DXXZL - 12

The girl’s voice was soft and pleasant, tickling at his heartstrings.

That single word—”Brother Tu”—made Jiang Tu’s heartbeat pause before it began to race wildly, as if in spasms.

Zhu Xingyao didn’t realize this. Jiang Tu’s birthday seemed to be in January, so he was indeed older than them. Sometimes Li Xixi would jokingly call him “Brother Tu,” so she thought nothing of calling him that too.

Jiang Tu awkwardly averted his gaze, his throat tightening as he forced out a few words: “Don’t call me that.”

Zhu Xingyao pointed at Ding Xiang and Li Xixi, puffing up her cheeks slightly, looking displeased. “Why not? They both call you that.”

Because you’re different from others.

Everything you do, every word you say—it’s all special to me.

—Jiang Tu thought silently.

He looked up again, silently gazing at the unsuspecting girl who was carelessly consuming his rationality. Her clear, dark eyes innocently met his. After a moment, he helplessly said, “At least let me listen first before I choose.”

Zhu Xingyao immediately smiled, turning toward the desk behind her and placing one earphone on his textbook. “These are recordings from my performances.” She paused, then asked curiously, “You’ve never heard me play the cello, right?”

Jiang Tu was silent for a moment. “I have.”

“The one uploaded to the school forum?” She raised an eyebrow and smiled. “I thought you didn’t browse the school forum.”

Jiang Tu remained silent, offering no response.

He truly didn’t visit the school forum. The “heard” he referred to wasn’t from the video uploaded there. Suddenly, he looked up at her, calmly asking, “Are you asking me to give an opinion, or are you going to perform whatever I choose that night?”

Zhu Xingyao: “...”

The question was too sharp. She had casually suggested it earlier to lighten the mood and make him happy, without any intention of having him decide on a specific piece.

Li Xixi and Ding Xiang also turned their attention to her.

Zhu Xingyao blinked, speaking softly. “Can you just listen first?”

“Mm.”

He put on the earphones.

Break time was short, and he only managed to listen to one lively piece before the bell rang. Zhu Xingyao handed him the Walkman with a mischievous smile. “Thread the earphones through your collar, zip your uniform all the way up, and wear the earphones like this. If you cover one ear while writing, the teacher won’t notice.” She demonstrated by covering her right ear, teaching him how to sneakily listen during class. Then, feeling a bit embarrassed, she added, “You can listen after class too.”

She often listened secretly during her humanities classes—how could Jiang Tu not know?

Without showing any reaction, he glanced at her, threading the earphones through the hem of his uniform and up to his collar, placing them in his right ear. He zipped his uniform to the top, concealing both the bandage and the earphones. Unless someone looked closely, it was hard to notice. “Done.”

Zhu Xingyao was momentarily stunned, then smiled brightly. “Brother Tu is impressive.”

Jiang Tu: “...”

This period was history class. The history teacher, with his monotonous delivery, had already lulled more than half the boys in the class to sleep. Jiang Tu rested his head on the desk, his back slightly hunched, burying his face downward. Even Ding Xiang thought he had been hypnotized by the history teacher and the cello music.

Jiang Tu had earphones in both ears, replaying Bach’s First Suite in G Major three times over.

The first time he saw Zhu Xingyao play the cello was during summer vacation in their third year of junior high. Jiang Jinhui loved gambling and hadn’t spent a single penny of his salary from working at the old factory on the family. Instead, he gambled it all away. His debts were scattered here and there, but none were particularly large—perhaps, with some effort over a year or two, they could be repaid. Due to his long-term gambling habit, his relationship with Shu Xian had soured years ago. When drunk or after losing money, he wouldn’t just shout but also resort to violence. Shu Xian, weak-willed, endured even when her money was taken away.

She always held onto hope, believing that once Hexi Alley was demolished, their family’s situation would improve.

But reality? At any time, the nature of a gambling addict cannot be trusted. At the end of August, Chen Yi arrived at Hexi Alley with a group of people and promissory notes for high-interest loans to collect debts.

That night, Jiang Tu experienced for the first time what it meant to have hope crushed.

He fought with Chen Yi.

He fought with Jiang Jinhui.

Battered and defeated, he fled from Hexi Alley, running aimlessly until he found himself stopped by security guards in a villa district. Only then did he realize he had run to a villa area two streets away from Hexi Alley.

After explaining himself to the guards, he walked along the villa-lined road. The melodious, lingering sound of a cello reached his ears. Following the music, he came upon a garden surrounded by white wooden railings, illuminated by colorful neon lights. It was warm and lively, bustling with people, as if a party was being held.

