Chapter 118: Provocation |
Zhang Shutong hung up the phone, and the weight on his heart finally lifted.
He stood quietly by the window. The sky had completely darkened, with the moon hanging high in the sky.
He could actually see the moon today—he'd almost forgotten what the moon looked like.
He held the medicine bottle in one hand like a wine glass, lifting it toward the moon in a distant toast.
Too bad Sailor Moon was fake.
Zhang Shutong couldn't absorb much energy from the moonlight and only wanted to sit back down and rest.
Returning to the hospital room sofa, Zhang Shutong covered himself with the down jacket. His eyelids started fighting again.
The news of Teacher Song's escape had given him a boost, but the effect of this stimulant didn't last long—or rather, it was precisely this news that made him relax.
Zhang Shutong thought of the story of Bigan having his heart cut out. The old saying went that vegetables could live without a heart, but what about people? The answer was naturally death—sure enough, the old man died right after hearing it.
His brain was now issuing an emergency order for him to sleep—the kind of sleep where even an alarm couldn't wake him. His head kept nodding down and jerking back up. Unable to bear it any longer, he desperately called out, "Nurse, nurse..."
The young nurse hurried over, thinking he was having some adverse reaction.
"What should I do if I keep wanting to sleep?" Zhang Shutong asked while fighting his eyelids.
"Then sleep," the young nurse said irritably. "The medicine you're on has that component. Wanting to sleep is perfectly normal—you can't defy the laws of nature, can you?"
"But I don't want to sleep," Zhang Shutong said weakly. "Is there anything that can perk me up?"
The young nurse laughed in exasperation: "Do you smoke?"
"No."
"Then there's nothing I can do." She thought for a moment. "You're pretty handsome—do you have a girlfriend? Maybe have a long phone chat with her?"
Zhang Shutong wilted even more at those words.
Please, please, I already have a fever—don't stab me again.
"There's really no other way?"
"Really no other way." This was the first time the young nurse had encountered such a strange request. "Even if you wanted to hang a rope from the ceiling or stab yourself with an awl, we don't have the facilities for that here."
Zhang Shutong nodded and continued fighting his eyelids.
Half-asleep, he felt someone sit down beside him. Zhang Shutong thought it was that guy listening to "Elopement" coming back, but then a hand reached out in front of him: "Want some? I'll share with you."
The young nurse handed him some sunflower seeds.
Zhang Shutong shook his head.
"You're quite something, aren't you? I went to the trouble of finding something to keep you awake, and now you don't want it." The young nurse pretended to be angry.
"My hands aren't free." Zhang Shutong explained.
"Then just put them on your clothes." She scattered a handful of sunflower seeds onto Gu Qiumian's down jacket. "Put the shells on there too. You can throw them away when you leave."
Zhang Shutong didn't want to dirty someone else's clothes, but the seeds were already there, so he picked one up and started cracking it. Sunflower seed flavor... turned out his head really was foggy—what else would sunflower seeds taste like?
"Thanks." Chatting with someone was good—it would help keep him alert. "Aren't you on duty?"
"Of course I'm on duty, how could I not be?" The young nurse cheerfully cracked seeds, crossing one leg over the other. "This is me being on duty. The chairs in the medicine preparation room are too hard."
Pretty wild for this little island—the hospital was wild, the nurse was wild, but he himself wasn't much better. As a patient, he was pretty wild too.
"What's with that look?" The young nurse switched which leg she had crossed. "You're the only one left anyway. For the sake of these sunflower seeds, don't snitch on me, okay?"
He raised his head and looked around, only now realizing the entire ward was empty except for him sitting on the sofa.
"It's almost ten o'clock now. Except for people coming in for emergencies in the middle of the night, who doesn't go home at this hour?" the young nurse added.
She was pretty carefree. Only after speaking did she realize it was inappropriate, and apologized: "I didn't mean anything by that. It's just that on our island, we really don't have people getting IV drips this late."
"What time will I be done?"
"Probably past eleven. What, you want to leave halfway through and come back tomorrow?"
Zhang Shutong shook his head—no. He was calculating that if he removed the needle around then and headed to the villa, the timing would be just right.
"You're pretty strange too. When I was in school and got sick, I couldn't wait to get better with one injection, sleep it off, and wake up with everything fine. Why are you forcing yourself like this?"
