DXXZL - 61

Zhu Xingyao remembered that Lin Jiayu had once mentioned she wanted to write a story related to their youth. At first, Zhu Xingyao thought it was Lin Jiayu’s new book, but after reading the comments, she realized it wasn’t. Waiting for the Stars was a book Lin Jiayu had locked away, unfinished.

Back when Lin Jiayu was serializing this book, she hadn’t even signed with the website—she just wanted to document the story. Over the years, as her popularity grew, she gained tens of thousands of followers on Weibo and had two fan groups, one of which consisted mostly of long-time fans. Many of these loyal fans were also fans of Waiting for the Stars , eagerly awaiting its conclusion. After Li Xixi and Zhu Xingyao trended on social media last time, the old fans in the group asked Lin Jiayu if the protagonists were based on Zhu Xingyao. With all the commotion back then, Lin Jiayu didn’t dare admit it.

She immediately denied it.

Although the old fans were puzzled, they believed her.

This time, however, both Li Xixi and Zhu Xingyao shared Lin Jiayu’s pre-sale advertisement, practically confirming the characters’ prototypes.

The old fans immediately flooded her and Zhu Xingyao’s Weibo accounts with comments, tagged her in the group chat, and sent numerous private messages—they were thrilled and eager to know the truth.

Lin Jiayu was overwhelmed. She first tried to calm down her fans, asking them not to spread the news, then called Zhu Xingyao: “Xingxing, please delete those few comments quickly, or even better, delete the entire retweet. I’m begging you. Delete everything related to Waiting for the Stars . If this gets out, I’m afraid Jiang Tu will kill me.” Her voice was urgent and apologetic.

Zhu Xingyao stood up, walked onto the balcony, and lowered her voice: “Jiang Hang… is it Jiang Tu?”

Lin Jiayu tearfully explained: “Yes… Waiting for the Stars was something I wrote a few years ago. The main characters are based on you, Jiang Tu, Lu Ji… and of course, our group of friends. I only wrote a few ten thousand words. Not long after Jiang Tu went abroad in 2013, I locked the book. Only some of the older fans have read it. When they saw your retweet, they guessed the prototype was you.”

Zhu Xingyao fell silent for a moment, then softly said: “Can I take a look at it?”

A few minutes later, Lin Jiayu sent over a document.

Lin Jiayu: “This version is the one I recently revised. It has over a hundred thousand words—it’s more realistic and detailed.”

Zhu Xingyao deleted the comments and temporarily handed over her Weibo account to Hua Ling, leaving this matter to her to handle.

Hua Ling was a bit surprised. Didn’t she just say there was no need to control the comments? Why now?

It was already 5 PM. After seeing Hua Ling off, Zhu Xingyao used the excuse of changing clothes to retreat to her room. She closed the door, sat on the couch, and opened the document. Zhu Xingyao couldn’t describe how she felt while reading this book. Lin Jiayu had grown up with Jiang Tu and knew him well. Written from Jiang Tu’s perspective, the story revealed many things Zhu Xingyao hadn’t known before.

For instance, how Jiang Tu had forcefully deleted Xia Jin’s photos from her phone but secretly saved them for himself; how he hadn’t denied liking her in front of Lin Jiayu; how he had spent over a month locked in his room making star-shaped lights…

Through Lin Jiayu’s words, Zhu Xingyao saw another vivid and authentic side of Jiang Tu.

However, Lin Jiayu’s portrayal of Zhu Xingyao herself was vague. Perhaps it was because she didn’t fully understand the truth at the time or didn’t know Zhu Xingyao well enough. Or maybe too many secrets were buried back then. As an observer, Lin Jiayu saw Zhu Xingyao as a naive girl kept in the dark by two young men.

At twenty-six, Zhu Xingyao revisited her sixteen- or seventeen-year-old self through this story. All the unknown, confused, and naive emotions of her youth gradually became crystal clear.

“Xingxing, it’s 6 PM. We should get going.”

Ding Yu knocked on the door and called out to her.

Zhu Xingyao quickly wiped her eyes and shouted toward the door: “You go downstairs first. I’ll be right there!” She quickly got up, grabbed random clothes to change into, wrapped a scarf around her neck, and didn’t even have time to put on makeup—only applying lipstick before heading out.

On the way, Ding Yu tried to talk to her, but Zhu Xingyao’s mind was elsewhere.

Ding Yu turned around and saw her clutching her phone, unable to resist asking: “What are you looking at so intently?”

Zhu Xingyao gently sniffed and softly replied: “A novel.”

When they got out of the car, Zhu Xingyao’s eyes were red.

Ding Yu sighed and touched her face, smiling helplessly. “How can you cry over a novel? Let’s go fix your makeup first. There are other guests. It’s not good to show up with red eyes.”

