Chapter 107

Qin Qingzhuo stayed in the instrument room for two days and two nights, attempting to fall asleep but never managing to do so.

He went out to buy food, each time climbing the stairs while staring at the signal indicator in the upper right corner of his phone. As soon as the signal gradually returned to full strength, he began checking for received messages.

Yet Jiang Ji hadn’t sent a single message.

On the third night at the instrument room, Qin Qingzhuo went out for a late-night meal.

His stomach was uncomfortably empty, so he found a convenience store and bought a bowl of instant noodles, but couldn’t eat more than a few bites.

Returning to the instrument room, he climbed the stairs leading to the basement where there was no signal. Before the last bar of signal disappeared from his phone, he glanced at it once again.

Still no messages. Not a single one.

The idea of breaking up emerged at this moment.

Until then, he had been waiting for Jiang Ji’s message. He thought that no matter what Jiang Ji sent, even if it was just a punctuation mark, he would send out that sentence, “I don’t regret letting you record your fingerprint.”

But Jiang Ji remained silent.

In the over seventy hours since their argument, while Qin Qingzhuo repeatedly stared at his phone, Jiang Ji hadn’t sent a single word.

It felt like an unspoken standoff. Qin Qingzhuo hoped that Jiang Ji would be the first to break the silence, to prove that Jiang Ji’s feelings for him hadn’t soured because of their argument. But Jiang Ji stubbornly refused to grant his wish.

If being cheated on felt like being executed in an instant, the pain came swift and sharp. But now, this silent standoff felt like being tortured, with no end in sight. Every minute felt agonizing.

Maybe they should break up, Qin Qingzhuo thought. Cutting ties quickly would be far better than slowly tearing oneself apart with a dull knife.

Yet as his thumb hovered over the chat box, ready to type “w,” a sharp, piercing discomfort suddenly stabbed at his chest. It felt like tiny needles were pricking his heart, penetrating every inch, making it impossible for him to type any other letters.

—”Don’t want to break up. Don’t want to part ways. Don’t want it to end.”

Those words screamed in his mind.

A few seconds later, Qin Qingzhuo turned off the screen and put his phone away.

The discomfort eased slightly, but the needles were gone, leaving behind their puncture marks.

Emptiness, with wind seeping in from all sides.

His heart felt suspended, each beat light and ethereal, with nowhere to land.

Closing his eyes, the dream of those disappointed eyes would come back.

Opening them, he would think of that day in the instrument room, how Jiang Ji touched him, embraced him, and kissed him.

It was like suddenly developing an addiction to Jiang Ji.

The withdrawal effect was more painful and acute than ever before.

Lost in thought for a while, Qin Qingzhuo finally took a step forward, but not towards the instrument room—he went upstairs.

It was past three in the morning, the sky dark, and snow was falling.

Getting out of the taxi, Qin Qingzhuo walked towards the rehearsal room that looked like a warehouse.

The rolling shutter was tightly closed. He stood in front of the door, tapping it with his palm, but there was no response from inside.

Jiang Ji wasn’t there.

He didn’t come back all night. Where could he have gone?

Taking out his phone from his pocket, Qin Qingzhuo typed a line in the input box: “I’m at the entrance of your rehearsal room.”

His finger paused for a moment, but this time he sent the message.

Staring at the chat interface, the screen dimmed slightly, and he used his thumb to light it up again.

Repeatedly, the response still didn’t come.

Was he asleep? But if he wasn’t sleeping in the rehearsal room, then where could he be sleeping?

From what Qin Qingzhuo knew about Jiang Ji, after hearing those words from himself that morning, Jiang Ji was unlikely to return to his own residence or studio.

Could he have gone back to the Honglu Bar? But he hadn’t been singing at the bar for so long, and there didn’t seem to be any reason for him to go back…

Leaning against the rolling shutter door, Qin Qingzhuo looked at the dim streetlights not far away.

Well, let’s wait a while then. When dawn comes, the band will come for rehearsal.

Strangely, the sleep lost in that underground instrument room was found again at the entrance of this rehearsal room in below-zero temperatures.

