Chapter 527: An Embrace, Bad News

The lights inside the subway station were bright.

In the vast station hall, only sporadic footsteps and the distant roar of a train pulling into the station remained.

Passing through the security checkpoint, they arrived before the turnstiles.

Tang Song stopped, his right hand still holding her left.

The initial chill on Zhang Yan’s hand had long since been warmed by him, even becoming slightly hot, as if she were holding a small hand warmer.

He looked down at Zhang Yan.

She was blushing, her lips pressed tight, her head lowered, her long eyelashes casting a quiet shadow beneath her eyes.

"We're here, I have to go." Tang Song’s voice broke the silence.

"Oh, oh." Zhang Yan replied subconsciously.

Her gaze moved slowly upward, lingering on his handsome face for less than half a second before dropping quickly like a startled fawn.

The corner of her eye fell involuntarily onto their clasped hands.

From the intersection to here, a short distance of a few hundred meters, they had walked for over ten minutes.

With every step, every second, she felt as if a faint electric current was traveling from her palm, coursing through her entire body.

That unprecedented sense of reality kept her mind in a state of blankness.

Is this a dream?

But such a scene, even in her boldest dreams, she had never dared to imagine.

◆￠o

Time seemed to freeze at this moment.

The subway station was sparsely populated, and the two of them just stood there, holding hands quietly in front of the turnstiles.

After a long while.

Tang Song finally loosened his grip, and the warmth of that touch vanished suddenly, leaving a hollow feeling in Zhang Yan’s heart.

"Get some good rest. Tomorrow is Saturday, I’ll come find you early to hang out."

"Mm." Zhang Yan replied in a low voice, truly not knowing what to say, nor daring to say much more.

Tang Song smiled and waved at her, took out his phone, and swiped his card to enter the station.

The turnstile gate opened and closed with a "clack."

His hard-soled leather shoes tapped against the ground, making a crisp "da-da" sound.

Only then did Zhang Yan have the courage to fully lift her head, staring blankly at his departing back.

Just like that, like those countless days and nights in the past, she watched from afar, quietly, as his back moved further away bit by bit.

Meeting again after more than two years.

His changes were immense and unfamiliar, yet at this moment, they were also familiar.

Just then, that back which had already walked far away suddenly paused.

He turned his head and looked back at her from a distance.

Their gazes met in the air.

Zhang Yan, like a student caught by a teacher for cheating on an exam, instantly lowered her head in a panic.

Her hands were clenched tightly in front of her, her heart pounding wildly.

Tang Song, however, turned around and walked back to the turnstiles, looking at her.

"I'll send you a message when I get to the hotel." His voice was clear and gentle. "Send me a message when you get home, too."

"Mm."

"Be careful on the way back, watch the road."

"Mm."

"See you tomorrow."

Zhang Yan’s eyes trembled violently, her lips moved, and she silently replied, "See you tomorrow."

Only then did Tang Song truly turn and walk toward the depths of the subway station.

Until his figure completely disappeared around the corner.

Zhang Yan remained standing in place until the roar of a train entering the station and the sparse crowd of people emerging once again brought her back to her senses.

She followed the scattered people, walking outward with a floating gait.

Passing through the dimly lit streets, through the damp night wind.

"Bang—click—"

The old security door was shut firmly.

"Meow~ meow~" Orange appeared from somewhere, rubbing its head affectionately against her ankle, seemingly wondering why its owner was standing at the door in a daze.

"Orange."

Zhang Yan muttered to herself, then suddenly raised her hand and pinched her arm hard.

A clear sense of pain followed.

It wasn't a dream!

All of this wasn't a dream!

Recalling the scenes from tonight, from him appearing downstairs holding Orange, to the two of them reading manga side-by-side, and then... that scorching hand-holding at the intersection.

She covered her burning cheeks tightly, leaning weakly against the cold wall, feeling as if she were about to faint.

"How could this be? How could this be? What is going on?"

She muttered to herself in disbelief.

No matter how much she tried to evade it internally, she realized that Tang Song had truly seen her message on QQ.

He knew all the thoughts she had harbored over these years.

He even knew where she lived.

That was why he could find her so accurately and quickly after seeing the WeChat message.

He had actually come to Yangcheng.

How did he become the way he is now?

