DXXZL - 44

Over the past two years, Jiang Tu had always applied to stay on campus during winter and summer breaks, and this year was no different. Two days before the Spring Festival, he went to the bank and transferred some money into Lin Shu’s and Shu Xian’s accounts. Not long after leaving the bank, his phone rang.

It was Lin Jiayu calling. She muttered into the phone: “My dad told you not to rush repaying the money. Why are you still transferring it every month? It’s almost the New Year—you should keep some for yourself. Are you planning to survive on thin air?”

Jiang Tu walked toward the Xinhua Bookstore and replied: “I know what I’m doing.”

Lin Jiayu sighed softly and said: “You’re leaving for abroad in July. You’re not coming back for the New Year either. Aunt Shu seems really upset about it.”

“I’ll hang up now.”

Jiang Tu arrived at the audio section of the bookstore and found Zhu Xingyao’s first solo cello album, released just three months ago. He picked up ten copies and went to the counter to pay. The cashier glanced at him and smiled: “A few days ago, a guy bought thirty copies of this album.”

“I know,” Jiang Tu said indifferently. Du Yunfei had bought them and even gave him two copies.

Jiang Tu returned to school with his purchases. He was the only one living in the entire dormitory building. The silence was overwhelming, but he didn’t mind.

That night, he logged into QQ, which he hadn’t used in a long time. Suddenly, Zhu Xingyao’s avatar began blinking in the corner of the screen. His heart skipped a beat, as if it had been reawakened.

February 6, 2013 — Star in the Distant Sky: “Brother Tu...”

The dormitory was deathly quiet, save for the sound of the cello playing from the stereo. Jiang Tu stared at the screen, lost in thought. He lit a cigarette, took a slow drag, and rested his hand on the back of the nearby chair. He remembered the letters he had written in the past—when he couldn’t express his feelings, he would simply write her name.

What did Zhu Xingyao want to say to him? He couldn’t help but wonder, but he couldn’t guess.

In the class group chat, everyone was discussing plans for a reunion during the Spring Festival. He opened the chat and saw someone ask: “Has anyone seen Jiang Tu these past few years?”

“Does a photo count? Didn’t he win that science award? There’s a photo! Pretty impressive—he’s getting a fully funded scholarship to study abroad.”

“So, talented people shine no matter where they go.”

“That’s not entirely true. H University can’t compare to Tsinghua. Look at Lu Ji and our class president—they’ve both started their own businesses. Isn’t entrepreneurship even cooler? Lu Ji and Xu Xiangyang are the real winners. And look at Zhu Xingyao—she’s still our goddess, shining wherever she goes. Even Li Xixi is a rising star singer now. They’ll have successful careers and happy families. Who could be happier than them?”

Jiang Tu closed the chat without expression.

After a while, he also closed Zhu Xingyao’s chat window.

…

Zhu Xingyao waited for two days, but Jiang Tu never replied. The incident with Jiang Yue weighed heavily on her, and she kept having nightmares, her sleep becoming increasingly restless. During the Spring Festival, Zhu Xingyao frequently checked her phone, afraid of missing any message from Jiang Tu. On the third day of the Lunar New Year, as father and daughter sat on the couch watching TV, Zhu Yunping leaned back and turned to her, smiling: “Xingyao, are you waiting for a message?”

Zhu Xingyao shook her head: “No, I’m just checking the time.”

Zhu Yunping smiled but didn’t press further. He had asked twice why she suddenly attacked Chen Yi, but she refused to explain, so he stopped asking. When he questioned Chen Yi, he learned it was because of Jiang Tu. Zhu Yunping gently ruffled her hair and said kindly: “I once told you, if fate allows, you’ll meet again. Until then, focus on being the best version of yourself. Don’t overthink things.”

Zhu Xingyao lowered her lashes and whispered: “I know.”

But lately, the nightmares were relentless. She often hoped he would respond to her, even just once.

Class reunions happened every year, and Zhu Xingyao usually attended when she had time. This year, however, she declined. Li Xixi, who finally had some free time, called to ask: “Don’t you have time this year? Why aren’t you coming?”

Zhu Xingyao held her cello, placing the bow aside. “I don’t feel like going.”

Li Xixi said: “Then I’ll come see you later. I have to leave tomorrow—my manager keeps nagging me! Missing out on a little money won’t kill me, and skipping one appearance won’t make me irrelevant. Even if I do fade, I still have Xu Xiangyang, right?”

