CHAPTER 23: DICKINSON

Ruan Zhizhi’s sleep had always been poor, and unsurprisingly, she couldn’t sleep that night. The dull ache in her hand was negligible compared to the thoughts racing through her mind. She tossed and turned alone, unable to understand why closing her eyes inevitably brought Shi Yan’s face to mind.

What did he mean earlier on the balcony by “someone else”? Was he referring to himself? Did he really like her as she hoped… or was it all just a passing whim?

He always acted this way—showing ninety-nine percent care, but refusing to clarify the remaining one percent.

But Ruan Zhizhi had realized that as long as Shi Yan never confessed, she would never have the chance to refuse him.

That night, her mind was a storm of tangled, unspeakable thoughts. Only in the early hours of the next day did she finally drift into a haze of sleep.

Around seven the following morning, the first light of day barely breaking, she heard a steady, measured knock at her door.

After a mental struggle, Ruan Zhizhi finally forced herself out of the warm bed to answer.

Thinking it was the delivery guy, Ruan Zhizhi opened the door, only to find Shi Yan standing in the hallway holding a paper bag.

He was wearing a simple black hoodie today and a pair of white sneakers. Clean and fresh as he looked, the early light barely illuminating the day, he stood quietly in the dim stairwell, instantly lighting up the entire space.

When he saw Ruan Zhizhi open the door, his face remained cold and indifferent. He glanced at her briefly before stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

After changing into slippers, he walked into the living room and dining area, opened the paper bag, and carefully laid out a bowl of porridge, a box of pan-fried buns, and several small side dishes neatly on the table.

Once done, he turned to look at her, tilting his head to appraise the sleepy Ruan Zhizhi in front of him. “Still not up?”

Ruan Zhizhi blushed slightly, lowered her head, and tried to smooth out her messy hair. “Not yet,” she admitted, then quickly added a defense: “You got up way too early. It’s still dark outside, and it’s the weekend, too.”

Shi Yan raised an eyebrow, completely ignoring her excuse. “Go brush your teeth. The porridge will get cold otherwise.”

Ruan Zhizhi rubbed her eyes, looked once more at his tall figure to reassure herself she wasn’t dreaming, and nodded before turning toward the bathroom.

At the sink, she stared at the neatly arranged row of toiletries, unsure where to begin.

Then, faint footsteps sounded behind her, and someone stepped close. The space between his chest and her back was barely a few inches. His scent was clean, with just a trace of tobacco, enough to make her heart race effortlessly.

The man wrapped his arms around her from behind, picked up a toothbrush and toothpaste from the shelf, and handed them to her. Ruan Zhizhi took a deep breath, secretly glancing at the half-length mirror in front of her.

Through the mirror, she could see clearly: her height barely reached his chest, his torso pressed against her back, and his movements looked almost like a tender embrace from behind. And he—was focused on squeezing the toothpaste onto the brush.

After preparing the brush, he turned on the faucet, filled a cup with water, and handed it to her. “Go ahead, brush your teeth.”

He had even thought of something as small as her struggling to squeeze toothpaste with one hand.

Holding the toothbrush, Ruan Zhizhi watched his retreating back and felt a strange, indescribable emotion swell in her chest.

Under Shi Yan’s full attention, she finished breakfast.

As she nibbled the last pan-fried bun, Shi Yan, who had been silent the entire time, suddenly spoke: “You’ll come with me to school later.”

Ruan Zhizhi froze, swallowing the last half-bite, and mumbled, “Why… to school?”

“You being alone at home makes me uneasy. It’s safer if you stay in my line of sight,” Shi Yan replied casually, not even looking at her, but the tone left no room for refusal.

So, with her left hand wrapped up like a bundle of rice dumplings and wearing a camel-colored cape coat, Ruan Zhizhi followed Shi Yan out the door.

….

Back at the campus gate of A University, a few students strolled by, joking and laughing, all looking vibrant and full of hope. Watching them, Ruan Zhizhi felt a genuine sense of aging.

Walking shoulder to shoulder with Shi Yan required courage. With her injured hand, they drew even more attention from passersby.

Feeling a little guilty, she lowered her head and quickened her pace, trailing behind him like a student who had made a mistake.

Entering the Third Teaching Building, they had to pass through a confined corridor. The space was airtight, claustrophobic—a memory Ruan Zhizhi still vividly recalled from a previous visit with Shi Yan. Her mild claustrophobia made it even more oppressive.

Shi Yan stopped in front of her, then walked into the darkness first. After a few steps, he paused, turned to her, and his gaze carried a hint of inquiry.

Finally, he reached out his hand, speaking softly: “If you’re afraid of the dark, hold my hand.”

Ruan Zhizhi hesitated for a moment, then summoned the courage to reach out and lightly grasp his pinky.

Her fingertip felt cold.

Shi Yan lowered his gaze at her cautious hand and smiled ever so slightly.

They walked through the enclosed, shadowy corridor, one after the other. To steady herself, Ruan Zhizhi finally spoke: “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you, I’m afraid of tight spaces because back in college, I got trapped in a chemistry lab during a blackout. There were so many flammable and explosive chemicals. When the lights went out and the door wouldn’t open, I nearly went mad, terrified that the next second I’d hear an explosion and my life would end abruptly.”

