Chapter 51: Doing It Alone

Have I thought about him? More than just thinking.

Just as she was a part of his childhood, he occupied all her memories of happiness from those days.

The sunsets after self-study classes, the homework rushed during holidays, the three-eight line on their desks, and the little notes passed back and forth while the teacher wrote on the blackboard.

Every time a popular song from those years played again in her ears, Cheng Simin could close her eyes and see teenage Shi Ying riding his bike past her, only to turn back at the next corner with a big laugh.

“At first, I often thought about it.” The handsome, striking smile of her youth was both nostalgia and a beautiful regret.

“But later, I didn’t want to think about it anymore.” Because the distance between them grew wider. Occasionally hearing news of Shi Ying’s rising success from others made it clear they were now living in two different worlds.

The handsome face of that young boy turned into cruel mockery. It seemed the shortcut he took when riding home had a sign for her that read “No Entry.”

The last time Cheng Simin thought about Shi Ying was two years ago on a Sunday afternoon at 2:30 PM. She was sound asleep in bed when her boss urgently called her in for overtime.

Her rest days were uneventful—sleeping to recharge or being on standby 24/7 for work. Fortunately, the task that day didn’t require her presence; she could easily complete it at home. When she opened her computer, countless pop-up notifications suddenly flooded the screen. Clicking into the long-silent junior high class group chat, she discovered that their former PE teacher was raising funds through a crowdfunding platform.

In the hospital, the cancer-stricken PE teacher lay weakly against his bed. Below his asset proof was a handwritten letter from his wife. Their savings had been depleted by treatment, and the only house they owned was currently occupied by the family of three, making it impossible to sell quickly. They urgently needed to raise 40,000 yuan from netizens for the husband’s surgery.

After donating 200 yuan, Cheng Simin exited the fundraising link and skimmed through the hundreds of messages in the group.

At first, everyone lamented the teacher’s illness at such a young age. But after expressing condolences, within ten minutes, classmates began using this opportunity to gather and gossip about the happenings at Banshan Middle School.

Early romances, fights, marriages, childbirths, singles organizing matchmaking events—all amidst this chaos, Cheng Simin immediately spotted Shi Ying’s name, standing out prominently.

Someone mentioned that the school heartthrob from the neighboring class was now a minor internet celebrity on Instagram with nearly ten thousand followers.

As soon as Shi Ying’s name came up, the female classmates became excited, each claiming their past crushes and reminiscing about their innocent pubescent infatuations. Some had written him love letters, others had given him Dove chocolates, but he had always rejected them mercilessly due to his high standards.

The male classmates, on the other hand, sneered jealously. Many dismissed him, saying he was merely fortunate to have a wealthy father who allowed him to thrive abroad. If he were truly talented, he should have aimed for Tsinghua or Peking University instead of relying on his parents to study abroad.

Then, someone posted screenshots of Shi Ying’s recent social media updates. To keep track of his life, they even paid monthly for a VPN.

Just minutes ago, separated by a half-day time difference, Shi Ying was attending a charity ball in Europe wearing a tailcoat, holding a champagne glass, sporting a white bow tie, surrounded by beautiful men and women chatting joyfully in a castle adorned with murals.

Cheng Simin hesitated before deciding not to click on those glamorous photos. Instead, she saw her own sallow face reflected on the computer screen.

That face—pale, weary, oily, with dull eyes—was extremely unattractive.

The impact was so strong that she felt like a rat in the gutter whenever she occasionally thought of Shi Ying.

This feeling of despising herself was unpleasant, so she wielded her mouse like a weapon, exiting the group chat in one click, severing the information chain forever, cutting off any news about Shi Ying.

But fate has its ways, and now Shi Ying sat right in front of her, confessing his feelings.

It was Cheng Simin’s turn to ask a question again. Her dark eyebrows conveyed an earnest confusion.

“What exactly do you like about me?” After much thought, Cheng Simin couldn’t find any qualities in herself that would attract Shi Ying.

But Shi Ying looked back at her and effortlessly replied, “What are you talking about? There are so many things I like about you.”

She was passionate, kind, humorous, perseverant, cute, and pretty—a collection of many wonderful qualities he lacked.

Here we go again—he was treating her like a product to market, spouting promotional copy with his smooth talk.

When Cheng Simin heard him say she was cute and pretty, she rolled her eyes. Then, as he leaned close to her ear, gently brushing away stray strands of hair from her face with his fingertips, whispering fervently, “Don’t you know? You’ve always been my ideal type. Truly beautiful.”

What on earth was this guy reveling in? Was he reciting Shakespearean sonnets?

Unable to bear the goosebumps running from her fingernails to her hair roots, Cheng Simin pushed hard against his chest and asked, “Shi Ying, I never noticed before—do you have some sort of vision problem? Did you not get treated at a foreign hospital?”

“How could that be? I see very clearly.”

With meticulous detail and utmost caution, beauty wasn’t judged by a single standard.

“Cheng Simin, if you were a cat, you’d definitely be the most beautiful calico in the world.”

