After dinner, the four set off together for the watermelon fields.
The nearly three-kilometer journey would normally have prompted Du Man to suggest driving, but the fish stew had been so delicious that everyone was stuffed to the point where standing felt like a burden—walking would help digest the meal.
Stars and moon accompanied them, with dogs barking in the distance; countryside evenings always brought peace to the soul. Huan Er and Du Man walked in the middle, with Jing Qichi and Song Cong guarding each side. The four joked that outsiders might mistake them for gang members meeting for a fight. After walking for a while, the view suddenly opened up to reveal vast watermelon fields stretching as far as the eye could see. Jing Qichi exclaimed, “So this is where all the watermelons we used to eat came from!”
“The ones you eat now might be from here too,” Du Man responded. “The trucks that came to collect today were from Beijing. Isn’t it funny? I might have been buying watermelons from my own family’s fields at high prices at school.”
Huan Er patted her stomach, “It’s just that your food was too good—I don’t even have room to squeeze through gaps anymore.”
“Walk it off, and if you get thirsty later, just pick any melon from the field to eat.”
Song Cong pointed at someone, “Perfect time for Huan Er to demonstrate breaking a melon with her bare hands.”
Du Man’s eyes grew round, “Bare hands… breaking a melon?”
“She’s good at it,” Song Cong smiled. “Watermelons, apples, and what else was it?”
“Pears,” Jing Qichi casually added.
“Pears?” Song Cong looked puzzled. “I don’t remember seeing her break any pears.”
That was the aftermath of the four-kilogram Ya pear incident. Later that day, they’d met Qiu Yang on the road, and seeing Jing Qichi carrying one in each hand, he’d insisted on helping “lighten the load.” Naturally, Jing Qichi was reluctant to give away the pears Huan Er had worked so hard to bring, so he offered the one he’d already taken two bites from. Qiu Yang, ever the perfectionist, complained about his stinginess and refused to eat after him. That’s when Huan Er stepped in, breaking the pear cleanly in half with her bare hands while both men watched, then handed the untouched half to the dumbfounded Qiu Yang. As for the conclusion—Qiu Yang later earnestly advised Jing Qichi, “You should probably practice more when you have time.”
“How could you know everything?” Jing Qichi recalled this memory and gave Song Cong a tsundere expression.
“Here we go again.” Song Cong shook his head helplessly, grabbing Du Man’s wrist, “Let’s go, this is painful to watch.”
Watching their friends’ retreating figures, Huan Er stopped walking. “Qichi, I need to tell you something.”
“Mm?”
“Next semester…” Huan Er lowered her head involuntarily, “I want to apply for joint training. The senior students who returned to our group say with my current situation it shouldn’t be a problem. Maybe England or America, if things go smoothly, I’d leave the year after next.”
Chen Huan Er’s path had already been broadened by herself, and it was growing ever wider and longer.
This was fact, and also the foreseeable future.
Jing Qichi took her hand, “Look at me.”
Huan Er raised her head.
“Am I the first to know about this?”
Huan Er hadn’t expected this response from him and nodded.
After the unpleasantness over the PhD decision, Huan Er understood that even for things still being decided, she should share with him first—in some ways, she felt they were bound together.
Or rather, she had learned to include him in her future.
“I’m really happy,” Jing Qichi’s mouth curved, creating a lovely arc on his right cheek.
“What else?”
“Well…” He couldn’t think of anything else at the moment. Seeing some wildflowers growing by the roadside behind her, he stepped forward to pick two, removed the leaves, and tucked the pure white little flowers into her bun, saying as he did so, “I’ll come to visit you during breaks.”
It wasn’t a romantic line, more like a plan.
But this was exactly what being with him felt like—steady, reassuring, even if they weren’t thinking or doing anything special, he would take care of everything.
Steadiness—that was the infinite tenderness in life’s gentle flow.
Huan Er wrapped her arms around his waist, “Do you think I’m heartless?”
“How could I?” Jing Qichi let her hold him. “Regarding your wishes, I’ll do everything I can to help you achieve them, and for those things beyond my ability, you’ll have to work hard yourself. But no matter what, when you feel like you can’t hold on anymore, I’ll always be there to catch you. Just remember that.”
“No matter when?”
“No matter when.”
“Qichi,” Huan Er hooked her arms around his neck, her eyes bright as stars, “You’re not just repaying a debt, are you?”
She had wanted to ask this question for a long time but felt it would sound too dramatic as if she didn’t trust his feelings for her.
She just wanted to know how much of the past still lingered there.
Jing Qichi looked at her and sighed softly.
“Never mind, I just…” Huan Er tried to let go.
But immediately, Jing Qichi pulled her into his embrace.
“My feelings for you,” he emphasized each word, “have never been about repaying a debt.”
Huan Er heard his heartbeat, just like when he first hugged her at eighteen.
“This is something that took me a long time to understand,” Jing Qichi said softly. “I used to always say I owed you one and would repay it next time, but I don’t even remember how much I owed or if I ever repaid it. So Huan Er, owing and repaying doesn’t matter to me at all. Maybe subconsciously, I just wanted to have more connections with you, to keep you by my side for a long, long time.”
Jing Qichi held her face in both hands, “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Mm.” Huan Er suddenly felt her worries were trivial and tried to explain, “I didn’t…”
The words she wanted to say were sealed by Jing Qichi’s kiss.
No explanation was needed—he understood everything.
She closed her eyes, stood on tiptoe, and completely lost herself in this soft summer night in the countryside.
The four returned to Du Man’s house at two in the morning.