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墨書 Inktalez
Chapter 365
She did not speak again. After putting him down, she turned and walked towards the school without looking back.
In the following days, An Shaojie did not see Qingmei. She did not come to meet him at the spot they had agreed upon, under the Virginia Creeper-covered wall by the side gate of the school every noon.
However, An Shaojie continued to go there every day, only leaving after he heard the school bell ring.
He saw Qingmei again a week later.
That day, the sky was a bit overcast with no sun. He sat alone on a bench, his head lowered. A dry leaf floated from a distance and landed at his feet. He stepped on it lightly, then raised his head to stare intently at a spot in front of him, his brow furrowed and his face filled with sorrow.
He did not look in the direction she usually came from; he probably thought she wouldn’t come that day either.
She walked up beside him quietly. Perhaps because her footsteps were light or he was lost in deep thought, he did not notice her presence.
After standing there for a long time without him noticing her, she gently cleared her throat twice.
Only then did he lift his head and see her, forcing out a faint smile before focusing intently on her.
"My Mama is getting married tomorrow," she said, looking down. In her eyes was a sense of loneliness and sadness that did not belong to someone her age.
"Originally, I could have skipped class today, but I wanted to see you, so I told him that today's lesson was very important and insisted he bring me to class." She kept her head down, not daring to meet his gaze, perhaps afraid of seeing the sadness in his eyes or not wanting him to see the sadness in hers.
After saying that, she ran away at lightning speed and disappeared in the blink of an eye.
After that, she didn't come to school for a long time, so he didn't see her again, but he still came to school every day to wait for her.
The day of Qinglan's wedding happened to be a weekend. The weather had been gloomy for the past few days, and suddenly, snow began to fall in flurries around noon that day. Although the snow was light, the cold was intense; the biting wind stung the face painfully, like cutting flesh.
An Shaojie arrived at the courtyard wall earlier than usual. The sunlight that used to cascade down like a waterfall onto the courtyard wall was gone, leaving it looking dark and dreary.
Snow drifted down gently to the ground, occasionally landing on him. He waited until the class bell rang, and as he expected, he did not see Qingmei's figure appear.
Today was her Mama's wedding day; how could she come to class? An Shaojie had anticipated this situation long ago, yet he remained seated, motionless, like a frozen statue. A thin layer of white snow had settled on his shoulders from the occasional flurries that drifted by.
The little girls passing by him wore knitted hats, some adorned with little braids, and their hands were clad in colorful animal-shaped gloves. They were bundled up in thick down jackets, resembling warm, plump bears. An Shaojie watched as they walked past him and entered the school.
He really wanted to see her dressed in a thick down jacket with gloves and a cashmere hat, looking like a clumsy bear.
It seemed he wouldn't have that chance. After her Mama's wedding, they would likely go on their honeymoon, and after the honeymoon would come the New Year. Once the New Year passed, spring would arrive; would there still be reckless cold and snow then?
By that time, where would he be? He had no idea.
As he stood up to leave, he unexpectedly stumbled slightly and nearly fell in the snow. Thinking nothing would happen to him, he lifted his foot to walk but suddenly felt weak beneath him; his body felt soft and limp as if he were about to fall seriously ill.
That night in a high-end apartment building in Beijing.
An Shaojie curled up on the sofa; only a lamp in the living room cast a dim light. The curtains of the floor-to-ceiling windows were drawn back, and the white sheer curtains fluttered with the cold wind seeping through a crack in the window. The room felt not only cold but also desolate and somewhat bleak.
On the coffee table in front of him sat a bottle of white liquor and a glass of red wine. Initially, he sipped slowly from the glass of red wine; the bright red liquid flowed slowly along the rim into his mouth. Then, with a swallow as his Adam's apple moved, it went down his throat with a gulp and finally settled in his stomach with a burp. The icy liquid began to churn within him as if he could smell the blood flowing through his heart.
The remaining liquid slowly trickled down the side of the cup. His brain had begun to feel a bit dizzy, his eyes somewhat hazy, and the swaying red liquid before him transformed into the blood that dripped in his heart. Looking at it, he seemed to feel a sharp pain in his chest.
He suddenly set down the red liquid, grabbed the bottle of white liquor in front of him, trembling as he twisted off the cap. Tilting his head back, he gulped down a large mouthful. The intense bitterness and alcohol stung his numb nerves; he felt somewhat more awake yet also more chaotic.
After downing several more swigs, he finally slid off the sofa onto the cold floor.
He rarely drank alcohol. From childhood through college, then abroad and back home, he seldom used alcohol to stimulate himself, to excite himself, or to numb himself. He was a rational and self-disciplined person who rarely indulged in smoking or drinking. He believed that substances like tobacco and alcohol were not good remedies for pain; a calm mind was the wisdom needed to break free from all shackles and constraints.
Thus, he had always looked down on those who numbed themselves with alcohol and cigarettes. He had never experienced the fleeting benefits of forgetfulness that alcohol could bring.
That night, he placed the liquor before him, originally intending to bolster his courage, to show himself that he could get through it. Tonight, during her moment of joy, he could endure while looking at the red and white liquids.
However, in the end, he twisted off the cap and poured both the red and white liquids into his stomach all at once.
Perhaps it was the cold floor that brought him some awareness and clarity; he finally felt the pain rising from deep within his body.
The girl who had always been by his side, whom he thought would never leave him, whom he believed he would never lose—the girl who had given him countless accommodations and warmth—starting from tonight, she no longer belonged to him.
He ultimately felt the discomfort and pain of losing something.
He still had chances; how many times could he have told her that she was the one he liked all along? He could have taken her back from Xu Wen again. But time after time, he let those opportunities slip away; he watched helplessly as chances faded away one after another. He lacked courage. Courage? Was it really a lack of courage? Or was it fear? Or perhaps overconfidence? Did he think she wouldn't want to leave him? Otherwise, why hadn’t she been with Xu Wen all these years?
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