Chapter 14: Between Kong Ji and Tong Xilin, a stalemate descended…

“What made you suddenly think of living on campus?” he asked Tong Xilin.

What made him think of it? Tong Xilin didn’t really have a solid reason. The thought had popped into his head that day they were eating steak, while he was calculating the time until the College Entrance Exam. The most important reason, of course, was to focus on the final sprint. As for the unspoken reason—he didn’t want to stay by Kong Ji’s side every day, serving as a substitute for Tong Yuzhi.

“The school encourages it.” He took a pen from his backpack and offered it to Kong Ji. “Living on campus avoids distractions.”

“Does living at home distract you?” Kong Ji asked, not taking the pen. “Not really. I just want to make the most of every minute,” Tong Xilin added after a thought.

Kong Ji fell silent, looking at Tong Xilin for another long moment. Tong Xilin uncapped the pen and nudged it towards his hand again. “So eager.” A hint of a smile returned to Kong Ji’s face, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. He took the pen and signed his name with a flourish.

Tong Xilin softly said, “Thank you, Uncle,” folded the form neatly again, and tucked it back into his bag.

When Tong Xilin moved here from the small town, Kong Ji had packed his suitcase. Kong Ji was very decisive; aside from two simple sets of spare clothes, almost everything else had been bought after arriving. Now, packing his own things to move into the dorm, Tong Xilin realized he had quite a few clothes to take. The northern winter was long. He took out all the clothes he planned to bring, from underwear to outerwear, spreading them all over his bed. He stared at the overflowing suitcase with a frown.

Kong Ji leaned against the doorway watching him. He came over and took out the thin spring clothes. “Why take these?” He left only enough clothes for about a week. “Don’t plan on coming home at all before the College Entrance Exam?”

“Bringing a few extra outfits is more convenient,” Tong Xilin said, crouching by the suitcase, folding each item carefully. As he folded, he realized—everything was something Kong Ji had bought for him.

I need to start keeping track of expenses. The thought suddenly hit Tong Xilin. All the money Kong Ji had spent on him—he should write it all down, every single sum. As soon as this idea arose, it reminded him that staying on campus also required a lodging fee—another expense. Feeling embarrassed, he looked up and called out, “Uncle.”

“Changed your mind about living on campus?” Kong Ji asked.

“I’ll pay you back,” Tong Xilin said. “All the money you’ve spent on me.”

If Kong Ji’s expression upon seeing the dorm application was simply emotionless, now, hearing Tong Xilin utter such words, his face visibly turned a bit cold.

“Tong Xilin,” he spoke, drawing out the name.

Tong Xilin craned his neck to look up at him, showing no intention of avoiding his gaze.

Kong Ji bent down, one hand in his trouser pocket, the other pinching Tong Xilin’s chin. “Weren’t you treating me as your inheritance?”

“You were my dad’s.” Tong Xilin twisted his face away, buried his head back down, and continued folding. “It has nothing to do with me.”

That last sentence was Tong Xilin’s most honest feeling at the moment. He knew it was harsh, that he should swallow it down and keep it buried in his heart. But he deliberately said it aloud.

Sure enough, Kong Ji fell silent, withdrew his hand, and straightened up. Tong Xilin kept his head hung low, not looking up, unable to see his expression at that moment.

“You really are just like your father.”

Leaving behind this slightly mocking remark, Kong Ji didn’t ask any more about the clothes. He turned, shut the door, and left the bedroom.

Tong Xilin’s folding movements grew slower and slower, until finally stopping altogether. He crouched on the floor, pressing his lips tightly together. He tossed the clothes in his hands into the suitcase, leaned against the foot of the bed, and sat down heavily on the floor.

Between Kong Ji and Tong Xilin, a stalemate-like silence descended.

For two days straight, Tong Xilin didn’t run into Kong Ji when he got up in the morning. Returning home at night, they barely exchanged words. Kong Ji still prepared late-night snacks for Tong Xilin, but they were all restaurant takeout, left on the table for him to eat or not, no longer the personally cooked noodles or porridge.

On the third day, the dorm room and bed number assigned by the school came through. Tong Xilin used the gap before evening self-study to go home and get his luggage, planning to move in that very night.

“Your uncle’s not home?” Zhou Qi asked, having come to help, peering around curiously after entering.

“No.” Tong Xilin turned on the lights, went to his bedroom, and dragged out two suitcases—one for clothes, one containing a mattress topper and a down comforter.

“Isn’t it fine living at home? Your place isn’t even far from school.” Zhou Qi took one from him, still trying to persuade him. “But I’m definitely not moving into the dorm with you.”

“Don’t need you to.” Tong Xilin laughed.

The dormitory building was behind the sports field. Tong Xilin’s room was at the end of the third-floor hallway—an eight-person room, all Grade 12 students who had decided last-minute to live on campus this semester. It wasn’t full, a mix of students from various classes.

When Tong Xilin opened the door and walked in, a male student was just on his way out, book in hand. They bumped squarely into each other, and the textbook clattered to the floor.

“Sorry,” Tong Xilin instinctively apologized, bending down to help pick up the book and dust it off. The boy’s brows were knitted into a tight knot. He shot Tong Xilin a vicious glare, snatched the book back, and sidestepped to leave.

“Who are you glaring at?” Zhou Qi’s expression immediately darkened. He raised his voice to curse. “What class are you in?”

The boy’s footsteps faltered slightly. Probably aware that Zhou Qi wasn’t the type to mess with, he didn’t dare turn around, pretending not to hear and continuing straight ahead. Zhou Qi was about to curse again, but Tong Xilin tugged him back. “Forget it.”

This dormitory was an old building. The layout was extremely cramped. Four bunk beds squeezed tightly on either side left barely any space. There wasn’t even a wardrobe.

