Wei Qingyue was not done making her blush: “Do you still want to kiss me? If you do, come give me one more and I’ll go.”
Jiang Du’s temples throbbed.
She stood stiff and motionless. “If you don’t leave,” she said, “I’m going inside.”
Wei Qingyue sat in the car. The light was dim, and those deep, dark eyes turned on her with a gaze that was slow and unhurried. At last he was somewhat more proper:
“Tomorrow when you get off work, I’ll come pick you up again.”
Jiang Du thought: You have that much free time, do you?
She hadn’t even had a chance to properly sort through everything that had happened today. But how could she bear to refuse Wei Qingyue? She had always known — the moment Wei Qingyue appeared, her heart would go thud and she would tumble in, tumble straight into Wei Qingyue’s world.
“Then I’ll wait for you.” Jiang Du walked over and shut the car door for him. The window was half-down, and Wei Qingyue suddenly reached out and seized her hand, brought it to his lips, and let it rest there — and as he kissed it softly, his gaze gazed deeply, deeply at her, reaching into her very soul: “Wait for me. I’ll come find you.”
I’ll come find you.
Jiang Du wanted to cry again. Every single day I’ve been waiting for you. Waiting for you to come find me, to come into my world.
The car started. He slowly let go of her hand, and glided gently away.
That real sensation of touching a lover’s skin. That warmth. It was simply unbelievable.
At eleven twenty-seven, Wei Qingyue arrived home. The very first thing he did was call Jiang Du.
No answer. He thought she was probably washing up, and sent her a WeChat message.
Very shortly, her call came back. Wei Qingyue tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder, and poured himself a glass of water.
“I’m home. Were you busy just now?”
Jiang Du’s voice over the phone was soft and gentle. She said: “My grandmother was talking to me.”
Wei Qingyue smiled: “What did you tell her?”
“I said I had some things to take care of with a colleague and came home late.”
The sound of Wei Qingyue swallowing water came through clearly. On the other end, Jiang Du could almost picture his throat moving, and felt ashamed of her own imagination.
“Oh? Since when am I your colleague?” Wei Qingyue said playfully.
“Go wash up. Get some sleep.” Jiang Du said.
“Go home quickly, go wash up, go get some sleep,” Wei Qingyue mimicked her tone with uncanny accuracy. “We’re not even married yet, and you’re already managing me this closely.”
Hmm — who said anything about marrying him? Jiang Du fought hard to suppress the corners of her mouth from curving upward.
“You’re talking nonsense,” she said softly.
Wei Qingyue lounged back on the sofa, lazy and at ease.
“What I mean to say is — I have all kinds of bad habits, and I need someone to keep them in check.”
Jiang Du held her breath and said: “But I remember Zhang Xiaoqiang said that in middle school, you were at your most rebellious. If anyone ever suggested you change something, you’d fall out with them on the spot.”
“Is that so?” Wei Qingyue said lightly. “Why do you bother with Zhang Xiaoqiang? Why not come and ask me directly? I’ll tell you — right now, I’m just dying for someone to manage me. Of course, anyone other than Miss Ghostwriter still doesn’t cut it.”
He lifted his car keys and swayed them in the air, watching the Tweety Bird dangle.
Behind the Tweety Bird was the large clock on the wall. The room was very quiet. The clock ticked on and on. The housecleaning auntie had come down with a cold and hadn’t come to tidy up; the apartment was actually a little messy.
On Jiang Du’s end, there was a soft scramble: “I can’t talk anymore — my grandmother’s knocking on the door, asking why I’m not asleep yet.”
“Tell me you love me.” Wei Qingyue spoke up out of nowhere, his tone unusually forceful, spurred perhaps by the impending click of the call ending — a sudden sharp pang of his heart.
On the other end, the call had already been disconnected. Jiang Du hadn’t heard.
Wei Qingyue stared at the ceiling for a moment, lost in thought, until the sound of the ticking clock brought him back. He got up, opened his computer, and attended to new emails.
A man’s home — cold and bare. There was actually very little furniture. The kitchen was only used when the housecleaning auntie came. Many of his living habits were the same as when he was a boy: he had never liked tidying up. Without the auntie, Wei Qingyue could turn the apartment into a pigsty.
Though given how few things there were in the place, the odds of a genuine pigsty were still rather low.
He processed emails alone until very late. The lights were on. The room was large, as quiet as the depths of the sea. Wei Qingyue was like a solitary whale — maintaining its distance from the world, and yet infinitely close to it.
On his phone, there was a message from Zhang Xiaoqiang. She had left a note: Still have time this week?
She had arranged for him to see the most authoritative neurologist specialist she could find, and was reminding him to make time.
Contact with this old classmate had been maintained right up to the present day. The result was that Zhang Xiaoqiang had never given up on booking various doctors for him.
Wei Qingyue picked up his phone and replied with two words: No time.
It had always been no time.
He thought for a moment, then sent another message: I’ve seen Jiang Du.
---