#43: If Longing Could Speak

Breakfast was lavish.

The porridge cooked with milk and red dates was fragrant and glutinous, slightly sweet. The stir-fried shredded carrots with meat were vibrant in color, and the pan-fried beef patties were crispy on the outside and tender on the inside.

While Cheng Wan Yue was showering, Qing Hang peeled a small bowl of pomegranate seeds.

As he poured water for her, his peripheral vision caught her sitting cross-legged on the chair. She lowered her head to sniff the beef patty, took a small bite, and her satisfied expression suggested it was something she liked.

Before taking her second bite, she broke the patty in half and placed one piece on his plate.

Qing Hang recalled how she used to do the same thing—no matter what she ate, she would always share half with the person next to her.

In truth, she was very picky about food. Anything she disliked, she wouldn’t touch at all. When her parents were busy working, she often ate at the school cafeteria during high school. The meals there were almost identical every day, and she rarely felt full.

During the year they shared a desk, her drawer was always stocked with snacks. Whenever she ate, she made sure to leave half for him, regardless of whether he was hungry or had already eaten.

Her appetite worsened, and she became melancholic and uninterested in everything. These changes began after she sent that love letter.

But she didn’t know that Yan Ci hadn’t received the letter—he never showed up because it was hidden away.

Qing Hang knew hiding the letter was selfish, but he secretly rejoiced when he learned Yan Ci liked Zhou Yu instead. Still, watching her grieve over Yan Ci daily filled his heart with icy well-water from deep within the mountains.

She never said anything, but she stopped going to the third-year building altogether, even abandoning the bicycle Yan Ci had taught her to ride.

Cheng Yanqing and Yan Ci were close friends, walking to and from school together. To avoid them, she deliberately left a few minutes later, which resulted in her being late at least twice a week. Though her teacher favored her, he couldn’t show favoritism in front of the entire class. As a result, she ended up handling most of the trash duty.

Qing Hang’s rented courtyard was cluttered with junk, but she never complained about the dirt. However, when handling the trash bin, she always wrapped her hands in tissues and held her nose.

When he offered to help, she refused, but since she couldn’t lift it alone, they always ended up carrying the trash bin downstairs together.

Her boundless energy meant she always had something to say. Occasionally, Qing Hang found her chatter overwhelming, but habits are strange things. When she fell silent, he felt uneasy.

When no one was looking, he stole glances at her. Even while walking, she seemed lost in thought.

The empty trash bin swayed lightly with their steps.

Yan Ci stood at the classroom door, there to find Zhou Yu. Something had happened to Zhou Yu’s father at the coal mine contracted by Yan Ci’s uncle, straining their once-close relationship.

Not wanting to return to the classroom, Cheng Wan Yue watched others play basketball on the playground.

She wasn’t happy at all, but Zhou Yu was her best friend.

Their wooden desks were worn, with a hole on the left side of Qing Hang’s and another on the right side of Cheng Wan Yue’s. Their desks were pushed tightly together. Whenever she searched for test papers, she turned her books upside down, often leaving some of her belongings in his desk.

Like this pack of tissues.

She wiped her hands, then rested her chin on the desk, yawning.

By early May, the weather already carried hints of summer. The rustling sound of candy wrappers echoed as Qing Hang hesitated before pulling out a piece of candy from his uniform jacket pocket.

Cheng Wan Yue froze when the first candy appeared in front of her. She remembered he didn’t like sweets. Watching him empty both pockets, she discovered more candies—even in his pants pocket.

“So many... Did you buy out the entire store?”

Qing Hang avoided her gaze. “Take your time; you’ll finish them eventually.”

She leisurely picked one, unwrapped it, and popped it into her mouth, her cheek puffing out.

She didn’t like all the flavors.

Qing Hang could tell from her eyes whether she enjoyed them or not. “Cheng Wan Yue, liking or disliking isn’t your fault.”

He set aside the ones she didn’t like.

“It’s normal to get a pimple or two during puberty. You haven’t gained weight; your eyes are swollen because a bee stung you—it’ll go back to normal once it heals. Last year, you tanned, but you’ve regained your fair complexion after winter. Studying isn’t the only path. You’re not stupid—you have many strengths. So none of this is your fault.”

Cheng Wan Yue felt much better, though she wasn’t sure if it was because of the candy or Qing Hang’s words.

“Praise me more.”

“Class is starting,” Qing Hang straightened up.

Cheng Wan Yue rummaged through her messy stack of textbooks, searching for a test paper. Math was always the subject that made her sleepy, especially when solving problems. For questions she couldn’t answer, she simply guessed randomly.

