You Said You Liked Me, Didn’t You? - Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The two of them went to the room next door and sat side-by-side on the sofa.

They were a bit close. A light fragrance of perfume lingered around her nose—it smelled wonderful, a cool scent like a cold spring gurgling in the deep mountains. Li Canglang quietly nudged herself a little further away.

She couldn’t help but form many guesses about what Nan Yang wanted to say to her, yet her nervousness prevented her from thinking deeply.

Nan Yang stood up, unscrewed a bottle of water, handed it to her, and sat back down beside her. She spoke first, asking casually, “How have you been lately?”

Li Canglang was a bit surprised but answered honestly, “Pretty good. I’m working as a calligraphy teacher, teaching kids to write every day and reading casual books. It’s quite interesting.”

“Oh, that sounds very suitable for you.” Nan Yang said, looking at her with a smile. “Are you not writing books anymore?”

Li Canglang turned her head away, avoiding her gaze. She felt embarrassed—damn that Shangguan. She once again regretted not protecting her pen name well enough. Having her writing seen by someone she knew, especially the person she liked, was simply too awkward.

For a period of time, she couldn’t even help but wonder about her friend’s reaction every time she wrote a chapter.

Fortunately, she could finally change her pen name now.

“I’m not that short of money now, so I want to rest for a while.” She let out a cough to hide her embarrassment and changed the subject. “What about you? Is work going smoothly?”

“Yeah, it’s going quite well. Everyone looks out for me.”

Nan Yang asked again, “Has your brother graduated from university?”

Li Canglang said, “Not yet, but soon. Probably this year.”

After chatting for a bit about their current lives, both fell silent, not knowing what to say. People change; they hadn’t met or contacted each other for too long, and they felt like strangers to each other’s lives, no longer sharing common topics.

Even if past memories remained, people live in the present.

The hotel’s soundproofing was excellent, keeping the clamor outside the door. In the silence, the room was exceptionally quiet, making the atmosphere feel a bit strange.

“What did you want to tell me?” Li Canglang finally couldn’t help but get to the point, turning her head to look at Nan Yang.

Nan Yang was also looking at her with an unreadable expression, appearing somewhat hesitant. Amidst their eye contact, she suddenly leaned in close, bringing her face near Li Canglang’s.

They were inches apart, their breaths intertwining. Li Canglang was caught off guard as she met those eyes; under thick lashes, the dark, bright pupils were as clear as they had been in her youth, reflecting Li Canglang’s own image.

In an instant, her heart nearly jumped into her throat. Li Canglang held her breath, leaning back slightly to pull away. She composed herself, frowning with uncertainty. “You…”

Before she could decide what to say, Nan Yang closed her eyes, rested her forehead against Li Canglang’s shoulder, and gently embraced her.

Li Canglang’s body instantly stiffened, unable to move an inch. Although they had known each other for many years, they had almost never been this close. She made guesses in her heart, yet feared she might have misunderstood the intent.

The person in her arms held an ultimate attraction for her. Li Canglang secretly took several deep breaths, pressing her thumb hard against the knuckle of her index finger, using the pain to suppress her racing heartbeat.

One second, two seconds, three seconds… She regained her composure and hesitantly reached out to stroke Nan Yang’s back. Her voice instinctively became gentle and low. “What’s wrong?”

Nan Yang didn’t answer immediately. She tightened her arms, quietly indulging herself for a brief moment before letting go and pulling back.

She looked at Li Canglang and smiled, as if she had set down a heavy burden. Her expression was much lighter, her eyes curving as she gently shook her head. “It’s nothing. I just felt like I was still missing one hug.”

A sense of indescribable greed rose in Li Canglang’s heart, her fingers instinctively curling slightly.

“Oh.” She didn’t know what to say again. She wasn’t usually such a dull person, but in front of her, she always found it easy to feel at a loss.

“Do you still remember when we were in school?” Nan Yang propped her chin on her hand and blinked at her somewhat playfully, whispering, “Actually, back then, I liked you, too.”

She said it as if it were casual small talk, her tone was light as a breeze. She paused, then smiled again. “I never said it out loud, so I still feel quite a bit of regret. Many things happened later…”

Li Canglang couldn’t hear the second half of the sentence. Without any preparation, it was as if a bomb had exploded in her ear. With a “buzz,” her brain went blank for a moment.

She reacted several beats too late, as if she hadn’t understood her meaning, or as if she doubted her own ears. She murmured in a daze, “Wh-what?”

“Time really flies. It was all so long ago.”

Nan Yang didn’t look at her. She stared at her own fingertips and let out a sentimental sigh. As she recalled the past, the light in her eyes flickered, appearing slightly dim, but she quickly lifted the corners of her mouth and gave a free-spirited smile.

“To you, this might seem a bit presumptuous and sudden, but I thought there might never be another chance in the future, so… well, I hope you don’t mind.”

Li Canglang stared at her blankly, her face turning somewhat pale. Her mind resumed functioning, and the sudden first sensation she felt wasn’t entirely one of pleasant surprise.

