DXXZL - 8

After placing the envelope, Lu Ji turned around with an air of relief, only to meet Jiang Tu’s cold, piercing gaze. He froze, suddenly realizing that doing this in front of him might not have been the best idea.

However, he assumed someone like Jiang Tu wouldn’t meddle in others’ affairs. Slipping his hands into his pockets, Lu Ji walked toward the back door and casually glanced at Jiang Tu. “Let’s go together.”

Jiang Tu wasn’t sure whether Lu Ji thought he was blind or simply didn’t take him seriously. Without betraying any emotion, he said, “You’re being so blatant about this—aren’t you afraid I’ll report you?”

“Shit!” Zhou Yuan immediately flared up. “Are you serious? Everyone knows these things are better left unsaid. Are you really going to report it? There are so many guys chasing Zhu Xingyao—can you even keep up with all the reports?”

Jiang Tu shot him a blank look and said nothing.

Lu Ji hadn’t expected such a response and paused for a moment before breaking into a smile. “You definitely won’t.”

Jiang Tu remained silent. Grabbing his backpack from the desk, he turned toward the door, his face stiff as he said, “You two should hurry up and leave. I need to lock the door.”

Lu Ji and Zhou Yuan left, and after locking the door, Jiang Tu turned and walked away.

It was already past six o’clock. Aside from the cleaning duty students, the school was mostly empty. The three of them walked down the stairs one after another, heading toward the bike shed. Jiang Tu walked quickly, retrieved his bike, and mounted it.

Zhou Yuan, still uneasy, called out, “Hey, wait a second!”

Jiang Tu looked at him.

Zhou Yuan asked, “You’re really not going to report us, right?”

Jiang Tu coldly tossed out the word “Boring” and pedaled away.

Zhou Yuan: “….”

He glanced at Lu Ji, pointed toward Jiang Tu, who was almost out of sight, and said with a dark expression, “I feel like what he really wanted to say just now was ‘Report your sister.’”

Lu Ji laughed so hard his shoulders shook. “You’re overthinking it. He was just joking.”

Some things you can never predict—are they jokes or prophetic words?

…

Friday morning, Zhu Xingyao found the envelope in her desk. The golden ticket stood out among the colorful pile of letters like a shining gem. She pulled it out and, as expected, saw the familiar concert ticket cover. This was the first time anyone had given her tickets to a cello concert.

Li Xixi exclaimed, “Who is this? They’re so thoughtful!”

Zhu Xingyao was also surprised. Tickets to the Chen Lan Orchestra concert cost several hundred yuan at the lowest price. Though there were plenty of wealthy students at Jiang Cheng No. 1 High School, this was the first time since the start of the school year that someone had catered to her interests.

Boys openly—and secretly—called her the “Cello Goddess.” Some invited her to dinner, others to karaoke or amusement parks…

But no one had ever invited her to a concert.

Zhu Xingyao opened the envelope and found two concert tickets inside. Along with them fell a small white sticky note. The handwriting on it was somewhat familiar—she had seen it just yesterday, though this version was neater than the messy scrawl she’d seen on the scratch paper.

It read: Let’s watch the concert together this weekend.

She stiffly turned to look at Li Xixi. Both girls stared at each other, stunned into silence.

Li Xixi quickly flipped over the tickets and exclaimed, “Wow, these seats are pretty good—second row, center!”

Zhu Xingyao: “… Is that really the point?”

Of course not!

Li Xixi blinked, surreptitiously scanning their surroundings, then leaned closer excitedly. “I told you! Didn’t I say it yesterday? What if he likes you? I’m practically a prophet!”

Zhu Xingyao pursed her lips and turned to her. “What prophecy? You might as well have cursed me.”

Li Xixi patted her chest. “Let me calm my nerves.”

Zhu Xingyao: “….”

Shouldn’t she be the one calming her nerves? What nonsense was this?

A few seconds later, after “calming her nerves,” Li Xixi leaned over again, grinning mischievously. “Lu Ji is our school’s male god. Compared to ordinary guys, he’s like gold-plated perfection. If he’s pursuing you, doesn’t it feel different?”

