E | Chapter 10

On May 3rd, the last day of a brief holiday, Yu Zhinian took a trip to Xin City.

Traveling by high-speed train from Ning City to Xin City only takes an hour, with plenty of trains available, but because of the holiday, even though he booked more than a week in advance, he could only get a ticket for the third.

At noon, he arrived at Xin City’s train station, where Professor Zhao came to pick him up.

The academic circle in sociology is relatively small, and soon after Yu Zhinian returned to the country at the end of last year, Professor Zhao reached out, inviting him to meet, saying they could do so in Ning City or Xin City, and at whatever time and place he preferred.

Professor Zhao had invited him three or four times, but it was always at inconvenient times; Yu Zhinian’s studies kept him busy, with a packed schedule and heavy pressure from his thesis, so he hadn’t managed to make time to meet.

Now that he was about to return to school, he finally found a moment and decided to visit Professor Zhao on his own initiative.

The newly constructed Xin City train station was spacious. After disembarking and reaching the exit, he immediately spotted Professor Zhao standing not far away.

Professor Zhao and Yang Ke bore some resemblance in appearance and were just as eye-catching in a crowd. Wearing a shirt and trousers, he was only slightly shorter than Yang Ke, but he had aged considerably since the last time Yu Zhinian had seen him.

When he spotted Yu Zhinian, Professor Zhao greeted him with a smile and led him toward the underground parking garage.

“It’s my first time picking someone up at this new station,” he said, “I spent quite a while circling around and even had to call my student to ask which door was closest.”

Noticing the car keys in his hand, Yu Zhinian saw they belonged to the same Nissan from ten years ago, with the same green LEGO pea-pod keychain that hadn’t been replaced.

The keychain was worn, showing signs of age, but it was kept spotlessly clean, as was the car.

Feeling somewhat uneasy, Yu Zhinian took the passenger seat where Yang Ke used to sit and waited silently for Professor Zhao to start the car.

“Is there anywhere in particular you’d like to go?” Professor Zhao asked him, “You haven’t had lunch yet, have you? What would you like to eat?”

Not wanting to trouble him, Yu Zhinian replied, “Let’s just go to your school.” He fibbed, saying he’d heard from friends at Xin University that the new campus cafeteria was both tasty and affordable.

Professor Zhao tilted his head slightly, as if glancing either at him or the rearview mirror, then paused for a moment and agreed.

“But the new campus is a bit far,” he added.

Xin City, being a coastal city, is famously windy.

Professor Zhao drove onto the cross-sea bridge highway leading to the school, accelerating to over a hundred kilometers per hour. Despite the windows being closed, the wind outside was loud, like waves crashing against the car.

The sea on both sides of the bridge was a light blue, with an expanse of land stretching out behind them.

The wind noise drowned out most of the car’s music, creating the impression that the vehicle might be whisked up and tossed into the sea at any moment.

After a long silence, Professor Zhao finally spoke up, “Zhinian, these past two years have been hard on you.”

Yu Zhinian looked out at the distant land, remaining silent.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to respond; he simply didn’t know what to say.

To say it hadn’t been hard would be untrue.

Often, late at night in his dorm room, he’d think that if he’d gone against all odds before starting this path and insisted on marrying Yang Ke, tying the two of them together, at least he would have been happy and not feeling as miserable as he did now.

But saying it was hard seemed overly delicate, and there was no need for that.

Besides, being selfish was wrong. This was something Yu Zhinian understood.

Professor Zhao had even mentioned it to him once.

Receiving no response from him, Professor Zhao asked another question, “Have you kept in touch with Yang Ke?”

“No,” replied Yu Zhinian.

After a few seconds of silence, Professor Zhao mentioned that Yang Ke’s career had been progressing fairly well recently and that they’d spoken on the phone just a few days ago.

“That’s nice,” Yu Zhinian offered, sounding somewhat forced. “My thesis is almost done too.”

Professor Zhao said he was aware of Yu Zhinian’s topic, “Wilson praised you to me. He came to our school for an exchange in February and brought two students. But I think you were out doing fieldwork at the time.”

