DXXZL - 14

Jiang Tu was yanked back a few steps. He turned his head to look at Chen Yi, his expression indifferent. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

Chen Yi couldn’t stand the aloofness exuding from him—despite his family’s pitiful state, Jiang Tu still carried himself with an air of detachment, his eyes seemingly filled with disdain whenever he looked at them. What exactly was he looking down on? Was he any better off?

Chen Yi sneered. “You say it means nothing? Then why did you spill the drink on my crotch?”

Jiang Tu calmly replied, “A man nearing thirty, fantasizing about a high school girl barely in her teens—your own drink despises your filthiness.”

Chen Yi narrowed his eyes. Before he could act, one of his henchmen swung a punch at Jiang Tu’s abdomen. Without hesitation, Jiang Tu kicked out, his long legs faster than the man’s punch. The man clutched his stomach and cursed, “Damn!”

Soon, a group of men surged forward. Jiang Tu was pinned down by Chen Yi and took a punch to the abdomen, which throbbed with pain. His face darkened as he struggled, already preparing to fight them, regretting only that he had worn glasses.

Unexpectedly, Chen Yi stopped them. He glanced at the bar manager who had hurried over and raised his hand. “Everyone, stop. The bar owner has ties with our boss—don’t ruin the place.”

He released Jiang Tu and coldly stared at him. “That drink will be added to your tab.”

Jiang Tu earned 150 yuan for a night’s work at the bar, and the drink cost 120 yuan—essentially rendering his night’s work worthless.

But he didn’t regret it. The manager dragged him aside, his face dark with anger, and scolded him. “What’s wrong with you? Liang Cheng said you were steady and capable. You’ve helped here before, so how could you get into a fight with a customer?”

Jiang Tu lowered his gaze, listening indifferently to the reprimand.

That night, he hardly slept. When the bar closed at around five or six in the morning, he took a quick shower in the break room, washing away the smell of alcohol and cigarettes. After putting on his school uniform, he rode his bike to school.

The classroom was empty. Jiang Tu pulled out the greeting card from his bag and stared at it for a long time. His right hand, gripping the fountain pen, stiffened—he still hadn’t figured out what to write.

After what seemed like a long while, the familiar voice of a girl came from the doorway: “Huh?”

He froze and turned to look at the back door.

The girl slowly walked in, carrying her cello, surprised to see him. “Why are you here so early?”

Without showing any emotion, Jiang Tu pulled down his Chinese textbook and pressed the greeting card underneath it, hiding it completely. Only then did he respond, “And why are you here so early?” It wasn’t particularly early—there were still ten minutes before morning reading began—but almost everyone arrived just in time. Coming five minutes early was considered early.

“I brought my cello to school yesterday, and everyone kept staring at me. So today I thought I’d come earlier to avoid being surrounded,” Zhu Xingyao explained as she stood in front of him, glancing around the classroom. She muttered, “Where should I put it?”

Jiang Tu looked at her. “Isn’t there a place at school to store instruments?”

“There is, but I came too early—the teacher hasn’t opened it yet.” Zhu Xingyao noticed the empty corner behind him, her eyes lighting up slightly. She pointed to it. “Can I put it here? Just for the morning.”

Jiang Tu glanced back. “Sure.”

She dropped her bag on the desk, and as soon as she turned around, she felt the weight lift from her shoulder. Jiang Tu had already taken off her cello case. She froze momentarily, instinctively reminding him, “Be careful! That’s my baby!”

Jiang Tu’s movements stiffened. He looked down at her. “I know.”

“Every cello is precious to me—even the one I had when I was little, which only cost a few hundred yuan. I always take good care of them.” She instinctively explained, fearing he might misunderstand, her tone slightly anxious. “So it’s not because they’re expensive that they’re precious.”

Jiang Tu placed the cello case in the corner and turned to look at her. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Why are you so worried? I didn’t misunderstand you.”

Winter mornings dawned late, and the bright fluorescent lights illuminated the cold pallor of the youth’s face. Zhu Xingyao tilted her head up, clearly seeing the bloodshot veins beneath his glasses. She pursed her lips and softly asked, “What did you do last night?”

Suddenly, a flurry of hurried footsteps echoed in the hallway. The front door burst open as two boys rushed into the classroom, playfully wrestling.

They paused, seeing Zhu Xingyao and Jiang Tu standing close together.

Zhu Xingyao smiled openly at them. “Good morning.”

The boy scratched his head. “Good morning, Goddess. Why are you here so early?”

“I came early because I brought my cello.”

“Oh… I see.”

Jiang Tu subtly sat down, avoiding Zhu Xingyao’s question.

The cello rested in the empty corner behind him. For the entire morning, he acted as its guardian, keeping others away.

Because of the evening welcome gala, classes ended at noon. Students had been restless all day, eagerly anticipating the event. After finishing lunch and resting briefly, Zhu Xingyao went to apply makeup, change clothes, and prepare herself.

The gala officially started at seven in the evening. Each class had designated seating areas, with chairs neatly arranged—it was quite a sight.

Li Xixi and Zhou Qian accompanied Zhu Xingyao backstage.