Zhu Xingyao struggled to put it into words. After some thought, she finally said, “It’s unexpected, you know? You said it yourself—he’s everyone’s male god. A male god… stepping down from his pedestal?” She shook her head, realizing that didn’t sound right either. She wasn’t inferior to him. Trying again, she added, “It’s just surprising. Can you imagine me chasing a guy or suddenly liking someone?”

Li Xixi paused, resting her chin on her hand as she studied Zhu Xingyao. “Now that you mention it, I get it. I’ve never seen you like anyone. At most, you’d say someone’s handsome, talented, or nice…” She trailed off, suddenly enlightened. “I feel like I’m seeing you clearly for the first time today—you’ve been handing out ‘good person’ cards all along! My star goddess!”

Zhu Xingyao: “What else could I do? Should I reject people by stabbing them in the heart?”

Li Xixi: “….”

That would be too cruel.

Li Xixi huffed. “Didn’t you already see the premiere in Beijing during the National Day holiday? Lu Ji probably didn’t check properly. So what are you going to do with these tickets?”

“Return them.”

Even when it came to Lu Ji, Zhu Xingyao remained firm in her refusal. Li Xixi understood—beautiful people could afford to be任性 (capricious). Given that the person in question was Lu, the male god, she double-checked: “Lu Ji is really handsome. Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider?”

Zhu Xingyao took out her textbook to prepare for morning reading and muttered while looking down, “I can’t just go on a date with him because he’s handsome. If I did that, how many dates would I have to go on?”

Li Xixi: “You make a lot of sense. I can’t argue with that.”

He was a male god after all! Only Zhu Xingyao could reject him so decisively.

Zhu Xingyao thought for a moment and said, “After school, come with me to return the tickets.”

From behind them, Zhou Qian kicked their chairs forcefully. “Hurry up and clean your stuff! Old Cao is coming.”

Zhu Xingyao and Li Xixi scrambled to shove the pile of letters back into the desk drawer. Just as they finished, Cao Shujun walked in. His expression was unusually stern, and his tone severe: “The midterms are approaching, and you’re still slacking off like this. Have you all finished reviewing?”

Everyone quietly took out their books, not daring to utter a word.

The rest of the day passed with a subtle undercurrent. Classes 7 and 8 were next to each other, and during exercises, their lines were adjacent. Even when students from Class 7 went to the restroom, they had to pass by Class 8. Every time Zhu Xingyao left the classroom, she would encounter Lu Ji standing in the corridor.

Their eyes would meet. Being young, both felt a bit awkward. Lu Ji knew she must have seen the tickets, and Zhu Xingyao felt he was waiting for her reply.

Jiang Tu leaned against the wall, watching as Zhu Xingyao and Lu Ji locked eyes. From his angle, he could only see Lu Ji smiling.

The weather wasn’t too cold yet, and the corridors were always lively. With Lu Ji’s return, they became even livelier. Ding Xiang leaned against the railing, chatting and laughing with other boys. As Zhu Xingyao passed by, a boy from Class 8 whistled teasingly. Lu Ji pressed down on the boy’s head and smiled at Zhu Xingyao.

Zhu Xingyao paused in her steps and looked at Lu Ji. He stood there in his neatly pressed school uniform, a light-colored sweater underneath, the corners of his lips curved into a warm, sunny smile—a picture of youthful charm.

Ding Xiang saw this scene, froze for a moment, and then whispered back at his seat: “Holy crap, why do I feel like Lu Ji likes the goddess? Is he really planning to become a son-in-law?”

Jiang Tu lowered his eyes, his mood suddenly darkening. His entire demeanor grew colder and more restless.

Ding Xiang suddenly heard a snap . Turning his head, he was shocked to see Jiang Tu pressing down with his thumb, forcibly snapping a 2B pencil in half.

Trembling slightly, Ding Xiang asked: “What’s wrong with you?”

Jiang Tu let go of the broken pencil, took out a rusty knife, and began sharpening it. His voice was flat, betraying no emotion: “Nothing. Just thought the pencil was too long.”

