IMH - 19

Cheng Xiaonan thought he might have misheard and tilted his head, instinctively asking, “What?”

Yu Qian apologized sincerely: “I lost my memory. Some things I can’t remember.”

The makeup artist began calling Yu Qian over to remove her makeup. By the time she finished, it was already past 10 PM.

Cheng Xiaonan leaned against the backstage area, watching the bustling staff. After several days, everyone’s faces bore traces of exhaustion.

Even Shen Shen, who prided himself on being a social genius and a chatterbox full of energy, had grabbed a plastic chair, slumping into it. In his left hand, he held a bottle of mineral water, while his right hand shoved dry slices of bread into his mouth.

It was indeed exhausting. So on the way back to the hotel, Cheng Xiaonan didn’t ask any more questions.

Only after Sun Yue and the others had left did he stand in front of his room, not rushing to go in. He said, “Even if you’ve lost your memory, aren’t you curious about what kind of relationship we had before?”

Yu Qian must have been tired because her complexion was paler than usual.

She inserted the brass key into the lock, her tone flat: “No impression. Maybe our relationship was just average.”

Cheng Xiaonan didn’t take out his key or open the door.

He leaned against his own door, looking at Yu Qian from a moderate distance. His voice carried a hint of amusement: “An average relationship doesn’t describe us.”

From his tone, it was clear he didn’t believe her claim of amnesia and had already started teasing her.

Yu Qian didn’t rush to open the door either. She followed his words and asked, “Tell me, what kind of relationship was it?”

“How should I put it? Don’t be shy. Back then, you toward me...”

Yu Qian turned her head expressionlessly: “Toward you?”

“That must have been around seven years ago...”

Cheng Xiaonan furrowed his brows, as if recalling something awkward. After pausing for a few seconds, he continued, “Back then, you had a sports car. You always drove it to our school to block my way, saying you wanted to see me, very enthusiastically.”

What a load of nonsense.

Yu Qian didn’t speak but silently recalled how every time she was busy and couldn’t see Cheng Xiaonan, she would receive a barrage of messages from him.

This younger brother had a pattern when sending messages:

First, he would talk about trivial matters, then indirectly ask when she could come to see him.

Now here he was shamelessly bragging, even saying: “I don’t know if it was an ordinary relationship, but I think you might have liked me quite crazily.”

“I, crazily, liked you?”

“More or less.” Cheng Xiaonan rubbed the tip of his nose as he spoke.

“But I don’t have your contact information in my phone, not even one.”

Cheng Xiaonan gave a good reason: perhaps it was unrequited love, leading to lifelong resentment, so everything was deleted.

Afterward, he kindly reminded her: “It’s late. Rest early. After these few busy days, we’ll talk about our feelings?”

Yu Qian twisted the key, and with a “click,” unlocked the door, leaving Cheng Xiaonan outside.

That night, after their verbal sparring, An Gu’s conceptual show officially began.

Yu Qian’s performance remained outstanding, and the show was even more successful than anticipated.

At 9:30 PM, after the show ended, the heads of several collaborating teams discussed holding a joint celebration party.

The venue was set at the hotel where Yu Qian and the others were staying, convenient for the hardworking staff to return to their rooms directly after eating, drinking, and having fun.

As a signed model for “Eleven,” Yu Qian naturally sat at the same table as Cheng Xiaonan and his group.

Also at the table was Peter, appearing as a friend of “Eleven,” and An Gu, who came to catch up with Peter.

After a few rounds of drinks, Peter and An Gu started singing old songs like “The Bashful Rose Quietly Blooming.” Sun Yue and An Gu’s assistant were entrusted with the important task of escorting the drunken pair back.

Before leaving, Sun Yue kept glancing at Yu Qian, worried that Yu Qian might also be too drunk to take care of herself.

Sun Yue’s eyelids were still swollen; she had cried again during the show.

When she came down, she whispered to Yu Qian, saying she had borrowed some courage from her runway performance.

The young girl, with her ponytail, kept turning back, mouthing: “Wait for me to come back, and I’ll escort you to your room.”

Yu Qian still held a half-full glass of red wine, preparing to respond when suddenly a figure blocked between her and Sun Yue.

Cheng Xiaonan said to Sun Yue: “After escorting Teacher Peter, go back and rest. Yu Qian is in the room next to mine; I’ll take her there.”

After speaking, Cheng Xiaonan pulled a chair and sat next to Yu Qian, lowering his head to look at his phone.

