Chapter 72: Look, That

This sudden situation startled Li Heng, who hurriedly crouched down and asked:

“Old Yong, what’s wrong? Don’t scare me—are you feeling unwell?”

Zhang Zhiyong groaned weakly: “I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m so miserable, my heart’s killing me.”

Li Heng blinked in surprise, then exhaled and sat down beside him.

Zhang Zhiyong gazed up at the sky, venting bitterly: “Fuck! Seriously? This fucking heaven’s unfair! Since we were kids, you’ve always been better-looking, smarter, and more popular with the girls.”

I was jealous, sure, but I accepted it—we grew up together in diapers, after all!”

But now, we hang out every day, and you turn into a writer? What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

Even if I stole every cent my old man spent on prostitutes, I still couldn’t match you—I can’t even keep up!”

Li Heng blinked. “Feeling the gap?”

Zhang Zhiyong pointed one finger at the sky, one at the ground. “Gap? What gap? You’re on Mount Qomolangma, I’m at the Mariana Trench—you stand to piss, I crawl to eat shit. This isn’t a gap anymore—it’s a chasm!”

“Hahaha…” Li Heng burst out laughing.

Zhang Zhiyong leapt up, grabbing his throat, spittle flying: “Still laughing? Laugh your ass off! No sympathy at all!”

Li Heng pointed across the river to a restaurant. “I’ll treat you to a meal.”

Zhang Zhiyong said: “Too pissed to eat.”

Li Heng said: “Braised pork, dry pot duck, and fish.”

Zhang Zhiyong swallowed hard. “I’ve eaten all that before—I’m not going!”

Li Heng said: “I’ll cover your monthly allowance.”

Zhang Zhiyong counted on his fingers: “Shit! Only a week left this month—you’re just pretending to be rich.”

Hearing this, Li Heng stood up and kicked him over. “Fine, you won’t eat this, won’t eat that—eat or don’t eat. I’ve got to go treat Xiao Han to dinner.”

Zhang Zhiyong scrambled to his feet. “Who? Who are you treating?”

Li Heng replied: “Xiao Han.”

Zhang Zhiyong’s mouth dropped open, wide enough to swallow a cow: “Aren’t you into Song Yu? When did you start hooking up with Xiao Han?”

Li Heng stretched lazily. “Ever heard the saying? Better to resolve grudges than hold onto them. Me and her? We’ve made peace.”

Zhang Zhiyong reacted like he’d eaten shit—no, worse than eating shit:

“Bullshit! If you can land Xiao Han, I’ll drink the Zijiang River dry!”

An old man passing by overheard and said: “Kid, I drank from the Zijiang three times when I was young and still didn’t drain it—don’t brag.”

Zhang Zhiyong shouted back: “Grandpa, my brother’s a famous writer!”

The reply made no sense at all—the old man grunted and walked off.

Li Heng bought two sodas from a roadside shop and tossed one to him. “Can’t you keep this quiet?”

“Will keeping quiet make a girl like Xiao Han dump you?” Zhang Zhiyong stood by the riverbank, cupping his hands around his mouth and bellowing:

“My brother’s a famous writer!”

Rushing back to school, Zhang Zhiyong still wouldn’t give up, twisting his neck to ask: “You’re really not taking me to dinner?”

Li Heng shot back: “Me and Xiao Han will be eating and talking—maybe even exchanging glances. You gonna sit there like a lump of wood?”

“Fuck!”

Zhang Zhiyong completely broke down, muttering curses all the way back to school—he’d go play basketball with Liu Li; he needed to vent.

He bought a soda, sprinted to Classroom 206 next door, and immediately spotted Xiao Han at her desk.

Yang Ying was sitting beside her.

The classroom was empty except for them two, feeling vast and silent. Hearing movement at the door, Yang Ying turned first.

Then she stood, gathering her pens and ink, sneering at Li Heng: “Looks like my job’s done—I’m leaving. Don’t want to be in the way.”

Li Heng feigned an invitation: “It’s mealtime—why not eat together?”

To his shock, Yang Ying plopped back down: “Fine, let’s eat! I won’t say a word.”

Li Heng’s face twisted in agony—he’d asked for it, he’d asked for it, he wanted to slap himself.

Xiao Han turned, glancing between him and her friend, smiling sweetly but hesitantly—both were close to her, and she was torn.

Li Heng sat across from Yang Ying, forcing a laugh: “Old Rag, I’ll treat you another day. Today I need to talk to Xiao Han.”

Yang Ying instinctively wanted to snap: “What could you possibly need to talk to Xiao Han about? Trying to hit on her?” But seeing her friend’s willing expression, she felt powerless—and without a word, grabbed a book and left.