The classroom was quiet, and Qing Hang was already working on the later big questions. She poked him lightly with her pen, but he ignored her. Then she picked her favorite milk candy and passed it to him through the holes in their desks.

Qing Hang was still focused on his work. Every class, he paid close attention. After waiting a moment, his left hand moved off the test paper, and he accepted the milk candy.

She glanced toward the podium, then tilted her chin, signaling with her eyes.

It meant for him to eat it now.

Her own candy wasn’t finished yet, but she wanted to share the moment with him. The math teacher loved asking questions during class, and she hadn’t avoided being called on much since the start of the semester.

The outer packaging of Want Want milk candy was red, featuring a cartoon character. Qing Hang squeezed the slightly softened candy from its wrapper, popped it into his mouth, and continued writing.

“Alright, has everyone finished?” The teacher’s voice broke the silence. His gaze swept across the rows of students, most of whom kept their heads down. “Qing Hang, what did you choose?”

Qing Hang stood up, remaining silent since his mouth was occupied.

The teacher finally noticed. “This question isn’t hard. Did you not calculate the answer?”

Qing Hang shook his head.

The teacher’s expression became unreadable. “Let your deskmate answer.”

Cheng Wan Yue, suppressing laughter, reluctantly stood up. Normally, whether she had figured out the answer or not, she wouldn’t let the teacher face an awkward silence. But today, she didn’t even bother guessing randomly.

The milk candy slowly melted, but for the rest of the class, they remained standing.

________________________________________

On the half-piece of beef patty that Cheng Wan Yue had bitten earlier, Qing Hang naturally ate it without hesitation.

Earlier, he had teased her about finishing quickly, so after she ate her fill, she started scheming. She stretched one foot under the table and placed it on his leg. “Get my phone for me.”

Qing Hang handed her his phone. “Use mine.”

“No,” she wriggled her toes inside his shirt, brushing against his waist. “Hurry up, I’m in a rush.”

Reluctantly, Qing Hang went to the bedroom, retrieved her phone from under the pillow, and handed it to her.

Sitting across from him, Cheng Wan Yue didn’t explain what she was doing. When the phone vibrated on the table, he assumed it was work-related and habitually picked it up to check.

Only upon opening WeChat did he realize it was her.

But she wasn’t looking at him.

Qing Hang tapped on the messages and first saw the sticker she had just sent—a yellow Teletubby wearing a white dress, spinning and dancing.

Above it were two voice messages.

One had been retracted.

Both were from last night.

Qing Hang had no memory of them. He glanced at her, then clicked on the first message.

“Qing Hang, besides your grandpa, who do you love the most?”

“Cheng Wan Yue.”

The next message played automatically.

“Besides your grandpa, who has treated you the kindest?”

“Cheng Wan Yue.”

Silence hung heavy in the air.

It was as if he had been struck immobile, stiff and rigid.

Cheng Wan Yue stretched lazily, entered the bedroom, and picked out a T-shirt long enough to wear as a dress. She paired it with leggings to avoid exposure.

Humming softly, she stood by the bed to change. The only sound in the house was her singing.

“Eyes that seem impossible to read, a heart like a needle in the ocean floor. Just guessing leaves me with no appetite. Annoying, yet somehow charming.”

Qing Hang watched as she bent to retrieve her black underwear from the foot of the bed.

“Not gifted in romance, slow to react, not cautious enough, picking flowers of the wrong color—but so contradictory. I adore your clumsiness.”

She dressed slowly, but Qing Hang, who was cleaning up the dishes, took even longer and nearly dropped a plate.

After putting on her shoes, Cheng Wan Yue waited ten minutes before Qing Hang finally emerged from the kitchen, drying his hands.

Her mood was bright, her smile radiant. She waved the car keys at him from the doorway.

“Before I go home, shall I drop you off at the hospital? Or you can drive me.”

“Mm,” Qing Hang nodded. He had a driver’s license.

Cheng Wan Yue was surprised. “Why did you agree so quickly?”

Qing Hang casually grabbed her bag. “Didn’t you cast a spell on me?”

Cheng Wan Yue: “...”

She pulled her hand back, and Qing Hang paused.

“You scolded me last night—I won’t hold your hand today.” Cheng Wan Yue put on her sunglasses and walked ahead.

Qing Hang stared at her back, trying to piece together fragments of last night’s events. But all he could recall were scattered images, failing to form a coherent memory.

He had indeed scolded her—and begged her.

The old phone contained more than just the text message she had seen. Many others were deleted word by word before they were ever sent.

If longing could speak, he would undoubtedly be a masterful orator.