Ding Xiang: “….”

He stared at the two short, broken pieces of pencil, feeling an unspoken weight. His desk mate definitely had a temper… Who breaks pencils for fun?

…

After school on Friday, the classroom emptied quickly. Zhu Xingyao and Li Xixi slowly packed their bags. Just as Zhu Xingyao slung her backpack over her shoulder and turned around, she froze. “Jiang Tu, you’re still here?”

Jiang Tu stood up, catching a glimpse of two tall figures standing in the corridor out of the corner of his eye. They were speaking in hushed tones, their voices faintly drifting over.

Zhou Yuan’s tone was smug: “I told you she’d wait for you. She’s a goddess, sure, but you’re a god too. I don’t know why you’re so nervous.”

Lu Ji replied softly: “You wouldn’t understand.”

Zhou Yuan: “Don’t look down on me. I’ve been in more relationships than you’ve participated in competitions.”

Lu Ji: “That’s exactly why you don’t understand.”

Loving only one person is different from having loved many. At that exact moment, Jiang Tu stood up, raised his head, and looked at Zhu Xingyao. His voice was slightly hoarse: “Let’s go now.”

The weather was growing colder, but he still wore only a thin T-shirt under his uniform. Zhu Xingyao couldn’t help but marvel at how unfazed he seemed by the cold. Smiling faintly, she said: “See you.”

The boy turned around, his tall, lean figure disappearing quickly.

Li Xixi glanced back at him and whispered: “Actually, if Jiang Tu weren’t so gloomy, came from a better-off family, and took off those glasses, he’d have the looks and aura of a male god too.”

Zhu Xingyao recalled Jiang Tu without his glasses. His temperament was completely different from Lu Ji’s, but that didn’t stop him from drawing attention from girls. Quite a few had commented on how handsome he was.

She turned to Li Xixi: “Do you like guys like Jiang Tu?”

Li Xixi grinned: “I like them, but guys like Jiang Tu are cold and hard to handle. I wouldn’t be able to manage him.”

Zhu Xingyao: “….”

Well, she knew Li Xixi had already added Jiang Tu to her “Good Looks Association.” The guy definitely fit the bill.

Li Xixi continued: “And… being with someone like him would probably be pretty difficult, right? You see how many girls say he’s good-looking, but have you ever seen anyone chasing after him? Or any girl getting close to him?”

Zhu Xingyao thought for a moment and said: “He has a childhood friend. They’re pretty close.”

“Wow! Really or fake?”

“Shh.”

Zhu Xingyao felt it wasn’t right to talk about Jiang Tu’s personal matters where others might overhear. Covering Li Xixi’s mouth, she glanced up and saw Lu Ji leaning against the railing, looking over at them.

Her movements paused. Lowering her hand, she pulled Li Xixi along, and the two walked over.

Lu Ji was genuinely nervous. When he saw Zhu Xingyao take the envelope out of her bag, his heart suddenly relaxed a bit, as if this reaction was expected.

Zhu Xingyao said: “Thank you, but I already went to Beijing and heard it during National Day.”

Lu Ji glanced at the envelope, not taking it. Looking down at her, he said: “If you’ve already seen it, just give the tickets to a friend or anyone else.”

Zhou Yuan hadn’t expected Lu Ji to be rejected. Startled, he couldn’t help but defend his friend: “You’re returning tickets that were already given to you? Isn’t that… kind of embarrassing? If you don’t want them, just give them away.”

Zhu Xingyao felt a bit awkward. Lu Ji kicked Zhou Yuan lightly and looked at her: “How about this? Next time there’s a concert, save a few tickets for me, okay?”

Zhu Xingyao hesitated for a moment, then nodded and said softly: “Okay.”

The autumn night fell quickly. On Fridays, everyone left school in a hurry. Less than ten minutes after dismissal, the campus was already half-empty. The bustling noise faded, leaving the school grounds desolate and quiet.

Jiang Tu stood under a bare tree near the library. Glancing back at the classroom corridor, he stepped on a pile of dry leaves and walked away.