With the nuisance gone, the classroom was now just the two of them. They glanced at each other, and Xiao Han’s face flushed with shy embarrassment, fear, and awkwardness.

She forced herself to relax, trying to break the silence, biting her lip and smiling—then biting again, until finally, the smile broke free:

“Oh, uh, Mr. Li… I didn’t expect you’d actually come.”

Instantly, she wanted to bite her tongue off: Girl! Why did you reveal your feelings? Calm down! Be composed!

Li Heng smiled, revealing his nice teeth: “So you’ve been waiting for me? You haven’t eaten yet, then?”

Xiao Han panicked, furious with herself—she’d made a fatal mistake.

She longed to say sweetly, “I’ve already eaten, you don’t need to bother,” but feared he’d leave if she did—so she forced a composed nod:

“Not yet. I’m not very hungry.”

Li Heng stood. “I’m hungry. How about we go order first, then eat and talk?”

Xiao Han reminded herself not to panic, nodding gently: “Then I’m imposing on you—I’m sorry for the expense.”

They left the classroom one after the other. At the stairwell corner, Li Heng suddenly noticed his shoelace was loose—he stopped to tie it, when suddenly his back was bumped.

In an instant, he staggered sideways on the stairs, nearly twisting his ankle.

Xiao Han rushed down, grabbing his arm in panic: “I’m so sorry—I turned too fast.”

Their eyes met. Li Heng stared straight into hers, then asked softly: “Am I a tiger? Why are you so nervous around me?”

“I’m not— I just…” She couldn’t bear his bold gaze any longer, and looked away, pitifully.

In that moment, her face burned, her ears burned—scorching hot.

She didn’t remember how they left school—numb, she followed him into Lao Liu’s Restaurant.

Sitting in the private room overlooking the backyard vegetable patch, Xiao Han remained stiff.

She first clasped her fingers neatly on her knees like a refined lady, back straight—then felt awkward, shifted slightly, and finally found a comfortable posture in the solid wood chair.

Only after completing this ritual did she raise her head and smile at him—only to find Li Heng watching her with a knowing look.

Xiao Han’s sweet smile froze on her face. She felt wretched—like a peacock desperately fanning its feathers to attract love, unaware the observer was a master player, and she was transparent, pitifully so.

A beam of sunset pierced through the window, blindingly bright—she quickly turned her head away.

She fought to remain composed, desperately searching for words—this silence was suffocating.

But across from her sat Li Heng!

The boy she’d loved for years.

Her mind drew a blank—she couldn’t break the quiet. Could she say, “I’ve liked you since middle school”? Or, “I hated how you and Chen Zijin flaunted your love—I’d clench my teeth watching you”?

Could she say, “You were such a jerk in first year—I was scared of you, yet still fought you for the desk”?

Recalling how she and her two friends had viciously mocked him, leaving him dazed and confused, Xiao Han suddenly smiled—her entire body relaxed instantly.

So he’s my honey? So what? I’m not afraid—he’s been cursed at until he was speechless.

Li Heng washed a cup, poured her tea, and asked: “What made you smile like that?”

Xiao Han cupped the warm teacup in both hands, her voice bright: “I remembered something funny.”

Li Heng asked: “Was it about me?”

Xiao Han hesitated, then nodded politely: “Yes.”

Li Heng leaned forward, intrigued: “What memory? Tell me?”

After a few opening lines, Xiao Han grew more comfortable, sipped tea, and cleared her throat:

“Back in first year, your grades were average, but you were famous—many girls talked about you behind your back.”

Sometimes, people on the street would point at your back and say: ‘Look, that’s Li Heng.’”

Li Heng asked: “Because you often led fights?”

Xiao Han smiled faintly: “Partly.”

Li Heng asked: “What else?”

Xiao Han’s dimples appeared. “Girls said you were kind of good-looking… uh-ha, that phrase wasn’t mine—I’m just repeating.”

Li Heng asked: “What was your first impression of me?”

Xiao Han’s gaze dropped, fixed on his left forearm for a long time, then sighed softly: “It must’ve been the ‘C’.”

It must’ve been that.

I still remember watching you carve into your skin with a pencil knife, slice after slice—blood everywhere—it left a mark.”

At these words, time seemed to freeze.

They stared at each other—neither spoke. The private room fell into silence.

What did ‘C’ stand for?

Both knew.

For Xiao Han, Chen Zijin was both best friend and rival. Their relationship was contradictory yet sharply defined.

Because she didn’t believe in fate.

Because she believed in human effort.

Because she always knew exactly what she wanted.

Because she feared unrequited love—“I love you, but it means nothing to you.”

So Xiao Han wouldn’t let Chen Zijin’s multiple roles confuse her—even as a best friend, she refused to yield in love.

(End of chapter)