"I have things to do later." Zhang Shutong said absent-mindedly.
"Come on." The young nurse laughed. "If this were the city, I'd believe you, but where can you go on our island?"
"Not to play—to find someone." Zhang Shutong said, having eaten her sunflower seeds, so he was talking a bit more.
"Looking for a girl, this late at night?"
"How did you guess?"
"Female intuition is always sharp. So am I right?"
"More or less."
"What do you mean 'more or less'?"
"'More or less' means I'm just going to her house, but not to see her." Zhang Shutong said something that even he found obscure and hard to understand.
"What kind of melodramatic romance is this? Did you break that girl's heart?" They were communicating on completely different wavelengths.
"I don't know."
"Then that's exactly it." The young nurse finished her own seeds and grabbed some from his down jacket. "You young guys are all like this—you do things that hurt or upset people, but you don't even know what you did.
"Maybe." Zhang Shutong yawned lightly. "But I don't really care about that now."
"Then why are you still looking for her? Aren't you trying to win the girl's heart back?"
This young nurse wasn't very old. Her eyes widened—she'd already decided Zhang Shutong was a good source of entertainment for the night shift.
"To save her life, I guess."
Zhang Shutong said casually.
The content was absurd, yet she couldn't hear any trace of joking in his tone. His complexion wasn't good right now, and in her eyes, he really did look a bit cold and aloof—especially since he liked wearing black, and his phone hadn't left his hand since he sat down, as if he were carrying out some confidential mission and had just accidentally ended up at this small hospital for an IV.
The young nurse stared at him blankly for two seconds before bursting into laughter: "You look all cold and serious, but how can you be so smooth-talking? Stop with the nonsense—nowadays society is so safe, what girl's life needs you to save?"
Zhang Shutong took another stab to the heart.
Originally, it was supposed to be about saving her life.
Zhang Shutong thought to himself.
But who told her dad to come back?
"I'm not joking with you—I see you keep staring at your phone. Are you waiting for a message from her?" the young nurse asked.
Zhang Shutong nodded. Once again, they were communicating on different wavelengths.
The young nurse offered more advice: "I think you should stop talking about those intangible things like saving lives now. If you want to win a girl back, be more down-to-earth. Always going on about 'I want to save your life' or 'I want to protect your safety'—those words are too big, too abstract. They're like tonight's moon—beautiful, right? But you can't touch it even if you jump. Better to just take her for an evening walk—that's more touching. All that stuff about protecting lives—I think protecting her mood is more important.
"If you really want to protect her safety, then prove it with actions. Saying ten thousand empty words isn't as good as keeping her on the inside when crossing the street. If you really care about her in your heart, then stop waiting for messages. You could wait all day and it still wouldn't compare to just asking her directly."
Zhang Shutong thought it made a lot of sense, but he really wasn't talking about intangible things.
And he was almost led astray—he wasn't trying to pursue a girl.
He was just so tired and uncomfortable that he wanted someone to talk to.
And you've got the situation completely backwards—she doesn't think I'm talking empty words. She just doesn't want to trouble me anymore.
But Zhang Shutong couldn't explain the details. He was very grateful she was willing to chat with him: "I think I understand now."
The young nurse asked again: "I'm going to be honest—since you say you don't care what she thinks anymore, why are you still looking for her?"
"It's not that I don't care. It's that I never know what she's thinking." Zhang Shutong admitted defeat for once. "I used to think I understood, but I didn't."
"There's no help for that. There really are girls who are hard to read. Just try harder."
"I've already tried." Zhang Shutong said without thinking. "The results just weren't great."
"What do you mean?"
"Whenever I try to do something, I always do it wrong."
"What do you mean? What did you do to her?"
"Like I took her fishing, but she didn't like fishing; I took her to watch a movie at school, but we didn't finish it; I took her out for the day, but it didn't seem to go that well; I wanted to help solve a case, but almost caused a misunderstanding; she asked me to watch a movie, and I left halfway through every time. I..." Zhang Shutong was listing them off like treasures, but paused here before adding, "I finally went home, and then she got into trouble again."
The young nurse was shocked: "No way, little brother. Listen to me—definitely don't go looking for her. Even if you do, it'll be pointless. Just wash up and go to sleep. You didn't just try your best—you tried your absolute best to mess things up!"