…

Zhu Xingyao gave the two tickets to Li Xixi. Li Xixi said she’d sell them to scalpers. After a brief moment of embarrassment, Zhu Xingyao let her handle it however she wanted.

On Saturday afternoon, Zhu Xingyao practiced playing the cello until six o’clock. The members of the orchestra she collaborated with either left or went to eat. A senior called out to her: “Xingyao, aren’t you coming with us?”

Zhu Xingyao put her cello back in its case, stood up, and smiled: “No, my dad will pick me up later.”

“What a lucky kid. Well, we’re off then.”

“Bye.”

Just as she waved goodbye to the senior, her phone rang. Zhu Yunping informed her that he had a last-minute dinner appointment and couldn’t come pick her up. He had already sent Lao Liu to fetch her, who should arrive downstairs soon.

Zhu Xingyao pouted, clearly displeased: “Fine. Mom’s busy too, and you’re getting busier. I’m practically becoming a latchkey kid.”

Zhu Yunping apologized, his tone soft as he consoled her: “Once your midterms are over, we’ll go out for a big meal together. Go home early tonight, and ask Aunt Zhang to cook for you. Study well tonight.”

After hanging up, Zhu Xingyao sighed and trudged off, her heavy cello weighing her down.

Traffic jams were common on weekends, especially at the west entrance of Hexi Lane. Night market stalls often popped up there, causing chaos. The car was stuck at the intersection, unable to move. Lao Liu sighed and turned around: “Miss, something seems to be blocking the road ahead.”

Zhu Xingyao rolled down the window slightly, catching the aroma of food wafting from the night market. Her stomach growled even louder. She remembered a nearby duck blood vermicelli soup shop that she had eaten at a few times with Ding Yu.

“I’ll get out here.”

Zhu Xingyao walked forward for several dozen meters and discovered the cause of the traffic jam. A car had collided with a tricycle selling late-night snacks. The compensation negotiations hadn’t gone well, and the vendor, hurling insults, refused to move, causing a complete gridlock.

Luckily, she had gotten out of the car; otherwise, who knows how long she’d have been stuck?

Zhu Xingyao had a poor sense of direction—probably because she always traveled by car. She wandered around the slightly older shops in the area for nearly half an hour but still couldn’t find the restaurant.

Exhausted and hungry, she stood under the dim yellow glow of a streetlamp at the corner, her expression filled with confusion and despair.

…

Just like any other ordinary night, Jiang Tu walked into the small, dimly lit internet café at the corner of the street—a place that often hosted elementary school students. A few days ago, Jiang Jinhui had won some money gambling. Though Jiang Tu had no interest in taking it, Jiang Lu seized the opportunity to claim a generous amount of pocket money for himself.

Most of that money ended up being spent in this very internet café.

Jiang Tu turned on a computer, his small and thin frame hunched over as he settled into the chair, ready to compete with others in an online game.

The moment the internet café manager spotted Jiang Tu, fear gripped him. He quickly dashed out from behind the counter, intending to drag Jiang Lu away. However, Jiang Tu raised a hand to stop him, striding forward to stand behind the chair and gaze at the screen.

He didn’t understand why this game captivated Jiang Lu so much. Jiang Lu’s fingers flew across the keyboard, furiously clicking and pounding the mouse. Suddenly, a boy a few years older leaned over and whispered into Jiang Lu’s ear: “Turn around.”

“…”

Jiang Lu turned his head and nearly froze in terror.

Jiang Tu glanced at the timer displayed on the monitor—10 minutes remaining. Without a word, he grabbed Jiang Lu by the collar and lifted him out of the seat. Jiang Lu protested hurriedly: “Bro, there’s still 10 minutes left! Don’t waste it…”

But Jiang Tu ignored him, dragging him aside.

Jiang Tu sat down in his place. Jiang Lu stared at him, bewildered, and asked: “Bro, what are you doing?”

They didn’t have a computer at home, nor could they afford one. Jiang Tu rarely visited internet cafés. He opened a search engine page and paused his fingers over the keyboard. “…Looking something up.”

