Desk-mate, Do You Like Me? - Chapter 74

Chapter 74

Li Mo did not waste the hard-won half-hour.

He walked out of the study, his steps slightly unsteady. After spending so much time in a relatively confined space, the sudden exposure to the open living room, with its change in light and vision, made him squint slightly.

Yu Wenxiu was sitting on the sofa in the living room, holding a magazine, though she wasn’t turning the pages. Her gaze landed on Li Mo the moment he appeared, carrying scrutiny and a hint of undetectable tension.

Li Mo didn’t look at her, nor did he attempt to approach her. He walked silently to the window, stood there, and quietly looked out at the familiar courtyard. The sun was shining on the lawn, and a few sparrows hopped on the branches. All of it was so ordinary it felt luxurious.

He greedily inhaled the air, which was different from the study’s, carrying a fresh scent of plants, and felt the warmth of the sun on his skin. He didn’t speak or make any unnecessary movements. He just stood there, like a long-confined traveler finally finding an oasis, only needing to quietly absorb it.

Yu Wenxiu looked at his thin, tall, yet visibly tired back. The words of warning or questioning on the tip of her tongue were somehow swallowed back. She could feel the repressed longing and caution beneath the deliberately maintained calm on her son’s body.

In the following days, this “break time” was fixed. Li Mo strictly adhered to the rules, never stepping outside the first-floor perimeter and never actively approaching the front door. Sometimes he stood by the window, sometimes he slowly paced the living room, occasionally picking up the newspaper on the coffee table to glance through it, but mostly he remained silent.

His studying was consistently good, even more focused than before. Ye Zhong continued to bring him more study materials and competition information, and Li Mo completed them meticulously. His grades steadily improved, and his scores on several mock tests even surpassed those before his confinement.

This near-“model” behavior wrapped Li Mo’s true emotions in a hard shell. Only when he was alone in the deep night would he stroke the black jade on his wrist, allowing the waves of longing and worry to surge, silently gnawing at his heart. Xu Qing, are you okay? Where are you? Did you… try to find me?

The ice in Yu Wenxiu’s heart further melted under Li Mo’s daily “good behavior” and Ye Zhong’s persuasion. She started allowing his weekend “break time” to be extended to an hour, even tacitly permitting Aunt Zhang to open the glass door to the courtyard on good weather days so he could feel the outside air.

Everything seemed to be moving in the direction Yu Wenxiu desired—her son was “back on track,” focused on his studies, and no longer mentioning the person who should not be mentioned.

Until one day, after dinner, Ye Zhong casually brought up: “Mo Mo’s condition has stabilized quite a bit recently, and he hasn’t neglected his studies. About the transfer we discussed earlier, I think…”

Yu Wenxiu immediately became alert: “No! It’s too early to relax! Who knows if he’s just pretending?”

She would never allow any risk that might lead to Li Mo and that Xu Qing intersecting again.

Ye Zhong glanced at her but did not insist, only stating calmly: “Keeping him locked up is not a long-term solution. The international class at that private school does have resources and an environment better suited for his future development. We can proceed with the paperwork; the specific enrollment date can be decided later.”

This felt more like a notification than a discussion.

Yu Wenxiu opened her mouth, intending to argue, but seeing Ye Zhong’s unquestionable gaze, she ultimately held back. She knew that when it came to “what’s beneficial for Li Mo’s future,” Ye Zhong had more resolute and long-term considerations than she did.

Li Mo learned that the transfer procedures were being processed through Aunt Zhang’s careful small talk. In that moment, he felt the blood drain from his body.

All his efforts, all his patience, had ultimately failed to change this outcome? He was still going to be sent to a completely unfamiliar place, to be completely isolated.

Despair, like a cold vine, instantly wrapped around his heart, almost suffocating him.

But he didn’t explode like last time. He only remained silent for a few seconds, then gave a slight nod to Aunt Zhang, who was watching him worriedly, indicating he knew. Then he turned and walked back to the study.

Closing the door, he leaned against the door panel and slowly slid to the floor. The black jade on his wrist dug painfully into his skin.

He couldn’t go. At least, not without a struggle.

A few days later, Li Mo found an opportunity. Yu Wenxiu was out at an unavoidable social gathering, and Ye Zhong had not yet returned from the company. Only Aunt Zhang was busy in the house. He used his “break time” to walk to the telephone in the living room—the only landline in the house that wasn’t fully monitored.

