Chapter 76: We Don’t Owe Each Other Anything
Jiang Yunian clutched Jiang Yan’s personal clothing to his chest as he hurried toward the police station. He walked briskly, having lost count of how many times he had traveled this familiar road. The plastic bag in his hand was wrinkled from his tight grip, and the clothes inside still carried a faint trace of Jiang Yan’s unique, cold scent. This was the last thing he had to hold onto, the only evidence that Jiang Yan might still be alive. He was stubbornly determined to overturn that hasty conclusion, simply to prove that Jiang Yan was not dead.
However, before he could even reach the entrance of the police station, someone blocked his path at the corner.
He Qing was leaning against the wall, looking as if he had been waiting for a long time. When he saw the clothes in Jiang Yunian’s arms, a complicated emotion flickered in his eyes before he lowered his gaze.
“He isn’t dead.”
He Qing’s low voice was like a boulder crashing into the desolate lake of Jiang Yunian’s heart, making him freeze in his tracks. Jiang Yunian was stunned for a moment, then, like a drowning man clutching at driftwood, he stepped forward and grabbed He Qing’s arm tightly. His voice was urgent and trembling. “You found… him? Where is he? How is he?”
“He…” He Qing avoided his eager gaze, his eyes fixing on a spot on the ground. “He was picked up by his family.”
“Family?” Jiang Yunian repeated the word, a moment of blank confusion crossing his face.
Jiang Yan’s family…?
Aside from himself, what other family did he have? Was this so-called “family” just a lie because they thought he was crazy and wanted to trick him?
In a flash of lightning, a name sparked in his mind. He looked at He Qing’s evasive expression, his eyes slowly coming into focus. “Zhou Shu? He and Jiang Yan… Did he tell you? They… no, you guys…”
He opened his mouth, words clogging his throat, incoherent. Yet, He Qing understood exactly what he was trying to say and could only remain silent, guilty.
The strength in the hand gripping He Qing’s arm loosened bit by bit until it fell away weakly.
Jiang Yunian’s tense expression gradually turned pale. A blow heavier than discovering Jiang Yan had been lying to him was the realization that everyone around him knew the truth. Only he had been kept in the dark, like a complete fool, excluded from their secrets.
“You all knew all along…” Jiang Yunian’s voice dropped, carrying a dreary exhaustion. “You knew who he was long ago. Only I didn’t know.”
In this moment of truth, Jiang Yunian didn’t know whether to find it tragic or laughable. The person he saved, the person who had looked at him with eyes full of love and promised they would be together forever, had never shown him his true self. He had concealed it even until the very last moment. And everyone around him knew; he was the only one who had never been truly trusted from beginning to end.
Perhaps, to Jiang Yan, he was just an insignificant fling encountered during a time of distress. Whether he knew his real identity or not didn’t matter at all. He hadn’t lost his memory; he knew he would leave sooner or later, so being honest didn’t matter either.
He came quietly, and he left just as stingily, without even a formal goodbye. Perhaps this was Jiang Yan’s plan all along. Jiang Yunian was just a pastime to relieve boredom in some ordinary corner, an insignificant passerby. The other party had just rested his feet here temporarily, never planning to stay for long. Only he had foolishly taken it seriously, suffering in agony over Jiang Yan’s uncertain fate, begging for help like a madman with nowhere to turn. Meanwhile, that person had probably used this accident to extricate himself smoothly, returning to his original life track, finding even a simple “goodbye” superfluous.
Although falling into the river was largely an accident, Jiang Yunian still couldn’t accept it calmly. In this deception that spanned their entire time together, he was the only victim. He was the only one played like a fiddle, almost losing himself in the process.
“He can’t see you right now,” He Qing added with difficulty, seeming to want to explain something but unable to reveal too much. “It will probably take some time.”
Jiang Yunian tugged at the corner of his mouth. He didn’t need He Qing to say more; he understood. Jiang Yan’s whereabouts were not something he was qualified to know.
Fine. He had saved Jiang Yan, and Jiang Yan had saved him more than once, almost losing his life in the process. Between them… let’s call it even.
As for Jiang Yan hiding his identity, there was no point in pursuing it. He was tired and didn’t want any more explanations.
Jiang Yan probably thought the same way, pushing the boat with the current to bid him farewell.
After this, the debts of gratitude and grievances were settled. They owed each other nothing.
“As long as he’s okay.” Jiang Yunian calmed down, speaking with an exhaustion that drained all his strength. “I have no reason to see him. I… I’m leaving now.”
He Qing watched him calm down instantly, forcing down all the emotions that had been overflowing just a moment ago. Instinct told him this wasn’t true calm, but rather a mask trying to cover something up.
He hesitated for a moment but added a few more words: “His family situation is more complicated than you think. He definitely wanted to wait until everything was over before confessing to you, it’s just… he didn’t expect this kind of accident to happen.”
Jiang Yunian was stunned for a moment. In the end, he said nothing. He simply turned around slowly, empty-handed—the shirt he had been holding was gone. He straightened his back and walked forward steadily, step by step.
Returning to the apartment that had once been filled with the presence of two people, Jiang Yunian stood at the door. The traces of their life together were still there, but now they seemed like a grand, illusory dream. A sudden emptiness opened up in his chest, cold wind rushing in to fill the void.
But fortunately, after experiencing several thrilling catastrophes, Jiang Yunian was already very good at forcing himself to pack up his emotions and pick up his original life.