“Oh…”

Jiang Lu wasn’t interested in what his brother was searching for and instead turned his attention to someone else’s screen nearby.

In the search bar, Jiang Tu typed “Jiangcheng Cello Concert.” Several pages popped up. He clicked on one and found that the Chen Lan Orchestra’s performance in Jiangcheng was scheduled for 7:30 PM on Saturday night.

Exactly 10 minutes later, at 7:30 PM sharp, the computer automatically locked due to the time limit.

Jiang Tu dragged his troublesome younger brother out of the internet café. Jiang Lu complained loudly: “I want to eat duck blood vermicelli! I have my own money—it’s what I stole from that gambling bastard’s pocket…”

That “gambling bastard” referred to their father.

“There’s food waiting for you at home.”

Jiang Tu tugged at Jiang Lu’s collar, but then his gaze shifted, and his steps abruptly halted. He turned his head toward the figure under the streetlamp—a slender girl with soft hair cascading over her shoulders. She suddenly turned around, revealing a pale, delicate face with gentle contours and beautiful features. Her eyes lit up the instant she saw him, and she exclaimed joyfully: “Jiang Tu!”

For a moment, he thought it might be an illusion.

He blinked, and she was already standing right in front of him, smiling brightly. “It’s great to see you!”

Jiang Tu’s grip tightened on Jiang Lu’s collar, causing the boy to cough violently. “Cough… cough… Bro, if you don’t let go soon, your little brother’s gonna die!”

Jiang Tu snapped back to reality, loosening his grip. His low voice carried a note of disbelief as he looked at the radiant girl before him: “Zhu Xingyao?” Yes, it was truly wonderful to see her. In that moment, something inside him seemed to wither and then bloom again, to die and then come back to life.

Zhu Xingyao paid no mind to the odd tone in his voice and smiled happily. “This is great! I just got lost and happened to spot you…”

“How are you here?”

At 7:30 PM, shouldn’t she have been at the concert with Lu Ji?

Zhu Xingyao hesitated slightly before explaining: “My driver and I got stuck in traffic at the intersection. Earlier, I’d eaten duck blood vermicelli nearby with my mom, and I was trying to find that shop but couldn’t…”

Jiang Lu watched Zhu Xingyao with wide-eyed curiosity. Suddenly recalling Lin Jiayu’s description of their school’s goddess, he flashed a sweet smile. “Sister, are you my brother’s classmate?”

Zhu Xingyao was somewhat surprised. She glanced at the mischievous boy and found his sweetness quite charming—so unlike Jiang Tu. Smiling faintly, she replied: “Yes, we’re classmates.”

“You want duck blood vermicelli? I’ll take you there! I want some too. My bro—”

“Shut up,” Jiang Tu snapped coldly.

Jiang Lu: “….”

Zhu Xingyao: “….”

He could be pretty harsh.

Jiang Tu paused briefly and clarified: “I wasn’t talking to you.”

Zhu Xingyao stifled a laugh. “I know.”

“Let’s go.” Jiang Tu subtly withdrew his gaze and turned toward the alleyway ahead. “The shop you’re looking for is on the next street over. You took a wrong turn. I’ll take you there.”

“Okay.” Zhu Xingyao was practically starving. Following behind him, she remarked, “This area… a lot of places look similar.”

It was an old street. Aside from the differing signs, the shops all appeared more or less the same.

Jiang Lu, no longer being dragged along, only realized he’d been left behind after they started walking. Hurrying to catch up, he clutched his stomach and pleaded: “Bro… can I have a bowl too?”

Jiang Tu frowned, clearly displeased. “Did I ever say you couldn’t eat?”

Jiang Lu: “….”

You definitely said that earlier!

Zhu Xingyao quietly observed the two brothers, her gaze lingering on Jiang Tu’s profile. His nose was straight, his neck long and elegant, his jawline tense. The contours of his face were strikingly clear under the night sky, and even the air of aloofness about him seemed softened.

Suddenly, Jiang Tu turned to her and asked: “This place isn’t very big. Are you not good with directions?”