Chapter 8: Unfeeling Toward Romance

On the way back, Lu Xiye dialed the unfinished call back. He spoke on the phone all through the drive, smoking one cigarette after another.

After reviewing the materials sent by the other party in his study, he decided he still needed to make the trip in person. The documents had come from the most authoritative gene-testing company in the United States. Every metric was precise enough to serve as a doctor’s clinical basis for formulating a treatment plan—far more accurate and comprehensive than the scaled-down domestic versions.

He had his assistant book a flight and then called his father. Afterward, he pulled up Jiang Suifeng’s phone number. He stared at those digits for a long time, but ultimately did not dial. Instead, he simply sent a friend request on his social media app.

Then came the long wait.

He didn’t receive a message from Jiang Suifeng; instead, an email from Lin Jun arrived. The email contained FY’s recent investment projects, including the latest updates on the movie Lies. The moment his fingers scrolled down to the cast list, Lu Xiye paused. The male lead was set as Huang Yunbai, a top-tier idol who had recently blown up in popularity, while the female lead was Wen An, a fresh face newly selected from the film academy.

It was only at this moment that certain long-buried memories in Lu Xiye’s mind finally resurfaced.

In his previous life, the movie Lies hadn’t been released smoothly. It had been shelved for nearly eight years before finally hitting the silver screen and becoming an instant hit. The specific reason it couldn’t be released lay with the male lead, Huang Yunbai. And eight years later, when Lies blew up overnight, the female lead, Wen An, had wasted the best years of her youth, going from nineteen to twenty-seven. Through this film, Wen An, who had played side characters in various TV shows and movies for eight years, finally achieved stardom overnight.

To Lu Xiye back then, this incident had been as light as a wispy cloud of smoke; a gust of wind could blow it away without leaving a trace. Because that happened to be the one-year anniversary of Qin Moyan’s death. The only reason he had even a faint impression of it was likely due to his extreme unwillingness to accept reality at the time—unwilling that others still had a chance, while Qin Moyan had none left.

So when Lin Jun had first mentioned this movie to him, he truly hadn’t recalled this piece of history. After all, it was too distant, and his mental state back then had been terribly fractured.

He looked at the screen and carefully sorted out the matter in his mind before picking up the phone. But a moment later, he changed his mind. In his previous life, Lin Jun hadn’t shown any negativity because of this movie’s investment failure, and he likely wouldn’t this time either. Besides, Lin Jun had sailed through life far too smoothly; facing a small setback might not necessarily be a bad thing for him.

He put down the phone and sent Lin Jun a read receipt. It was already past one in the morning, yet there was still no message from Jiang Suifeng on the social app.

Jiang Suifeng stepped out of the bathroom, casually pulled off his bath towel, and slipped back into his own clothes. The phone kept flashing on the desk. He lit up the screen and saw Lu Xiye’s name. It was a friend request.

Jiang Suifeng watched it quietly for a moment, ran his thumb softly over those three characters, and then locked the screen again.

On a corner of the desk sat the paper bag Lu Xiye had given him. He wasn’t sure if Lu Xiye had done it intentionally or offhandedly, whether it was a tactic to chase a boy or a form of charity. Regardless, Lu Xiye certainly knew how to work his charm.

He couldn’t help but wonder: was Lu Xiye like this with others, too? However, that thought was quickly nipped in the bud.

He grabbed a towel to dry his hair again before picking up the paper bag and placing the entire thing inside the simple wardrobe a step away. Yet he didn’t walk away immediately, standing there for a short while instead. About half a minute later, he bent down once more. The paper bag rustled softly as he pulled out the tin of candies and gently slipped it into his backpack.

By the time Lu Xiye returned, five days had passed.

It was right around the end of the school day. The area outside the school gates was bustling with life, mostly groups of students heading out to eat together. Lu Xiye parked his car in an alleyway—a spot he had scouted after multiple attempts, offering the best view toward the school gate. Just further down the alley were two small eateries; the hot, savory aroma of cooking floated over, intensely inviting.

He had never eaten in small diners like these. His parents considered them unhygienic, and his life had been well cared for. Although it wasn’t the traditional kind of parental warmth and companionship, his material needs, money, food, and clothing were all meticulously arranged. As a result, he rarely had the chance to visit places like this. Yet even though his parents claimed the oil and vegetables in such diners were low quality, he still felt that these aromas carried a warmth and liveliness far greater than those at home.