Countless doubts, immense shame, and that deep-rooted sense of inferiority surged up instantly.

But in the end, all her emotions settled on the scene of him holding her hand to cross the street.

Zhang Yan bit her lower lip hard, her fingertips rubbing unconsciously against the seam of her pants.

A moment later, she seemed to remember something.

She scrambled to take her phone out of her pocket and opened the chat box with Tang Song.

Her gaze first fell on the photo of the letter paper she had sent, and she whispered "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" in shame before daring to open the input box.

Carefully tapping the screen, she typed: "I'm home."

After sending the message, she sat down on the floor along the wall as if she had used up all her strength, breathing heavily.

Immediately afterward, the belated, overwhelming joy finally broke free from the shackles of shame and inferiority, drowning her completely like the rising tide.

She had fantasized countless times, not just about reuniting with him, but about being able to talk to him like this, in her own true name. Even if it were just a simple, most ordinary greeting.

Not to mention, they had actually held hands.

She slowly raised her left hand, looking at it intently; the temperature of his palm seemed to still be clearly lingering there.

Orange came up to her side, curled up, and occasionally brushed against her with its tail, seemingly sharing in its owner’s joy.

"Ding-dong—" The WeChat notification sound rang out.

[Tang Song: "( ( ) Received, get some rest early."]

Seeing this reply, especially the emoticon, Zhang Yan rubbed her cheeks and smiled foolishly.

Afterward, she looked up at the rental apartment, filled with the messy traces of the dinner party, stood up in a hurry, and began to take action.

Sweeping the floor, mopping, packing up and throwing away the trash left by her friends;

Wiping the tables and chairs, straightening the crooked sofa cushions one by one;

Organizing the bookshelf and desk, placing every book in order—she was like an untiring little bee, diligently cleaning every corner, striving to make this small room appear more presentable.

After all—he said he would come again tomorrow.

Later, when her gaze fell upon the dilapidated bathroom and kitchen, the emotions that had just ignited dimmed instantly.

The bathroom and kitchen were where she used the most water; because there were no tiles on the walls or floors, the damp environment had caused mold spots that were impossible to eradicate to grow in the corners and vents.

And those old refrigerators, range hoods, toilets... this wasn't something that could be solved by simple cleaning.

Even the most skilled cleaner couldn't make the old hardware look brand new.

A strong sense of inferiority enveloped her once again, and tears dripped onto the worn-out floor covering.

But she just wiped them away silently, put on gloves, picked up the disinfectant, and used a brush to stubbornly clean those stains bit by bit.

She didn't know how much time had passed.

"Ding-dong—" The WeChat notification sound rang out again.

She quickly took off her gloves and took out her phone.

[Tang Song: "I'm at the hotel, you should be asleep by now. Good night, classmate Zhang Yan, have a good dream."]

Looking at the "good night" and the familiar form of address, Zhang Yan bit her lip.

She wanted to reply, but was a bit timid, afraid he would know she hadn't slept yet and was waiting for his message.

She put her phone away, tried to calm her heartbeat, and continued working.

Because she was usually very attentive to hygiene, the room wasn't actually dirty or messy.

She stayed busy until past one in the morning before she finally finished cleaning the entire room.

Zhang Yan washed up, lay down on the bed exhausted, and turned off the lights.

Closing her eyes, she couldn't help but open them again.

In the darkness, the blue light of the screen lit up her dazed cheeks.

Opening the chat interface with Tang Song, it seemed that only by looking at those few lines of simple conversation could she confirm that everything that happened tonight was real.

The room went pitch black again, and the screen lit up again—after repeating this several times.

She finally succumbed to sleepiness and fell into a deep slumber.

Today was longer than the past month combined.

The conflict with her boss, buying the last two volumes of manga, writing that letter, the miraculous reunion with him, chatting, reading manga, and that hand-holding...

Before she knew it, the sound of even breathing filled the quiet room.

She had a long, warm dream.

It was an afternoon in middle school, the sunlight filtered by the poplar trees outside the window into fine, dappled spots of light, lazily spilling onto the desk.

The classroom speakers were playing Jay’s "Rainbow," the slightly melancholic melody flowing through the air like the wind.

The windows were open, and the cool breeze unique to the school building, mixed with the scent of chalk dust and grass, blew through the hallway, gently ruffling the math test paper in front of her, making a faint "rustling" sound.

