How Can Two People From Different Sides Ever Fall in Love? - Chapter 21

Chapter 21

◎ Thank you for your surprise ◎

“CP?” Raven’s hand on the steering wheel paused, the expression on his face going blank for an instant as he stared straight through the front windshield.

In the blink of an eye, he slowly regained movement, but when he spoke again, he was hesitant, uttering each word deliberately: “What is a CP… how should I explain this to you?”

A second later, he realized why Hollis had asked: “You heard us?”

The discussion he and Silver had this morning about titles even if Hollis heard it, it was useless; Raven still didn’t know how to explain to him what a CP was.

The first time he heard of “CP” was also from Silver.

At that time, after listening to Silver’s description, only a basic concept had formed in his mind, but he wasn’t interested in the so-called emotional bonds between two humans and had never bothered to look it up privately.

Now that Hollis had suddenly asked, he couldn’t concretely express the blurred concept in his mind, so he just said whatever came to him.

“A CP, well, it seems to originate from the English word ‘couple,’ but it isn’t necessarily a real pair. You can understand it as the people who ‘ship’ a CP wanting them to become a couple. It’s common in literary and artistic works; it’s roughly like that.”

“Then why did she say she can’t ship our CP?”

Raven gripped the steering wheel, glancing sideways at the passenger seat upon hearing this.

His explanation had been so abstract, yet listening to Hollis’s tone, he didn’t seem entirely ignorant of CPs; he even knew that any two people combined together could be shipped.

Seeing the destination right ahead, Raven suddenly asked back: “When you were in school, did the school ever hold any arts performances where students had to go on stage to perform skits, plays, or things like that?”

Hollis was puzzled but still answered obediently: “Yes.”

“Did you participate?” Raven pondered for a moment, thinking that with Hollis’s cold face unable to squeeze out a smile for half a day, he was probably destined only to play a tree or a patch of grass. He then changed his question: “Or did your friends or close classmates ever participate?”

Hollis thought back seriously.

Most of the friends and classmates he got along with were like him—they didn’t like participating in school trivialities, at most helping out with errands or odd jobs.

There was, however, a cousin a few years older than him who had a penchant for being flamboyant and loved calling friends together.

Regarding the school arts performances, this cousin not only participated actively but never cared about anything else except the role with the most screen time; he’d even fight for it even if it was a cross-dressing role.

Hollis seemed to understand why Raven was asking this. When he answered again, his voice was inexplicably a bit strained: “Yes.”

“How did you feel watching him perform?”

Very awkward.

Watching an acquaintance act is a form of torture because you know each other too well.

When a familiar person puts on a mask to perform someone else’s life, a crack opens between reality and fiction, creating a strong sense of fragmentation. If one isn’t careful, it’s easy to get pulled out of the scene, and the resulting goosebumps could fill the floor.

Moreover, the acting skills in student arts performances were rarely enough to bridge this gap.

It’s like in real life—actors need to maintain a certain sense of mystery; otherwise, once that mystery vanishes, no matter how skilled the acting is, the audience’s viewing experience will be greatly diminished.

Raven read Hollis’s silence and summarized: “It’s not necessarily exactly the same, but it’s more or less like that.”

As for the talk about being civilized, polite, of high character, and respecting others—Raven considered that all just idle office chatter. If he told Hollis, he feared the man would never understand it in his lifetime.

They reached the destination. He parked the car and turned off the engine.

Raven tapped the steering wheel: “Alright, let’s get out.”

Climbing the stairs to the fifth floor, Raven pushed open the door of the rental apartment. A gust of wind blew into the living room through the open balcony; the curtains on the wall and the tissues on the coffee table instantly took on the shape of the wind.

The wind didn’t stop, brushing along the path past the windmill in the stoneware vase on the dining table. The blades spun, and the crisp sound reached the entryway.

As luck would have it, Raven gave a knowing smile: “The wind is so strong; it’s even blown to the dining table.”

Once the words fell, the curve of Raven’s lips flattened bit by bit. As he muttered “windmill,” he sat on the shoe-changing stool, looking thoughtful.

“Mr. Councilor, I’d like to ask your advice. What are the odds of a person encountering an item not commonly seen in the past twice within a short period of time?”

Hollis finished changing his shoes, took Raven’s slippers, and squatted before him: “Hard to say.”

Raven kept his heels together, using leverage to pull off one leather shoe: “Then take your time saying it.”

Hollis picked up the two pairs of shoes and placed them into the recessed area under the shoe cabinet: “There might be psychological factors at play, and psychological factors change in an instant; they’re hard to quantify.”

Raven interpreted his subtext: “Because it didn’t appear often in the past, the first time it appears, it easily attracts attention. Afterward, one might pay more attention to elements related to it.”

“Exactly.” Hollis walked to the dining table, pointing at the windmill that was slowly coming to a halt. “For example, if you really like this windmill, and you encounter or hear about a similar item again, you will invest a certain amount of attention.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Councilor, but there is one point I must correct you on.”

Hollis asked humbly: “Go ahead.”

Raven stepped forward to stand before him, meeting his gaze as his words conveyed his heart: “It isn’t an ‘example.’ I truly do like this windmill very much. I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you. Thank you for your surprise.”