Zhang Shutong smiled at that: "A little bit, yeah."
She sighed: "In that case, nobody can help. She'd be doing well just not holding a grudge against you."
"She actually hasn't really resented me much."
"Then good luck? I feel like you've already tried your best. Maybe just sleep for a while and go find her tomorrow." The young nurse yawned. "I can't hold out anymore anyway. I'm heading out—remember to call when you need to change the medicine."
Zhang Shutong gave a soft "mm."
As she left, she turned off the lights on her way out, leaving only one old wall lamp, barely alive and flickering.
The white walls had peeling paint—better when it was noisy, because when it got quiet, there was only desolation.
Only Zhang Shutong remained in the ward. His head started drooping again, but heaven seemed unwilling to let him sleep. His phone rang again.
Zhang Shutong looked up—it wasn't a message from anyone, but a friend request.
He never added strangers on QQ, but this one was special. The note said:
"I'm Qiumian's best friend. It's urgent about her. Please accept!"
Zhang Shutong instinctively frowned.
He didn't know why, if something was wrong with Gu Qiumian, her best friend would be looking for him.
He clicked accept. Sure enough, it was urgent—the other party immediately sent a video call.
A short-haired girl appeared on screen, showing her canine teeth as she smiled: "Hello, handsome. I thought you wouldn't accept."
"It's you." Zhang Shutong held up his phone in realization. It was Little Secretary.
"Fate, right?"
"What happened to her?"
"You really talk to everyone like this, huh? Hey, aren't you curious how I got your QQ?"
"If there's nothing wrong, I'm hanging up." Zhang Shutong determined this was a prank call.
"Don't hang up! I really have something to tell you." She said urgently. "Don't you want to hear how Qiumian spent her day today?"
"No."
"If you really didn't want to know, you'd have hung up already. You hesitated, you wavered, you're shaken." She seemed to be declaring victory.
What a perceptive person. Zhang Shutong sighed: "Fine, go ahead."
"Could your attitude be any better? I'm doing you a favor here, comforting Qiumian and then coming to comfort you in the middle of the night. Even if there's no credit, at least acknowledge the effort!"
"Why were you comforting her?" Zhang Shutong asked, unusually curious.
She suddenly narrowed her eyes: "Brother, playing dumb isn't cool."
Zhang Shutong couldn't deal with these overly friendly girls, but since he was looking for something to keep him alert, he nodded for her to continue, treating it like a late-night radio show.
But the host's first words were shocking: "Did you take Qiumian's down jacket?"
"You know?" Zhang Shutong asked, surprised. Some of his drowsiness drifted away.
"So she discovered it was missing, got upset, and you comforted her?" Zhang Shutong asked, even more baffled.
"Ah, right, right. She found out you secretly took her down jacket and got really angry. You have to compensate her with two—fine, whatever! What is all this!" Little Secretary wailed. "Are you seriously telling me you didn't notice? You can't really be that dense. Handsome, please, can you recall what happened?"
Zhang Shutong didn't have the brain capacity to recall. He thought, girl, you weren't even there—how do you know more than me, an actual witness?
"Just tell me straight."
"Tell you what? I wasn't there!" She sighed. "Fine, I'm sending you these. Look at them yourself."
His phone vibrated twice. Zhang Shutong really didn't have the energy to play guessing games. He'd decided that if these two photos were still playing coy, he'd hang up immediately.
He looked down, opened the images—he could practically see his phone bill draining again.
The images were photos taken with a phone.
More precisely, they were photos of photos.
—Using one phone to photograph photos on another phone's screen.
The surroundings must have been dark when the photos were taken, and the quality was blurry, but serviceable—anyone could recognize the content at first glance.
Because the first photo was of something he'd experienced.
It was inside a car, with him sitting in the driver's seat, half-turned around.
Zhang Shutong remembered this. It was from that driving lesson, when he'd embarrassingly stalled the engine and Gu Qiumian had taken the opportunity to snap a photo.
He thought, why are you secretly photographing your best friend's photos to send to me?
Do you think this is some amazing discovery?
In the past, he might have asked what she meant, but now he just wanted to quickly swipe to the second photo.
Zhang Shutong froze.
The first photo was of him. The second was also of him.
But this one was a bit chilling.
