Chapter 27 Part 2 — Back by his side
The smile slowly froze on his face.
Realizing he hadn’t seen wrong, the sight before him completely stunned him.
Xiang Weishi’s mind went blank.
He even stammered, “No way… holy shit, shit, shit—what the hell, since when am I that strong?”
He swallowed hard, cursing inwardly: Damn it, in my twenty-some years of life this is the first time I’ve seen Xie Hejing cry. He actually cries?!
A few seconds later, he understood it had nothing to do with him. Xie Hejing wiped away the tears with a blank expression, as if the man crying just now wasn’t him at all. Only the redness at the corners of his eyes betrayed what he’d just felt.
“What’s today’s date?” Xie Hejing asked.
“The 23rd… no, the 24th.” Xiang Weishi glanced at his phone. “Actually, it’s past midnight—so the 25th now.”
“Mm,” Xie Hejing responded faintly, then fell silent again.
Xiang Weishi was still rattled by what he’d seen just now. Looking at Xie Hejing’s absent, hollow demeanor, he couldn’t help blurting out, “Didn’t you just get back from your trip abroad a couple days ago? What, did your soul get left behind there?”
Xiang Weishi hadn’t known about the trip at first.
But just after Xie Hejing had landed overseas, Xiang Weishi had been pestering him to play a ranked game online. He was competing with his roommate to see who could climb faster, and begged Xie Hejing to duo with him, promising him dinner in return.
Irritated, Xie Hejing simply told him he was abroad and didn’t have the time.
His flight had landed at night. The whole trip had been so sudden—so rushed that he hadn’t even packed anything properly, and had booked his hotel only at the last minute.
Lying in a bed in a foreign land, he opened Nan Xu’s WeChat Moments, not knowing how many times he had done so.
Since moving abroad, her Moments had dwindled. She no longer shared selfies. Almost every year, the only post she made was a simple birthday greeting to herself.
Their chat box still lingered on that summer when she had first left.
Xie Hejing tapped the screen, furrowing his brows, his fingers clattering out a long string of words. But then he froze, scrolled up to reread their old messages, and finally deleted everything he’d just typed.
The next day, he went to Nan Xu’s university.
The bus stop was rusted and weathered. Standing a little ways off, Xie Hejing tugged his hoodie lower over his face.
And suddenly—he saw her. For the first time, Nan Xu in her university years.
She stood at the bus stop, dressed in a simple coat, holding a book, chatting casually with someone beside her. She clearly didn’t notice Xie Hejing watching from across the crowd.
That distance gave him the chance to study her without restraint.
Her looks hadn’t changed much. The childishness had faded, but her smile was still gentle. She was slimmer than before, her wrist bones jutting out, and just below, faint bluish marks could be seen.
Xie Hejing’s eyes lingered on those marks, his mind going blank.
When he followed her onto the same bus, he finally realized where those marks came from.
Nan Xu was one of those who worked part-time to support herself. Whenever she wasn’t in class, she picked up shifts.
Because her hours were short and irregular, the only steady work she had—besides occasional translation gigs—was at a restaurant near the campus.
When Xie Hejing stepped inside that restaurant, she was in the middle of being berated by a difficult customer. Clearly, this wasn’t the first time.
Her expression remained calm, almost accustomed to it. With a soft smile, she apologized and smoothed things over. Without anyone stepping in, she handled the situation on her own.
Then, with the same polite smile, she continued weaving through the restaurant, serving tables.
But to Xie Hejing, that smile looked unbearable.
He frowned. He had seen her real, unrestrained laughter before—bright and alive. And he knew, without question, that what she wore now was not that.
Back when she was in Zhi’an, Nan Xu had barely ever set foot in a kitchen. But now, she was in the restaurant’s back kitchen almost every day.
She used to be so delicate that even a tiny cut could bring tears to her eyes. Yet now, even when something from the kitchen hit her, she managed to keep a straight face. Only her trembling hands betrayed the fact that she was still afraid of pain.
Xie Hejing had finally gotten a clear look at her hands. In the past, they had been like finely carved jade—fair, slender, and graceful. Now, all that luster was gone. The backs were dry and rough, the fingertips no longer soft.
That vain little girl who used to love looking pretty…
It felt as if a blunt weapon had slammed into his chest. Xie Hejing lowered his eyes.
He couldn’t bear to look. He didn’t dare to.
By the time her shifts ended, it was already late. Fatigue lined Nan Xu’s brow. She was walking down the street when she suddenly sat down on a bench by the roadside.
Xie Hejing stopped as well.
The same Nan Xu who had carried herself with such confidence and ease just moments ago now sat with her head bowed, staring at her hands in silence, sighing softly. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking.