Under the influence of alcohol, Shi Ying laughed softly. He moved his right hand upward, placing it on the back of her hand, guiding Cheng Simin’s hand to rest on his left chest, letting the wild heartbeat resonate through their palms.

Moments later, Shi Ying sobered up, resuming his composed demeanor, and earnestly said, “Most importantly, I don’t know why, but just having you by my side, casually talking—you don’t need to do anything—and I feel like my future has more chances of succeeding.”

“I value this feeling immensely.”

So what if he had traveled far and wide? Those dazzling landscapes didn’t belong to him. He passed through them, knowing full well that seasons wouldn’t pause for any traveler.

Quick-paced infatuations, frequent dates—loving someone today and another tomorrow, these were merely obsessions with romance itself, captivated by fleeting fireworks. Such fast-food-style love wasn’t suitable for him.

He sought ultimate romance—the kind where, even if only two people remained in the world, they would repeatedly fall in love.

But where could such love be found? It was harder than Tang Sanzang fetching scriptures from the West, and he certainly didn’t have a white dragon horse or three disciples.

He might be handsome, but there would always be someone prettier to replace him. His family might be wealthy, but stepping outside revealed circles filled with true old money. Squeezing into circles not belonging to him, at charity balls, even spilled drinks could land on titled royalty. He was nothing more than a plus one called upon by wealthier friends when they were in a good mood—an easily discarded fresh toy.

Reading ten thousand books and traveling ten thousand miles only deepened his understanding of the infinite universe—one grain of sand among many.

Selfishness is ingrained in human genes. Who would break an arm to please him? Who would endure humiliation to make him happy? Who would place a piece of fruit on his desk every day?

Everyone is born to fight alone, yet he had someone who shared his thoughts from childhood to adulthood.

This advantage belonged solely to them—it was too precious. A treasure dropped from the sky right in front of him. How could he not strive to obtain it?

After Shi Ying’s self-analysis, Cheng Simin had spilled more than half of her wine. Swallowing her dry throat, she suddenly gripped his palm, her pupils shaking behind her glasses as if hit by a magnitude ten earthquake.

“Shi Ying, are you saying… you haven’t, ah, haven’t properly dated anyone before?”

Cheng Simin probed his privacy in a very subtle way, touching upon intimate matters.

Shi Ying understood instantly. Cheng Simin’s mind was always brimming with untamed desires. When he spoke of heaven, she talked of earth; when he mentioned city gates, she brought up underwear.

Discussing romance with Cheng Simin was like playing music to a cow—wasting his breath.

Shi Ying blinked without speaking, tilting his head to avoid her gaze. Cheng Simin noticed a suspicious flush rising on his cheeks, her curiosity intensifying. Without giving him time to think, she tightly held his hand and pressed her mouth to his ear, demanding, “Hey! Speak up! Are you telling me you haven’t done it?”

Pulling back to scrutinize her charming friend, she still couldn’t believe it: “But you’re already twenty-six! Next year you’ll be twenty-seven! Shi Ying, you’re almost thirty!”

Great, according to Cheng Simin, it seemed like he was about to climb into a coffin tomorrow.

“Done what?” Shi Ying’s facial muscles twitched wildly. Cheng Simin’s voice was too loud—ten meters away, Lao Zhao threw away his cigarette butt and turned his attention toward them.

Having drunk at least two bottles of red wine with the foremen, everything appeared double to him. On the steps, he saw two Cheng Simins pressing close to two Shi Yings, their hands intertwined strangely, resembling the Thousand-Armed Guanyin on TV.

“No, are you two dancing? How, how the hell do you have six arms?”

Cheng Simin’s boldness only unfolded fully around Shi Ying. As soon as Lao Zhao spoke, she immediately released Shi Ying’s hand and retreated awkwardly, stammering.

No one responded, leaving Lao Zhao dissatisfied. He felt the two youngsters were excluding him despite eating and drinking well at his winery. Standing up, hands on hips, he shouted, “What’s the meaning of this? Why is no one answering me? Girl, what are you asking? Xiao Shi, why aren’t you replying?”

“Talk to me! What’s going on? Now even eating and chatting has an age threshold? Is there something I can’t hear?”

On the ground, Jin Gang was rolling his hands into a circle, squinting to look through it as if it were a kaleidoscope. The simpleton was startled by Lao Zhao, quickly rolling up, and also raised an arm to look back at them.

Cheng Simin’s face was burning with embarrassment. She looked pleadingly at Shi Ying, whose eyes were like cold, sharp bone knives, glaring at her fiercely. Turning to Lao Zhao, he angrily said, “Cook, cook, what else could it be? She asked if I’ve ever cooked.”

Halfway through addressing Lao Zhao, Shi Ying turned back to look at Cheng Simin.

His gaze was like a flame, almost burning through her, his teeth clenched.

“I said yes, cooking isn’t difficult. Haven’t cooked for others? Can’t I cook for myself?”

“Cheng Simin, are you really going to ask how I cook for myself?”

“With my hands.”