Tiny snowflakes fell, landing on his face and quickly melting on his skin. Qin Qingzhuo’s hands were in his pockets, the lower half of his face buried in a soft scarf, his eyelashes drooping, showing signs of drowsiness.

The north wind howled in his ears, so much so that he didn’t even notice the roar of the motorcycle approaching.

A figure extended to his feet not far away, quickly covering his legs until it enveloped his entire body in shadow.

Feeling drowsy, Qin Qingzhuo saw the black boots lingering in front of him.

The drowsiness eased a little as he looked up at Jiang Ji.

Like the young and attractive eyes from his dream, deep and heavy.

But Jiang Ji’s face showed no expression, and the look in his eyes was unclear, hiding any emotions.

After a moment of eye contact, Qin Qingzhuo reached out and hugged Jiang Ji.

He heard Jiang Ji’s heartbeat, steady and strong.

Then, his own heart, suspended in his chest, seemed to fall back into place, beating in sync with the other.

Jiang Ji sighed. A heavy and long sigh.

He didn’t say anything, just raised one hand, rubbed Qin Qingzhuo’s reddened ears due to the cold, then took out a key from his pocket and opened the rolling shutter door, softly saying, “Let’s go inside.”

The shutter door slowly lifted, but Qin Qingzhuo didn’t let go of Jiang Ji’s hand.

He suddenly felt a bit greedy for this feeling of embrace, as if it could quickly calm a person down.

However, Jiang Ji didn’t let him hug for too long. A few minutes after the shutter door was completely raised, Jiang Ji grabbed his wrist, taking his hand off his waist.

“Let’s go inside,” he repeated, his tone devoid of any emotion.

Jiang Ji’s vocal tone was somewhat cold, so when he spoke without much emotion, it sounded a bit indifferent.

Qin Qingzhuo lowered his hands, no longer hugging him, and followed him into the rehearsal room.

Jiang Ji walked to the table by the window, picked up the remote, and turned on the air conditioning in the rehearsal area. “Have a seat.”

Qin Qingzhuo sat on the sofa, and the heart that had returned to its place started to race again. He realized that while he was agonizing over the direction of this relationship and suffering, perhaps Jiang Ji had also become less resolute—that explained why he hadn’t sent a message for such a long time.

Jiang Ji poured about half a bottle of mineral water into the electric kettle. While it bubbled and boiled, he leaned against the windowsill, looking at Qin Qingzhuo on the sofa.

Qin Qingzhuo had already taken off his scarf. At the moment, he lowered his head. The snowflakes that had fallen on his hair and clothes had melted, and his nose was a bit red from the cold. The joints of his intertwined fingers were also tinged with red, but his lips lacked color.

Pouring the water into a cup after it reached a near boil, Jiang Ji walked over, placing the cup of hot water on the table in front of Qin Qingzhuo. Then he raised his hand, took off his own coat, and threw it next to Qin Qingzhuo. “Take off that coat and wear this one.”

Qin Qingzhuo heard a hoarseness in his voice and looked up at Jiang Ji. “Are you… catching a cold?”

Jiang Ji didn’t speak, leaning back against the windowsill. He threw a few mint leaves into the remaining half-bottle of mineral water, shook it, and took a few sips.

“Put it on if I told you to.”

Without pressing for more answers, Qin Qingzhuo took off his overcoat.

The cotton-padded jacket retained body heat and was much warmer than his cashmere coat, which had been soaked with snowflakes and cold wind.

Jiang Ji noticed that the hickies on Qin Qingzhuo’s neck had faded, but there were still visible marks. There was also a faint bite mark on his collarbone. When Qin Qingzhuo had suggested biting harder, Jiang Ji couldn’t bring himself to do it.

It should have been a bit harder, biting until it bled, leaving a scar would have been better. Such thoughts flashed through his mind.

“We said it wasn’t appropriate,” he looked at Qin Qingzhuo, spoke, and his tone carried a faint trace of mockery. “You come looking for me in the middle of the night. Are you trying again?”

Qin Qingzhuo kept his head down, his voice very soft, sounding sincere. “That day… emotions got the better of me, and I said many things I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry, Jiang Ji.”

