DXXZL - 47

The headquarters of Weichuang Technology was located in the science park of Jiangcheng. On his first day back on the job, Jiang Tu was swamped with work from the moment he stepped into the office. However, this kind of relentless pace had been his norm since high school, so he didn’t find it particularly jarring or uncomfortable.

It wasn’t until everyone else had left for the day that Jiang Tu finally emerged from his office.

As soon as he opened the door, he saw a familiar face. Yuan Yang stood there, wearing a plaid shirt and carrying a travel bag, looking like he’d just arrived after a long journey. At 178 cm tall, Yuan Yang was nearly ten centimeters shorter than Jiang Tu, who now towered over him. Yuan Yang looked up at Jiang Tu for a moment before breaking into a hearty laugh. “I knew you wouldn’t have left yet. I came back just to see you.”

Jiang Tu smiled faintly. “Old Yuan, it’s been a while.”

Notably, Yuan Yang had also been working at Weichuang for the past couple of years and had just returned from a business trip.

Jiang Tu had always felt that his personality made it difficult for people to get close to him or become friends with him. Lin Jiayu, who had grown up alongside him, was more like family. In high school, he had Zhu Xingyao, Li Xixi, and Ding Xiang; in college, Yuan Yang and Du Yunfei.

Yuan Yang clicked his tongue. “Wow, you’ve really changed a lot these past few years. If the department beauties from back then saw you now, they’d probably regret not putting in more effort to chase after you back in the day.”

“You, on the other hand, haven’t changed much,” Jiang Tu remarked with a smile.

Yuan Yang raised an eyebrow. “I came all this way to see you. Wouldn’t it be rude if we didn’t have dinner and catch up?”

“That would indeed be impolite,” Jiang Tu said, holding his car keys. He glanced at Yuan Yang. “Let’s go.”

The two hadn’t seen each other since graduation, but they had kept in touch, and their relationship hadn’t grown distant. After all, they had shared a dorm room for four years in college, and now they were colleagues at the same company. Yuan Yang, a natural chatterbox, talked nonstop as they descended the stairs.

Yuan Yang mentioned, “Du Yunfei was here on a business trip recently. We had dinner together and said that when you returned, he’d fly over just to see you.”

Jiang Tu remembered the stack of Zhu Xingyao’s personal albums Du Yunfei had bought in college and chuckled softly. “We’ll wait until he has time.”

Jiangcheng had undergone significant changes over the years, and Jiang Tu still wasn’t entirely familiar with the city after being back for only a few days. Moreover, he had never been particular about food—anything that filled his stomach was fine. Aside from work-related banquets, he rarely dined out at restaurants. The one they chose tonight was recommended by Yuan Yang.

By now, it was already 8 p.m., and the restaurant was relatively empty. They settled into a small private booth. After ordering, Yuan Yang called Du Yunfei on speakerphone.

Through the phone, Du Yunfei asked, “Why aren’t you video calling?”

Yuan Yang laughed. “What’s the point of video calling among three grown men? It’s not like we’re teenage girls.”

“Speak for yourself,” Du Yunfei retorted, chuckling. Then, his tone turned serious. “Jiang Tu, I just want to ask you one question.”

Jiang Tu handed the menu to the server and said, “Go ahead.”

Du Yunfei asked solemnly, “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No,” Jiang Tu replied simply.

Du Yunfei coughed awkwardly. “So… you’ve never dated anyone?”

Yuan Yang’s gaze quickly darted to Jiang Tu, whose expression remained impassive as he leaned back in his chair, eyes lowered. “No.”

Du Yunfei fell silent.

Suddenly, Yuan Yang gave Jiang Tu a thumbs-up.

Jiang Tu couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s what you wanted to ask?”

At nearly thirty years old, never having been in a romantic relationship made Jiang Tu seem like some kind of anomaly—a very handsome anomaly—in Du Yunfei and Yuan Yang’s eyes. Du Yunfei sighed. “To be honest, Yuan Yang and I have discussed this many times. If you haven’t dated anyone in all these years, we’d start to suspect there might be something wrong with you.”

Jiang Tu glanced at Yuan Yang, his tone indifferent. “Discussing me? Sounds boring.”

Du Yunfei: “….”

Yuan Yang: “….”

With that topic out of the way, the call lasted about ten minutes, mostly consisting of Yuan Yang and Du Yunfei chatting idly. Finally, Du Yunfei exclaimed, “Oh no, I have to hang up. Tickets for the goddess’s concert go on sale tonight. I need to write a ticket-grabbing program to secure a VIP seat. I want to meet her up close!”

Jiang Tu was aware that Zhu Xingyao would be performing a solo recital in Jiangcheng on November 8th. She hadn’t held any solo concerts in the past couple of years, only touring internationally with orchestras. This year marked her gradual return to the spotlight, and this performance in Jiangcheng would be her second of the year.

Yuan Yang grinned. “I heard it’s in Jiangcheng. Why don’t you grab me a ticket while you’re at it?”

Du Yunfei replied, “Send me the money via WeChat. Even brothers keep accounts clear. VIP tickets are pretty expensive.”

Yuan Yang laughed and ended the call. Looking up at Jiang Tu, he teased, “Everyone has idols. Look at how obsessed Du Yunfei has been with a cellist all these years.”

Jiang Tu suddenly asked, “Does Du Yunfei have a girlfriend?”

“He did date two women over the past few years, but both relationships ended,” Yuan Yang sighed. “I also dated someone, but we broke up too. At our age, dating is usually with marriage in mind. Finding the right person isn’t easy.”

Jiang Tu didn’t know what constituted the “right person.” Deep down, the person he liked, the romance he desired, and the future he envisioned all revolved around Zhu Xingyao.