Zhu Xingyao didn’t ask who the other guests were. She simply nodded.

This was a high-end private restaurant, modern Chinese-style decorated, tasteful and quiet, favored by executives for hosting clients, especially foreign ones. Jiang Tu, Lao Yuan, and their assistant walked in with two German clients. One of the clients’ wives spoke poor English and communicated with her husband in German.

Seeing the client’s puzzled expression, Jiang Tu said in fluent German: “The restroom is to your left. Just walk straight from here.”

The client was pleasantly surprised and asked in German: “You speak German?”

Even Lao Yuan looked at Jiang Tu in surprise—he had no idea Jiang Tu could speak German.

Jiang Tu smiled: “Basic communication isn’t a problem.”

Zhu Xingyao came out of the restroom and immediately spotted Jiang Tu standing ahead. He wore a formal black suit, tall and handsome, his deep, magnetic voice speaking fluent German. Her heart pounded, her nose stung, and tears nearly spilled over.

In Waiting for the Stars , Lin Jiayu wrote about the day after Jiang Hang’s eighteenth birthday. After leaving the internet café, they went to a bookstore.

Jiang Hang bought two German books.

That was just the beginning.

Later, piles of German books filled his old room.

In Lin Jiayu’s description—

Lin Jiajia (Lin Jiayu’s pseudonym) asked him: “If you like her, why don’t you tell her? Why don’t you pursue her?”

The young man stood in the snow-covered ground, lowering his gaze, his voice low and restrained: “I can’t bear it.”

“She’s very kind. If she truly falls for me, she’ll care about my feelings while we’re together. She’ll become sensitive, always considering my thoughts, and might even give up a lot for me… Maybe it starts with just a Western meal, but as time goes on, she’ll sacrifice more and more for me. She might become unhappy and lose a lot of happiness she deserves.”

“Maybe someday I’ll be able to give her a lot, but that’s not a reason to let her endure hardship with me for years.”

…

Is it okay to deceive her just because you can’t bear it?

Is it okay to make choices for her because you can’t bear it?

Why does Jiang Tu always make her feel both heartbroken and resentful?

As if sensing something, Jiang Tu turned his head and saw Zhu Xingyao standing at the restroom entrance in a beige dress. Her eyes were slightly red, her emotions complex—resentment, sadness, and heartbreak intertwined.

He was surprised: “Xingxing?”

The client suddenly exclaimed in German: “My goodness, is that Zhu Xingyao? Am I mistaken? My wife and I attended two of your concerts in Munich. They were wonderful—we’re huge fans of yours!”

What a coincidence.

Lao Yuan was delighted to see Zhu Xingyao and laughed: “What a stroke of fate!”

Zhu Xingyao took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. She suppressed her tears and walked toward Jiang Tu.

She stood in front of him but avoided meeting his gaze.

She looked up and smiled at his client, speaking in German: “Thank you for your support.”

Jiang Tu looked down at her. The client turned to ask if they knew each other. Lao Yuan almost said they were dating, but remembering it was a public setting and unsure if this could be disclosed, he held back.

Zhu Xingyao blinked: “We’re high school classmates.”

Afraid her parents might come looking for her, Zhu Xingyao finally looked up at Jiang Tu and said: “I’m here with my parents. I’ll go inside the private room first.”

Their private rooms were in the same direction. After turning the corner, they walked along the carpeted corridor. Zhu Xingyao stopped at a door, about to push it open when it swung open from the inside. A young, handsome man stood behind it, smiling at her: “Mom said you might get lost. I was just about to look for you.”

Zhu Xingyao was taken aback as she looked at the person in front of her. “Jiang Yi? What are you doing here?”

Jiang Yi, the son of President Jiang from Zhu Yunping’s partner company, was a year older than Zhu Xingyao, single, and they had met a few times before. Jiang Yi raised an eyebrow: “I came with my parents. They said they were treating Uncle and Aunt to dinner, and since you were coming too, I decided to join.”

Zhu Xingyao immediately guessed her parents’ intentions. She fell silent for a moment, feeling the intense gaze burning into her back. Lowering her head, she muttered, “Let’s go inside first.”

The private room door closed behind them, leaving Jiang Tu standing stiffly outside, silent.

Lao Yuan pointed toward the door, bewildered: “Wait… is this… is this like a matchmaking setup?” Wasn’t Zhu Xingyao Jiang Tu’s girlfriend? Why was she on a blind date now? He asked, “Did you two have a fight?”

The atmosphere froze over like ice. Jiang Tu remembered he was there with clients, took a deep breath, and said to them: “Let’s go inside first.”

The client seemed to sense something and laughed heartily: “You like her, don’t you? She’s very beautiful. There must be many people pursuing her, but don’t lose heart—keep trying!”

