DXXZL - 30

The snowstorm that night was massive, lasting the entire night and blanketing the entire Jiangcheng City in a sea of white. The next day, newspapers and news reports proclaimed it to be the heaviest snowfall the city had seen in nearly a decade.

In the afternoon, Zhu Xingyao stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, watching Old Liu and the housekeeper sweep away the snow from the yard where the branches of withered trees had been weighed down and broken.

She turned back to her computer. Last night, Li Xixi had brought along a digital camera and taken plenty of photos and videos. She had just sent over a compressed file containing all the footage and pictures. There were many photos, and Zhu Xingyao casually clicked on one group photo. Everyone in the picture was smiling—except for Jiang Tu, who still wore his usual serious and aloof expression.

Li Xixi messaged: “I’ve sent all the photos to you guys, but I don’t have Lin Jiayu’s QQ.”

Li Xixi added: “I told Tu Ge about it, but he hardly ever goes online anyway.”

Jiang Tu’s QQ avatar was still the default system image, perpetually dark as he rarely logged in. Just as Zhu Xingyao was about to close the chat window, her computer suddenly pinged, and his avatar lit up. She quickly opened the chat box.

遥遥天上星 (Distant Star in the Sky): “Tu Ge, Xixi sent you some photos. Remember to save them before they expire.”

After a while, Jiang Tu replied: “Alright.”

It was the same unscrupulous internet café that catered to elementary school students. Jiang Tu saved the photos and videos onto a USB drive. Beside him, Lin Jiayu had opened another computer, shivering and blowing warm breath onto her hands while sneaking glances at his screen.

She noticed Zhu Xingyao’s QQ name.

Then, 遥遥天上星 sent another message: “Remember to give a copy of the photos to Lin Jiayu too.”

Jiang Tu, wearing a black down jacket, paused with his long, pale fingers hovering over the keyboard. After a moment, he typed another “Alright” and sent it. Lin Jiayu couldn’t help but mutter: “Why don’t you take this chance to say a little more?”

With such a reserved personality and so few words, how would anyone know that you like her?

Jiang Tu turned to look at her, his gaze calm: “What should I say? Should I tell her I’m happy and moved?”

Lin Jiayu choked on her words. If he really said something like that, it might come off as strange. She pouted: “Give me Zhu Xingyao and Li Xixi’s QQ numbers—I’ll add them.”

Jiang Tu didn’t move.

Lin Jiayu promised: “I won’t say anything weird, I swear!”

Soon after, Jiang Tu sent her the QQ numbers.

Zhu Xingyao accepted Lin Jiayu’s friend request and sent her the photos. She typed: “Are you guys online together?”

Lin Jiayu replied: “Yeah, we’re at the internet café. Ding Xiang texted Jiang Tu earlier, and when I saw him leave, I followed him here.”

________________________________________

An hour later.

By the time the two left the internet café, it was already dark outside. Jiang Tu walked into the only Xinhua Bookstore in Hexi Alley. Lin Jiayu picked out two sets of math problem books and then turned to see the German book in Jiang Tu’s hand. She froze and asked: “Why are you buying that?”

Jiang Tu’s reply was brief: “To take a look.”

As they stepped out of the bookstore, they trudged through the snow, one in front of the other, heading toward Hexi Alley.

From behind, Lin Jiayu watched the tall, slender figure of the young man. Suddenly seized by an impulse, she ran forward and blocked his path by the red-brick wall, looking up at him: “Why don’t you tell her? Maybe it’s not impossible! She even played the cello for you last night!”

The romantic scene from last night was still vivid in her mind—she felt she would never forget it, let alone Jiang Tu.

She thought to herself: Jiang Tu was right—no one could dislike Zhu Xingyao.

If she were a boy, she’d fall for her too.

Under the dim yellow glow of the streetlamp, the snow shimmered brightly.

Where they stood was the windiest spot in Hexi Alley. A glance upward revealed the dark, seemingly endless narrow alleyway, dilapidated and cold. Jiang Tu gazed at the pitch-black tunnel-like lane, his face pale and his features sharp and handsome.

Last night, Li Xixi had tugged at her arm and whined: “Waaah, why is my birthday in July? I want it to snow so you can play the cello for me too!”

