E | Chapter 6

At first, it was due to the typhoon that Yu Zhinian couldn’t make it home.

The study camp was set to last five days and four nights. On the first day, the students gathered for the opening ceremony; days two through four were for touring Ning University and another nearby school, attending lectures, with a scenic tour of Ning City planned for the final morning, followed by lunch and departure.

But plans rarely kept up with changes. On the fourth afternoon, the typhoon that was supposed to bypass Ning City suddenly shifted course and was now expected to make landfall along the southern coast.

The meteorological department issued an urgent orange alert, announcing that Ning City was entering an emergency flood control period.

Yu Zhinian and the other students were waiting for dinner at the Ning University cafeteria when the head coordinator rushed over to announce the cancellation of the next day’s flights and some trains, along with the suspension of the scenic tour.

Amidst a chorus of groans, Yu Zhinian received a call from the driver.

The driver told him that he was already waiting at the cafeteria entrance, that the chef at home had prepared food, and if he hadn’t eaten yet, he could head back for dinner.

Not wanting to keep the driver waiting, Yu Zhinian said a quick goodbye to his classmates and headed outside. It was only a little past five in the evening, but the sky had already darkened, with heavy clouds gathering above and warm, strange winds blowing from all directions.

The driver opened the front passenger door for him. As he got in, he saw that Yang Zhongyun and Yang Ke were sitting in the back seat.

Yang Ke was dressed formally, glancing up at him briefly.

“I took Yang Ke to an event this afternoon,” Yang Zhongyun smiled at Yu Zhinian, “and we had a dinner planned for tonight, but with the typhoon coming, I thought it best to cancel.”

On the way back, Yang Zhongyun asked Yu Zhinian about his day, chatting with him about his experiences, while Yang Ke remained silent.

For the past few days, Yu Zhinian had been staying in a guest room on the second floor of Yang Zhongyun’s home, returning each night around 8 PM and leaving by 7 AM. He hadn’t seen much of Yang Ke, and this was the first time he was having dinner at the Yang residence.

The chef at Yang Zhongyun’s home was excellent, and Yu Zhinian ate a lot, his head feeling heavy as his blood rushed to his stomach.

Yang Ke finished his meal quickly and left the table.

Yang Zhongyun chatted with Yu Zhinian for a bit, asking about his family. But before long, he received a call and left.

Left alone in the living room, Yu Zhinian faintly heard the thunder and wind outside. He put down his chopsticks and walked to the window to look out, seeing that the rain had already begun.

In the darkness, rain fell onto the tall outdoor plants, their leaves and branches bending as though they might be swept away by the wind.

Yu Zhinian watched for a long time, until the housekeeper hurried into the dining room, telling him that Yang Zhongyun was looking for him.

Yang Zhongyun’s study was on the fourth floor.

A large wooden desk sat diagonally across from the entrance, where Yang Zhongyun sat behind it.

When Yu Zhinian entered, Yang Zhongyun invited him to sit on a single armchair by the window across from the desk, then dismissed his secretary. But instead of speaking immediately, Yang Zhongyun seemed to be reading something, asking Yu Zhinian to wait a moment.

The study was furnished mostly with rosewood, illuminated by soft lighting.

On the coffee table beside the armchair lay a book. Glancing at it, Yu Zhinian saw it was The Lady of the Camellias by Alexandre Dumas fils.

Out of courtesy, he didn’t pick it up to read and simply sat quietly, spacing out for a while.

For some reason, he found himself thinking about Yang Ke on the way home and at dinner.

Life hadn’t been smooth for Yu Zhinian since elementary school.

His maternal and paternal grandparents had all passed away early. After he was born, his parents left to work elsewhere, and from the age of one to seven, he lived with his grandfather.

During winter break when he was seven, his grandfather fell ill, and the hospital diagnosed him with cancer. They spent all their savings on treatment, and after half a year, he was finally cured and discharged.

But when Yu Zhinian turned ten, just as the family’s situation started to improve, his grandfather relapsed. This time, they sold the house but didn’t have the same luck as before, and his grandfather passed away soon after.

Then came the accident that took his parents.

After his grandfather’s illness, Yu Zhinian often overheard his parents making low, humble phone calls to creditors, and he would accompany them to relatives’ and friends’ houses to borrow money.

He learned to be proactive, to appear cheerful, naturally mastering the skill of pleasing adults. He learned to cook and do laundry, to take care of himself, to keep his grandfather company at the hospital, to be the well-behaved, sensible child.

When his parents passed, they had just finished paying off their debts.

His aunt helped him arrange the funeral; only a few relatives attended, and he thanked all the guests with a feverish, confused mind.

At some point, he’d developed the habit of constantly gauging people’s attitudes, endlessly talking to avoid awkward silences, afraid that others might find him hard to get along with.

But Yang Ke, who lived a wealthy life, had the privilege of being immature, of having a temper, of choosing to be silent whenever he wanted.