He waited for a long time, but that familiar figure never appeared.

Many shadows passing by the car turned back, and the noisy bustle gradually quieted down. Only two girls remained lingering outside the alley, constantly peering toward the school gate. One of them held a bouquet of roses made out of cotton candy—pink and delicate, seemingly waiting for someone. The girl holding the flowers looked as sweet and tender as the bouquet in her arms, yet she appeared very nervous. She kept smoothing her hair, stamping her feet every now and then, or leaning over to whisper anxiously with her companion…

Lu Xiye shifted his gaze toward the academic building. It was now brightly lit, and the students fooling around in the hallways had noticeably thinned out. It wasn’t really disappointment; he had known all along that Jiang Suifeng wouldn’t come out to eat, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave just like this. After all, having stayed abroad for these past few days, he missed the boy terribly. In his past life, he had no one left to long for; in this life, now that he had someone, his desire became ravenous. Even if the feeling that person left on his hands was mostly cold and hard, whenever he thought of him, his heart felt hot and soft.

The phone rang. It was a call from his father. Lu Chenming urged him to come over for dinner, saying everyone was present and only waiting on him. Lu Xiye was half-dubious: “Are you sure Mom arrived on time?” “For once, your mother isn’t late,” Lu Chenming said. “And yet you’re the one being tardy.” Lu Xiye chuckled softly and replied, “Then why don’t you and Mom enjoy some two-person quality time first?”

Even as he said it, he raised his wrist to check his watch. Evening self-study was about to start; no matter how reluctant he was, it was time to leave.

Before starting the engine, he looked up at the school gate once more. Perhaps the person the girl was waiting for had arrived, because she took a few quick steps forward and straightened up, adopting a graceful, quiet posture—standing slim and elegant, looking far prettier than she had at any moment prior. Lu Xiye paused his movement once again. He thought with amused interest: I wonder what kind of person he is. If a girl like that can’t move his heart, then he really must be completely unfeeling toward romance.

The sky gradually dimmed, like a black-and-white television screen losing its signal as static scattered across the heavens. That figure finally entered his line of sight. The fingers Lu Xiye had been tapping against the steering wheel suddenly stilled, and his eyes narrowed instinctively.

The figure was tall, lean, and straight as a sturdy pine tree—the very person carved into his heart, whom he had been desperately waiting to see.

He walked neither hurriedly nor slowly, but soon arrived in front of the two girls. As he approached, the girl holding the flowers eagerly took a step forward, closing the distance between them. To Lu Xiye, they were standing a bit too close. Close enough to make his brows furrow and his expression turn cold.

Because of the distance, he couldn’t hear their voices and could only observe their actions. They exchanged a few words—mostly spoken by the girl and her companion. Jiang Suifeng didn’t speak, nor did he move. Then, the girl held out the bouquet of flowers. Jiang Suifeng didn’t take them. He said something and stepped back two paces. The girl took another step forward, raising the flowers once more. This time, Jiang Suifeng didn’t move; he merely lowered his gaze slightly, looking at her. It was impossible to tell what kind of look was in his eyes, but under that gaze, the raised flowers were slowly lowered.

The girl turned into a delicate flower battered by the rain, hanging her head under the freezing drizzle. She held the flowers tightly, then let go slightly. A moment later, as if finally realizing the reality, she turned and ran off. Her companion hurriedly chased after her, but not before throwing a sentence back at Jiang Suifeng.

Jiang Suifeng tilted his head slightly. That gaze, which had been on her a second ago, now shot cold and deep straight toward Lu Xiye’s car.

The car wasn’t the one he usually drove, and the windows were fitted with privacy tinting. Lu Xiye knew the boy couldn’t see him, yet the coldness in those eyes only stirred an even hotter fire in his heart. That glance was brief, for Jiang Suifeng quickly turned and walked back into the campus.

Watching the receding back of that distant figure, Lu Xiye couldn’t suppress the curl of his lips no matter how hard he tried. His eyes brimmed with laughter, while in his heart he couldn’t help but tease: This guy… really is completely unfeeling toward romance.