The Raven who poured out his heart received a silent Hollis in return.

Right up until they sat face-to-face for dinner, it was Raven who couldn’t stand the wordless atmosphere and broke the stalemate first: “Do you plan on never speaking to me again from now on?”

Hollis stopped his hand which was picking up food, staring fixedly at the meat and vegetable dishes on the table: “You want to ask about that windmill chocolate from this morning, don’t you?”

Raven first nodded, then shook his head: “Not anymore.”

Hollis instinctively felt that he both wanted and didn’t want to know the reason.

But how could Raven understand his convoluted thoughts? “What I want to ask about now is you.”

Another silence followed. It was unclear how much time passed before Hollis suddenly put down his bowl and chopsticks, leaned back, and actually started telling a story: “Be’elmiro is also known as the City of Windmills. There are many legends about windmills there.”

Just like the windmill he brought back.

At the time, the elderly stall owner providing handmade windmill services at the market had said to him: “In Be’elmiro, the windmill is the earthly incarnation of the invisible God of Wind.”

“If people hand-make a windmill and give it to a loved one, then when the windmill spins, it is the God of Wind conveying your blessings and heart to them.”

Recalling the stall owner’s words, Hollis’s Adam’s apple rolled. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Raven, however, picked up his thread: “City of Windmills? Then aren’t there many windmill-related products?”

Hollis was non-committal. He composed his emotions and directly pointed out the area Raven suspected: “Where was your Secretary-General on business recently?”

Raven’s heart wasn’t at peace either, unable to spare extra attention for Hollis: “Could it be a coincidence?”

Hearing this, Hollis knew—it definitely wasn’t Be’elmiro.

However, he didn’t care whether it was a coincidence or not. He just remembered that in the past, he had passed the office breakroom and accidentally overheard other colleagues discussing Voye and Harry.

He couldn’t remember the specifics, but if it weren’t for this so-called coincidence today, he wouldn’t have felt surprised over a windmill-shaped piece of chocolate.

“Perhaps it is.” Hollis shrugged, picked up his bowl again, and shoveled a large mouthful of rice.

Raven ate silently.

He always proactively avoided office gossip precisely for fear of knowing too much; if he didn’t control himself while working together later and let some clues slip, it would be terrible if it affected work.

Unless the gossip was earth-shattering enough to destroy rationality would curiosity take the upper hand in the tug-of-war between reason and curiosity.

The right-hand men of the two party chairmen possibly being on good terms privately was not yet enough to destroy Raven’s rationality and spark an infinite desire to explore.

Besides, taking any relationship between any two colleagues in the two parties separately—which one could be more explosive than his and Hollis’s?

Since Hollis was unwilling to say more, Raven didn’t press him.

Let those “brothers in misfortune” be buried in the past with time.

The gossip about the “brothers in misfortune” had come to a temporary close.

After eating and drinking his fill, the satiety from the refined carbohydrates occupied Raven’s brain. He accidentally buried Hollis along with those brothers in misfortune—

He forgot to ask why Hollis had suddenly stopped speaking.

After finishing the series of bedtime tasks, he sat on the bed and picked up History of World Costume: Ancient Oriental Volume to start reading.

From the open bedroom door, the sound of the shower splashing in the bathroom opposite drifted in from time to time. The curved letters suddenly looked like earthworms crawling around in Raven’s eyes. The book in his hand grew heavier and heavier, like bricks being stacked and added during the construction of a house.

His gaze gradually blurred, and his grip slackened. An almost inaudible thud erupted below his chest and above his abdomen.

Hollis walked into the bedroom while drying his hair, only to see Raven suddenly sit bolt upright like a reanimating corpse.

In the next second, he clutched his ribs and slumped on the bed. It was unclear if he just hadn’t adapted to his body after resurrection.

“What are you doing?” Hollis now felt a bit of the awkwardness of watching an acquaintance perform, even though he knew there were no techniques, only raw emotion. However, Raven’s inexplicable behavior still made him afraid to step forward. When he opened his mouth, all that remained was personal resentment: “Stretching?”

And thick confusion.

Laziness in action was a rare sight.

Raven propped himself up on the quilt and slowly sat up. He was relatively lean, with ribs clearly visible; the hardcover tome of history was like a real brick.

With this “brick” coming down, he felt his ribs were about to break. Yet Hollis just had to stand at the door making sarcastic remarks.

He was both in pain and angry, wanting nothing to do with him.

But fate insisted he give a response at this moment—the phone suddenly rang. He had to instruct Hollis to use this as atonement: “Please hand me the phone.”

It was actually right on the nightstand. If he just turned around and reached out, he would definitely be faster than Hollis.

But he was a person who wouldn’t lift a finger if he didn’t have to; even changing and putting away shoes required someone else to do it for him.

This “someone else” once again did as he wished, walking to the bedside without a word of complaint and handing him the phone.

Raven showed a look of satisfaction, but he froze when he saw “Annie Li” on the screen.

A surge of unease hit him. He hurried to answer the call and brought it to his ear: “Hello, Annie, what’s wrong?”

By the bedside, Hollis’s gaze focused, shooting directly at Raven on the bed.

A strange name calling late at night immediately triggered his alertness.

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