Ding Xiang had teased: “Can I have that too?”

Li Xixi shot back: “Get lost! Your birthday’s in June! Does it snow in June? Are you Dou E or something?”

That performance had been both a mending of regret and the most precious gift for him. But in others’ eyes, it was just an ordinary gift—perhaps Li Xixi had received similar gifts countless times and wasn’t particularly surprised by Zhu Xingyao’s gesture.

No one seemed to link Jiang Tu and Zhu Xingyao together. All the rumors and talk revolved around her and Lu Ji.

They were the ones considered a perfect match.

Zhu Xingyao had been playing the cello since childhood, and there was a pure romanticism ingrained in her soul. It wasn’t just limited to the barbecue shop—perhaps someday, someone might see her performing on a street corner in a foreign country, her cello strapped to her back.

He glanced down at Lin Jiayu, his tone calm: “And what if I told her?”

Lin Jiayu whispered: “Isn’t it popular nowadays to compete fairly? She hasn’t agreed to Lu Ji either—you still have a chance! If you chase her too, maybe… maybe the outcome will be different!”

Compared to Lu Ji, what did Jiang Tu lack aside from his family background?

A long silence ensued.

Jiang Tu kept his hands in his pockets, lowering his eyes, his voice low and restrained: “I can’t bear it.”

“Huh?” Lin Jiayu didn’t understand. “Can’t bear what?”

“Lin Jiayu, you know my parents used to get along well when I was little, right? But after years of life’s torment, look at them now. What’s left of their relationship? Just a marriage sustained by the hope of demolition compensation. When they argue, it’s as if they want to kill each other.”

Jiang Tu stared into the darkness of Hexi Alley, his gaze calm yet heavy, his inner restraint clashing with suppressed emotion. “Maybe you’re right—if I were more despicable, if I tried harder, maybe I’d have a chance. I’ve thought about it—I’ve thought about it so much. I wanted to say those love letters were mine, and I’d do anything for her if she wanted me to. But I don’t trust Jiang Jinhui. Until I can control my own life, I have no right to think about these things.”

“She’s kind-hearted. If she truly fell for me, while we were together, she’d care for my feelings, become sensitive, and constantly consider my needs. She might even give up a lot of things for me… At first, it might just be skipping a Western meal, but as time went on, she’d sacrifice more and more for me. She might end up unhappy, losing a lot of joy she deserved.”

“Maybe in the future, I could give her a lot, but that’s no reason to make her endure years of hardship with me.”

He couldn’t bear it.

Not even the thought of it.

She was born a star, meant to shine in the sky. She shouldn’t fall because of him.

If he wanted to be with her, he’d have to reach for her himself.

________________________________________

After saying those words, the young man strode decisively into the dark, cold alley, leaving behind a sharp, pale silhouette.

The bed was in disarray, clothes scattered across the floor. The two jars of pumpkin paste sat innocuously nearby, yet Bai Wenfu found their presence irritating and shoved them aside. Ye Yun tugged at his arm, her voice trembling and broken. “Be careful… those are from my mother.”

Bai Wenfu paused mid-motion, bending down to retrieve the jars. He placed them carefully on the five-drawer chest before turning back to face the room—a chaotic mess. Without hesitation, he scooped Ye Yun into his arms and carried her to his own room.

She trembled against him, whispering anxiously, “Don’t go out… give me something to wear. What if Mom sees us?”

“With all the noise we’ve made, do you really think she’d come out?”

Ignoring her protests, Bai Wenfu opened the door and strode confidently through the darkened living room, past Tong Mingfang’s tightly shut bedroom door. Though no one was around, Ye Yun buried her face in his chest, mortified. She heard only the sound of doors opening and closing, then felt herself being gently laid on another bed—this one clean, smooth, and free of wrinkles.

Perhaps mindful that his scars might frighten her, Bai Wenfu refrained from turning on the light. Instead, he brushed strands of hair from her face, wrapping an arm securely around her waist, pulling her close until every inch of her—from back to hips—was enveloped in his embrace. Her soft, delicate body pressed against him ignited a searing heat within. Lowering his voice, he murmured into her ear, “Who hurt you?”