Yu Wenxiu believed that mobile phones and the internet were the things needing strict control. This old-fashioned landline was usually only used by Ye Zhong for some old acquaintances.

His palms were sweating, and his heart pounded like a drum. He quickly dialed the number he knew by heart.

The voice on the receiver, however, was a cold recorded message: “The number you have dialed is no longer in service.”

In an instant, Li Mo felt like he had fallen into an ice cellar.

No longer in service… Xu Qing, he changed his number? Was it intentional? Was it because he couldn’t reach me, so he… gave up? Or did something else happen?

A massive wave of panic and disappointment seized him. He stood frozen, clutching the receiver, until Aunt Zhang’s questioning footsteps came from the kitchen. He quickly hung up the phone and swiftly walked back to the window, as if nothing had happened.

Only his face was terrifyingly pale.

The failure of this attempt and the blow of the “empty number” left Li Mo depressed for a few days. But he quickly forced himself to rally. He couldn’t give up.

If Xu Qing changed his number, he would find a way to get his new contact information. If the transfer was unavoidable, he would find a way to leave a message before leaving, or… become stronger in the new place, and then come back for him.

He suppressed all his surging emotions back into his heart and threw himself into an almost frantic pace of study.

He began to actively consult Ye Zhong on topics like university major selection and future career planning, showing serious consideration for his “future.”

This change satisfied Ye Zhong and, for Yu Wenxiu, was proof that Li Mo had “seen the light.”

The transfer to the private school was finalized under this apparent calmness, beneath which currents still surged. Although Yu Wenxiu still had reservations, she eventually nodded under Ye Zhong’s insistence and Li Mo’s seemingly compliant behavior.

…

The day he left, the weather was fine.

Li Mo didn’t have much luggage; the school would provide most things. Yu Wenxiu’s eyes were red as she fussed over various precautions. Li Mo listened quietly, nodding occasionally.

Before getting into the car, he looked back at the house, his gaze lingering briefly on Yu Wenxiu and Ye Zhong, and finally resting on the large tree in the courtyard that he often looked up at.

His eyes were calm, even carrying a hint of relief, but deep within, a spark that had never been extinguished was hidden.

The car door closed, separating the inside from the outside. The car slowly drove away, leaving Yu Wenxiu’s worried and reluctant gaze behind.

Li Mo leaned back in his seat, watching the rapidly retreating street scenes outside the window, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the black jade on his wrist.

Xu Qing, no matter where you are, no matter how long it takes, I will find you.

…

Time flew by, and in the blink of an eye, it was the college entrance examination.

The long, almost isolated life at the private school had ended.

When the ending bell for the last subject of the exam rang, Li Mo walked out of the examination hall with the crowd. The summer sun was somewhat blinding.

The management of the private school was extremely strict, communications were tightly controlled, and coupled with Yu Wenxiu’s intentional isolation, he had received almost no news about the outside world, especially about Xu Qing, for nearly two years. He was like a pebble dropped into the deep sea, silently sinking and being polished along a predetermined trajectory.

He had become more composed than before. The last trace of youthful naivete had faded from his well-defined face. His eyes were deep, making it difficult to discern his emotions. Only the black jade bracelet on his wrist, which he had never taken off, revealed certain unchangeable obsessions.

Returning to the city apartment Ye family had temporarily arranged for his exams, the room was silent. He put down his pencil case. Instead of celebrating or completely relaxing like other test-takers, he habitually opened his almost-new laptop—which Ye Zhong had allowed him limited use of during his senior year as a reward for “excellent performance” at the private school.

Connecting to the internet, he logged into the social media application he had almost forgotten.

Notification sounds clamored immediately. Most were discussions and well-wishes from the class group chat, and some greetings from long-lost classmates.

He scanned them distractedly, his fingers quickly scrolling, as if searching for a specific frequency in the clamor.

Then, his movement stopped.

In the friends list, an avatar that had been dormant for nearly two years lay quietly.

The avatar hadn’t changed.

And next to it, an unread message was displayed.

Sent two months ago.

Sender: Xu Qing.

Li Mo’s breathing suddenly stalled. His heart felt tightly squeezed by an invisible hand. Nearly seven hundred days and nights of separation, speculation, and waiting condensed into that familiar name and an unread notification on the screen.

He practically held his breath, using slightly trembling fingers to click open the message.