Jiang Tu forced a smile: “Thank you.”

He pushed open the private room door and invited the clients in.

Zhu Xingyao sat beside Ding Yu, giving her a resentful look, clearly unhappy about the blind date her parents had arranged for her.

Ding Yu gently squeezed her hand and whispered: “President Jiang has invited us many times—it would’ve been rude to decline. It’s just dinner. Jiang Yi really is quite good. You can get to know him and see if you’re compatible.”

President Jiang and his wife adored Zhu Xingyao and had long wanted to set her up with their son. But Zhu Yunping always hoped his daughter would choose her own partner. However, after years of her not dating anyone and her unclear relationship with Jiang Tu, he still hoped she might consider someone else.

President Jiang smiled: “It’s been so long since we last saw each other, and Stars has only grown more beautiful.”

“Thank you, Uncle Jiang,” Zhu Xingyao replied politely, offering no further comment.

Jiang Yi handed her the menu: “Take a look and see what you’d like to eat.”

Zhu Xingyao accepted the menu. Though this wasn’t her first blind date, tonight felt particularly unbearable.

At 8:30 PM, they left the restaurant.

As Jiang Tu exited the private room, he saw Zhu Xingyao and that man walking toward the corner. He heard Zhu Yunping’s cheerful voice: “Stars, Xiao Jiang just said he wants to take you to the movies. You haven’t been to the cinema in a while, right? It’d be nice to catch a movie.”

Jiang Tu stood rooted to the spot, lowering his lashes. After a few seconds, he quickened his pace and chased after them.

He called Lao Yuan: “Tell the clients I have something urgent to attend to—you handle things for now.”

Lao Yuan let out a confused “Ah,” but Jiang Tu had already hung up.

Jiang Tu hurried to the elevator doors.

The elevator doors were just closing.

He pressed several buttons on the panel, but the elevator had already descended quickly to the basement level.

Jiang Tu turned around and rushed toward the emergency staircase, sprinting down frantically, desperate to chase after something—or rather, someone—he had hesitated to pursue ten years ago.

Bursting out of the stairwell exit, he saw Zhu Xingyao standing in front of that man, looking up as she spoke.

The underground parking lot was cold, and half of Zhu Xingyao’s face was buried in her scarf as she gazed up at Jiang Yi: “There are some things I should tell you first. My parents didn’t mention it…”

Before she could finish, her hand was suddenly grabbed by someone.

Zhu Xingyao froze, looking up to see Jiang Tu.

Jiang Tu pulled her close, slightly out of breath. Calmly, he addressed Jiang Yi: “Sorry, but she can’t go watch a movie with you.”

Zhu Xingyao stumbled as Jiang Tu dragged her away, her steps barely keeping up with him. She glanced back in astonishment, seeing Jiang Yi still standing there. Jiang Tu led her back into the stairwell, shutting the partially open door behind them.

Instantly, Zhu Xingyao felt suffocated. Ever since the accident, she had developed a fear of enclosed stairwells and hadn’t used one in years.

She struggled to push Jiang Tu away, her tone urgent: “Jiang Tu, let me out…”

Thinking she intended to go watch a movie with the other man, he allowed her to push against him but held her tightly without letting go: “No.”

Jiang Yi ran to the door, hearing Zhu Xingyao’s struggles. He pounded on the door forcefully: “Who are you? Didn’t you hear her reject you?” A click sounded as the door was bolted shut from the inside.

This environment overwhelmed Zhu Xingyao, and her emotions began to crumble: “Jiang Tu, let go! I want to leave…”

Jiang Tu pinned her down, preventing her escape, and wrapped his arms tightly around her: “No, I can’t let you go.” Burying his chin in her hair, he pleaded in a low, strained voice: “Stars, don’t go watch a movie with him… please don’t…”

Perhaps his embrace gave her a sense of security, as Zhu Xingyao gradually calmed down.

A loud bang echoed through the space as Jiang Yi kicked the safety door from the outside, shouting angrily: “Open the door, or I’ll call the police!”

Taking a deep breath, Zhu Xingyao raised her voice to speak to Jiang Yi on the other side of the door: “Jiang Yi, just leave. I’m fine. I know him—he won’t hurt me.”

Jiang Tu hadn’t even dared to chase her fully.

How could he possibly harm her?

Tears welled up in Zhu Xingyao’s eyes.

Silence fell both outside and within. The person in his arms grew quiet too.

Zhu Xingyao pushed him away, raising her tear-filled face to look at him. Her voice trembled: “I have something to say to you.”

Jiang Tu stood tall before her, not daring to relax. He knew her parents didn’t approve of him and wanted her to be with someone else. But that wasn’t the most important thing—what mattered most was how she felt. He looked down at her: “Go ahead.”

