After finishing the class at the institution, Yu Jingyi took the bus back to her community with her bag on her back. The bag was still the one her father bought in the year she went to university, a sturdy and durable backpack. When she taught students, she was still the same as she was in high school, with a ponytail, glasses, and a backpack on her back. When she stood in the crowd, she looked like a high school student.
She walked into the house, and at a glance, there was a person growing on the chair.1长了个人 (literally “grew a person”) here is used to describe someone unexpectedly appearing or being present in an unusual way. The idiom is translated literally.
Wen Di leaned against the back of the chair, curled his legs, with his heels resting on the edge of the chair, folding his entire body into three sections. He hugged his knees with one arm and held a phone with the other, sliding the screen with an expression as if facing a great enemy, as if the opponent wasn’t an electronic device but a mortal enemy with deep-seated hatred. On the table, there was a plain notebook with a few scattered lines written on it.
Hearing the noise, the person on the chair turned his face: “You’re back.”
Yu Jingyi nodded, glancing at his serious expression: “What are you looking at?”
“Dragon’s Egg,” Wen Di shifted his gaze back to the screen, his eyes filled with hatred, “a novella by Robert Forward.”
“Who is this author?” Yu Jingyi was confused, “Why did you suddenly think of reading it?”
Wen Di smacked his lips, memories of the hotpot restaurant flashing through his mind. His face alternated between anticipation, embarrassment, and regret, finally settling on resentment: “To give that nitpicker a taste of their own medicine.”
“Who?” Yu Jingyi paused, recalling that his date was today, “Professor?”
“He’s on par with that blockhead next door.”
“What’s wrong?”
“He’s exactly the type of person who only criticizes the top 200 reviews on Douban,” Wen Di concluded decisively, “finding logical errors in the tiniest details, and doesn’t care about other people’s feelings at all.”
“Didn’t you say before? It’s normal for geniuses to have some quirks,” Yu Jingyi put down her bag and sat across from him, “maybe he’s just being meticulous.”
“I don’t care,” Wen Di said, “I’m going to give him a taste of his own medicine. I want him to know that no work in this world can withstand nitpicking.”
Yu Jingyi glanced at the notebook—so this was for making reading notes? “Any results so far?”
Wen Di ground his teeth, and the arm holding the phone began to tremble with anger: “None.”
“How is that possible?” Yu Jingyi said, “What novel has perfect logic?”
“Is this a novel?” Wen Di exclaimed, “It’s just neutron star science popularization!”
Yu Jingyi let out an ‘oh’, resting her arm on the table without continuing talking. The water cup was right by her hand, but after two hours of class, she didn’t show any intention of going to the kitchen to get water. Although she was usually quiet, today the silence was too much—so quiet it felt somber.
Wen Di tilted his head, watching his roommate for a while, then suddenly put his legs down from the chair and sat up straight: “What’s wrong with you?”
Yu Jingyi was slightly startled and looked up at him: “What? Nothing’s wrong.”
“Something’s not right,” Wen Di leaned forward, studying her expression, “Usually when you come back, you just complain of being tired, take a break and then go back to do your homework. Today, you’re both tired and down.”
“That’s just how work is,” Yu Jingyi said, “There are always a few days in a month when you feel work is meaningless, life is meaningless, and living is meaningless.”
This was the normal state for a working person, but Yu Jingyi was different. She was the kind of person who would keep moving forward even if she was stuck in the mud, even though every step would sink her deeper.
Wen Di thought for a moment and asked, “Did a student upset you?”
Training institutions had many tricks, and even one-on-one sessions were divided into different levels. Yu Jingyi relied on her academic qualifications to earn the title of ‘Gold Medal Teacher,’ and her students were all wealthy kids, just stepping into adolescence, who could drive someone crazy when they acted up.
“It’s just a small matter,” Yu Jingyi shook her head, “I don’t even know why I care.”
“If you care about it, it’s not a small matter,” Wen Di said, “Talk to me about it.”
Yu Jingyi hesitated for a moment, and perhaps the desire to confide won out as she started to speak: “Today was his first class, and I don’t know what the marketing teacher told him, but after he saw me, he was very disdainful.”
Wen Di frowned: “Disdainful about what?”
Yu Jingyi was silent for a moment, then said: “He said, wasn’t it mentioned when signing up that the teacher would be a beautiful alumna from a prestigious school? How come you look like this?”
Wen Di was stunned for a second, then slammed the table and stood up: “Where the hell did this blind brat come from? What the hell does he look like to have the nerve to comment on others?”
“He didn’t pay much attention in the class,” Yu Jingyi laid her hand flat on the table, staring down at her hand, “and after the class, he dropped out.”