“I know,” Shi Yan replied casually, then added in an almost inaudible voice, “I was there too that day.”

Such an offhand remark sent a jolt of surprise through Ruan Zhizhi.

A whirlwind of thoughts raced through her mind.

Of course… Shi Yan had been her college classmate. If he was trapped in the lab during the blackout for experiments as well, it made perfect sense.

“Ruan Zhizhi, don’t you remember? That day, after the blackout, you panicked, grabbed my hand, and cried that you didn’t want to die, begging me not to let go.”

Shi Yan’s voice echoed clearly, each word unmistakable. So near, yet surreal, like a hallucination.

Ruan Zhizhi lowered her head, her face burning crimson, almost as if it could bleed. Even the hand holding his pinky felt entirely out of place at that moment.

She certainly remembered that incident, but back then, she had acted purely on instinct—grabbing the closest person to her in the dark. In that pitch-black room, she didn’t even see whether the other person was male or female. It was sheer panic and terror that had made her blurt out those shameful words without thinking.

She never expected… that person to be Shi Yan.

It was simply unbelievable.

Her eyes widened like a startled rabbit, staring at him, and for a moment, Ruan Zhizhi seemed to lose the ability to speak altogether. Shi Yan didn’t say anything either, and the atmosphere fell into silence once more.

They walked the rest of the way in silence until they reached Shi Yan’s office. Since it was the weekend, the office was empty and quiet, not a single person around.

Shi Yan walked over to the water dispenser, filled a cup with hot water, and placed it on the desk in front of her. He instructed her carefully, his tone a little worried:
“I have to go proctor an exam and should be back in about an hour. Stay here and wait for me, okay? If anything happens, call me immediately.”
After a pause, he added, “There’s candy in the left drawer. If you feel dizzy, have a few pieces.”

“Okay.”
Ruan Zhizhi nodded blankly, still not recovered from the shock of earlier.

Shi Yan, however, acted as if nothing had happened at all. Calm and composed, he reached out and gently ruffled her hair before picking up a stack of exam papers and lazily walking out of the office.

He really did seem to enjoy touching her hair.

Watching his retreating figure, Ruan Zhizhi once again felt deeply that it was far too much of a waste for a man like Shi Yan to be working as a university professor.

…

Sitting alone in the office quickly became boring. Using one hand, Ruan Zhizhi clumsily pulled her phone out of her bag and, out of habit, opened up her matching game to pass the time.

After playing for a while, her eyes started to ache, so she put her phone down and began spacing out.

Her mind drifted, circling back to the words Shi Yan had just said.

If… if the person she had grabbed that day in the dark laboratory really had been him, then that meant Shi Yan had known about her existence from the very beginning.

Ruan Zhizhi narrowed her eyes slightly, carefully trying to recall everything that had happened that day.

It was such a vivid memory—no matter how many years passed, she couldn’t forget it.

She remembered how terrified she had been when the power went out, how she had clung desperately to the hand of the person next to her, refusing to let go, her voice trembling with sobs as she begged him not to leave her.

That went on for almost an hour. In that time, she had rambled endlessly, holding tightly to his hand, telling him about everything—from the circumstances of her birth all the way up to her college life. She talked about the despair she felt when her parents divorced, how she had been bullied by her landlord when she first arrived in the U.S., and… how she had silently loved Li Sichen all those years without ever getting a response.

Twenty years of her life… and in that single, short hour, she had spilled every last detail to a complete stranger.

That person never said a single word. But he never once let go of her hand, either.

She remembered clearly: his palm was warm, but his fingertips were icy cold.

Finally, the lights came back on, and the laboratory door was forced open by the repairmen from the outside. Ruan Zhizhi, overcome with relief, had cheered along with everyone else and rushed out without even sparing a glance at the person she had been holding onto. She had run straight outside to grab her phone and call Li Sichen, eager to let him know she was safe.

Her thoughts sank deep into those long-faded memories, and Ruan Zhizhi’s gaze went blank, fixed on some invisible point in the air. She couldn’t calm her racing heart.

Shi Yan had known who she was from the very start… Was that why he kept helping her, forgiving her, time and time again?

But from the beginning until now, from the past to the present… it felt like she had been endlessly receiving his care, and yet, she had never done anything for him in return.

….

Lost in her thoughts, Ruan Zhizhi suddenly felt a wave of dizziness. Remembering what Shi Yan had said before leaving, she lowered her head and reached for the bottom right drawer of the desk. Sure enough, inside was an opened packet of fruit candy.

She grabbed one, unwrapped it, and popped it into her mouth. Just then, she noticed a small stack of bookmark papers tucked neatly in the corner of the drawer.

Since there was no one else around, her curiosity got the better of her. She pulled them out and realized they were some excerpts and notes that Shi Yan had jotted down.

Shi Yan’s handwriting was exceptionally elegant—each stroke smooth and fluid, his penmanship sharp and forceful, radiating a sense of unrestrained ease.

Ruan Zhizhi held one of the bookmarks up and read a line of English written there:

“Had I not seen the sun, I could have borne the shade.”

It was a line from a four-line poem by the American poet Emily Dickinson. Translated into Chinese, it meant roughly:

“I could have endured the darkness… had I not once seen the sun.”