“What does that mean now? Does trying again seem appropriate to you?”

Qin Qingzhuo remained silent, still bowing his head. The slightly protruding Adam’s apple rolled beneath the thin skin.

Jiang Ji felt frustrated but couldn’t suppress his feelings. Qin Qingzhuo’s “I’m sorry” was too light, unable to fill the crack left by those words in his heart.

“Qin Qingzhuo, do you think that just because I like you, you can say whatever you want to me?”

Seeing Qin Qingzhuo remaining silent, Jiang Ji continued, “After those words about ‘trying out’ that day, did you feel particularly pleased?”

After a moment of silence, Qin Qingzhuo shook his head. “No, I felt… uncomfortable, and I regretted saying those things to you.”

This time it was Jiang Ji who fell silent, just looking at Qin Qingzhuo.

Clearly, these past few days he had thought many times that as long as Qin Qingzhuo was willing to admit his mistake, he would let bygones be bygones.

But now that Qin Qingzhuo had truly apologized to him, he felt it wasn’t enough.

He wanted more, enough to confirm that Qin Qingzhuo’s feelings for him were deliberate and sincere, not just a spontaneous “tryout.”

“Actually, these past few days, I’ve also thought it over.” Qin Qingzhuo’s gaze lowered slightly. “We do have too many differences in personality. You always want to face everything head-on, while I prefer to avoid certain things. I’ve always felt that it’s too exhausting to confront everything. If avoiding can make things easier, why not do it? But I won’t stop you from facing things head-on, yet you don’t want me to keep avoiding… I realized this even before we got together, so at that time, I really just wanted to try it out.”

Jiang Ji waited for Qin Qingzhuo to deny the “tryout,” but Qin Qingzhuo gave him the opposite answer.

He suddenly felt somewhat absurd, so absurd that he let out a light chuckle.

Interrupted by the laughter, Qin Qingzhuo paused before continuing, “But it wasn’t me trying, I was the one being tried.”

“What do you mean?”

“You must have noticed,” Qin Qingzhuo said slowly, “most of the time I can maintain emotional stability as long as the issue with my ears isn’t brought up. But once it is, I become unpredictable, even hysterical. I’ve been diagnosed with significant bipolar tendencies… People like me probably aren’t suitable for intimate relationships because for a relationship to last, both parties need to be honest with each other, but I can’t do that. Whenever the issue with my ears is mentioned, I feel uneasy, and I instinctively want to hide and avoid the problem.”

His bent elbow rested on his thigh, his head lowered, and a few strands of hair, damp with melted snow, stuck to his face. It was a side of him that had never been exposed to others, appearing somewhat fragile and pitiful.

Jiang Ji looked at Qin Qingzhuo and couldn’t deny that he was shaken.

These past few days, he had actually sought out many people—Lin Qi, Li Zi, Cai Heng, Xia Qi, Xie Chengyun… After hearing about what had happened between them, all of them had shown a surprised expression and gave a fairly consistent evaluation—”commendable courage.”

Jiang Ji realized that Qin Qingzhuo’s level of stress in this matter was much higher than he had thought.

The process of pulling Qin Qingzhuo out was too painful, and while Qin Qingzhuo was in pain, he himself wasn’t much better off.

“Why didn’t you continue hiding this time, but instead came to find me?” Jiang Ji asked, breaking the silence. “Aren’t you afraid that I’ll keep forcing you to face this issue?”

“I am afraid, but…” Qin Qingzhuo’s eyelashes drooped even lower. “Maybe I just didn’t want it to end like this. I’ve disappointed too many people already, I don’t want you to be disappointed in me as well.”

After a pause, his voice softened. “But perhaps, you’re already disappointed in me. They were right, I deserve it.”

Jiang Ji fell silent, looking at him.

No matter what, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything more to hurt Qin Qingzhuo.

After a moment, Jiang Ji walked over, bent down, and grabbed Qin Qingzhuo’s wrist, pulling him up from the sofa. “Let’s go, I’ll take you somewhere.”