She turned her head and secretly glanced at the deskmate reading a book beside her, asking in a low voice, "What score did you get?"

"93, I got one of the easy questions wrong."

"Oh." Her head lowered further, her gaze falling on the "69" on her own test paper. "Why am I so stupid? I’ve clearly done these types of problems before..."

There were less than two months left until the high school entrance exam, yet her math grades just wouldn't improve.

Tang Song was very smart; every exam he was in the top three of the class, steadily able to get into the First High School.

And she, in all likelihood, could only go to the Second High School.

In this small township middle school, this was actually already a very good result.

But she still wanted to go to the First High School.

The deskmate beside her tapped her desk with his pen, then tilted his head, smiling and lowering his voice to say, "Zhang Yan, haven't you heard? The math teacher graded the scores backward this time. If you rotate the test paper 180 degrees, that’s your real score."

"Ah!" She turned the test paper in surprise.

It was still 69.

"Hahaha." The deskmate’s laughter was clean and clear, like iced soda in the summer.

He nudged her arm with his, and said a few more witty remarks, making her cheeks burn.

Zhang Yan didn't know when she also started laughing shyly and softly along with him.

The heaviness that had been pressing on her heart seemed to have been blown away by the laughter.

Afterward, the deskmate put his book away, looked at her, and encouraged her earnestly: "It doesn't matter, Zhang Yan. The Second High School is actually quite good too. If you study hard, you can definitely get into a good university. Keep it up!"

"Keep it up."

November 4, 2023, Saturday, cloudy, 21~31°C.

Sunlight spilled in through the gaps in the curtains, casting dappled light and shadows on the yellowing walls.

Zhang Yan slowly opened her eyes amidst a series of urgent meows.

First, she stared blankly at the ceiling, then glanced at the time on the wall clock.

It was already almost 8 o'clock.

Orange was clearly starving; it didn't know when it had jumped onto the bed to remind its owner that it was time to be fed.

Zhang Yan’s body jolted, as if she had suddenly remembered something, and a look of panic appeared on her face instantly.

She sat up abruptly, grabbed the phone by her pillow, and unlocked the screen.

On the phone interface, the chat history with "Tang Song" from last night was lying there quietly.

Her chest began to heave violently, and her heart, which had been calm from deep sleep, began to pound wildly again.

It really wasn't a dream.

She looked down at Orange beside her, and the dreamlike scenes from last night surged into her mind uncontrollably.

Her cheeks, which had still been sleepy, were quickly covered by a burning red glow.

Then, she hugged Orange into her arms, rubbing her burning cheeks against it randomly, "I... this—"

"Meow~ meow~" Orange, starving, let out an even louder protest.

Just at this moment.

"Ding-dong—"

The WeChat notification sound rang out.

[Tang Song: "Good morning, Zhang Yan, I'll arrive at Lanxinyuan in about 30 minutes."]

Zhang Yan’s heart skipped a beat; she threw Orange onto the bed and quickly replied "Okay."

Then, she put on her slippers and ran outside.

Like a wound-up rabbit, she began to tidy up in a flurry.

Making the bed, washing up quickly, changing clothes—she had been too tired last night and slept too deeply, actually forgetting to set an alarm.

But her eyes were filled with unhideable, sparkling joy.

This was probably the most wonderful, yet most chaotic morning she had spent in so many years.

But when she stood in front of the mirror and looked at the slightly plain self inside, she couldn't help but lower her head in inferiority.

She never had the habit of wearing makeup, and rarely bought high-end clothes.

The one she was wearing was already the most presentable, but it was just a slightly expensive piece of workwear.

In front of Tang Song, it really wasn't much to show.

But now it was too late to say anything.

She could only wash her bangs in a hurry, straighten them a bit with a flat iron, and carefully apply some moisturizing lotion to her face.

After doing all this, she sat in the living room, unable to sit still.

Staring at the phone screen, she began to wait silently.

The time grew closer, and her heartbeat became more rapid.

She couldn't sit still any longer, walked out the door quickly, and went downstairs to wait.

At this time of day, the sunlight was just right, the air was slightly cool, very comfortable.