Ye Yun’s lashes glistened with moisture, her sensitivity heightened to the point where even the slightest touch caused her to shiver.

“My father. He used to have a bad temper.”

Bai Wenfu raised a hand, tenderly caressing her smooth cheek as though it were a priceless treasure. “No one will ever hurt you again. Except me.”

Her eyes shimmered with innocence, yet they held an allure that sparked endless imagination.

A mesmerizing smile curved Bai Wenfu’s lips. “Not pain. Only pleasure.”

If the first time had been driven by raw emotion, claiming her as his own, what followed was pure indulgence—an unrelenting pursuit of desire that shattered every boundary between them.

Before meeting Bai Wenfu, Ye Yun’s life had been placid, devoid of dramatic highs or lows. But he had swept her off her feet—literally and figuratively—racing downhill together, breaking free from the monotony of her existence. He had taken her hand and danced with her under starlit skies, sneaked her into university campuses, introduced her to her first movie, built fires in secluded fields, and stolen kisses in shadowy alleys late at night.

Every moment spent with him brimmed with exhilaration and adventure. Yet nothing compared to this night.

She witnessed both his brutality and tenderness, his wildness and compassion. From pain to adaptation to surrender, complex emotions rooted themselves deeply within her, spreading and growing like vines.

Though Bai Wenfu’s bed was sturdier than hers, it still groaned under the intensity of their passion. Ye Yun no longer cared about such trivialities. For the first time, she understood true ecstasy—a blissful oblivion that left her utterly lost.

The night swayed, thick as ink. Unable to control herself, she whispered faintly, her voice fragmented and breathless.

The seductive sounds she had once overheard through the walls now became his triumphant anthem, drawing forth every ounce of abandon hidden within her. The softer her moans, the more unrestrained he became.

Finally, a short, guttural sound escaped his throat—deep and magnetic. His expression was intoxicating, and Ye Yun’s gaze faltered, too overwhelmed to meet his eyes.

She was boneless, appearing fragile but possessing a yielding softness that invited endless affection. Bai Wenfu turned her onto her stomach, and she submitted obediently, inviting further exploration. He pressed himself against her once more.

By the early hours of the morning, Ye Yun resembled a drifting leaf—breath shallow, consciousness fading. Seeing her on the verge of collapse, Bai Wenfu gritted his teeth and stopped, holding back despite the raging fire within him.

Ye Yun quickly succumbed to sleep, her features exuding an irresistible allure. In the dim light of dawn, Bai Wenfu gazed at her for a long while, unable to drift off.

His chest burned with unresolved desire, his arms cradling her supple form. Sleep eluded him. By the time the sky began to lighten, he rose quietly.

He tucked the blanket securely around her, tiptoeing to open the door of her room. It remained as chaotic as they had left it last night. He gathered the discarded clothing and righted overturned objects. When he shook out the bedding, a glaring streak of crimson stained the golden embroidery of the dragon-and-phoenix pattern.

Bai Wenfu froze, staring at the bloodstain. Slowly, he picked up the quilt, clenching it tightly in his fist.

In those days, the young girl had poured all her fervor and energy into stitching this intricate design, dreaming of a future with Wen Bin. But Wen Bin never returned. On this very quilt, she had surrendered herself entirely to Bai Wenfu.

Last night, when he claimed her, he had indeed felt resistance—a fleeting hesitation—but his desire overwhelmed any rational thought.

There had always been whispers behind closed doors: Wen Bin was gone, leaving behind a beautiful young widow whose figure drew envious stares but remained untouched. Though no one dared say such things directly to Bai Wenfu, it didn’t mean he hadn’t heard them. Before, bound by familial ties, he had restrained himself. But once those ties were severed, he vowed not to let her suffer even the slightest indignity. Though his actions bordered on recklessness, he intended to cherish her, compensate for the lonely nights she endured after coming to live with the Bai family. Yet, seeing the vivid red stain before him, Bai Wenfu suddenly felt like a monster.

She was so young, already shy about such matters, and yet he had taken her ruthlessly throughout the night. Had he known she was untouched, he would never have subjected her to such treatment.