“Mm,” responded Yu Zhinian. He hesitated, then changed the topic, “Zhinian, where are you staying in He City?”

“I rented a place,” Yu Zhinian replied. “The apartment Grandpa gave me is still occupied, so I can’t move in just yet.”

Not wanting Professor Zhao to pursue the conversation further—fearing it might eventually circle back to his relationship with Yang Ke—he braced himself and launched into a detailed account of his experience finding housing, from receiving his professor’s notice, to contacting a real estate agent, to the virtual tour and paying the deposit.

By the time he finished recounting everything, they had already exited the cross-sea bridge and were driving along the mountain road leading up to the school.

“Renting alone is certainly not easy,” Professor Zhao remarked sympathetically, then asked with concern, “Zhinian, if you have any financial issues, you must let Uncle know.”

“I’ve been staying on campus, so I don’t spend much on food and living expenses. I’ve saved a bit,” he said. “But if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask me.”

The mountain road leading to Xin University was exceptionally beautiful.

The sun was neither too harsh nor too weak, casting a light so pale it was almost white, with a slight hint of blue.

If he had to describe it, Yu Zhinian would say it was an innocent color—a color that wouldn’t make people judge him for it, a color he aspired to be.

Gazing intently at this sky, he told Professor Zhao, “No need,” then explained, “Grandpa has been giving me monthly allowances for my expenses, and it’s sufficient,” adding as a clarification, “You don’t need to be married to get it, just that it’s not as much.”

In truth, though, Yu Zhinian hadn’t touched that money; he’d relied solely on his scholarship for years, which had put him in a bit of a tight spot financially.

Professor Zhao paused briefly, then replied, “Alright.”

The quiet journey and the conversation already felt overwhelming to Yu Zhinian, but what followed—a sudden call—was even more awkward for him.

As they approached the university gate, Professor Zhao’s phone rang.

With his phone connected to the car’s Bluetooth, he must have instinctively pressed the button on the steering wheel, as Yang Ke’s voice suddenly echoed in the car.

“Dad,” said Yang Ke, “it’s me. Are you teaching?” His tone was calm and casual, carrying a hint of intimate familiarity that felt painfully unreachable for Yu Zhinian.

Professor Zhao glanced at him, perhaps deliberating, but out of courtesy, he did not switch to handset mode, instead replying, “No, I’m not teaching. It’s a holiday today.” After a slight pause, he added, “I’m actually with Zhinian now. It’s been a while since we last met, so we’re catching up.”

Yang Ke was silent for a moment or two before slowly responding with a drawn-out “Oh,” followed by, “Where are you?”

“At my school,” Professor Zhao answered, “showing him around the new campus.”

“New home?” Yang Ke asked.

“Yes,” Professor Zhao replied. Through the car’s audio system, they could hear Yang Ke murmur, “I haven’t been there myself.”

They drove through the campus gates, with Professor Zhao slowing the car down as he casually continued chatting with his son, “Didn’t I show you lots of photos? You gave it the highest praise for resembling our old house.”

“Did I?” Yang Ke replied, “Can’t remember; things have been busy.”

Sitting silently beside them, Yu Zhinian felt both awkward and somewhat stifled.

“Busy as you are,” Professor Zhao asked, “was there something you needed?”

After a brief pause, Yang Ke replied, “I’ve been working late; I’m a bit worn out.”

He did sound tired, and unable to help himself, Yu Zhinian checked the time and calculated the time difference—it was two in the morning in He City. A small pang of an indescribable ache stirred in his heart, so he looked out the window, focusing on the students walking along the sidewalk to distract himself.

Professor Zhao, clearly concerned, said, “Still, take care of yourself.”

Yang Ke responded with a quiet “Mm.”

After a few seconds of silence, Professor Zhao abruptly asked, “By the way, I ran into Wei Chi’s dad the other day, and he mentioned that Wei Chi told him you’re dating someone?”

The comment snapped Zhinian out of his thoughts, making him freeze, but before he could react, Yang Ke quickly denied it, “No.”