Auntie Wang downstairs was watering the flowers; seeing her, she immediately greeted her enthusiastically: "Aiya, Yanyan, you look so beautiful today, have you eaten yet?"

Zhang Yan shook her head, blushing, and replied in a low voice: "Not yet."

Auntie Wang saw her standing there without moving and immediately came over with a smile, "Are you waiting for a friend?"

"Mm, yes..."

Auntie Wang said excitedly: "I told you last time, my nephew is coming to my place today, why don't you come over and have a meal with us at noon!"

Auntie Wang was a famously warm-hearted person; ever since she found out Zhang Yan was single, she had been thinking about introducing her excellent nephew to her. Zhang Yan, upon hearing this, was so scared she shook her head vigorously, waving her hands with a blushing face: "No need, Auntie Wang, really no need."

"Aiya, don't be shy!" Auntie Wang took her hand and began to praise him incessantly: "A-Guang is about the same age as you,

the young man is very handsome, and his job is very stable..."

Zhang Yan’s lips moved, wanting to say something, but she was too embarrassed to interrupt the elder’s enthusiasm directly.

Just then, a gentle, smiling call came from not far away.

"Zhang Yan!"

Zhang Yan’s body jolted, and she quickly lifted her head to look at him, her gaze somewhat dazed.

Auntie Wang also looked over curiously, and then saw the young man walking toward them, her eyes widening instantly.

Tang Song was wearing low-key casual clothes, but his extremely outstanding appearance and temperament were still exceptionally eye-catching.

Standing in the morning sunlight, he seemed to be plated with a layer of light.

Tang Song stopped beside her, "This outfit today suits you very well."

Zhang Yan was instantly at a loss, lowering her head with a blush.

Looking at Zhang Yan’s appearance, then looking at the boy in front of her.

An awkward expression appeared on Auntie Wang’s face.

She was an experienced person, and having been a "matchmaker" for so many years, she could see the girl’s feelings clearly at a glance.

Of course, it was also mainly because the boy in front of her was truly a bit too outstanding.

Her nephew, compared to him, was not just a little bit behind.

Noticing her gaze, Tang Song politely greeted Auntie Wang beside them.

His gaze returned to Zhang Yan, and he asked softly: "Have you had breakfast?"

Zhang Yan shook her head gently, "No."

"That’s perfect, take me around to taste some of the local delicacies nearby."

"Okay." Zhang Yan looked up at him and nodded gently.

The two walked one after the other toward the residential complex gate, Zhang Yan always lagging slightly behind him, following step by step.

Tang Song turned his head to look at her, his pace pausing imperceptibly. When Zhang Yan, due to momentum, walked side-by-side with him, he reached out his hand again.

At this very moment, Zhang Yan, in a completely sober state, could feel it with incomparable clarity.

Tang Song’s slender, powerful hand with distinct knuckles held hers bit by bit.

"Boom, boom, boom—"

Her heartbeat sounded like a heavy drum, and her cheeks were so red they were almost steaming.

Tang Song felt the softness and slenderness in his hand, turned his head to look at Zhang Yan, and for the first time in the sunlight, examined her so earnestly.

This deskmate from middle school, perhaps because her mother was a Southerner, had skin that was white, delicate, and moist, and her features were as delicate as a light ink landscape painting.

Her eyes were standard almond eyes, the corners slightly drooping, and her long eyelashes always gave her an innocent and gentle temperament.

At this moment, because of nervousness and shyness, those almond eyes seemed to be filled with misty water vapor.

Zhang Yan finally noticed his gaze, and like a startled fawn, she quickly turned her head away, leaving him only a bright red earlobe.

Tang Song chuckled, held her hand, took a step, and asked naturally: "Where shall we eat?"

Zhang Yan still didn't dare to look at him, pointed toward the corner of the street, and stammered: "There... there's a rice noodle roll shop nearby, it's very... very unique."

"Okay, then you lead the way, don't take the wrong turn."

"Oh, oh—"

Zhang Yan quickened her pace a bit and walked slightly in front.

Every time they turned, every time they avoided pedestrians, it would inevitably tug at his hand.

This scorching, palpitating touch made her heart pound wildly all the way, and just like that, turning left and right, the two walked into a small, time-honored rice noodle roll shop.

After ordering breakfast, they sat facing each other.

