Chapter 59: The Worst Timeline |
But Ruoping was like a machine gun—who knew how long she'd been holding these words in. The more she spoke, the more furious she became:
"You were together almost every single day during the second semester of ninth grade, weren't you? You'd said over and over that you had no interest in Lu Qinglian, but then you went behind our backs and got together with her—how were we supposed to think about that? Du Kang must've been miserable for so long back then. On one side was his best friend, on the other was the girl he had a crush on. What was he supposed to think?
"But he thought that incident hit you really hard, so he kept it all bottled up inside. I still remember that night he came to find me and Qingyi with a bottle of liquor. He was practically about to cry, but he deliberately acted all carefree about it, saying he was voluntarily withdrawing from the competition to help out his buddy. I scolded him—you never even competed, so what's there to withdraw from... So nobody blamed you for what happened back then, Shutong. But you shouldn't have turned your back on everyone the moment we graduated.
Ruoping seemed to sink completely into her memories. She continued in a lonely tone:
"Her grandmother wouldn't let her go to high school. We were all trying to think of ways to help—going to teachers, going to the school, going to the education bureau... You should've been the one handling this, but do you remember what you said back then?
"You said we didn't need to get involved, that you'd already figured out a solution. At the time I thought you were the same as always—you liked playing things close to the vest and being all mysterious, but you could always arrange everything perfectly. But by the time school was about to start, we realized you'd been lying the whole time. You fooled everyone. By the time we figured it out, school had already started and the best window for mediation had passed. And then what did you do? We thought maybe you had your own difficulties, and we waited for you to give everyone an explanation. Hadn't we all agreed to go to school in town together? But when school started, we found out you'd packed up and run off to the city without a word.
"Fine, I can forgive you for the school thing. I can even forgive you for ignoring Lu Qinglian!" She grew more and more agitated, her manicured finger pointing at the funeral home entrance. "But why did you lie to us back then? Do you know that because of this, Qinglian never left this little island her entire life—from birth to death she never even left! She spent her whole life stuck in that temple!"
"And then? What happened next? We still thought you weren't that kind of person, that there must be some hidden reason. So we went to the city to find you, only to discover you were together with that upperclassman of yours!
"Now you have the nerve to tell me to accept my condolences?"
He could only try to piece together what had happened:
Starting from the second semester of ninth grade, he and Lu Qinglian had been inseparable every day. And from what they were saying, it didn't sound like an ordinary friendship. Then after graduating from middle school, he'd followed his parents' job transfer to the city instead of going to the high school in town. Everyone had originally agreed to go to school in town together, but not only had he failed to keep that promise, he'd lied to them all.
Not only that—Lu Qinglian's grandmother wouldn't let her leave the island for high school. They could have gotten the education department to mediate, but he'd interfered and completely destroyed that girl's future.
And that still wasn't the end of it. Besides turning his back on everyone, once he got to the city, he'd gone and started dating his upperclassman?
But this was completely wrong. Forget about the fact that he had no romantic feelings for Lu Qinglian whatsoever—just looking at the timeline, starting from the second semester of ninth grade, he'd returned in December and school started in February. In just those two short months, he'd gotten into a relationship with Lu Qinglian?
Sure, he'd wanted to enjoy a normal life, but surely not to that extent, right? Besides, why would he run off to the city—just to date his upperclassman?
It was true that Zhang Shutong had once liked her, but after all these years, those feelings had long since worn away to nothing. If he searched his heart, this really didn't seem like something he would do. But just as he was about to defend himself, he suddenly remembered the chat logs he'd seen on his phone—he'd just finished chatting with a woman named "Su Yunzhi" last night. What the hell was going on?
In just two months, he'd become a completely different person?
What confused him most was his relationship with Lu Qinglian. She wasn't his type at all. He wouldn't date her even if he dated anyone else. And why would he sabotage her?
