Save That Miserable Protagonist - Chapter 11

The opportunity to visit and learn at Minglai was rare. Pei Tingsong greedily soaked up the new knowledge. By the time he walked out of the hospital and saw the stars in the sky, he realized that a significant amount of time had passed.

“Um, thank you.”

Although their initial meeting had been unseemly and the subsequent events had caused Pei Tingsong to feel a great deal of resentment toward Lu Xun, he truly needed to thank the man for today.

Lu Xun watched as the other man lowered his head to offer his thanks. It was clear that this was no longer one of his sarcastic, surface-level displays of gratitude. It was sincere, even carrying a hint of shyness and embarrassment. Lu Xun accepted the thanks with great smugness and satisfaction.

Snapping his fingers lightly, Lu Xun jingled the car keys in his hand. “It is my honor to be of help to Student Pei. Alright, let us go. I will drive you back to school.”

The sky had indeed grown dark. Although Lu Xun did not mind spending another night with Pei Tingsong, he knew the other man would be unwilling, and Lu Xun did not want to push him too hard. Pursuing someone required a balance of pressure and release. Furthermore, Lu Xun felt his performance today had been perfect, so Pei Tingsong’s opinion of him must have improved.

Unfortunately, the atmosphere on the return trip was entirely different from what Lu Xun had imagined.

Outside the window, the lights of Jiangcheng were beginning to glow, creating a beautiful and vibrant night scene. However, inside the car, there was only silence, broken only by the low hum of the engine and the slight hiss of the air conditioner. This atmosphere was not just different from Lu Xun’s fantasy; it was the complete opposite.

Staring straight ahead, Lu Xun tapped his fingers rhythmically on the steering wheel. He stole a quick glance at the passenger seat. Pei Tingsong was leaning his head against his hand, looking out the window. The neon lights flashing past flickered in his dark pupils but failed to light them up. Pei Tingsong seemed shrouded in a layer of gloom. Combined with the shadow cast by the high bridge of his nose, he looked like a dim glass lamp: silent, detached, and seemingly fragile enough to shatter at a touch.

This is not how it should be, Lu Xun thought.

He could clearly feel the low spirits emanating from Pei Tingsong, which was entirely contrary to his expectations. Had he not done well enough today? He had showcased his resources, solved Pei Tingsong’s troubles, looked after his emotions, and considerately avoided mentioning anything about the previous night. He had even cracked a few jokes to lighten the mood. Even if the atmosphere was not romantic as he had envisioned, Pei Tingsong should not be exhibiting such a sorrowful silence.

This kind of emotion was far beyond the usual scope of what Young Master Lu knew how to handle. He was long accustomed to people being either grateful or ecstatic over the things he gave them. In any case, it was never like this. If anyone else had been this ungrateful in the past, Lu Xun would have already lost his temper. But he suddenly realized that he could not seem to get angry with Pei Tingsong. The usual cold mockery or sharp confrontation felt impossible to direct at him now. This realization made Lu Xun feel a bit flustered.

Approaching another red light, Lu Xun stepped firmly on the brakes and finally could not help but turn toward Pei Tingsong. Taking a deep breath, he softened his voice, asking with a level of patience he did not even realize he possessed, “What is wrong? Are you feeling unwell, or was there something today you were dissatisfied with?”

Hearing this, Pei Tingsong seemed to be pulled back from a distant thought. His body stiffened imperceptibly. Once he snapped out of it, he shook his head slightly, his voice muffled. “No, today was very good. Thank you.”

The words were spoken dryly. Lu Xun could not detect a single trace of “very good” in them. His brow furrowed slightly, and Lu Xun’s tone turned heavy. “Pei Tingsong.”

Lu Xun was used to being the center of attention, so he absolutely disliked the feeling of being brushed off. When he spoke again, his voice carried an unavoidable firmness. “Look at me.”

At this command, Pei Tingsong finally turned around. The interior lights of the car cast a soft glow over his face, but they could not hide the exhaustion he carried. Lu Xun saw him let out a soft sigh. That sigh made Lu Xun panic, and an unfamiliar irritability flared in his chest. He looked at Pei Tingsong and asked hurriedly, “What is actually wrong with you? I helped you solve your problem. Are you not happy?”

Hearing this, Pei Tingsong looked up and met Lu Xun’s eyes for a few seconds. Finally, he seemed to give up his resistance. Curling his lips slightly, he offered a very light, cold, and bitter smile.

“It is not that I am unhappy.” His voice was tiny, drifting in the night like the mist outside the window. “It is just that I am a bit struck down.”

“Struck down?” Lu Xun was full of confusion.