Zhang Yan immediately sat up straight, her hands placed awkwardly on her knees, her head lowered, her gaze always falling on the old texture of the table, not daring to meet his eyes.

Tang Song looked around and chatted with her in a relaxed tone about the scenery, landmarks, and food culture of Yangcheng.

Zhang Yan had lived here for over two years, after all, and knew a lot about these things.

Gradually, she relaxed a lot and began to chat with him in a low voice with a blushing face.

Seeing her change, the smile on Tang Song’s face became even brighter.

He actually knew very clearly in his heart.

For the two of them today, the term "most familiar strangers" was perhaps the most fitting. So many years had passed, with too much time and blank space in between; even if there had been feelings in their youth, being alone together would inevitably be a bit awkward.

Especially for a personality as introverted and sensitive as Zhang Yan’s, knowing that he had seen those secret thoughts of hers on QQ.

That embarrassment and unease needed time to be slowly adapted to and digested.

Therefore, he just wanted to start from the most daily details, like an old friend reunited after a long time, and get familiar with her again.

Slowly finding back that natural closeness lost to time.

Soon, the steaming rice noodle rolls were served.

The white, bouncy rice skin was thin to the point of being almost transparent, and one could faintly see the fresh, tender beef and bright green scallions wrapped inside.

★co

Drizzled with special, salty-yet-sweet soy sauce, and sprinkled with a layer of fragrant cooked oil and sesame seeds.

That alluring aroma, mixed with the fragrance of rice, meat, and sauce, instantly whetted Tang Song’s appetite.

He ate 3 portions in one go.

A smile finally gradually appeared on Zhang Yan’s face.

After breakfast, the two went for a stroll around the nearby vegetable market before returning to Zhang Yan’s rental apartment.

"Meow~" Orange darted out from under the sofa like a little cannonball.

Tang Song smiled, bent down, scooped the heavy, fat orange cat into his arms, scratched its chin, and teased it for a while.

Then, he said naturally and casually: "The weather is really nice today, let's go to the balcony and read manga together."

Zhang Yan subconsciously looked at the mottled wall of the balcony and the rusty old windows, an embarrassed look appearing on her face again.

"The wall isn't clean, don't... don't get your clothes dirty."

Because it was also a plain white wall, and exposed to the sun and rain all year round, the balcony wall was no better than the bathroom and kitchen.

Tang Song looked at the wall, then looked at her, the smile in his eyes becoming even more gentle.

"It's okay, we'll sit closer, just don't touch the wall."

Then, he pulled the first volume of "Dragon Ball" from the bookshelf and moved two small wooden stools to the small balcony, familiar with the routine.

Zhang Yan bit her lip, looked at the two stools that were almost touching, and walked over with a blush.

She sat down beside him, her body stiff, their arms almost touching.

"Last time we saw Bulma let Goku dress up as a little girl to lure Oolong, but he was exposed because he stood up to pee..."

Tang Song said, flipping the manga to that page and naturally placing it between the two of them.

At the tip of his nose was the unique, clean scent of sunshine and soap on Zhang Yan.

He turned his head, looked at her delicate features, and felt the temperature of the girl beside him.

His heartbeat also gradually began to accelerate.

Before they knew it, the first volume of "Dragon Ball" was finally flipped to the last page.

The story stopped abruptly, and the balcony fell into a brief silence.

Zhang Yan secretly and quickly lifted her eyes to look at Tang Song beside her, her gaze carrying a hint of imperceptible inquiry and anxiety.

The book was finished, was it time for him to go?

Tang Song gently closed the manga, turned his head, met her nervous gaze, and revealed a relaxed and natural smile.

"I have something to do, I'll be back soon."

Zhang Yan really wanted to ask him where he was going and what he was doing.

But the words reached her lips, only to be blocked by that deep-rooted timidity.

In the end, she could only give a soft "Mm."

Tang Song waved at her and Orange, and walked out the door with a light step.

Zhang Yan stood there in a daze for a moment, then, as if driven by something, ran back to the balcony and looked down at the street through the old window, eyes unblinking.

She counted silently in her heart, and when she reached "13," that familiar figure finally appeared on the residential complex road.

He walked on the path shrouded in the afternoon sun, his pace light, even jogging.

His whole being was overflowing with a youthful and unrestrained, vigorous aura.