The content of the message was simple, just one short line, yet it was like a blinding flash of light, instantly killing all the excitement in his heart:

【Li Mo, let’s break up.】

【This is where we end.】

The words on the screen burned into Li Mo’s eyes like a red-hot iron.

All surrounding sounds disappeared. The world faded into a buzzing white. He stared fixedly at those two lines of text. Time seemed to stretch infinitely. The strokes of every character twisted, carrying a cold finality that pierced all his carefully constructed defenses.

Break up.

This is where we end.

No explanation, no reason, not even a trace of hesitation. It was like stating a long-established fact that had nothing to do with him.

Nearly two years of persistence, countless agonizing nights spent relying on that fragile hope, all the forbearance and planning—in this moment, were shattered by these few light words.

He thought that when he next heard from Xu Qing, it would be sheer joy, the relief of recovering what was lost. He never expected to receive such a sharp blade, handed by Xu Qing himself, plunged precisely into his heart.

A sharp, numb sensation came from his heart, followed by a hollow ache, not violent, but enough to drain all the strength from his body. He maintained the posture of clicking the mouse, motionless, with only his pupils subtly trembling uncontrollably.

The black jade on his wrist, pressed against his skin, radiated a heavy coolness, as if mocking his long, one-sided dedication.

Why?

Did he wait too long, and so he gave up?

Did he find… a new life, a new person?

Or, was everything back then not as important as he had imagined?

Innumerable questions, like venomous snakes, burrowed into his mind, gnawing at his sanity. He tried to find a clue, a flicker of emotion—even anger or resentment—in those brief, cruel sentences.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Only a dead silence of finality.

Li Mo slowly leaned back against the chair. The light from the computer screen flickered on his face, but it could not penetrate the heavy shadow that had suddenly fallen over his eyes. He didn’t scream, didn’t smash things, and didn’t even show a single extra expression.

All the inner turmoil was locked within that seemingly calm shell.

Turns out, what he thought was an oasis was just a mirage. The shore he struggled so hard to swim toward no longer had anyone waiting.

He didn’t know how much time passed. Outside the window, the faint sound of students cheering, freed from the exam, came through, as if from another world.

Li Mo slowly, slowly reached out and closed the dialogue box. Then, he moved the mouse, and the cursor hovered over the “Delete Friend” option for a long time.

In the end, he did not click it.

He simply closed the chat window, logged out of the application, and shut the laptop.

His movements were mechanical, carrying a strange kind of calmness.

He stood up and walked to the window. Downstairs, traffic flowed, and the air was noisy, filled with anticipation for the future and post-exam wildness. The sun was still bright, even a bit glaring.

Li Mo stood quietly, watching the hustle and bustle, yet feeling like a detached island.

He raised his hand and looked at the black jade on his wrist. For nearly two years, it had become a part of him, his only comfort and belief in the stifling confinement. And now, that belief had collapsed.

He gently stroked the cold stone, his fingertips feeling the subtle lines on its surface.

Then, he very slowly, untied the sliding knot of the string.

The black stone beads fell into his palm, heavy, carrying his final warmth.

He clenched his hand, his knuckles turning slightly white from the force. After a moment, he walked to the desk, pulled open the bottom drawer, placed the bracelet inside, and closed it.

The movement was decisive, without a hint of reluctance.

With a soft thump, the drawer closed.

It was also like closing a significant part of his heart.

He turned around, his face still expressionless, but his eyes had completely frozen over, like a deep pool covered in ice and snow, showing no ripples, reflecting no light.

Yu Wenxiu’s call came in at that moment, her voice carrying a rare lightness and concern: “Mo Mo, how do you feel after the exam? What do you want to eat tonight? Mom will make a reservation, we can…”

“Mom.” Li Mo interrupted her, his voice calm and steady, with no trace of the immense shock he had just endured. “Whatever. You decide.”

Yu Wenxiu on the other end seemed to pause, then her tone became even softer: “Okay, okay, Mom will arrange it then. You rest well, and the driver will pick you up tonight.”

“Mhm.”

Hanging up the phone, Li Mo took one last look out the window.

The lingering light of the setting sun bordered the city with gold, warm and false.

He pulled at the corner of his mouth, showing a very faint, extremely cold smile.

This is where we end.

He walked toward the bathroom, preparing to wash away the fatigue from the examination hall, and perhaps, to wash away the naive, obsessive, and ultimately proven foolish self of the past.

The sound of running water began, covering the last subtle sound of heartbreak in the room.