Wen Di felt a surge of anger building in his chest. If that brat was in front of him, he’d want to slap him a few times to vent his frustration. “Don’t listen to his barking,” Wen Di said firmly, “You have fair skin, and you’re slim, what’s not to like? He’s just blind and doesn’t know how to appreciate it.”
“It’s okay,” Yu Jingyi said, “I’m a working person; I don’t take to heart a few words from a kid.”
“What do you mean a kid? He’s already learning English, but he can’t even speak human language?” Wen Di said, “Who does he think he is, commenting on a teacher’s appearance
Yu Jingyi thought for a moment: “His dad is the director of Huaxin ba. Anyway, they’re really rich.”
“What does that have to do with him? It’s not like he earned it,” Wen Di said, “By himself, could he even get into Cambridge? What a thing, daring to pick on a Cambridge PhD.”
Yu Jingyi corrected him: “PhD dropout.”
“Dropped out or not, you were still at Cambridge.”
Yu Jingyi smiled again, picked up her cup, and went to the kitchen to pour water. Wen Di turned his head to watch her drink the cup, then grab her backpack and return to her bedroom, closing the door behind her. With the Foreign Ministry’s written exam date approaching, she probably went back to studying.
Wen Di couldn’t understand why fate always seemed to enjoy tormenting a single person, and that surge of anger kept crashing pounding left and right, desperate for release.
Then, the doorbell rang.
Wen Di looked toward the door, his irritation growing stronger.
Could it be that annoying neighbor again ba.
He tiptoed to the door, squinted through the peephole, and let out a cold laugh before shoving his hands in his pockets and heading back to his room.
It was someone not worth opening the door for.
If it had been five years ago, he would have stormed out, grabbed the person outside, and accused them of trampling on his youth. Five years later, all those memories and resentments had collapsed inward like an aging star, shrinking until they became a void—a black hole of nothingness.
Nothing remained, except for its very existence.
The doorbell kept ringing, and Yu Jingyi seemed to be disturbed. She poked her head out to ask: “Who’s here?”
“An old grudge,” Wen Di replied.
Yu Jingyi hesitated for a moment, then quickly ran to the door and looked outside through the peephole. After observing the ex-boyfriend her roommate had cursed for five years, she turned her head and asked, “You’re not going to open the door? I think he’s planning to wait outside.”
“How did you know that?”
“He started smoking.”
Wen Di cursed under his breath and hurriedly opened the door.
He Wenxuan looked just as Wen Di imagined—gold-rimmed glasses, black suit, hair slicked back, a blend of Wall Street and Silicon Valley elite. His youthfulness had long been gone, leaving only the composure of a successful person.
Damn it, Wen Di thought, this guy picked the days when he was wearing old pajamas to show up, using his meticulously groomed appearance to highlight his shabby and unkempt appearance. No manners at all.
“Long time no see,” He Wenxuan said when he saw the person at the door, “I’ve returned to the country.”
Wen Di, expressionless, snatched the cigarette from his hand, threw it to the ground, and stomped on it hard. “Who gave you permission to smoke in front of someone else’s door?” He pointed at the gold-rimmed glasses and said, “It doesn’t matter if you find your own death. Why should I breathe in your secondhand smoke and die with you?”
He Wenxuan was silent for a while and said, “This welcome method is quite special.”
“Who’s welcoming you?” Wen Di began to consider the idea of moving, “If you have something to say, say it. If not, get lost.”
He Wenxuan tried to ignore the hostility in Wen Di’s words: “Are you free these days? Our high school classmates in Beijing are planning to get together. You know them—they’re all our friends.”
“Your friends,” Wen Di corrected him, “I don’t think those who laugh at me behind my back count as my friends.”
“You know, it’s easy to make stupid mistakes at that age, so don’t bother with them,” He Wenxuan said, “I’ve made a reservation at Songhe Tower. I remember you like to eat squirrel mandarin fish.”2Just in case anyone curious, squirrel fish is a well-known dish in Jiangsu cuisine, originally from Suzhou. It is prepared by deboning and carving a mandarin fish into an ornamental shape similar to a squirrel, and then deep-frying it in batter before dousing it in sweet and sour sauce
Wen Di took a deep breath and tried to take as long as possible to exhale: “I don’t like it, you do. Didn’t you notice that I never eat sweet dishes?”
The person opposite was silent for a moment and then said, “You often chose Suzhou-Hangzhou restaurants, so I thought…”
“Forget it,” Wen Di waved his hand, signaling he didn’t want to delve into it, “Talking about this is pointless.”
He Wenxuan sighed deeply, “It seems you still haven’t forgiven me yet.”
Wen Di scratched his head, standing in the doorway late at night, in the middle of Beijing’s winter—it was really wearing on him, but he didn’t want to let this person inside. “Why should I forgive you?” Wen Di said, “Why can’t you just accept the fact that I hate you?”