The "boy" in her memory who was passionate, clean, and would shine, had finally broken free from the dullness and oppression.

The Tang Song she saw this time was many times better than she had hoped or imagined.

A layer of crystalline tears gradually welled up in Zhang Yan’s eyes.

It’s so good that he can live so well.

She was genuinely happy for him.

She just watched quietly, motionless, until his figure disappeared around the corner of the complex.

She didn't know how much time had passed.

That familiar figure appeared in her sight again.

This time, he was carrying many things in his hands, and she couldn't see what they were.

Zhang Yan quickly came back to her senses, walked quickly back to the living room, and stood nervously by the door.

When clear footsteps sounded in the hallway, she gently opened the door.

Soon, Tang Song walked in.

"I'm back." He said, putting the things in his hands on the floor with a "clatter."

"This is..." Zhang Yan looked at the things on the floor, and then froze.

One large bucket was printed with "High-Efficiency Anti-Seepage, Waterproof, Anti-Alkali Primer," and the other bucket was written with "Low-Odor Eco-Friendly Waterproof Latex Paint."

There was also a shopping bag with a hardware store logo.

Noticing her stunned gaze, Tang Song smiled and explained: "I remember telling you before that my dad used to do renovation work. It just so happens I have nothing to do today, so I'll help you repair the wall; I know a bit about this."

"Ah!" Zhang Yan let out a low cry, shaking her head and waving her hands vigorously, speaking incoherently: "No, no need! I... I can find someone to repair it myself! I can't let you—"

Tang Song smiled and interrupted her gently: "It's okay, it's not a bother. Besides, I haven't done this work in a long time, I actually want to try it, it's quite fun."

He paused and winked at her playfully, "Do you want to come over and help me? Men and women working together, it’s not tiring."

Zhang Yan stammered for a while, looked at his sincere, smiling eyes, and ultimately didn't dare to refute him again.

She picked up the plastic bag containing the tools and followed him into the bathroom that made her feel the most embarrassed.

The walls weren't tiled, just painted with a layer of waterproof coating that had long since yellowed.

Because of the perennial dampness and poor ventilation, large areas of the wall skin were peeling and flaking, revealing the mottled, ugly cement underneath.

It was truly terrible; every time Tang Song said he wanted to go to the bathroom, she would feel nervous and anxious.

Tang Song seemed not to notice her unease, naturally moving the scattered items in the bathroom to the bedroom with her.

Then, he took a blue apron out of the shopping bag, put it on, took out a roller, brush, and putty knife, and began to clean the wall surface with skilled movements.

"Look, for this kind of old wall, you must first scrape off all the peeling and loose parts, otherwise the new paint won't last long."

"Before painting, this waterproof primer is the key, especially in damp places like the bathroom and kitchen; it can prevent the wall from getting damp and moldy, and also allow the topcoat to adhere more firmly—"

While working, he used a relaxed tone to teach her some knowledge about renovation.

The bathroom was very small, about 4 square meters, and the wall surface that needed painting was only about 10 square meters.

With Tang Song’s current physical strength and coordination, doing this kind of thing was exceptionally simple and neat.

The mottled wall skin was scraped off bit by bit in his hands, revealing the gray cement base.

Tang Song stirred the primer evenly and carefully applied it with the roller.

Zhang Yan followed beside him; at first, she was still a bit nervous and timid, not knowing where to put her hands and feet.

But slowly, she was infected by his relaxation and focus.

Sometimes, she would help him pass tools; sometimes, she would help him steady that unstable little stool.

And most of the time, she just stood quietly to the side, staring blankly at the figure stained with sweat and white latex paint.

The roller rubbed against the wall, making a low "rustling" sound.

The dilapidated bathroom was being covered and repaired bit by bit with a layer of clean, brand-new white.

She watched, and listened.

For some reason, she couldn't help but call out his name, "Tang Song—" This was the first time in many years that she had called his name alone.

Tang Song stopped his movements, turned his head, his face still stained with a few spots of white paint, his smile bright and clean, "I'm here, what's wrong?"

"No, nothing, thank you." She lowered her head in a panic.

In a trance, she felt that a similarly mottled, damp corner in her heart.

Was being repaired bit by bit by him in the most gentle, most unobtrusive way.