Tong Mingfang emerged from her room just as Bai Wenfu sat hunched over on a small stool, washing the quilt. His towering frame seemed absurdly mismatched with the tiny seat. One leg stretched out, the other bent slightly, his head bowed low as he scrubbed.

Peering closer, Tong Mingfang recognized the quilt Ye Yun had painstakingly sewn. Surprised, she asked, “Why are you up so early washing this?”

Bai Wenfu glanced up briefly, his tone indifferent, before returning his focus to the task.

Seeing he wouldn’t respond, Tong Mingfang peeked toward Ye Yun’s room. The door stood ajar, revealing a spotless interior with no sign of disturbance. The bed was neatly made, and there was no trace of Ye Yun.

Perplexed, she asked, “Where is Ye Yun? Is she awake already?”

Without looking up, Bai Wenfu replied curtly, “Go to the tailor shop later and tell them she’s feeling unwell. She’ll rest for a couple of days.”

Tong Mingfang eyed Bai Wenfu’s closed bedroom door, tempted to peek inside. Sensing her intent, Bai Wenfu frowned and clicked his tongue disapprovingly. Tong Mingfang withdrew her hand and leaned back, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “What time did you two finally sleep last night?”

Unwilling to discuss the matter further with his mother, Bai Wenfu picked up the basin and headed to the corridor.

As the morning progressed, people began emerging from their rooms—preparing breakfast, polishing shoes, buying newspapers downstairs. The slumbering night gradually gave way to waking life.

Bai Wenfu, clad in a black undershirt, hung the freshly washed quilt outside to dry. The dragon-and-phoenix motif was striking, instantly recognizable as Ye Yun’s handiwork. Early risers couldn’t help but cast curious glances at the conspicuous display.

After finishing, Bai Wenfu lit a cigarette, his brow furrowed as he exhaled plumes of smoke. His demeanor radiated icy detachment, discouraging any prying questions from passersby.

Lin Jiayu stood rooted to the spot, staring blankly as she suddenly raised her hand and wiped forcefully at her eyes. She couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with sadness. Even though Jiang Tu was now eighteen and considered an adult, in many ways, he still hadn’t grown up. In that moment, she suddenly understood what he meant when he said, “I can’t bear it.”

________________________________________

On Monday at noon, Zhu Xingyao and Li Xixi were preparing to head to the cafeteria for lunch when they bumped into Lin Jiayu, who had just come out of the library. Zhu Xingyao smiled: “Want to join us?”

Lin Jiayu replied: “Sure.”

The snow hadn’t melted yet, and the air was cold and biting. Every time Lin Jiayu looked at Zhu Xingyao, she thought of Jiang Tu. She turned her head and stared at her.

Zhu Xingyao felt a bit puzzled: “What’s wrong?”

Lin Jiayu shook her head, forced a smile, then hesitated before asking: “I’m just curious… what kind of guy do you like?”

Zhu Xingyao paused, unsure of how to articulate what “liking” truly felt like. Li Xixi jumped in first: “The kind of guy Stars likes… someone sunny and loyal.”

Lin Jiayu murmured an “Oh,” quietly acknowledging that Jiang Tu was anything but sunny… She turned to look at Zhu Xingyao’s beautiful profile. Loyal, huh? Jiang Tu was definitely a loyal person—but…

But she feared Zhu Xingyao might never have the chance to know just how much someone liked her.

The final exams were only a week away. On the day before the exams, Lu Ji and Xu Xiangyang returned. Upon his return, Lu Ji noticed something different about the way his desk mate looked at him—something indescribable. Unable to resist, he asked: “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Lin Jiayu was simply comparing—between Lu Ji and Jiang Tu, who liked Zhu Xingyao more?

She shook her head: “It’s nothing. I’m just curious… what do you like about Zhu Xingyao?”

Lu Ji froze for a moment, then chuckled: “Does liking someone need a reason? It’s just… I like her.”

“But she’s going abroad,” Lin Jiayu said softly. “And you’re already set to be directly admitted to Tsinghua or Peking University. You two will be so far apart.”

Lu Ji fell silent, lost in thought for a moment: “I can go abroad later too.”

“…”

Lin Jiayu went back to working on her math problems, head down.