Perhaps it was a connection issue, but Yang Ke’s voice suddenly grew louder, startling Yu Zhinian.

“…Alright,” Professor Zhao replied, “He sounded so convincing that I thought it was true. But even though you’re busy, you should consider your personal life, too.”

“No time,” Yang Ke’s tone turned cold. “Not enough time for that.”

“Alright, alright,” Professor Zhao conceded.

Yang Ke still hadn’t ended the call, but by this point, Zhinian’s mind had drifted; his body seemed to go into defense mode. He could hear the words exchanged between Yang Ke and his father but wasn’t processing the content.

Finally, Professor Zhao parked the car by the campus dining hall. After exchanging a few more words, he ended the call.

Watching the LEGO pea pod keychain swing slightly on the keys, Yu Zhinian let out a quiet sigh of relief, opened the door, and felt the cool wind hit his face.

He spent the remainder of the afternoon and evening at Xin University, touring the campus, checking out Professor Zhao’s office, and discussing the research projects they were working on. He stayed the night at the campus guesthouse, with Professor Zhao insisting on covering the cost.

The next morning, Professor Zhao drove him back to the train station. After more than twenty hours together, Zhinian felt like he’d woken from a vague, necessary dream—one that wasn’t particularly pleasant but left no trace once he’d woken.

Just as he was turning to leave, Professor Zhao called out to him.

“Zhinian,” he said, a hint of apology in his eyes. “I know you didn’t really want to see me, and I’m sorry.

“I’ve always wanted to tell you, what I said two years ago was wrong. The fault wasn’t with you, but with Yang Ke’s grandfather.

“Ending things was an incredibly selfless choice, and if it were me, I might not have been able to be as selfless as you were.

“I wanted to thank you on behalf of my son, and I wanted to apologize again, Zhinian. I’m sorry.”

The train station bustled with people, passengers lining up at the security checkpoint with bags and suitcases.

For a moment, Yu Zhinian watched the security gate’s flashing lights, still unsure what to say. Finally, he muttered a casual “no need to thank me,” then headed towards the security checkpoint.

The holiday had ended. On the train back to Ning City, it was less crowded than on the way there. Settling into his seat, Zhinian finally allowed himself to reflect on the visit and what Zhao Sibei had said to him.

He thought that Zhao Sibei’s final words weren’t accurate—he wasn’t blameless.

His mistake had been in loving Yang Ke, loving him at the wrong time, with a fierce passion that no one welcomed. This love, in and of itself, was a mistake.

Back at school, he unpacked his bags, then fell into a long, groggy sleep. On May 5th, at six in the morning, he got up, did a final check of his luggage and the online backup of his thesis, then went downstairs and headed for the East Gate of Ning University.

The campus was still quiet, the sky not yet fully bright, the air cold with a faint morning mist.

Wearing a coat, he walked down the empty asphalt road, listening to the soft sound of his suitcase wheels rolling along the ground.

His gaze drifted past the blurry white fog, past the iron gate, to the orange-yellow hazard lights of the taxi he had arranged, realizing once again that he was leaving yet another place alone.

———

Observational Analysis Notes (1)
Topic: Something that Made Yang Ke Smile
(Recorded by: Yu Zhinian Date: 2016.09.29)

Management Math Models course, first class was an introduction.

Yang Ke and some classmates arrived early and sat at the front.

From the middle of the third row forward, he could see the finance students in the front row. Most of them had laptops, and some even brought recording devices. Yang Ke only brought his laptop.

After listing the various foundational knowledge needed for the course, the professor introduced a basic model.

He invited Yang Ke to come up to the podium and participate in a simple analysis demonstration. (Model attached.)

As they were about to finish the analysis, the professor praised Yang Ke, saying he’d done well and hoped he’d score as high in this course as he had in comparative methods.

“But unlike Allen, I’m not as lenient,” he told Yang Ke, then addressed the class, “You all know, I grade harshly. Anyone who can’t handle my standards can choose to drop the course after the trial class. Professor Allen will welcome you.”

Yang Ke gave a faint smile.

But when he stepped down and spotted a certain student sitting three rows back, that smile disappeared.