still granted his wish so very generously. 

The author has something to say:

Gege wasn’t at Changsha, he flew over there specifically. Le Le stayed there for a good few hours

They won’t have their photos taken and spread on the internet, they also won’t be seen by people they know. The probability of that stuff happening is too low hhh (don’t pull out knives for yourselves, okay? Be good and give me the blades in your hands~)