The background was the villa's courtyard. The time was early morning.
The perspective was from a second-floor room.
He was in the center of the frame, wearing an ill-fitting down jacket, head down shoveling snow.
"So? What do you think?" the girl asked.
Zhang Shutong moved his gaze from the screen and instinctively asked: "Where did you take this from?"
"From Qiumian's phone, obviously. I secretly photographed it. I went to her house today!"
He looked at the screen again. How short that down jacket was could be seen clearly—whenever he bent over, it exposed his waist, and it was wrapped so tightly that it looked like a swiss roll.
The boy in the photo was covered in snow, and this embarrassing scene had been captured.
The photo was blurry. He didn't know if it was because the secret photographer had been too hasty... or if the photo had always been unclear, because its owner's hands had been shaking with laughter when taking it?
What was she thinking at that moment?
"Why would she have this photo?" Zhang Shutong asked, astonished.
The girl said: "How would I know? Think about it yourself."
Zhang Shutong could clearly recall what happened that day.
It was December 7th, a Friday that was completely different.
He'd woken up early from the second-floor guest room, discovered the courtyard buried under heavy snow, went downstairs, and was called out by Teacher Song to shovel snow.
The snow had accumulated very deep, almost burying a quarter of the fence. He'd shoveled a path wide enough to pass through from the front gate.
If he remembered correctly, the photo was taken at that time.
But why?
Zhang Shutong clearly remembered Gu Qiumian should still have been sleeping then.
Though he'd knocked on her door beforehand out of some concern, and because he knew she had low blood sugar issues. After she slowly responded once, he'd left.
Shouldn't she have gone back to sleep?
"Still haven't figured it out?" the girl prompted at just the right moment. "Let me help you remember—do you really think she had no idea you left without a word wearing her jacket?"
Whether Gu Qiumian knew or not aside, Zhang Shutong now only had one question: "How do you know?"
"Of course I know! I just asked her tonight. I wanted to borrow this down jacket when I was leaving, and she said she'd lent it to someone yesterday. I didn't think much of it at first, but then I thought—that's not right!
"I know all of Qiumian's female friends. Nobody came to see her these past few days, so it could only be someone else. Plus I'd seen her photo album before and caught a glimpse of this photo. I thought—could it be that you took it?"
Her deduction was beautiful, leaving one in awe. Little Secretary delivered the final blow: "Sure enough, I video called you, and you really were wearing it.
"But I have to say, senpai, could you be less slovenly? If you're borrowing someone's clothes, could you take better care of them? She lent it to you to keep warm, and here you are cracking sunflower seeds in it?"
Zhang Shutong felt a bit embarrassed. He shook the down jacket, dumping the shells onto his lap: "But you got one thing wrong." He explained. "It's not as complicated as you think. My teacher pulled it out. He probably didn't even know whose clothes they were—he just grabbed whatever he saw."
Little Secretary was frustrated: "I'm telling you, you're as confused as someone with a fever. How would your teacher know where her down jacket was? Is he her family's housekeeper or her dad? Then I'll ask you this—where was she at the time?"
Zhang Shutong was about to say she'd gone upstairs, but the words caught in his throat as he remembered he'd gone out to make a phone call, and when he came back, she'd gone upstairs.
"Maybe it was the housekeeper..."
"What housekeeper? Without permission, would a housekeeper randomly lend someone's clothes to someone else?" Xu Zhiruo said angrily. "I'm just trying to say, didn't you, you blockhead, notice that Qiumian was the one who got that down jacket for you?"
Zhang Shutong was stumped.
Because he really hadn't noticed.
Or rather, it wasn't really possible.
Because when he'd gone out, she'd already gone upstairs. It was Teacher Song who'd picked up the down jacket from the sofa and handed it to him. Though after finishing shoveling snow, he'd put the clothes back in the closet—he hadn't been clear where Teacher Song had gotten it from.
Zhang Shutong could clearly remember every detail of that morning: like Teacher Song saying the snow was too heavy and school was cancelled, good news and bad news, which did they want to hear first;
Like how Gu Qiumian had been inexplicably aloof that day, and the housekeeper saying that if she'd done something embarrassing the day before, she'd deliberately put on a stern face the next day;
Like how he'd promised not to hide things from her anymore, but still ran off to the mountain without a word;
Like how the tires weren't delivered that day, so they were stuck at the villa. They could have spent a leisurely, quiet morning. The snow was thick, freezing people to the bone, and even the Doberman stayed in its little shelter to eat.