Then, only a few seconds later, her shoulders trembled, and a single tear fell onto her dry, rough hand.
Xie Hejing’s nerves jolted. He almost rushed over to her—but just then, her phone rang. He froze, retreating back beyond her boundary.
It was a call from Wen Qiu.
Nan Xu held the phone a little away, took a deep breath, and only after several seconds managed to steady her voice so it wouldn’t shake. “Mom.”
Wen Qiu was still at the hospital, keeping Nan Xu’s father company. Stirring her takeout with chopsticks, she fussed over Nan Xu with gentle concern.
“Jiaojiao, are you eating well? About to go to sleep soon? Remember to soak your feet before bed. The weather’s getting colder and your health isn’t good—you mustn’t catch a chill. Mom will come stay near your school in a few days.”
Nan Xu’s lips trembled. She wanted to cry but bit down hard, refusing to let the tears fall. Her throat felt tight, like something was stuck there, making it impossible to get a word out.
When the silence dragged on too long, Wen Qiu asked softly, “What’s wrong, Jiaojiao? Do you blame Mom for not being by your side these days?” Her voice carried a hint of sadness.
Nan Xu’s nose stung, heat filling her eyes. She pressed her lips together tightly, sniffled, trying to swallow down that aching lump in her chest and hold back the tears threatening to spill.
“No, Mom. I’m just a little tired. Please don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself. You should rest when you can and take care of your own health.”
The moment Wen Qiu heard her daughter was tired, she immediately gave up the thought of video calling. “Tired, huh? Alright then. Mom won’t keep you. Go get some good sleep. I’ll hang up now.”
“I…” Nan Xu steadied her voice. “Mm. Goodnight, Mom.”
Since home was far from school, Nan Xu rented a small place nearby with some classmates. The space was cramped, just enough for the essentials. Her own room barely fit a bed and a cabinet, with no extra space. But she didn’t have much desire for shopping anyway, so she didn’t mind. The rent was cheap, too.
Her roommate was a local girl in a similar situation, and fortunately, they got along well.
Xie Hejing stayed around for three days and somehow managed to get acquainted with the roommate.
From then on, whenever Nan Xu came back exhausted from work, she always found a refrigerator fully stocked and a table laid with hot food. She no longer had to drag herself to cook.
When she asked about it, she was shocked to learn it was her roommate who had cooked everything.
Her roommate’s family background wasn’t great, and she was usually frugal, often cooking just enough for herself, never such large meals.
Nan Xu thought she must have guests over, so she retreated to her room. But her roommate stopped her, saying that the food was made especially for her.
She needed money. Unable to find a decent part-time job for the moment, she wondered if she could earn a little by cooking dinner for her.
Nan Xu was tempted. Every time she came home from her part-time job, all she wanted was to collapse and not move.
She often skipped dinner or just grabbed something casual. But she didn’t have much money herself, so after some thought, she politely declined.
Her roommate was troubled. She thought of the offer that Chinese man had given her, and of the benefits she could gain.
So she knocked on Nan Xu’s door again. In the end, she proposed a price so low it left Nan Xu stunned—and agreed to cook her dinner every day.
That night, Xie Hejing dressed up in a mascot costume and waited outside the convenience store where Nan Xu passed after work.
When she walked by, his eyes followed her unconsciously. Then, pretending to randomly choose a “lucky passerby,” he handed her a huge bouquet of flowers.
It had been so long since Nan Xu had received flowers that she had almost forgotten the feeling. But when the bouquet was suddenly in her arms, a rare smile bloomed on her face.
Happiness—real happiness.
The kind that let her forget her exhaustion, if only for a little while.
Watching her up close, Xie Hejing’s gaze trembled. Hidden behind the mascot’s head, he never once looked away.
The bouquet was so large it blocked Nan Xu’s view as she carried it. She didn’t notice a loose stone in front of her. When she stepped on it, her body tilted unsteadily.
“Careful.”
Xie Hejing rushed forward and caught her securely.
A single, fleeting touch.
Hearing those words, Nan Xu turned in surprise toward the “mascot.”
“You’re Chinese?” she asked.
The “mascot” nodded.
Nan Xu’s heart skipped unexpectedly. Seeing that he didn’t speak again, she pressed on:
“Sorry, I might be being a little forward, but… could you say something else?”
“Not much, just… just say my name. Just the words ‘Nan Xu.’”
Silence hung in the air. The two of them simply stood there, a dozen steps apart, with crowds of people passing by and traffic flowing on the street. Yet it felt as though time itself had frozen.
One of them just wanted to look a little longer.
The other just wanted to be sure.