Actually, Cheng Xiaonan didn’t believe Yu Qian’s story about the car accident.

He only thought she was making up excuses to brush him off casually.

But he couldn’t shake off his concern for her, feeling uneasy.

After all, they hadn’t been in contact for seven years. What if, what if she really had a car accident abroad during those seven years and suffered harm?

So during dinner, Cheng Xiaonan deliberately sat next to Peter.

At first, everyone was sober, sharp-eared, and keen-eyed—it wasn’t convenient to discuss private matters.

Cheng Xiaonan didn’t drink alcohol. He waited patiently, eating slowly, sipping tea leisurely.

After more than an hour, Peter started talking more, and the surroundings grew increasingly noisy. Shen Shen had already begun chatting with someone about playing in the mud as a child.

Cheng Xiaonan picked up a cup of tea, leaned over, and when no one was paying attention, lowered his voice to ask Peter: “Did Yu Qian have a car accident while abroad?”

He originally thought Peter would refute him.

But Peter didn’t.

Something in Cheng Xiaonan’s question must have struck a sensitive nerve in Peter. Suddenly, Peter’s eyes reddened, and tears streamed down his face.

This reaction startled Cheng Xiaonan. Under the influence of alcohol, Peter burst into tears, hugging Cheng Xiaonan tightly. It was An Gu who came over, peeled Peter off, and dragged him away.

An Gu had also drunk quite a bit. While patting Peter’s back to comfort him, he mumbled: “Peter is still the same—always crying when it comes to sad memories.”

What sad memories did Peter have?

Could it be that Yu Qian really had a car accident?

Such a dramatic thing could actually happen in real life?

Cheng Xiaonan opened his phone’s search bar and typed in “car accident amnesia...”

Yu Qian didn’t know what Cheng Xiaonan was doing. She only felt that the person sitting next to her, while playing with his phone, seemed unusually silent. Even the corners of his lips were tense, and soon, his brows began to furrow.

Didn’t he say he’d talk about their feelings after everything settled?

Not talking anymore?

This younger brother was truly fickle.

When she lowered her head to look at her wine glass, her peripheral vision caught Cheng Xiaonan turning his head to look at her with a complex gaze.

Yu Qian took a sip of red wine, thinking: Could this younger brother really believe she had amnesia?

Shen Shen lunged over like a human accessory, hanging on Cheng Xiaonan’s shoulder, asking, “Nan Ge, when are we going back? I feel like the alcohol is kicking in.”

Cheng Xiaonan was still looking at his phone, simply saying, “Wait.”

Yu Qian felt Cheng Xiaonan was intentionally waiting for her. She drained the last bit of red wine in her glass, picked up her phone, and stood up: “Let’s go.”

As the three of them walked out of the restaurant together, Yu Qian and Cheng Xiaonan were deep in thought and didn’t speak.

Shen Shen, with his alcohol-addled brain, thought these two must be feeling somewhat estranged after so many years apart.

At times like these, someone needed to help them recall their past fond memories.

People need to reminisce!

Reminiscing helps recall past affections and develop new ones.

And who would be the person to help them remember?

The best candidate was none other than Shen Shen himself!

If Shen Shen had been slightly more sober, he would have remembered that Nan Ge had told him not to meddle in these matters.

But he had been drinking and only felt like a hero, a savior!

To get the attention of Yu Qian and Cheng Xiaonan walking ahead, Shen Shen coughed loudly.

He didn’t control the force well—it sounded more like a dog with asthma...

But the effect was good!

At least the two people in front turned around.

Yu Qian asked, “Is Mr. Shen feeling unwell from drinking? Want to throw up?”

Cheng Xiaonan was much colder, pointing to the direction behind Shen Shen: “Turn left at the back, there’s a restroom.”

As for Shen Shen, with a face full of profound mystery, he spoke in a tone that implied “you guys don’t understand how much I’ve thought for you”: “I, ah, remembered something.”

“Speak.”

This word “speak” was the most regrettable word Cheng Xiaonan had said all evening.

Because as soon as Cheng Xiaonan said this word, Shen Shen suddenly raised one hand, leading Yu Qian and Cheng Xiaonan toward the elevator like a tour guide.

While walking, he chattered about past events from high school.

He mentioned that on a certain Christmas Eve during high school, many girls shyly came to give apples, but Cheng Xiaonan politely declined, saying thank you but he wouldn’t accept them.