“Yes.” Lowering his eyelashes, Pei Tingsong looked at his fingers, which were somewhat rough from years of manual labor, and then at Lu Xun’s fingers on the steering wheel, which were as smooth as jade. “Today at the hospital, hearing your conversation with the director and those doctors, and seeing those sophisticated instruments, it was the first time I saw the gap between us so clearly.”

Pei Tingsong paused, seemingly organizing his words. His tone carried a weary honesty. “You know, that casual comment you made today about how the younger generation in your family is arranged to experience various places? When I heard it, I thought about how it took me eighteen years just to get to today, to stand before you.”

He sighed again and looked out at the passing lights, his eyes appearing somewhat hollow. “Eighteen years. It took me that long to walk out of that mountain village that does not even have a paved road and make my way to Jiangcheng step by step. When I first stood at the Jiangcheng railway station, I could not even speak Mandarin well. I had a heavy country accent and was mocked openly by others.”

“At that time, I thought that as long as I worked hard, as long as I desperately learned Mandarin and got the best grades, I could become like all of you and be respected.”

Pei Tingsong gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Later, I realized I was dead wrong. What is the use of practicing Mandarin or keeping your back straight? Some things are etched in the bone and flow in the blood. Things like the vision, resources, and that natural confidence you were born with are things I might never be able to touch even if I spend my whole life trying.”

“There is an invisible wall between us.” Pei Tingsong’s voice was soft, but its weight felt heavy, striking Lu Xun’s heart repeatedly. “Today, I just saw very clearly exactly how high and thick this wall is. It turns out that when you said you could buy out my dignity with a flick of your fingers, you really could do it with just a flick of your fingers.”

After finishing this, Pei Tingsong seemed drained of all his strength. He leaned his forehead lightly against the cool glass window. Belatedly, he felt the embarrassment of having bared his soul, so he did not dare look at Lu Xun again.

An even longer silence fell over the car.

Once the light turned green, Lu Xun pulled the car into the emergency lane and stopped. He sat there quietly watching Pei Tingsong. Just as Pei Tingsong had seen Lu Xun clearly for the first time today, Lu Xun was also truly understanding Pei Tingsong’s words for the first time. It was no longer about those cold rejections or thorny words. He truly understood the meaning behind those sentences: the eighteen years of heavy trekking, the deep-seated inferiority of being unable to fit in, and the immense helplessness and despair brought by the class chasm that could not be crossed despite his best efforts.

For the first time, what Lu Xun saw through Pei Tingsong was no longer just a beautiful, stubborn, and exquisite face that triggered a desire for conquest. It was a soul. It was a soul carrying heavy shackles yet still keeping its back straight, moving forward step by step through the mud. This soul was now showing a rare vulnerability because it had clearly seen that unreachable finish line.

This realization caused the mysterious irritability and frustration in Lu Xun’s heart to quietly transform. He suddenly remembered what the system had said about the bright future Pei Tingsong was supposed to have, his unyielding pride, and his tragic end falling on a rainy night. Behind all of that were these eighteen years.

A dull pain throbbed in his heart. Lu Xun slowly started the car. He did not look at Pei Tingsong but stared straight ahead. His voice lost its usual laziness and playfulness, becoming unusually calm and serious.

“That wall,” Lu Xun began, his voice exceptionally clear in the quiet cabin. “It exists. I never deny that.”

“However,” Lu Xun paused and turned his head to give Pei Tingsong an extremely quick glance. His amber-green eyes appeared unusually gentle in the night. “Pei Tingsong, have you ever considered one thing?”

“What?”

“You took eighteen years to walk from a mountain village to Jiangcheng, to a top university in the country, and to stand before me. Is that spirit and ability not more precious than simply being born into a good family?”

Lu Xun’s tone carried an unquestionable certainty. Toward the end, he even gave a small laugh, his expression full of appreciation.

Pei Tingsong was stunned. He had never expected Lu Xun to say such a thing. His heart felt as if it had been lightly brushed by something, leaving it itchy and numb. He stared straight at Lu Xun, but Lu Xun had already turned his head away, his tone returning to its usual lazy drawl.

“Things in the bone, things in the blood? Who says it has to be poverty? Can’t what flows in your bones be resilience?”

After saying this, Lu Xun seemed to remember something. He flicked the steering wheel and turned decisively onto another road.

“Hey!”

Pei Tingsong had not yet recovered from Lu Xun’s speech. Looking at the unfamiliar street scene outside, he asked in a daze, “This is not the way back to school.”

“Mhm,” Lu Xun responded. He blinked lightly, and the corners of his mouth curled into an extremely faint smile that was entirely different from his usual ones. “I suddenly do not want to go back to school. I am taking you somewhere.”

“Where?”

Lu Xun turned his head and smiled at Pei Tingsong. The neon lights flickered across his sharp profile, and his green eyes seemed to shimmer like a galaxy of stars: alluring and mysterious.

“A place where you will definitely be happy once you get there.”