Time Has Grown Dim, And Evening Has Already Fallen - Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Cheng Xun zipped up his down jacket until it reached just below his chin. The stark contrast between the pure black coat and his fair skin was striking.

The dead of winter was brutal, and the air felt cold enough to freeze someone solid. Unfortunately, it hadn’t snowed heavily in the south for many years; the last proper blizzard seemed to have been when Cheng Xun was in the seventh grade.

The two of them bid farewell to Liang Ziyan in the station waiting hall.

“Remember to come visit me when you have time. Don’t go forgetting all your old friends,” Liang Ziyan’s voice sounded steady despite the chaotic surroundings. “I’m more than happy to welcome Cheng Xun along, too.”

As he finished speaking, he shot a glance at Cheng Xun and gave an exaggerated, playful wink.

“Sure thing,” Cheng Xun laughed.

“Good luck with the Gaokao,” Lu Xingshu added.

Those five words seemed to be Liang Ziyan’s Achilles’ heel. His expression instantly became conflicted, but he quickly regained his spirit, waved a final goodbye, and turned to leave.

Lu Xingshu walked ahead, carrying his guitar bag. He was tall and stood out effortlessly in the crowd. Cheng Xun didn’t even have to try to follow him; a casual glance was enough to spot that familiar back.

The airport bus swayed along the road, traveling from the bustling city center all the way north toward their small county. Returning to familiar surroundings naturally allowed their minds and bodies to relax.

The bedroom was too small, and there was truly nowhere to put Lu Xingshu’s guitar, so it eventually found a home in the corner of the living room.

Cheng Xun hadn’t forgotten the meal Lu Xingshu had paid for. He snuck off to the wet market alone to buy groceries, planning to personally cook dinner for Lu Xingshu and Grandma.

The dinner turned out surprisingly lavish. Following tutorials he found on short video apps, Cheng Xun prepared tamagoyaki (rolled omelet), fried pork chops, omurice, and cream of mushroom soup.

Neither Grandma nor Lu Xingshu knew he could make such fancy, colorful dishes.

“I just learned it from videos,” Cheng Xun said modestly, rubbing his face after he laughed. He felt that ever since Lu Xingshu moved in, he had started smiling much more than before.

The portion of pork chops he gave Lu Xingshu was exceptionally large, giving the latter the illusion that he was being “fattened up.” But the food was truly delicious—perfect in color, aroma, and taste. It seemed Cheng Xun was naturally gifted in the kitchen. If Lu Xingshu had attempted this spread, he probably would have done more than just blow up the kitchen.

After bringing the guitar back, Lu Xingshu played it occasionally, mostly because Cheng Xun wanted to hear him sing. Whenever he hummed and sang softly, Cheng Xun insisted on filming the whole thing with his phone. His arm would get tired and start shaking, so the footage sometimes looked like it had been caught in a magnitude ten earthquake.

However, Cheng Xun had no intention of posting these videos online. He kept them purely for his own appreciation on his phone; it didn’t matter if the screen wobbled.

Winter break was short, and life continued its steady pace.

School resumed right around Valentine’s Day. Even though the school strictly forbade “early love,” it couldn’t suppress the budding romantic hearts of the students. Lu Xingshu received quite a lot of chocolate. Most were given discreetly through classmates, while others were stuffed into his desk. After all, if someone approached him directly, they risked a cold, ruthless rejection.

Lu Xingshu was principled and didn’t touch the chocolates. Cheng Xun, however, felt it was a waste, suggesting they put them in the shop to sell since they were unopened. He did, however, feel a momentary pang of guilt for being so opportunistic.

As the weather turned from cold to warm, the monotony of study repeated day after day. A strange sense of desolation hung over the campus—likely because the dreaded National College Entrance Exam (Gaokao) was drawing closer. The school was becoming increasingly strict with the seniors.

While the “Top Ten Campus Singers” competition was in full swing for the rest of the school, the seniors weren’t even allowed to watch. At least during the first semester, they could attend the school anniversary as spectators. Cheng Xun couldn’t help but feel a sense of impending doom, knowing that when they became seniors, things would be even tighter.

“Aren’t you signing up?”

As soon as the teacher announced the singing competition, Cheng Xun whispered the question to Lu Xingshu.

The latter shook his head. “I’m not interested.”

“Why? You sing so well. Don’t you want more people to hear you?” Cheng Xun smiled at him, a gentle shimmer in his amber eyes.

Lu Xingshu was stunned for a moment. He quickly looked away and shook his head again. “Maybe another time.”

“Okay,” Cheng Xun said. “Then I’ll look forward to that ‘another time’?”

Lu Xingshu blinked. “You really like hearing me sing?”

“I do,” Cheng Xun laughed without a hint of hesitation. “If it sounds good, it sounds good. I have no reason to lie to you.”

Lu Xingshu rubbed the back of his neck and started working on problems with a muffled grunt. Fortunately, Cheng Xun didn’t see how red his ears had turned.

