After leaving the hospital’s outpatient building, Qing Hang ran a few steps to hail a taxi. The driver stopped in the wrong position, and there were steps on that side, making it inconvenient for Cheng Wanyue in her wheelchair.
She wasn’t wearing shoes, and her ankle was covered with a medicated plaster, but her face showed no concern for herself. Coming to the hospital was like taking a stroll for her.
With her phone broken, she had nothing to play with. Qing Hang had only been gone for a few minutes, but she had already struck up a conversation with the auntie at the entrance. The auntie said her hair color was beautiful, and she smiled, complimenting the auntie on being fashionable and even giving her the address of a hair salon.
Qing Hang opened the sun umbrella to shade her from the sun. “Should I call Cheng Yanqing to pick you up, or should we buy you a pair of shoes first?”
“He’s still at work and especially busy these days. I lost my keys and got locked out yesterday. He had to take time off to come back and open the door for me, and he was criticized by his supervisor.” Cheng Wanyue looked up at him. “Even with shoes, I could only hop on one foot, and without support, I could hop five meters at most. I’m a bit hungry, let’s go eat first.”
The entrance was still a few steps away from where the taxi was parked. He looked at Cheng Wanyue’s feet, probably debating whether to carry her on his back or in his arms.
The auntie beside them said, “The temperature is high today. Get in the car quickly. I’ll help return the wheelchair for you.”
“Auntie, you’re so kind. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Wish you a speedy recovery.”
Just as Cheng Wanyue stood up supporting herself on the wheelchair’s armrests, Qing Hang turned around instinctively, waiting for her to hop onto his back. He supported her body from behind with one hand, then handed her the umbrella handle.
He was actually feeling hotter, rushing back and forth, paying fees and collecting medicine. His forehead and neck were covered in sweat.
It only got cooler once they were in the taxi. Cheng Wanyue used his phone to locate a restaurant near her home and asked the driver to follow the navigation.
She had tissues in her bag and took one out, placing it on the back of his hand.
Her nail polish wasn’t flashy, matching the color of her hair. The ring finger had glitter that reflected the sunlight with a sparkle. Qing Hang looked away, took off his glasses, and used the tissue to wipe the fog from the lenses.
That half-wet tissue was still clutched in his palm even after they got out of the car.
The taxi stopped outside a noodle shop. Cheng Wanyue couldn’t cook, and Cheng Yanqing used to be a disaster in the kitchen—he could even burn the pot while cooking instant noodles. Later, he gradually learned to prepare a table of dishes, but he couldn’t be at home twenty-four hours a day. When he went to work, Cheng Wanyue often came here to eat noodles.
The taste was good, and it was clean and hygienic.
Cheng Wanyue’s favorite was the spicy oil topping at this place—spicy and fragrant, with small dried fish inside.
Qing Hang was the one who paid, but it was as if she were treating him. As soon as they sat down, she ordered two bowls of soup noodles, sour soup for herself and chicken soup for the other.
They sat across from each other at the table. After Qing Hang sat down, Cheng Wanyue placed her foot on his shoe. She lowered her head to look at the medicated plaster on her foot and forgot to tell the server not to add cilantro.
When served, both bowls of noodles had bright green cilantro in them.
Before she could say anything, Qing Hang picked up his chopsticks and moved all the cilantro to his bowl. The chicken soup noodles were originally very mild, but now there were also a few drops of red oil floating on top.
He couldn’t eat very spicy food, but Cheng Wanyue loved spicy food. Even when she had a cold or fever, she wouldn’t eat porridge but instead wanted sour spicy noodles and spicy hot pot.
Outside, the scorching sun was blazing, heating the ground to a high temperature, but the shop had air conditioning and was shielded from the sun.
Qing Hang stood up. “Wait here, I’ll go see if there’s a place nearby selling slippers.”
“No need to buy any, I have some at home,” Cheng Wanyue hadn’t finished eating either; she had had a hearty breakfast. “I live on this street, just 300 meters ahead.”
So Qing Hang picked up the high heels and carried her on his back as they walked along the road.
The road was lined with locust trees on both sides. The wind swayed the leaves left and right, and the shadows on the ground also drifted gently.
Cheng Wanyue had put away the sun umbrella. Her arms loosely encircled Qing Hang’s neck. The weather was hot, and combined with her drowsiness, she was already leaning on his shoulder and yawning shortly after leaving the noodle shop.
The shirt was slightly thick and had become damp with sweat, clinging softly to his back.
The two fell into silence again, yet there was a wordless intimacy.
Three hundred meters wasn’t far, about the same length as that alley in Baicheng. No matter how slowly they walked, they couldn’t escape the pursuit of time.
…
Cheng Guo’an described Cheng Wanyue’s academic situation in one sentence: “She doesn’t have any weak subjects; she’s bad at all of them.”
His joking tone carried some helplessness. Both he and his wife, Yang Huimin, were graduates of prestigious universities. The pregnancy had gone smoothly, and both children had grown up without illness or disaster, so their brains should not have suffered any damage. Yet neither of them excelled in their studies, each worse than the other.
Cheng Guo’an had even taken them to the hospital to test their intelligence. Their IQs were normal, which meant their minds simply weren’t focused on studying—they weren’t stupid.
Before going to the Cheng house, Qing Hang had prepared a tutoring plan based on his study habits, but it all went to waste when faced with Cheng Wanyue. Not a single item was useful.
Cheng Guo’an and Yang Huimin both had to attend a meeting in the city. Before leaving, they had washed and cut fruit and brought it into the room.
Cheng Wanyue promised she would diligently do her homework, but as soon as the front door closed, her true nature emerged—she couldn’t even wait for her parents to go downstairs.
“Qing Hang, can you do these papers for me?”
“You have to do all these papers yourself. I’ll teach you the problems you don’t understand.”
“Why are you so stubborn?” She was a bit impatient but tried to persuade him. “If you don’t tell and I don’t tell, they won’t know whether you’re tutoring me or playing. If you help me write the homework, I’ll ask my dad to pay you more.”
Qing Hang wasn’t moved in the slightest. “No.”
“But I only want to listen to people I like explain problems to me. I only listen to people I like. If you can make me like you, I’ll listen to you.”
She took out her game console and found a comfortable position on the bed, her back against the pillow, left leg crossed over her right, giving him a challenging look. “But right now, I dislike you. There’s no one I dislike more than you.”
But at that time, Qing Hang didn’t know that what she disliked was studying.
They had only met a few times, not even friends yet, and when she said she disliked him, he believed she disliked him.
“Cheng Wanyue, I have no obligation to worry about your grades, nor am I trying to earn money from Uncle Cheng. I just think if you don’t learn well, it will make me seem useless.”
Cheng Wanyue was indifferent, shrugging casually. “Well, then, try your best.”
Though they were in the same room, she played her games while Qing Hang focused on his work. It was as if a line had been drawn between them.