And Yu Zhinian found himself envying that.

Lost in thought, he glanced at The Lady of the Camellias on the coffee table.

“Have you read that book?” Yang Zhongyun suddenly asked.

Startled, Yu Zhinian looked up to see Yang Zhongyun had put down his things and was smiling at him.

“No, I haven’t,” Yu Zhinian replied honestly. Yang Zhongyun nodded, “You can read it.”

“But it’s late today,” he added, “Save it for tomorrow.”

“Zhinian, Grandpa brought you up here because there’s something I want to discuss with you,” he said, smiling warmly at him. “I’ve always wanted to support a student individually.”

Yu Zhinian paused, feeling that strange, inexplicable feeling he’d had when he first met Yang Zhongyun rising up again.

But as if he hadn’t noticed the hesitation, Yang Zhongyun continued, “I only have one grandson, Yang Ke. For years, it’s just been the two of us at home. As you’ve seen, the house is very quiet, with little warmth. But these past few days, Zhinian, with you here, it’s like you’ve brought a bit of life into this home. Grandpa really likes your personality.

“I also asked your school about your family situation. I know you live with your aunt and cousin. Your aunt is a remarkable woman, but soon you’ll be a young man, and it’s not ideal for you to stay with them indefinitely.

“After thinking about it, I believe the best decision would be to support you individually and have you live with us. This study camp seems to have brought us together as part of some destiny.

“Zhinian, be honest with Grandpa—do you dislike staying here?”

Though Yang Zhongyun’s tone and expression were gentle, Yu Zhinian felt a strange and unsettling confusion as he looked at him.

The room fell into silence, and after a moment, Yu Zhinian realized it was because Yang Zhongyun was waiting for him to answer. Awkwardly and clumsily, he replied, “I don’t dislike it. It’s nice here.”

He wanted to say something complimentary but couldn’t think of the words, so his lips moved slightly before he closed them again.

“As long as you don’t dislike it,” Yang Zhongyun didn’t seem bothered by his brief response, his smile growing warmer as he asked, “So, Zhinian, would you be willing to accept Grandpa’s support?”

Outside, a flash of lightning lit up the window. The room was silent, and Yu Zhinian could hear the rain and wind battering the window.

A few seconds later, a rumble of thunder rolled in.

*

By the time he returned to his room, the house staff had all retired for the night, and dim lights lined the corridor.

As Yu Zhinian reached his guest room door, someone called him from behind, “Yu Zhinian.”

He turned, seeing Yang Ke standing at the corner. The wall lamp cast their shadows together on the wallpapered wall.

Yu Zhinian’s heart pounded as he looked at Yang Ke for a couple of seconds, then quietly asked, “What’s up?”

“What did he want to talk to you about?” Yang Ke asked bluntly.

For a moment, Yu Zhinian didn’t know how to answer, and Yang Ke waited a few seconds before showing an impatient expression. “He asked me in the car today if I disliked you. I don’t know what he’s thinking. The old man always does weird things.”

“Huh?” Yu Zhinian blinked, blurting out a seemingly irrelevant question, “What did you say?”

Yang Ke paused, then gave him an odd look before saying, “I said I don’t dislike you.” He added, “You’re less annoying than most.”

Yang Ke’s voice had a faint crack from adolescence, but it wasn’t unpleasant. He tilted his head slightly, looking at Yu Zhinian. In the dim hallway of this unfamiliar house, Yu Zhinian felt his face growing inexplicably warm.

Nervously, he told Yang Ke, “Chairman Yang wants to support me and have me live here.”

“Live here?” Yang Ke frowned.

“Yes,” Yu Zhinian confirmed, and Yang Ke asked, “Did you agree?”

Just as Yu Zhinian was about to answer, he noticed a change in Yang Ke’s gaze—there was an unmistakable coldness, with no trace of welcome.

Yang Ke was the most attractive and captivating person of the same gender that Yu Zhinian had ever seen. But when expressionless, he was intimidating, his whole demeanor exuding an aura of “keep out.”

Yu Zhinian’s heart sank, and after a long pause, he finally admitted, “I agreed.”

He added a few explanations, stumbling over his words, “Grandpa talked a lot with me,” “My aunt’s already working hard raising my cousin,” “I won’t get in your way or anything,” but Yang Ke didn’t respond further.

He looked at Yu Zhinian for a moment, then cut him off dismissively, saying, “Got it,” before turning and walking away.

Once again, the hallway was empty, with only Yu Zhinian left standing there.

In the years to come, Yu Zhinian would often sift through every detail of that moment, trying to guess what Yang Ke was thinking.

Each time, he would wrack his brain, attempting to decipher whether Yang Ke’s occasional permissiveness and friendliness back then had been genuine, and if it had been, why it had eventually changed.

But no matter how much he agonized over it, it always felt futile. Because Yu Zhinian neither understood Yang Ke nor understood love.