On the steps sat a girl in a white dress, playing the cello. Her figure was curvaceous and radiant, her face fair and beautiful. She played with full concentration, her entire being exuding grace and elegance.

That night, under a clear starry sky and amidst the twinkling garden lights, she seemed to exist in a distant world bathed in soft white light.

Jiang Tu stood outside that world, watching and listening.

The deep, melancholic melody of the cello seemed to encompass the vastness of the universe.

In that instant, it wiped away all his sorrow, resentment, and frustration.

The music ceased.

Someone called out to her, “Xing Xing, play another piece!”

The girl smiled. “Alright.”

Jiang Tu stood outside that world for ten minutes before turning and walking away.

Later, she walked into a café with her cello case to buy lemonade.

And later still, she stood on the platform of Class 7, Grade 1, introducing herself with a smile: “My name is Zhu Xingyao.”

________________________________________

“Jiang Tu, are you done listening?”

“...”

“...Brother Tu, are you done listening?”

Jiang Tu suddenly looked up. His skin was pale, his forehead slightly red from resting on it. His eyes were somewhat double-lidded, with slightly upturned corners. The faint double eyelids spread out at the ends. Without glasses or a smile, he looked cold and aloof as he stared directly at Zhu Xingyao.

Li Xixi laughed. “See? You had to call him ‘Brother Tu’ to wake him up.”

Ding Xiang also chuckled. “Brother Tu, you’ve really zoned out.”

Jiang Tu lowered his head, pressing his dry lips together. His voice was hoarse. “I didn’t realize class had ended.”

Zhu Xingyao remembered how he had buried his head on the desk the entire period and quietly said, “You didn’t fall asleep while listening, did you?”

Jiang Tu found this amusing, a hint of laughter in his eyes. “No.”

Zhu Xingyao wasn’t convinced. “Then which piece do you like?”

The Walkman was set to repeat a single track. Jiang Tu unzipped his uniform, took off the earphones, and handed them over. “The one playing now.”

Zhu Xingyao put the earphones in her ears and looked at him in surprise. “You like this one? Why?”

He hummed softly, lowering his gaze and speaking indifferently. “It makes me feel better.”

Is that so?

Zhu Xingyao stared at the bandage on his neck and then at his expression. He did seem a little happier. She rested her chin on her hand and looked at Li Xixi. “Then let’s choose this one.”

Li Xixi thought any piece would do since she found them all beautiful. “Sure.”

Ding Xiang sighed, looking pained. “I feel like I’m being treated unfairly. I don’t even get a say.”

Li Xixi smiled. “What do you expect when your grades are at the bottom, you’re not cool enough, and you can’t beat Zhang Sheng?”

Ding Xiang: “...”

Zhang Sheng had come to provoke them frequently recently, but Jiang Tu had said he wouldn’t fight at school—and true to his word, he hadn’t once broken that promise.

In the afternoon, Zhu Xingyao submitted the chosen piece.

After school, Zhu Xingyao glanced again at the wound on Jiang Tu’s neck. Taking advantage of Li Xixi going to throw away the trash and Ding Xiang’s absence, she quietly asked, “Were you... beaten by someone? Those people...”

Jiang Tu knew she was referring to Chen Yi and his gang. He rubbed his fingers against his neck and said indifferently, “It’s nothing. Just routine.”

After all, Chen Yi came to collect debts at his house every month. If Jiang Tu was home, they’d behave a little. If he wasn’t, the furniture would suffer. Reporting it to the police was useless—it couldn’t be resolved.

After saying this, he avoided Zhu Xingyao’s conflicted, sympathetic expression and walked away.

On Christmas Day, Jiang Tu leaned against the wall, the back of his head resting against it. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Zhu Xingyao and Li Xixi sorting through the pile of apples, chocolates, and greeting cards stuffed into their cluttered desks. Zhu Xingyao actually hated these things and always got a little... irritated while organizing them.

Sometimes, if he arrived early, he could see a few scattered love letters in her desk.

There were always those self-deluded boys who thought they could pluck a star from the sky.

He held the half-pencil in his left hand, deep in thought as he lowered his gaze.

Zhu Xingyao frowned at the pile of chocolates and apples, turned to him, and asked hopefully, “Want an apple?”

Jiang Tu turned to look at her, his tone indifferent. “No.”

Zhu Xingyao: “Chocolate?”

He faced forward, frowning. “If you really don’t know what to do with them, I’ll help you throw them in the trash.”