Zhu Xingyao laughed: “That’s right. You still have Xu Xiangyang.”

Li Xixi arrived within an hour, bringing plenty of gifts. Ding Yu pulled her aside and said: “Talk to Xingyao more.”

“Sure,” Li Xixi said, sensing something was off. She cautiously asked: “What’s wrong with Xingyao? Did something happen at home?”

Ding Yu sighed helplessly: “You’ve been her friend for so many years. If she wants to tell you, she will. If not, don’t push it.”

Li Xixi grew anxious. She went upstairs, familiar with the house. Zhu Xingyao’s door was slightly ajar. She placed the cello on the wide windowsill and turned to her: “Did my mom say something to you?”

“What exactly… happened?” Li Xixi grew even more nervous and approached her.

The room was warmed by underfloor heating. Zhu Xingyao wore a thin white sweater and sat on the carpet. Li Xixi joined her, and the two girls sat close together, talking quietly. After listening for a long time, Li Xixi slowly digested the information and sighed: “Who would have thought you’d act so impulsively? Sometimes I think you two are completely incompatible, but there’s this tangled connection between you that can’t be severed. Even though he hasn’t seen you in years, he still… How would Jiang Tu feel if he knew about this?”

Zhu Xingyao said: “He won’t find out.”

Li Xixi hugged her: “Don’t overthink it. Everything’s resolved now. Just let it go.”

Zhu Xingyao wished she could forget, but she kept recalling Jiang Yue throwing things at her, screaming for her to repay her lost child. The nightmares persisted, worsening her mental state and gradually affecting her studies and life.

…

In the second semester of their senior year, everyone was busy with graduate school applications, internships, startups, or studying abroad. Four years of college had come to an end. From March to June 2013, Du Yunfei complained incessantly: “Our goddess hasn’t been active lately. She’s really devoted herself to perfecting her art.”

Jiang Tu searched for “Zhu Xingyao” online. There wasn’t much news about her, except for media reports stating: “Zhu Xingyao revealed that she will focus on honing her skills over the next year or two and won’t participate in competitions for now, though she may join suitable performances.”

Yuan Yang suddenly remembered a bet he made in their freshman year. Laughing, he clapped his hands: “Come on, I bet that Jiang Tu would remain single throughout college. Remember, Du Yunfei made another bet. Now that we’ve all graduated, look at Jiang Tu—still single, untouched by any of the department beauties. I’m impressed!” He pointed at Du Yunfei. “Pay up.”

Du Yunfei: “…”

Damn, a four-year-old bet, and he still had to pay up.

Yuan Yang took 400 yuan from Du Yunfei and placed 200 on Jiang Tu’s desk.

Jiang Tu looked at him, his tone indifferent: “What’s this for?”

Yuan Yang grinned: “You also bet on yourself winning, remember?”

Jiang Tu smiled faintly and pushed the money back to Yuan Yang: “Treat everyone to late-night snacks tonight.”

That night, Yuan Yang ordered a large spread of barbecue and bought an entire case of beer, determined to drink until they dropped. Yuan Yang had a girlfriend in his sophomore year, but they recently broke up. Du Yunfei and another buddy had dated as well.

Yuan Yang glanced at Jiang Tu and shook his head: “Such good looks, yet not a single romance. What a waste.”

Du Yunfei ate a few skewers of barbecue, popped open a beer, and turned to Jiang Tu with curiosity: “Honestly, even though we’ve lived together for four years, you’re always in and out early, top of the class, and always winning scholarships. I’ve always felt you’re mysterious. I’ve never seen you get close to any girl. Are you asexual or into men?”

“Asexual? Definitely not—I’ve seen…” Yuan Yang coughed awkwardly, his face full of gossip. “But yeah, I’m curious too.”

Jiang Tu wore a black T-shirt, his cold-white skin contrasting sharply with his sharp features. Without expression, he tossed the empty beer can into the trash bin with a clang. He looked up at them and said calmly: “Not asexual, not into men.”

Yuan Yang still felt sorry for the department beauties. Each one was pretty, representing different types. He asked curiously: “So what kind of person do you like?”

“No specific type.”

Jiang Tu glanced at the cover of an album on Du Yunfei’s bookshelf. Zhu Xingyao rested her cheek on the cello, her bright eyes gazing ahead.

No specific type. The only person he liked was Zhu Xingyao.