And like how he'd still called his mom for help, and by the time he returned, Gu Qiumian had gone upstairs.
And how when he'd returned to his room, he found the TV playing the movie they hadn't finished the night before, but by the time he realized it, the living room was empty—the person gone, the tea cold.
Finally, he'd rushed out wearing that down jacket, only focused on moving faster, never once looking back.
Zhang Shutong could clearly remember every single detail, but when these details were strung together, they suddenly became something he couldn't understand. Only now did he realize they'd been hiding another layer all along.
And he'd never discovered it.
The voice on the phone said again: "Look at that photo again—the bottom right corner!"
Zhang Shutong looked at the photo again. There was actually some doodling in the corner—first a simple number, 1207, the date. He flipped back to the driving lesson photo. It had one too.
December 7th, Day Three.
And:
December 6th, Day Two.
This seemed to be some kind of commemoration.
But Zhang Shutong didn't understand what was being commemorated.
He only knew that the day he and Gu Qiumian became deskmates was December 5th, the first day after the regression, when their relationship officially thawed.
But what did it mean to Gu Qiumian?
The only thing he could make out was that there was also a very ugly doodle in the corner of the photos—really ugly, so ugly that Zhang Shutong was all too familiar with them. They looked like sheep or clouds, the handiwork of a certain young lady when she was in a good mood.
When she was in a good mood, she'd breathe on glass, her fingers dancing out a bunch of messy lines. She said they were sheep, but to Zhang Shutong they'd always looked more like silly faces.
So Zhang Shutong often teased her for ruining the glass, but now what was being ruined were two photos containing himself.
He looked at these two photos in silence.
This was a girl who still used hunt-and-peck typing. What was she thinking as she clumsily drew those patterns?
He didn't know.
Zhang Shutong only knew that there had been a girl who'd woken up early that day. With some unknown feeling, she'd pulled back the curtains to see pristine white snow, silent wilderness, and a small black figure on the white snow. She'd smiled and pulled the curtains again, then fumbled for her phone, took a photo through the gap, her whole body shaking with laughter.
This photo had remained on her phone without Zhang Shutong knowing at all. She'd written down a string of numbers—what was she commemorating? What had she been feeling when she drew that doodle on her phone's glass?
Many people are like raindrops sliding down the glass window of your life. Rain can be heavy or light, it can flow torrentially or trickle in streams, but it will always pass in an instant.
But aren't some people like the fog left on glass?
Making it hard to see clearly, yet you can't bear to wipe it away?
And he'd still broken his word in the end.
That morning, he'd still left alone, leaving her in that villa. Tonight was the same.
It was a palace-like building that stayed lit even at night, but Zhang Shutong also knew it was the most isolated location on the entire island—no matter what, you couldn't see the city's brilliant lights from there.
There were always countless reasons. Because it was dangerous, he couldn't bring her. Because it was important, he couldn't tell her. These reasons were all valid...
But what would she think, always being kept in the dark?
He hadn't even said goodbye when he left that day.
He'd wanted to save his farewell for next time, because he didn't know what to say. But there wasn't always a next time.
Zhang Shutong finally felt deeply exhausted.
He'd successfully messed something up again.
Life wasn't a case. Even if you successfully found all the clues, they still might not lead to the right answer.
"Do you finally understand?" the girl said coldly. "Qiumian said I was wronging you, but you don't actually think sending a few bland greetings on QQ counts as caring, do you?
"Anyone can do that. Tons of guys who have crushes on her would be willing—they can't even get her contact info. Plus, do you think you're that funny or charming? You're not even the type who's good at making girls happy. You're as cold as a block of ice. Don't you realize..."
"I know now."
"What do you know?"
Zhang Shutong said quietly: "Actually, I haven't really tried my best yet."
"Please, senpai, what best effort? Are you making a joke? I already comforted Qiumian—she's completely let go. What's the point of talking about trying now? Stop pestering her, okay? Even if you try your best, it'll just be another message asking 'how are you.' Save your data plan. Besides, she has bodyguards and her dad at home. What do you need to do..."