“That’s quite good,” He Wenxuan said, “You hate me, but at least I still have a place in your heart.”
Damn it, Wen Di thought, what a narcissist. He should have known that this kind of narcissism would attribute all emotions to himself, believing the whole world revolves around them.
Wen Di looked at him meaningfully and said, “Wait here for a moment.”
He Wenxuan was stunned by this sentence. Wen Di turned and walked inside, heading to the living room, where he took out a cylindrical spray can. He then returned to the doorway, raised his hand, and activated it.
Reddish-brown particles danced in the air, creating a choking mist that settled on the person opposite. The suit, glasses, and meticulously styled hair were all covered in the pungent powder.
He Wenxuan was overwhelmed, his eyes watering and nose running, as he coughed and tried to shake off his clothes, looking utterly disheveled.
“My roommate sometimes comes home late, so I bought a few cans of pepper spray,” Wen Di said as he set down the bottle and clapped his hands. “I wanted to do this five years ago, but unfortunately, you didn’t give me the chance.”
The shameful act of confessing one’s true feelings with snot hanging from one’s nose was something that no one with any self-respect would do, let alone the pride of heaven. He Wenxuan struggled to suppress his coughing, trying to appear unfazed.
“You drove here, right?” Wen Di said. “You’re not fit to take public transport in this state.”
He Wenxuan’s mouth twitched twice, hesitating to speak. He glanced at Wen Di, and then turned to go downstairs.
Wen Di watched his back, feeling the anger dissipate like clouds clearing after a storm.
He shut the door, walked into the bedroom, and collapsed onto the bed, feeling that this cursed day had finally eased a bit.
Then his phone buzzed, and Wen Di picked it up to see, rolling his eyes. It was that annoying neighbor next door again. How did this guy manage to come back and bother him so soon after being quiet for a while?
Neighbor: [Why is there a strange smell in the hallway? Pepper? Chili? And smoke?]
Does he have a dog’s nose, so sensitive?
Wen Di: [The seasoning was accidentally spilled.]
Neighbor: [Seasoning from the kitchen could get to the door?]
After a day of quarreling, Wen Di’s head was buzzing, and he was too lazy to argue, so ignored the person. To his surprise, when he returned from the bathroom after putting down his phone, messages were popping up one after another.
Neighbor: [Did someone come by just now?]
Neighbor: [Did you spill seasoning on someone?]
Neighbor: [It’s winter now and the windows in the corridor are closed. When will this smell go away?]
Wen Di sat cross-legged on the bed, browsing through the messages and raising an eyebrow. He didn’t respond, while the neighbor continued to talk to himself, putting on a one-man show.
Wen Di: [You don’t sleep in the corridor, so there won’t be any smell tomorrow morning.]
Neighbor: [This concerns my quality of life. I care about the cleanliness of public spaces. Could it be that you spill seasoning every time someone comes by ba?]
Wen Di: [None of your damn business.]
Neighbor: [Who was that person? A rival?]
Wen Di: [Your imagination is really something.]
Neighbor: [Old lover?]
Wen Di: [Go to sleep. ]
Neighbor: [You should have just not opened the door. Last time I came, you didn’t open the door, but you’re willing to open it for an old lover. What exactly are your standards for opening the door?]
Wen Di showed the expression of an old man on the subway,—this was completely off the rails.
Wen Di: [I think it’s better if we don’t meet.]
Neighbor: [Why?]
Wen Di shook his head, thinking to himself that despite being under 1.7 meters tall, this guy had quite a lot of nerve, casually meeting your mortal enemy offline: [We have so many old grievances, it will be ugly if we fight each other. ]
Neighbor: [So it’s okay to argue with an old lover?]
Is this person’s brain tied up with He Wenxuan? Did it form a dead knot?
Wen Di: [What does my ex-boyfriend have to do with you? Who are you to be meddling in my business? You keep picking on other people’s logic all day long. Do you think your own words are logical?]
Wen Di: [Also, how do you know so many details? Aren’t the cameras already removed? Don’t tell me you’re peeking through the peephole! You’re snooping into other people’s privacy, and you still say you’re not a pervert!]
Neighbor: [When you choose to argue in a public space like the hallway, you implicitly agree that it’s not private and that others can observe.]
Wen Di: [So you were indeed peeking through the peephole?]
After a dead silence, there was no further reply from the other side. Wen Di stared at his phone, and after a moment, suddenly realized something.
Didn’t he just win an argument with his neighbor?
He won?!
For the first time!
T/N: Title is from Two Gentlemen from Verona, Act 1 Scene 2. The literal translation for the title ‘在恋爱中的人们，不会一无表示’ would be ‘People in love will not be silent.’