Why was she worrying about all this? It wasn’t like she could control anything anyway.

After the last subject of the midterms ended, Zhu Xingyao’s exam room was on the second floor, while Li Xixi’s was on the third. After each exam, Zhu Xingyao would always wait for Li Xixi in the classroom. After waiting for nearly ten minutes and seeing the room empty out, she decided to go upstairs to look for her.

Li Xixi shared a room with Xu Xiangyang. As Zhu Xingyao approached the door, she heard the two of them arguing. Li Xixi was glaring angrily at Xu Xiangyang: “You were supposed to slip me an answer, and you got it wrong! I almost got caught by the proctor! Do you know how scared I was?!”

Xu Xiangyang replied: “But you didn’t get caught, right? If you’re so scared, why even cheat?”

“What if I had been caught?!” Li Xixi shot back.

Xu Xiangyang looked at her, exasperated: “If you had been caught, I’d take the blame for you, alright? I’ll be responsible for everything, okay?”

Li Xixi: “…”

She stared at him, her anger inexplicably dissipating, her face flushing slightly.

Pouting, Li Xixi lowered her head and ran to Zhu Xingyao. The two linked arms and walked downstairs. Zhu Xingyao asked: “Why don’t you study more and stop cramming at the last minute every time?”

“How was I supposed to know science would be this hard?” Li Xixi grumbled. “I’m starting to regret choosing the science track…”

Zhu Xingyao thought for a moment: “I think you can still switch tracks. If you want to transfer to the humanities class…”

Li Xixi sighed: “Forget it. A semester has already passed… Going back to memorizing politics, history, and geography would kill me!”

As the two rounded the basketball court and passed by the administrative building, they happened to see Cao Shujun and Xie Ya, who had just finished invigilating. The two teachers stood with their backs to them, holding test papers and talking. Cao Shujun said: “Let’s go out for dinner tonight? My treat.”

Xie Ya replied: “I have plans tonight. Thanks anyway.”

Cao Shujun: “How about tomorrow night?”

Xie Ya: “I’m busy then too.”

…

Zhu Xingyao pulled Li Xixi aside, and the two crouched under the stairs. She made a “shh” gesture with her finger.

Acting like sneaky little thieves, they bent over, preparing to slip away quietly.

Interrupting their homeroom teacher’s unsuccessful attempt at romance—if they were spotted, Old Cao would probably find it embarrassing. Just as they were about to sneak out of the hallway, Zhu Xingyao suddenly collided with the firm chest of a boy.

It was winter, so the thick layers of clothing cushioned the impact, making it painless.

She looked up.

Jiang Tu, wearing glasses, glanced down at her, then lifted his gaze toward the front.

The faint voices of Xie Ya and Cao Shujun drifted over. Xie Ya said: “I’ve heard some rumors recently. Apparently, Lu Ji and Zhu Xingyao from your class might be dating. What’s going on with them?”

Cao Shujun turned to look at her and smiled: “Just rumors. They’re not true.”

“Hey, what are you guys doing?”

A sudden shout came from behind—it was Zhou Yuan’s voice.

Zhu Xingyao and Li Xixi’s faces changed instantly. Before they could react, Jiang Tu grabbed Zhu Xingyao’s wrist and yanked her forward, pulling Li Xixi along with them as they hid against the wall. Xie Ya and Cao Shujun turned around to see Lu Ji, Zhou Yuan, and Xu Xiangyang approaching. Xie Ya coughed lightly: “Zhou Yuan, what’s with all the shouting?”

Zhou Yuan: “…”

Lu Ji patted his shoulder, his gaze shifting to Zhu Xingyao and Jiang Tu. The two were standing very close together, and Lu Ji frowned, feeling an inexplicable surge of tension and unease.

Soon after, Jiang Tu let go of Zhu Xingyao’s wrist and took a step back.

Zhou Yuan scratched his head. Surely the two homeroom teachers wouldn’t think he was talking about them, right? He glanced awkwardly at Zhu Xingyao and Jiang Tu, unable to explain himself. Lu Ji subtly withdrew his gaze, turning to Xie Ya and patting Zhou Yuan on the head: “He was just shouting nonsense.”