Tong Xilin was exceptionally skilled at making beds. He efficiently tidied up his sleeping area. Checking the time—class was starting soon. He pushed the suitcases to lean against the bedside for now, planning to organize the rest after classes ended.

“You can actually live in this?” Zhou Qi paced behind him, fanning his nose, complaining about the pervasive foot odor.

“As long as I can sleep.” Tong Xilin wasn’t picky about living conditions. He nudged Zhou Qi towards the door. “Hurry up, time for class.”

“If it doesn’t work out, just go home,” Zhou Qi said, still stewing over the guy from before. “Why cram in with a jerk like that.”

Tong Xilin was utterly unconcerned about dorm relationships. He was more accustomed than anyone to a friendless life. After Tong Yuzhi died, during the worst period of his ostracization, he had gone two full days at school without speaking a single word to anyone. His only thought was to study hard and test out.

Day students got out of evening self-study earlier than boarders. Before leaving, Zhou Qi told Tong Xilin to find out exactly who that eye-rolling bastard was. If he dared give Tong Xilin attitude in the dorm, one phone call, and Zhou Qi would come right over to settle it with fists.

“Maybe save your dad some worry,” Tong Xilin said, though he was genuinely touched by Zhou Qi’s words, even if they sounded exaggerated.

School ended at 10:45 PM. Tong Xilin grabbed a couple of workbooks to take back to the dorm. Passing the campus supermarket, he went in and bought a bed desk, a basin for washing feet, and a small desk lamp. Taking out his phone to pay, he glanced at his empty WeChat interface. Kong Ji should be home by now. Tong Xilin wondered if he had noticed he’d already moved out.

Shopping delayed him a bit; he was the last one back to the dorm. When he turned his key, the door jammed against something. Putting down the clutter in his hands, he pushed harder. The screeching friction sound behind the door revealed his suitcase lying on the floor, perfectly blocking the entrance.

Tong Xilin’s bunk was the lower berth right behind the door. On the bed opposite his sat a chubby boy, noisily slurping a cup of instant noodles. Hearing the commotion, the boy looked up with a “Huh?”, got up, and came over to help lift the suitcase out of the way.

“Thanks,” Tong Xilin said to him.

Stepping further inside, he glanced up at the bunk above his. The boy who’d run into him earlier was leaning against the headboard, memorizing vocabulary words. He looked down at Tong Xilin with half-lidded eyes, letting out a faint “Hmph.”

Tong Xilin didn’t understand where this inexplicable hostility came from. But he was very used to it. The assembled dorm members weren’t very talkative, all from different classes, still unfamiliar. Occasional exchanges happened, but Tong Xilin didn’t participate. He pushed both suitcases under the bed, washed up quickly, and soon the lights-out bell rang.

The eight-person room had five occupants. A small desk lamp glowed on each bed. Tong Xilin hunched over his small bed desk, wearing earphones, listening to music while doing problems. Just as he was deeply focused, his WeChat notification dinged. The alert sound was jarring through his earphones. Instinctively, his mind went to Kong Ji. Picking up his phone, he saw it was Zhou Qi, asking how he was doing and if he wanted to play Honor of Kings.

Tong Xilin replied with a sticker to politely decline. After thinking for a moment, he tapped into his WeChat Moments. Kong Ji’s painting was still hanging in his Moments feed. The caption “Gift” seemed exceptionally ironic now. He stared at it quietly for a while, then tapped delete.

Eyes closed, he tried to sleep at 12:40 AM, woke at 6:00 AM. Tong Xilin reached for his phone. Kong Ji’s chat window was still clean, not a single new message. Drooping his eyelids, he sat on the edge of the bed for a while, then shoved the phone under his pillow. He decided from then on, he wouldn’t even bring his phone to class.

Once he sank his entire heart and mind into studying, time passed incredibly quickly. Zhou Qi was with him in class, and they ate lunch and dinner together. Every day was an early rise to late rest cycle between classroom and dorm. Walking the school paths, books in hand, Tong Xilin felt as if he had returned to his days in the small town. Time seemed to be playing a joke on him—going in circles for half a year, only to return to this state.

A week after the term started, it was the Lantern Festival. It happened to fall on a weekend, so the school gave two days off. The other few people in his dorm had all gone home. Tong Xilin slept in. Around 9 AM, Zhou Qi messaged him, asking if he’d gone home.

Tong Xilin: No.

Zhou Qi: Uncle’s boy didn’t go home?

Zhou Qi: You still haven’t made up with your uncle, have you?

Zhou Qi: So that’s why you moved onto campus.

Tong Xilin hadn’t figured out how to reply when Zhou Qi sent another message: I’ll come over and we’ll eat. Anyway, I’m alone at my place too.

While waiting for Zhou Qi, Tong Xilin lazed in bed a while longer. Half an hour later, Zhou Qi was kicking at the dorm door from outside. He got out of bed to open it. From the upper bunk came the sound of an angry, heavy toss—the distinct noise of someone stomping on the bed frame. Startled, Tong Xilin craned his neck up to look and realized the Eye-Roller Guy on the top bunk hadn’t gone home either. He was wrapped in his blanket, sitting up and glaring down at him.

“Oh, you’re here.” Waking someone up was indeed impolite. Tong Xilin apologized, “Sorry, woke you up.”

“What are you saying sorry for again?” Zhou Qi squeezed in through the door, annoyed the moment he saw the guy. “Didn’t you say you were alone?”

Eye-Roller Guy thrashed about, getting out of bed. He shoved past Tong Xilin to leave, muttering just loud enough to hear, “Born but not raised properly.”

Tong Xilin froze. Before he could even react, Zhou Qi, without another word, raised his leg and kicked him hard.