It wasn’t until her roommate called, asking why she still hadn’t come home, that Nan Xu snapped back to herself. Even so, she couldn’t help wanting one final confirmation.
Clutching the bouquet, she took a step forward and softly called out:
“Brother?”
The “mascot” didn’t answer. He didn’t say another word. He only shoved the rest of the gifts into her hands before hurrying away.
That very night, Xie Hejing left in a rush and returned to China.
Back in her room, Nan Xu sat staring blankly at the bouquet and pile of gifts. That “mascot” had felt so familiar.
She opened her chat window with Xie Hejing, hesitated, and typed:
[Brother, are you in America?]
Delete…
[Brother, I met someone whose voice sounded just like yours.]
Delete…
[Brother,]
Delete…
The English translation is:
Not knowing how to send this long-delayed message, Nan Xu sighed deeply, put down her phone, and decided it would be better not to bother him.
But that night, she posted something new to her Moments—for once, not just the usual birthday wish to herself.
[Lucky!]
The picture was of the bouquet.
Xie Hejing saw it only after his plane landed. He immediately saved the photo to his phone.
At long last, he had another picture stored there.
The last one had been of a snowy landscape.
Now, the two images sat side by side in his phone.
From that day on, Nan Xu’s Moments were no longer limited to the simple “happy birthday to me” once a year. Her posts became more frequent, more lively.
For example:
[Today my roommate gave me a ton of snacks from home. Strange—after living together so long, it’s the first time I’ve seen her buy these.]
[My roommate recommended me a part-time job! Finally, I can change work. Super happy—the new environment suits me.]
[Feels like my roommate’s turning into a master chef. She’s even learning to make braised pork for me. Amazing.]
[My roommate…]
And so on.
Watching her Moments gradually fill with lighter, happier posts, Xie Hejing couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips.
. . . . .
On the night of the 24th, Xie Hejing got a call from Xiang Weishi inviting him out for a gathering. He didn’t refuse.
Before leaving, on a whim, he tidied up his room. His eyes fell on a small box set to the side.
It held a jumble of things—little gifts Nan Xu had given him before she left. From time to time, he would take them out and wipe them clean.
This time, when he picked it up, the screws on the bottom loosened. A small strip of wood slipped out—and with it, something he had never noticed before.
At the very bottom of the box was a hidden compartment, barely five centimeters high. Inside lay a letter, unopened for years.
It was short, only half a page.
The words “(beloved by everyone)” had been crossed out.
Brother,
I hope this letter finds you well. As I pick up my pen to write, the night outside is pitch dark, and my heart feels just as messy—so many emotions tangled together, I can’t make sense of them.
I don’t usually write letters, so this one will be casual. Don’t think I’m too talkative—and if you do, well, I guess there’s nothing I can do. I just wanted to use this to chat with you. Have you ever been to America? This is actually my first time going abroad, my first time traveling so far. The unfamiliar place, the unfamiliar people… honestly, I’m a little scared.
A few days ago I told you Dad was going in for surgery. I’m worried, afraid something might go wrong. When I video called Mom, I noticed her white hairs. She tried to hide them, but of course I spotted them right away. That’s when I realized—they’ve both grown old without me noticing. And I feel so useless, like I haven’t done anything to help, haven’t eased their burdens at all.
I’ve said so much, but really, what I wanted to ask is… Brother, if you have time, could you give me a call? Or a video call? Don’t worry, I promise I won’t disturb you often.
There are some things I can’t tell Aunt Zhang—she’d tell Mom right away. You’re the only one I can tell, Brother.
Nan Xu
She had written a date, then scratched it out completely. In the end, she drew a little heart beside it.
. . . . .
On the 25th, one minute past midnight, Xie Hejing saw Nan Xu’s new post on Moments:
[Happy Birthday to myself. ps: My roommate got me a cake—it was amazing.]
He briefly closed the app, then swiftly transferred money to an account with practiced ease.
After that, he stared at his chat window with Nan Xu, his thoughts drifting back to that letter.
“Xie Hejing, what are you looking at?”
Seeing Xie Hejing, who had just been on the verge of tears, now sitting blankly with his phone, Xiang Weishi pulled out his own phone as well. Naturally, he also saw Nan Xu’s post.
He let out a whistle. “Damn, what kind of god-tier roommate is this?”
Snapping back to himself, Xie Hejing asked, “Xiang Weishi, what if someone you haven’t spoken to in a long time suddenly reached out to you?”
Xiang Weishi chuckled. “If someone I haven’t heard from in ages sends a message, it’s either because they want to borrow money, or they want something else. Either way, nothing good. I usually can’t be bothered to reply.”
He leaned closer. “Why, did someone hit you up for money?”
“No.”