But Du Kang had almost lost his temper just now, and Ruoping's eyes had turned red again as she spoke. It didn't seem like his old friends had any reason to lie to him... Though could he even still call them old friends? Zhang Shutong suddenly felt a bit desolate. He'd thought that starting over, he should have valued these relationships more, especially when he'd found their numbers in his contacts—there'd been a faint joy in his heart.
But looking at it now, how was this worse than the original timeline? Back then, everyone had just lost touch for a long time, but childhood playmates still felt close when they met. Now one was missing without a trace, one had practically become an enemy, and the other was willing to talk but in a completely distant tone.
Why had it turned out this way?
Zhang Shutong lit another cigarette. He seemed to understand why he had a smoking addiction now.
His life hadn't changed—he was still that person who deliberately isolated himself from the outside world...
His old friends had become like strangers...
Lu Qinglian had still died in the end...
A complete mess, you could say.
This life was even worse than the last one. What exactly had he changed?
"You calm down by yourself."
Ruoping coldly dropped that line and turned to enter the funeral home.
Zhang Shutong watched her leave, then stood there for a while longer. He looked at that iron-blue lake surface and slowly slid down from the railing, crouching down.
But then Ruoping came back out of the funeral home. The two were quite far apart when she suddenly threw something at him. Zhang Shutong instinctively caught it—car keys.
"Take these and wait in the car. Don't you think it's embarrassing standing out here?" She frowned. "Also, don't smoke in my car."
Zhang Shutong was about to thank her, but she'd already gone back inside.
So he dragged his body, frozen stiff, and opened the SUV door. A faint fragrance wafted from inside. Zhang Shutong sat in the passenger seat and reclined it back slightly.
He stared at the car's ceiling, exhausted in body and mind. Honestly, he just wanted to sleep right now and not think about anything. But that would be running away. At the very least, he needed to figure out what had happened first.
He found Qingyi's number, his finger hovering over the call button. But just then, a man roughly squeezed into the car. He turned to look—it was Song Nanshan.
His hair was slicked back in an impeccable style, but the moment he opened his mouth, he gave himself away:
"You know what? Ruoping really knows her cars," Old Song said, patting and touching things everywhere approvingly. "Toyotas really are good—you can't break 'em."
Zhang Shutong wasn't in the mood to ask where that Focus of yours went. He put away his phone. Old Song asked, you guys having another spat? How old are you to still be having spats?
Yeah, how old were they to still be having spats? Or rather, the phrase "having a spat" shouldn't even exist in the adult world.
Old Song kept rambling on, from Japanese cars to American cars, from BBA to the Big Three.
Zhang Shutong didn't know what he was getting at, but having someone chattering in his ear wasn't bad right now. He simply shut his mouth and patiently listened to his homeroom teacher talk.
"Shutong, being this down and out isn't like you."
Song Nanshan suddenly said.
Zhang Shutong was startled. He thought, Teacher, you've got it wrong this time. Actually, these years I've never really had it together. The only time I wasn't down and out was probably those four days—and you remembered all of them.
But Song Nanshan seemed relieved. A look of reminiscence crossed his face:
"I still remember how you performed that night. Remember? When we went looking for that van together. It was also winter, not far from now, raining. We both got drenched like drowned rats. I was so anxious my face turned blue, but you had everything arranged... I didn't want to bring it up, but in your teacher's heart, you're already amazing. Stop blaming yourself all the time."
Zhang Shutong opened his mouth silently, wanting to tell him sorry—he wasn't as capable as the teacher thought. And it seemed he really had let everyone down, though he himself didn't understand why it had turned out this way.
"You're the student your teacher is most proud of."
The homeroom teacher added another line.
Song Nanshan patted his shoulder, just like when he'd taught him how to pursue a girl back then. From the inner pocket of that upright suit, he pulled out a piece of paper and handed it over. It was a photograph:
"This is the graduation photo from back then. You didn't take one, so I kept it for you all this time. I happened to bring it this time, thinking maybe I'd run into you. Here, take it."
With that, he got out of the car. Before leaving, he cracked a joke:
"I already paid for developing the photo. No need to pay me back."