Zhu Xingyao asked: “When did you start liking me?”

Jiang Tu was momentarily stunned, replying softly: “During the summer vacation of our third year of middle school. That night when my family had issues, I accidentally wandered outside your villa in Star Garden and saw you sitting in the courtyard playing the cello for guests.”

So... had he fallen for her at first sight?

This was a story that wasn’t even mentioned in Waiting for the Stars .

Zhu Xingyao bit her lip, suddenly feeling an overwhelming sadness. Her voice quivered with tears: “Do you know what makes me the angriest? It’s that you didn’t dare to pursue me, didn’t dare to tell me you liked me, yet slowly pushed me away, making me feel like a fool all along. And though you knew you deceived me, you never told me, letting me misunderstand for all these years. You said you ‘couldn’t bear’ to chase me because you were afraid I’d suffer alongside you.”

Jiang Tu’s eyes widened in shock as he stared at her.

Zhu Xingyao’s gaze pierced him, her eyes reddening further as she accused him: “Am I made of porcelain? Are you saying that if you confessed your feelings or touched me, I’d shatter? If you couldn’t bear it, then why did you ever fall for me in the first place?!”

Jiang Tu couldn’t argue. Helplessly, he murmured: “That’s something I couldn’t do.”

Zhu Xingyao leaned against the wall, tears streaming down her cheeks as her voice choked with emotion: “You treated liking me as your own business, deciding what to do without caring whether I liked it or not, without needing me to know. Even if I misunderstood or ended up with someone else, you thought none of it mattered. You acted like it was all your own burden, thinking yourself noble, right? You claim you’re selfish, but where do I see any selfishness? If you were truly selfish, you wouldn’t have hidden this from me for so many years.”

Suddenly, the motion-sensor lights dimmed. Zhu Xingyao instinctively clutched Jiang Tu’s coat. Thinking she was afraid of the dark, he silently adjusted the lock again, causing the lights to brighten once more. Clutching the hem of his suit, she looked up at him through teary eyes, her vision blurred as she stabbed at his heart: “You should have told me and let me make the choice. Even if I knew, so what? I might not have liked you or chosen you anyway.”

Jiang Tu froze, lowering his gaze to her.

Yes, even if he had told her, she might not have chosen him.

His throat tightened as he lifted his hand to wipe away her tears, his voice low: “I’m sorry...”

Zhu Xingyao turned her face away, refusing to let him touch her. She continued: “And then there’s the matter of your college entrance exam incident—you didn’t tell me the truth either. I sent you countless messages on QQ, but you never replied. If… if you had told me back then, we wouldn’t be like this now.”

His hand froze mid-air.

All the emotions Zhu Xingyao had suppressed for so long erupted in one overwhelming surge today. Jiang Tu placed his hands on her shoulders, bending down to look at her: “What about now?”

Suddenly, footsteps echoed from upstairs. A man and woman chatted happily as they descended.

Jiang Tu shifted sideways. Standing 20 centimeters taller than Zhu Xingyao, his broad shoulders shielded her completely in shadow. She heard the woman’s embarrassed giggle—”What are you doing?”—and realized they were kissing on the stairs. She felt awkward.

Jiang Tu reached out, unlocking the bolt. The couple startled and quickly descended, glancing at Jiang Tu curiously before leaving.

In the semi-enclosed space, only the two of them remained.

Zhu Xingyao tugged lightly on the hem of his suit, her voice soft: “What do you mean by ‘now’?”

Jiang Tu’s voice was low: “Do you like me now?”

Her heart skipped a beat. She lowered her head, biting her lip without answering. Jiang Tu took a deep breath, speaking softly: “It’s okay. You can take your time…”

“I like you.”

She looked up at him, tears sliding down her cheeks. If she didn’t like him, she wouldn’t feel such heartache, nor would she have harbored resentment for so long.

The next moment, the lights went out again.

Jiang Tu pulled her tightly into his arms, pressing her against him with force. Lowering his head, he kissed her—not a fleeting brush, but a fervent, passionate kiss. Zhu Xingyao clung to his back, her lips parting under his. In the darkness, she heard their intertwined breaths. His lips were hot, his breathing warm, and Zhu Xingyao trembled uncontrollably, feeling as though she might melt into his kiss.

Headlights flashed as a car drove past, illuminating the area once more.

Jiang Tu briefly broke away from her. She suddenly wanted to call his name, her voice trembling: “Tu Ge…”

Jiang Tu hummed softly in acknowledgment, quickly claiming her lips again. She wrapped her arms around his neck, tilting her face upward in response, her breath swallowed by his urgency. This time, he was even more intense than before. Jiang Tu seemed to release all the restraint he had accumulated over the years, pouring every ounce of his affection into this kiss.

He had waited for this moment as if waiting for an eternity.