Even though he had resolved to let her go, to sever all ties and leave her undisturbed, his heart stubbornly refused to obey. It clung to thoughts of her, and her alone. He didn’t know how long he could endure such feelings if she were still with Lu Ji or someone else. The pain of it was sharper and more despairing than the day his college entrance exam dreams were shattered.

At 10:30 p.m., Jiang Tu drove into the residential complex. He retrieved his suitcase from the trunk and carried it upstairs. The apartment was a three-bedroom, two-living-room unit. After placing the suitcase down, he wondered if Zhu Xingyao had already gone to bed. Standing by the bedroom window, he hesitated for a moment before dialing her number.

Zhu Xingyao hadn’t yet fallen asleep. Her reading lamp was on, and she was engrossed in a book. Over the years, she had tried various methods to aid her sleep, and reading before bed had proven helpful. Just as she was about to put the book down, she heard her phone ring on the bedside table. Glancing at the unfamiliar number displayed on the screen, she bit her lip, instinctively feeling that it was Jiang Tu calling.

Curling her legs up, she picked up the phone, hugged her knees, and answered.

There was a brief silence on the other end before Jiang Tu’s deep, magnetic voice came through. “Am I disturbing your sleep?”

Chin resting on her knees, Zhu Xingyao whispered, “I’m not asleep yet.”

“That’s good,” Jiang Tu said.

She heard him exhale softly, and her own tense emotions relaxed slightly. Lowering her eyes, she asked, “Why did you call me?”

Jiang Tu paused, then asked quietly, “Can you reserve a concert ticket for me?”

He had heard from Lin Jiayu that Zhu Xingyao had set aside tickets for her and her parents. Now that he was back, he wondered if she would do the same for him.

Zhu Xingyao pressed her lips tightly together, a hint of displeasure in her voice. “If you want to attend, you can buy a ticket yourself.”

Hearing this, Jiang Tu chuckled softly. “Alright.”

Zhu Xingyao’s emotions were tangled. She was angry with him for ignoring her for so many years, but recalling his hardships during his youth and the restrained affection he had shown her, she couldn’t help but soften. She didn’t know how long her anger would last.

For now, she was still upset.

Truthfully, she wasn’t even sure if he still liked her the way he used to.

With a tinge of resentment, she said, “We haven’t seen each other or been in contact for years. Our relationship… isn’t as close as it once was. Did you come back just to ask me for a VIP ticket? I won’t give it to you.”

Jiang Tu was silent for two seconds before replying softly, “Your VIP tickets are hard to come by.”

Zhu Xingyao said nothing.

After a while, Jiang Tu murmured, “Get some rest. Good night.”

They hung up. Zhu Xingyao held her phone, struggling to fall asleep.

________________________________________

The next morning, Yuan Yang ran into Jiang Tu downstairs at the company. Pointing to Du Yunfei’s social media post, he mercilessly teased, “Look at this guy. He wasted an entire night and only managed to grab a rear-row ticket. Someone must’ve snapped up all the VIP seats.”

Jiang Tu glanced briefly before casually averting his gaze.

At noon, Lin Jiayu sent a message on WeChat: “Can I check in on your progress? How’s it going between you and Zhu Xingyao?” Her novel was still unfinished, but given Jiang Tu’s reticent nature, she didn’t expect him to divulge much. Still, she hoped that if things progressed well between them, she could ask Zhu Xingyao herself.

Jiang Tu replied: “Which restaurant in Jiangcheng do you recommend? Pick one—I’ll treat you all to dinner this weekend.”

Lin Jiayu asked, “All of us? Who?”

Jiang Tu replied: “Zhu Xingyao, you, Ding Xiang, and his wife.”

Lin Jiayu was momentarily stunned. Why not a private meeting? Why bring along third wheels? She thought it might be because Zhu Xingyao would decline if it were just the two of them, considering Jiang Tu had been out of touch for so long.

August 25th, Friday.

That night, Jiang Tu worked overtime and didn’t get home until nearly midnight. After taking a shower and lying down, he heard his phone ringing shortly afterward. His phone rarely rang in the middle of the night, so he opened his eyes in the darkness and reached for it on the nightstand.

Seeing the number on the screen, he froze and quickly answered.

The other end of the line was quiet—so quiet that he could hear her faint breathing. Jiang Tu sat up immediately, his voice low. “Zhu Xingyao?” He glanced at the clock—it was 2:32 a.m. His tone grew urgent. “What’s wrong?”

Zhu Xingyao took a breath, gripping the phone tightly, her voice barely audible. “Mm…”

Lying on her side, beads of sweat forming on her forehead, she added softly, “I’m fine. I just had a bad dream.”

Jiang Tu exhaled in relief, his voice gentle. “Was it about me?”

“Yes.”

“What did you dream about?”

“It wasn’t a good dream. I’d rather not tell you… It was…” Zhu Xingyao had dreamed of endlessly chasing Jiang Tu, running without reaching an end. When she woke up, she felt an overwhelming sense of emptiness. Suddenly remembering that Jiang Tu had called her earlier, she had impulsively dialed him without hesitation or checking the time. Now, with her mind clearer, she felt unsure of herself. Calling someone in the middle of the night seemed inappropriate. Biting her lip, she said, “Don’t ask. I just had a nightmare and called to verify if you were real.”

The surroundings on both ends of the line were quiet in the deep night.

Jiang Tu didn’t know exactly what she had dreamed, but he was glad she had called him. Softly, he reassured her, “Dreams are the opposite of reality. Don’t dwell on it.”

Zhu Xingyao wanted to say that for the past four years, her dreams had felt painfully real—not the opposite at all.

She sat up, slipped into her slippers, and said softly, “Alright, I understand.”

“How about tomorrow? Let me pick you up for dinner?”