Then the car door slammed shut heavily. He was like a sharp swordsman—he seemed to have said a whole lot, but what he really wanted to say was just three sentences. Like drawing a sword and swinging it countless times, when really only three strikes went for the throat.
In the sealed space, Zhang Shutong silently accepted the photograph.
It was their middle school graduation photo, with a banner overhead reading "Class of 2012, Yingcai Middle School Graduates."
Old Song had pulled up a stool to sit in the center of the front row. As homeroom teacher, he sat with his legs spread wide.
He himself was in the fourth row on the right, with his old friends all gathered around him. Du Kang was making an exaggerated pose. Qingyi's perpetually deadpan face showed a slight smile. Ruoping was right behind him and Qingyi, making bunny ears at both of them. He'd just turned around and caught her at it, rolling his eyes—and the camera had captured that exact moment.
He saw Lu Qinglian again too, standing in the back, as always expressionless. But at least she looked like a young girl, or rather, at least this was a color photograph... This photograph, held in his hands eight years later, showed faces that were actually the most familiar versions to him.
The surface of the photo had become sticky. Old Song was still that rough guy at heart. Memory was also viscous as water. Zhang Shutong just lay back in the passenger seat, staring at it in a trance.
He didn't know how long passed. The sky gradually darkened. He heard voices outside the car window—it was Old Song with his arms around Ruoping and Du Kang's shoulders.
He said with a laugh, alright, alright, what are you young people doing hanging around a funeral home? Before it gets dark, hurry up and go get some food. You used to be so close you were stuck together every day, practically sharing the same pants. After so many years apart, if you've got something that bugs you about each other, just say it. Drink till you drop.
Then Ruoping sighed, as if she'd turned back into that energetic little girl from years ago who got headaches from dealing with the three boys every day. She opened the car door. Du Kang was still a bit reluctant, but Ruoping glared at him:
"Why are you being more prissy than me?"
Du Kang climbed into the back seat with a sour face. He deliberately gave Old Song the seat. Back then, the homeroom teacher used to drive that little Focus with the four of them crammed inside, smelling cigarette smoke. Now it was reversed.
But Song Nanshan said he wouldn't go—having a teacher there would make them uncomfortable. Tonight, whether you cry or laugh or fight or scold, just be happy.
The three of them finally got in the car. Ruoping had become a carefree driver too. She drove the SUV onto the lakeside road, the scenery outside the windows rapidly retreating. She glanced at Du Kang in the rearview mirror, breaking the silence:
"Your place?"
"My restaurant's closed for a few days." Du Kang mumbled. "The old place then."
Ruoping nodded and fell silent again.
Everyone knew what "the old place" meant. Zhang Shutong said something to Ruoping and rolled down the window a bit. The lake was right outside the road. He felt the wind, as if seeing the silhouettes of four teenagers sitting on the shore fishing.
The car entered the urban area. There were more private cars on the small island now. Compared to eight years ago, the urban area was a bit more prosperous—but only a bit. The three of them knew this route all too well. Watching Ruoping take shortcuts through seven or eight turns, sometimes checking with Du Kang when she wasn't sure, the car finally slowed down at the entrance to the commercial street. There really weren't many people today—it still had that cold, deserted look.
The car could drive in. The SUV finally stopped in front of "Hometown Lake Fish Restaurant."
Zhang Shutong unbuckled his seatbelt. He got out of the car and surveyed the surrounding shops. This street was about the same as before—mostly two-story shopfronts, but the stores on the street had basically all changed.
That night when he and the homeroom teacher had plunged into the rain looking for the van was still vivid in his mind, but now he could no longer find that clothing store that sold scarves.
"Be grateful, city boy. What more do you want? It's not bad that this lake fish restaurant hasn't gone out of business." Seeing him lingering outside, Ruoping jabbed at him and took Du Kang inside to order food.
But hearing her words, Zhang Shutong's heart suddenly seized.
He finally realized where that vague sense of wrongness he'd felt since the regression came from:
Why was this commercial street...
Still here?
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