Cheng Xun’s birthday was in May. According to his ID, this was the year he officially became an adult.

Lu Xingshu hadn’t forgotten. He had secretly prepared a gift, waiting to give it to him at home after evening self-study. He didn’t expect that at the start of the first session, Cheng Xun would stealthily toss a sticky note onto his desk.

The classroom was unnervingly quiet; anyone speaking would stand out. That was why Cheng Xun used the “stupid method” of passing notes.

Let’s sneak out later. Xie Qiubai said he’d treat me to a meal for my birthday.

After reading it, Lu Xingshu pulled out a memo pad, wrote a reply, and pushed it back. Cheng Xun hadn’t held much hope of convincing a “good student” to skip class, but when he opened the paper, he saw two words written clearly:

Alright.

When they actually slipped out after the break, Cheng Xun was still a bit dazed. He stared intensely at Lu Xingshu. “We’re skipping class?”

Lu Xingshu: “Yeah?”

“Don’t good students like you feel a heavy psychological burden for skipping? I thought you’d at least hesitate before rejecting me.” His eyes were full of surprise, completely unaware that his initial judgment of Lu Xingshu’s personality had been a dead end from the start.

“Your birthday is more important,” Lu Xingshu said vaguely, avoiding the details.

“Fine.” Cheng Xun didn’t want to overthink it and led him to the tree where they’d agreed to meet Xie Qiubai.

Since they were skipping, they obviously couldn’t walk out the front gate. Behind the school bleachers was an outdoor pool belonging to the neighboring swimming center. It was rarely used and currently empty. They climbed over the low wall and found a set of stairs leading down.

“Xie Qiubai, if we get caught sneaking out like this, we’re dead. Lu Xingshu and I might be okay, but you have a criminal record,” Cheng Xun joked, tapping Xie on the head. “A public reprimand and a self-criticism on stage on Monday for you.”

“I’m doing this for your birthday, and you’re already cursing me?” Xie Qiubai laughed and messaged Cheng Xun’s hair in retaliation. “A birthday dinner has to happen on the actual day to count.”

“It’s just the three of us anyway, whatever’s fine,” Cheng Xun shrugged, swatting Xie’s hand away.

Compared to the grand party Xie Qiubai had for his own birthday, Cheng Xun’s was indeed quiet. He didn’t have many friends; he had plenty of casual acquaintances, but those he truly trusted… well, there was one idiot and one “Ice King.”

To his surprise, Xie Qiubai had chosen a hotpot restaurant. Then, Cheng Xun suffered a massive “social death” moment—being surrounded by staff singing the birthday song felt incredibly silly. Luckily, he wasn’t thin-skinned and even clapped for the hard-working waiters.

After the celebration, Cheng Xun took off the birthday hat and stuffed it into Lu Xingshu’s backpack. Yes, for some reason, Lu Xingshu had brought his backpack along while skipping class.

Xie Qiubai had ordered a cake, but Cheng Xun wasn’t sentimental enough to insist on candles and a wish. He went through the motions and started cutting it. It was his favorite strawberry flavor, though the strawberries were a bit too tart.

“Thanks, man,” Cheng Xun gave two pieces to Xie Qiubai, his tiger-tooth peeking out when he smiled. “Have an extra piece.”

“No thanks, I don’t like sweets much, and I need to save room for the hotpot,” Xie Qiubai winked mischievously and put the extra piece on Lu Xingshu’s table. “Let Old Lu have it. He’s the one who looked after you most this year.”

Xie Qiubai rubbed his ear, grinning like a flower, then ordered several cans of beer on his iPad. When the waiter brought them, he handed them all to Cheng Xun. “Happy adulthood. You can drink now!”

Lu Xingshu looked at the two pieces of sweet strawberry cake on the table, then at Cheng Xun, who was already smiling as he pulled the tab on a can. He couldn’t help but speak up. “Cheng Xun.”

“?” Cheng Xun stopped, looking at him with a face full of confusion. “What is it?”

“It’s not good to get drunk,” Lu Xingshu said hesitantly.

“It’s just one can of beer. How could I possibly get drunk?”

Cheng Xun’s cheeks were slightly flushed—likely from the heat of the hotpot. His smile was a bit hazy, and in Lu Xingshu’s eyes, all that remained were those very sweet dimples. Lu Xingshu decided he was overthinking; it was just beer, and Cheng Xun didn’t look like a lightweight who’d pass out after one glass.

He nodded and didn’t protest further, quietly eating his strawberry cake. It was a bit rich; he wasn’t a fan of sweets and found them filling. By the time he finished the two pieces, Cheng Xun had already finished two cans.

Beer is a bit bitter, but once it goes to your head, you lose track of things. Seeing Cheng Xun’s face turn visibly redder, Lu Xingshu snatched the third can away and swept it into his backpack without another word.

He reached out and pressed a hand to Cheng Xun’s forehead, saying softly, “No more.”