Zeng Keqin’s voice carried a soothing quality in the empty alley. “But I think maybe he feels just as bad as you do, or maybe you’ve been going about it the wrong way from the start.”
Jiang Shiyu’s expression was complicated. After a long pause, he said hoarsely, “What do you mean?”
Zeng Keqin looked at him. Her almond eyes were clear and bright, holding a calmness beyond her years.
“I’ve looked into many similar cases. Most people don’t want to move on because they feel that moving on would betray the wounded version of themselves from the past.”
“So right now, what he needs isn’t material help. He needs someone to tell him that the past can be turned over.”
Silence fell in the alley.
Jiang Shiyu’s tall, straight back slowly hunched. His red hair fell forward, hiding his expression.
A long moment passed.
A self-deprecating smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
How many people were trapped in the past, unable to move on?
The moonlight fell on him, splitting him into light and shadow, radiating an indescribable loneliness.
Zeng Keqin pressed her lips together, about to comfort him—
“I’ll walk you back to school.”
Jiang Shiyu had already straightened up, his voice returning to its usual nonchalance, as if his previous dejection had been fleeting.
“Okay, but I need to go somewhere first.”
[ Minsheng Pharmacy ]
The glass door swung open. Zeng Keqin walked up to Jiang Shiyu with a plastic bag and handed it to him.
“Fifty-eight yuan total.”
Jiang Shiyu looked down at the bag—iodine, cotton swabs, bandages…
“I don’t need them.”
“Fine. Then consider it my meddling.”
Zeng Keqin didn’t argue and strode forward.
Jiang Shiyu stood dumbfounded for a moment, then caught up. “But then again, I do need to take care of the cuts on my face. After all, so handsome—it would be a pity if I got scarred.”
Before Zeng Keqin could react, the plastic bag was snatched away. Immediately after, her phone buzzed.
[ Transfer from recipient: 60 yuan ]
“The extra is for the errand fee.”
His infuriating drawl drifted past from beside her.
Zeng Keqin gritted her teeth. “Thanks a lot. Treat me to a two-yuan bottle of water.”
Jiang Shiyu raised an eyebrow, the movement pulling at the wound on his brow. “Ow…”
“Serves you right.”
Zeng Keqin pointed to a bench by the roadside. “Let’s deal with it there first.”
They sat down on the bench. She took a small round mirror out of her bag. “Here.”
Jiang Shiyu’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You girls even carry something like this around?”
“Use it or give it back.”
“I’ll use it, I’ll use it.”
Jiang Shiyu tore open the cotton swab packaging, clumsily unscrewed the iodine bottle, dipped a swab in, and accidentally dripped some on his pants.
“Damn!”
He quickly wiped it with his hand. “These are original limited edition!”
Zeng Keqin frowned and held back.
Jiang Shiyu held the mirror up to his face, squinting under the streetlight, and jabbed the cotton swab directly at the wound, wincing in pain as he applied it.
Zeng Keqin couldn’t take it anymore. She held out her hand. “Let me help.”
Jiang Shiyu hesitated for a moment, then handed her the iodine and cotton swabs.
She turned sideways and leaned in closer.
The cold cotton swab touched the wound on his brow.
It was much lighter than when he did it himself, like a feather brushing by, the pain mixed with an indescribable itch.
He tilted his head slightly.
The streetlight cast their shadows on the ground, overlapping with their movements.
“Lift your head.”
Her earnest voice was at his ear.
Jiang Shiyu raised his chin.