Some girls were more persistent and insisted he take them. Cheng Xiaonan said, “Giving gifts requires reciprocity. I haven’t prepared anything for you, so I can’t accept it—I appreciate it though.”

But as Cheng Xiaonan’s desk-mate, Shen Shen spotted a beautifully wrapped apple hidden in Cheng Xiaonan’s backpack.

During evening self-study, Cheng Xiaonan told the teacher he was going to the restroom, hid the apple inside his school uniform jacket, and took it out.

Speaking of this, Shen Shen deliberately paused for effect: “I wonder who he was giving it to, so~ care~fully~”

Actually, Shen Shen’s story was familiar to Yu Qian.

Around mid-December that year, Qu Liwen had booked several advertisements for Yu Qian to shoot, so she wasn’t often in the capital city, frequently working at shooting bases in neighboring provinces or suburbs.

Cheng Xiaonan had sent her a few messages, indirectly asking if she could find time to return to the capital in a few days.

Yu Qian didn’t have much concept of Christmas Eve or Christmas, unlike students who exchanged apples on such days.

But since Cheng Xiaonan had asked several times, she checked with Qu Liwen and replied to Cheng Xiaonan, saying she could free up December 25th.

On December 24th, before finishing work, Yu Qian received a message from Cheng Xiaonan, saying he couldn’t have dinner with her tomorrow and asking if she could come to the back street of their school.

Yu Qian drove over and saw Cheng Xiaonan squatting on the wall.

The night was deep, and the weather was a bit cold. He was only wearing a school uniform jacket, a baseball cap, and a mask.

“Why are you wearing a mask? Are you sick again?”

Looking at Cheng Xiaonan’s eyes, they seemed to conceal much dissatisfaction and impatience, as if suppressing his temper: “Don’t walk over here. Stand farther away.”

Cheng Xiaonan said he had originally planned to treat Yu Qian to dinner, but suddenly two classmates in his class had contracted chickenpox and were taken home for isolation.

Someone from the infirmary had come to spray disinfectant, saying if new cases appeared, it would indicate contagion, and the class would have to suspend classes.

He was afraid of infecting Yu Qian and didn’t dare eat with her.

Yu Qian didn’t have much attachment to eating. She only asked, “Why did you call me here today?”

Cheng Xiaonan threw a beautifully wrapped large apple into Yu Qian’s arms, saying he had personally picked it from an imported supermarket—the biggest, reddest, and probably sweetest one—and asked her to try it when she got home.

“You’re quite ceremonial.”

“It doesn’t matter if other ceremonies exist or not, but this one must be done.”

The young man sat on the old brick wall, one leg bent and stepping on the wall, the other dangling down. His tone was lazy, yet his eyes were earnest: “I heard from the girls in my class that wrapping a peanut inside an apple and giving it to someone means safety all year round.”

That day, it probably was windy. Cheng Xiaonan pressed down his cap brim: “It’s pretty cold. Go back quickly. After a few days, if it’s confirmed not contagious, let’s have dinner together?”

Yu Qian initially didn’t speak, calculating whether her shooting schedule would allow her to be free.

But when she didn’t speak, Cheng Xiaonan didn’t leave either.

Until she said, maybe on the weekend, she might have time.

Only then did Cheng Xiaonan’s eyes curve into a smile: “Then it’s settled.”

After speaking, his figure disappeared from atop the wall.

In the elevator, Yu Qian lowered her eyelids while pressing the elevator button, concealing the emotions in her eyes.

Shen Shen had been rambling for a long time, and Cheng Xiaonan didn’t interrupt him.

He also wanted to know if Yu Qian had truly forgotten everything from the past. Listening to someone recount old stories at this moment was good.

But Cheng Xiaonan didn’t expect Shen Shen to be such a liability, veering off-topic...

The elevator door opened, and Shen Shen made a gentlemanly gesture, inviting his two listeners to go up first.

Stepping into the elevator, he continued: “I guess Nan Ge must have gone out to give gifts and returned limping. The teacher even joked, ‘How did going to the restroom make you limp?’ Hahaha, I don’t know where he sprained himself. The next day, I went to his house to visit him, oh my, you wouldn’t believe it—his ankle was swollen like a pig’s trotter—ah!!”

Cheng Xiaonan stepped on Shen Shen’s foot, his face wooden: “Sorry, I didn’t see it.”

He pressed the elevator floor button and finally spoke, not looking at anyone, but sounding somewhat like an explanation: “Shen Shen drank too much; he must have remembered wrong.”