A piercing buzzing sound traversed her mind, and her temples seemed to throb along with it. She felt as though her head were about to explode, her headache splitting.

She didn’t know what expression to make or what to say. She wanted to respond to her as if nothing were wrong; she opened her mouth, but couldn’t make a sound.

She could only lower her head and stare at the ground, watching the patterns on the floor gradually blur as she tried hard to keep her eyes wide.

Because of her silence, Nan Yang felt inexplicably uneasy. She reflected on her words and felt nothing was inappropriate, so she nervously explained, “You don’t have to take it too much to heart. It’s all in the past.”

“It’s just that I’m about to enter the ‘grave of marriage.'” she joked, a faint sense of nostalgia in her eyes. “Before that, I was missing a period at the end of the sentence. Now, I suppose it has a beginning and an end.”

In one’s youth, one always lacks a bit of courage due to various reasons. By the time that courage arrives, things have long since changed.

Li Canglang stood up abruptly.

She dropped a “Sorry”—which carried a barely perceptible nasal tone—and without waiting for Nan Yang to respond, she walked quickly into the bathroom and locked the door behind her.

Walking to the sink, Li Canglang turned on the faucet. Amidst the sound of rushing water, tears uncontrollably spilled from the corners of her eyes.

So many emotions were blocked in her chest, aching dully. If this dialogue hadn’t taken place here and now, she wouldn’t have lost her composure like this.

Such absurdity—it was like a joke.

She really wanted to break down and cry regardless of everything, yet she still hadn’t forgotten the occasion. She only sobbed silently and with restraint, like a wronged child.

Just when she thought life would get better and better, life would slap her hard, leaving her dizzy. Fate was stingy and refused to give her even a little grace.

Droplets of water dripped from her chin, wetting the front of her clothes. Li Canglang bent down, cupped the running water with both hands, and splashed it continuously onto her face.

Actually, cooling down and thinking about it, had she truly never imagined a single possibility in her subconscious? Perhaps she was just avoiding it. Gender, family background, parents—there were too many obstacles between them.

She was a flower growing on a cliff. Her beauty and nobility were inseparable from the frost, wind, rain, and dew. Meanwhile, she herself was drifting in the mire. To pluck her would only drag her down and cause her colors to slowly fade. It was better to stand by and admire silently, acting as a passerby who once crossed her path.

Li Canglang looked at herself in the mirror in a daze. She raised her sleeve to wipe away the water droplets and pulled at the corners of her mouth, revealing a smile full of bitterness, like a clown.

She stood for a while longer until no traces were left before pushing the door open and walking out.

Nan Yang was right outside the door, leaning against the wall, thinking of who-knows-what. Seeing her come out, she appeared a bit at a loss and silently reached out to hand her two tissues.

Li Canglang took them and whispered a “Thank you.”

The atmosphere froze for a moment.

Nan Yang pursed her lips, lowered her eyelashes, and said softly, “If I’ve caused you distress, I’m sorry.”

Li Canglang didn’t explain. She wiped the remaining water from her temples, folded the tissue, and stuffed it into her pocket. She looked at Nan Yang, her gaze carefully tracing her features. Time had sculpted her face, shedding its immaturity without losing a single bit of its luster.

“Yang-yang,” before leaving, she couldn’t help but ask softly, “can we still be friends in the future?”

Nan Yang looked at her and didn’t answer.

Li Canglang nodded and didn’t ask further, as if there were a wordless understanding.

They both understood each other.

“I wish you happiness.” She gently embraced Nan Yang, whispered it in her ear, and quickly let go, stepping back.

“Goodbye.” She gave a smile, like on that afternoon before the Gaokao, a hint of her youthful spirit showing in her eyes. She turned, pulled open the door, and walked out.

Nan Yang watched her back. The door closed. She stood in silence for a long time, then also gave a smile of relief.

Li Canglang walked alone through the hotel corridors like a wandering soul, aimless. Her heart was empty, and she felt an unspeakable exhaustion from body to soul. She didn’t want to do anything; she only wanted to collapse and have a good sleep.

Seeing Nan Yang one more time meant her purpose for attending the wedding had been achieved. She had no heart to stay longer; among the friends and relatives arriving to offer congratulations, she wouldn’t be missed.

She sent a message to Shangguan to let her know and left the hotel.

Wedding photos had already been set up at the hotel entrance. Li Canglang stopped and looked for a long time. Even she couldn’t say, against her conscience, that Zhou Junzhi wasn’t a good destination.

Goodbye, she murmured in her heart. This was the final, final farewell. I hope you stay far from calamity, stay safe throughout your life, and remain safe and happy forever and ever.

The wind blew through the treetops, sounding like a rustling farewell.

When she returned home, it was exactly as it had been when she left—simple and monotonous. In less than half a day, Li Canglang stood quietly at the door, unexpectedly feeling a bit of estrangement.

One can of beer from last time was left.

It was exactly noon. She raised a toast from afar, treating it as wedding wine, and drank it all in one gulp. Soon, she got her wish, falling into a drunken stupor on the sofa and sinking into a deep sleep.

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