But before she could finish, he interrupted her.
"Not that kind of trying. You don't understand."
"What don't I understand... hey, hey, what are you doing?"
She saw him raise his hand. Her gaze followed—he was pulling out the IV needle. Only then did she notice he seemed to be in a hospital, hooked up to an IV.
His voice was low but became forceful, resolute: "What I mean is, you don't understand what I mean by not having tried my best. You also don't understand what I'm doing. But that's okay. It's enough that I understand."
He seemed to suddenly become a different person. He became colder, yet also more determined.
The phone's perspective rose. Xu Zhiruo met Zhang Shutong's pitch-black eyes.
He'd already pulled out the needle—yanked it out by force. She gasped watching it, but he just smiled at her: "Thanks. I've already messed up a lot of things. I can't mess this up again."
He added: "I'm hanging up first. I need to keep one hand pressing on my vein, or tomorrow they'll have to stick the needle in my foot."
Then he turned off his phone.
Zhang Shutong finally understood what he'd been waiting for.
What persistence, what explanations, what pride—all lies.
He was just hesitating.
Since her father had come, this matter shouldn't be his responsibility.
Why?
Nothing but petty calculation.
Calculating whose responsibility this matter should be. Since someone more capable was handling it, didn't that mean he was no longer needed?
The ridiculous part was that after all that calculating, he'd just retreated like this.
The saddest thing in life is deceiving yourself.
People are always troubled by the question of whether something is worth it, but why consider so much? Whether the girl was naive or shrewd, whether he'd be taken for a lunatic, whether there was trust... these were never things he should consider.
What he should consider was how to get that girl out of the villa. Whether through emotion or reason, even if it meant kidnapping—he absolutely couldn't let her stay in the villa tonight, stay in that second-floor room.
His condition couldn't be called good right now. His head felt heavy, his body felt cold. His IV-removal skills were far inferior to a professional's—blood was now seeping from his skin. If he could, he really wanted to just sleep and never wake up.
But had he really tried his best?
No. Not yet.
His motorcycle still had gas. His body could still move. His brain was still functioning.
If that was the case, why did he have to wait until midnight to circle the villa?
Zhang Shutong just didn't want to see that silver hair clip fall to the ground. That would bring regret.
What opportunity to save for midnight? He rubbed his face, forcefully pressing the tape over his wound. Opportunities only ever existed in the present moment.
It was ten o'clock now. He still had two hours to get Gu Qiumian out of the villa.
Zhang Shutong started running again.
His legs were long, so he ran fast. In just a few steps, he was about to leave the ward. The young nurse heard the commotion and rushed over: "Hey, hey, hey, are you kidding me? Why are you running off again?"
"Sorry, I need to go win that girl back!" Zhang Shutong shouted, his voice echoing in the empty ward. "Though I'll have to trouble you to stick me with another needle tomorrow, you can't just keep talking empty words..."
The young nurse was anxious and exasperated behind him, caught between crying and laughing. But Zhang Shutong had no time to explain.
He flew down the stairs, clutching that black down jacket, mounted his bike, and with his other hand flipped through his contacts to find Gu Qiumian's number. He hadn't called this number in twenty-four hours. He was about to dial;
However.
A call came in at the same moment.
It was from Gu Qiumian.
Zhang Shutong's heart seized violently.
An ominous premonition surged up.
As if he were about to receive some terrible news.
...
But instead—
"You're still out there right now, aren't you? Riding around on that motorcycle?"
Zhang Shutong froze in place, instinctively looking back.
"Why are you so stupid! Didn't I tell you I was fine, I was fine! If I hadn't called, were you planning to keep lying to me, riding around out there all night until midnight, then collapsing somewhere with a fever, who knows where?
"Didn't I tell you countless times before—go home and rest! Don't hide things from me! Why won't you listen!"
"I..." Zhang Shutong felt like Gu Qiumian and her best friends must have special abilities—how did they know where he was?
"From that day on, you wanted to take me away, as if just staying home would mean something bad would happen, but no matter how I asked, you wouldn't say anything!"
"Calm down, let me explain..."
"But I don't want to be calm or rational or hear your explanations right now!"
For some reason, her voice was trembling. Her burning breath seemed to cross through the receiver to reach him: "Come get me. I'll leave with you right now!"