…

At the beginning of July, Jiang Tu returned to Jiangcheng for a short visit.

After dinner, Jiang Tu stood outside making a call. When he hung up, Jiang Lu approached. At 17 years old, he had grown taller than 180 cm. Turning his head, he said: “Brother, I don’t want to study anymore. I want to play esports—it pays well.”

Jiang Tu frowned: “What did you say?”

Jiang Lu stubbornly repeated: “I said I’m done with school. I want to compete.”

Jiang Tu’s expression darkened. In a cold voice, he said: “If you want to earn money, you can work part-time. But quitting school? Do you even know what you’re saying?”

“I know,” Jiang Lu said nonchalantly. “I hate studying anyway.”

Both brothers were stubborn. Though Jiang Lu feared Jiang Tu, he wouldn’t budge on this. Snorting, he said: “Once you’re in the U.S., you won’t be able to control me. As soon as you leave, I’ll join a club.”

Jiang Lu remained unrepentant, and after beating him up, Jiang Tu fell silent for a moment before saying quietly: “It’s your choice. Just don’t regret it.”

Jiang Lu casually wiped the blood from his lips: “I’ll definitely never regret it.”

At the end of July, Jiang Tu left for the U.S. alone, carrying his luggage to the airport. Abroad, he was as busy as ever, working on research projects with his advisor. Sometimes, he felt like a soulless, emotionless robot, merely existing to survive.

One late night in August, in Berlin, Germany, Zhu Xingyao woke up from another nightmare. She dreamed of chasing Jiang Tu, who wouldn’t turn around or acknowledge her. Finally, she tripped and fell, her knees covered in blood.

Zhu Xingyao turned on the light, got up, poured a glass of water, and swallowed a pill. She checked her phone—it was almost dawn, which meant it was morning in the U.S.

Her red-rimmed eyes brimming with tears, she sat on the edge of the bed, opened QQ, and clicked on Jiang Tu’s chat window. After much deliberation, she sent a message:

Star in the Distant Sky: “Brother Tu, can you please reply to me?”

The words overflowed with sorrow.

…

During the Spring Festival of 2014, Zhu Xingyao returned to China. She arranged to meet Li Xixi for shopping and invited Lin Jiayu to join them. Li Xixi wore a baseball cap, and Zhu Xingyao wrapped herself in a large scarf, half her face hidden, revealing only her bright, beautiful eyes.

Seeing their appearances, Lin Jiayu couldn’t help but laugh. She pouted: “You two make me look so plain.”

Li Xixi sighed: “Can’t help it. I’m famous now.”

Lin Jiayu chuckled. The three entered an afternoon tea restaurant. Li Xixi called Xu Xiangyang, and they somehow ended up arguing. Li Xixi shouted for the eighty-eighth time: “We’re breaking up for real this time! Xu Xiangyang, even if you beg me, I won’t take you back!” Then she hung up.

“Really breaking up?” Lin Jiayu asked cautiously.

Zhu Xingyao couldn’t help but laugh: “Fake. She and Xu Xiangyang break up every month, like clockwork.”

Lin Jiayu: “…”

She looked at Zhu Xingyao and suddenly asked: “How are you and Lu Ji doing?”

Zhu Xingyao froze.

Li Xixi glanced at Lin Jiayu, somewhat embarrassed: “Didn’t you know? They broke up in their sophomore year. Only a few of us knew at first. It’s not the kind of thing you brag about, so we didn’t say anything, and neither did they. That’s why no one knows.”

They broke up in their sophomore year?

Lin Jiayu’s eyes widened. That night, she excitedly messaged Jiang Tu: “Zhu Xingyao and Lu Ji broke up in their sophomore year!”

After a long while, Jiang Tu replied: “Mm.”

Mm… What did that mean? Lin Jiayu was deeply troubled.

A while later, Jiang Tu replied: “I signed a three-year contract here.”

Three years ago, Lin Jiayu had serialized Waiting for Stars on Jinjiang Literature City. She wrote a few more books, all of which performed well. Even the unfinished manuscript had attracted many readers. She worried that classmates might recognize her writing, especially since the starry lights were such a clear giveaway.

Finally, she wrote in the story:

This story ends here for now.

I know you’ll ask—what happens to Jiang Xing and his star afterward?

More and more people are reading this book, and I’m afraid of being exposed. Jiang Xing will probably scold me.