Lu Yuanbai found him immediately after learning he had returned to school. Seeing his thin and haggard appearance, he couldn’t help but worry. “Are you still looking for him?”
Jiang Yunian stood motionless, as if he hadn’t heard a thing.
Seeing that the situation wasn’t optimistic, Lu Yuanbai hesitated for a while but decided to tell him the speculation he had held in his heart. “Maybe he didn’t…”
“He’s dead.”
Jiang Yan was dead. The one who survived was someone else.
Lu Yuanbai was stunned by his demeanor, then sighed, patting his shoulder to console him. “In any case, I hope you can pull yourself together. There is still a long road ahead.”
Jiang Yunian blinked indifferently.
The Senior was right. He and Jiang Yan were never people of the same world. He didn’t have that much time to dwell on the past. Because he was in a hurry to move forward, he didn’t have time to stop and heal; even sadness became a luxury. Withdrawing from this illusion as soon as possible was the best antidote.
He would. He would get better soon.
Just give him a little time.
In the days that followed, he poured all his energy into his studies, no longer asking about any news related to Jiang Yan, as if he had truly accepted the fact that the man was dead. Because he was busy, he cut down on many unnecessary activities and social interactions. He often avoided the concern of Lu Yuanbai and Hao Meng, coming and going alone at school, isolating himself from the outside world. Just like that, undisturbed, the semester ended, ushering in the coldest New Year.
This New Year, he was alone again.
Staying alone in his quiet little home, eating a New Year’s Eve dinner that couldn’t be called sumptuous, facing the lively Spring Festival Gala on TV alone. Inside the screen, there was singing and dancing; outside the screen, it was cold and cheerless. He didn’t wait up to see the New Year in; he lay down early. Like many Spring Festivals in the past, everything seemed to have returned to the starting point. Loneliness was the norm.
He once thought that having another person would allow him to escape this bone-eroding loneliness, thought that future winters would no longer be cold. Now waking from the dream, he realized it was just wishful thinking. But it didn’t matter; he had simply returned to how things used to be.
On New Year’s Eve, the faint sound of exploding fireworks and children’s laughter drifted in from outside the window. Jiang Yunian wrapped the cold quilt tightly around himself and went to sleep early, without expectation or any sense of ritual for welcoming the new year.
On the first day of the Lunar New Year, he woke up very early. His phone screen was stuffed with various New Year greetings: a long, heartwarming paragraph from Lu Yuanbai, Hao Meng’s blustering voice messages, a concise “Happy New Year” from He Qing, and some mass-sent blessings from classmates.
At the very bottom of the densely packed messages, a completely unfamiliar number had sent four lonely characters exactly at the stroke of midnight:
[Happy New Year]
No signature, no extra words.
Jiang Yunian’s gaze lingered on that number and those three words for a few seconds. His heart moved shallowly—strange yet familiar.
He calmly closed the chat box, then clicked on the avatars of his familiar friends, replying to their New Year greetings seriously, one by one.
This year, Jiang Yunian once again survived this exceptionally cold winter alone, quietly ushering in an unknown new life. Time seemed to possess the power to fade everything. He had done a good job of picking up his old self. Everything looked no different from usual, except that very occasionally, when passing by the bedroom where an outsider had briefly lived, he would think of a certain person.
Then he would walk away quickly.
Slowly, the frequency of these moments became less and less.
It seemed… he was really about to forget him.
Six months later, Pingjing City.
It was another midsummer, the heat sweltering. Jiang Yunian carried his heavy luggage through the bustling crowd, arriving at the exchange student registration office at Pingjing University. After completing all the formalities, he dragged his luggage out again, receiving a message from Lu Yuanbai saying he was already at the gate.
He replied “Okay” and continued dragging his luggage outward.
“Yunian.” Lu Yuanbai stood at the gate. Seeing him come out, a smile appeared on his face. “I’m very happy to see you here.”
He had known six months ago that the Senior had successfully been recommended for postgraduate studies. Jiang Yunian hadn’t expected it to be such a coincidence that the school he applied to for exchange was also here. It was only the night before that he learned Lu Yuanbai had come to Pingjing University’s laboratory early for an internship at his advisor’s invitation, leading to today’s meeting.
Jiang Yunian smiled too. “What a coincidence, Senior.”
Lu Yuanbai looked him over. In the past six months, he seemed to have gotten thinner, but the childishness between his brows had faded a little, replaced by a sense of calm. He took the heaviest bag from Jiang Yunian’s hand, his tone carrying an imperceptible pity: “These past six months, you don’t seem to have changed much.”
Looking at his slightly distant smile, he added, “But there are still some changes.”
He had become more silent.
Lu Yuanbai helped him carry his luggage all the way to the dormitory building.
“This is far enough, sorry to trouble you, Senior.” Jiang Yunian stopped and thanked him politely.
Lu Yuanbai handed the luggage back to him but didn’t leave immediately. He stood there, his gaze landing gently on Jiang Yunian’s face. He paused for a moment before speaking as if casually, “Yunian, us meeting here… would you count it as a fate arranged by the heavens?”
Jiang Yunian was slightly stunned.
Lu Yuanbai smiled and didn’t press further, saying considerately, “Go ahead and get busy. We’ll talk after you settle in.”
Author’s Note: The National Day and Mid-Autumn Festival are over just like that, didn’t play enough [Heartbroken]
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