Zhu Xingyao wore a loose down jacket over her dress, lazily slouching in a chair, sipping soy milk through a straw with feigned disinterest. “It’s almost starting—are you two leaving soon? Xia Jing is performing a solo dance to open the show. I saw the rehearsal—it’s beautiful.”

Xia Jing was the belle of Class 15 and a talented young woman.

Li Xixi pulled Zhou Qian up, smiling brightly. “We’ll go back first, then. Those boys are most looking forward to you, the cello goddess.”

Zhu Xingyao urged them. “Go on, hurry up.”

Li Xixi stuck out her tongue and dragged Zhou Qian away.

As Zhu Xingyao turned her head, she saw Xia Jing standing behind her, her expression less than pleasant. Zhu Xingyao awkwardly smiled, thinking: Oh no, she must have heard what Li Xixi said…

The gala was in full swing, set to end before midnight. Now, most of the time had passed—it was nearing eleven o’clock. Ding Xiang glanced at the empty seat beside him and anxiously scratched his head. “Why hasn’t Brother Tu arrived yet?”

Zhang Sheng sneered. “What ‘Brother Tu’? What kind of ‘brother’ is he anyway?”

“Nobody asked you to call him that,” Ding Xiang shot back. Turning to a nearby boy, he added, “If he doesn’t come soon, the goddess will be on stage any minute now.”

The school didn’t require every student to attend the gala, and management was relatively lax during such events. Ding Xiang called Jiang Tu several times, but no one answered. Eventually, the phone went straight to voicemail.

He muttered under his breath, “What’s going on...”

A boy sitting in front of Zhu Xingyao said, “Maybe he’s just not interested in the gala. Look at how solitary he usually is—he seems like he doesn’t even have hobbies. He might be sleeping at home, hanging out somewhere, or maybe playing games at an internet café—anything’s possible...”

Ding Xiang thought this made some sense, but he still felt disappointed. After all, the piece Zhu Xingyao was performing tonight was chosen by Jiang Tu himself. How could he not come to watch? In Ding Xiang’s eyes, missing Zhu Xingyao’s performance was as bad as losing his wallet.

________________________________________

At 11:40 PM.

Zhu Xingyao walked toward the center of the stage, her dress trailing behind her. When she took the cello from the stagehand, she paused for a moment.

Lu Ji, the temporary stagehand, looked down at her and smiled. “Good luck.”

He handed her the cello.

She took it and softly said, “Thank you...”

________________________________________

The night was deep, and the streets of midwinter were cold and deserted. A tall, lean figure sprinted across the street, rushing to the entrance of Jiangcheng No. 1 High School. Without waiting for the guard to let him in, he vaulted over the railing with one hand.

The guard was momentarily stunned, then quickly chased after him, shouting loudly, “Hey, you little brat! Stop right there! Who gave you permission to enter? Where’s your school badge? Stop! Did you hear me?”

The youth ignored him, running off like a gust of wind.

The guard stood there, holding his walkie-talkie and spinning around. If it weren’t for the fact that the boy was wearing the school uniform of Jiangcheng No. 1 High School, he would’ve already ordered someone to catch him. Frowning, he muttered, “Running around in the middle of the night… Is he being chased by a ghost or something…”

Jiang Tu ran toward the auditorium with all his might, as fast as he could.

The icy wind pierced through his chest, chilling him to the bone, but he didn’t care. Following the slow, resonant sound of the cello, he ran forward. The vast auditorium was open, and thousands of students filled the playground—a sea of black figures—but the atmosphere was eerily quiet.

The music stopped.

Suddenly, the sea of people erupted. A boy stood up, cupping his hands around his mouth like a megaphone, and shouted loudly, “Goddess! Play another piece!”

A slap landed on the back of his head from the teacher behind him. “What are you shouting for? Quiet! Sit down!”

The next moment, the scene gradually spiraled out of control. More and more boys stood up:

“Zhu Xingyao! I love you! Play another piece!”

“Goddess! Zhu Xingyao!”

“Goddess, play another piece!”

...

Youthful energy overflowed, hormones surged unchecked, and restlessness roared within their bodies like a wild carnival.

Jiang Tu stood outside that clamorous world, hunched over with both hands braced on his knees, gasping for breath. Beads of sweat dripped from his forehead, and the cold wind chilled his face until it felt icy. Coupled with the injuries on his face, he looked rather disheveled.

He wiped the sweat from his face, pulled out his glasses from his pocket, and put them on. Straightening up, he gazed at the girl in the white dress on the distant stage. She stood up gracefully, bowing to acknowledge the applause.

Thousands of lights bathed the stage, illuminating the delicate and beautiful girl at its center. She shone brighter than the stars in the sky.

Jiang Tu watched as she picked up her cello and walked backstage. Before the crowd dispersed, he turned and left.

The teaching building was pitch dark—all the students had gathered to watch the gala, leaving this area completely deserted. The tall, lean figure of the youth slipped inside unnoticed.

He pushed open the back door of Class 7, Grade 1, turned on a light, and stepped in.

The corner of his mouth was split, dried blood crusted over it. He pulled the greeting card from between the pages of his Chinese textbook, sat down, and focused for a moment. Just as he was about to write, he suddenly paused and switched hands.